^ THE \ O LIBRARIES ::; «^ A ■< \ eHzst ^ ^'9^ Of «»** « GENERAL Ki^l^TrQf!! [Liyi¥fiD[|[Eu ?irar^% J ^1 ^ t ^ f n F r h L > HEFORMATIOM £ CTj Wiiff^¥f]ihtii 'Pii'iimr-'ii j;;i' I'jiji; :&jiV:'' ^olS.iz MING THE POPE'S BULL WirrtMbERG 9 A M.-IOT" DEC? 1520. OOW, EDINBURGH X LONDON . HISTOEY REFORMATION SIXTEENTH CENTURY. BY J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNE, VBEKIDKNT OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, GENEVA, AND MEMDER OF THE SOCIKTR EVANGELIQUB. TRANSLATED BY DAVID DUNDAS SCOTT, Esq., AUTHOR OF THE "SUrPRSSSlON OF THE REFORMATION IN FRANCE.' WITH NOTES FROM THE NETHERLANDS EDITION OF THE REV. J. J. LE ROY, OF THE DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH. VOL. I. BLACKIE AND SON, QUEEN STREET, GLASGOW; SOUTH COLLEGE STREET, EDINBURGH; AND WARWICK SQUARE, LONDON. MDCCCLV. Oift Of th. Esta , .. ,j .^ " 1 call accessory, the state of tluEjs in this frail and fleetinfr life. I call principal, the spirltK&l government in which the providence of God shines forth with sovereign lustre."— Beza. v.\ w. O. BLACRIB AND CO., PRINTER?, OLMQCX, ENGLISH TRANSLATOirS PEEFACE. The work of which a new translation is now presented to British readers, is ah-eady so widely known and highly appreciated, that praise from me is altogether superfluous. An excellent estimate of it will he found in the preface to the Netherlands edition, to which this is indehted for many valuahlc Notes. I may advert, however, to some circumstances which make it desirable that M. Merle d'Aubigne's history should be still more extensively read amongst us, and to some of the objections, also, that have been brought against it. .We are manifestly deficient in good Church histories, and feel this the more, from the number and excellence of works of that nature, devoted mainly or exclusively to civil afiuirs. Various causes may be assigned for this defect, but there can be no vahd reason for not endeav- ourinc^ to supply it, by naturalising foreign if we cannot find native works of equal excellence. As protestants, we are not educated by a sacerdotal or monastic caste, ever seeking to enhance their pretensions to respect and authority by pointing to the marvellous and the mag- nificent in the past annals of what they call "the church;" and in our ordinary religious instructions, Scriptural history and doctrines naturally and properly occupy so large a space, that the records of times subsequent to the completion of the sacred canon, are apt to be undervalued and neglccted.i Were authentic church history to occupy an equal space in protestant teaching with the legends of saints in the papal communion, doubtless that department of popular literature would not be so defective as it is. A single glance at our previous resources shows how much reason we have to hail the work of JM. Merle d'Aubigne. Fox, Fuller, Burnett and some others of our older church historians, are either quaint or prosaic, and are at the same time both bulky and incomplete. Others, also, who have written more lately, have confined themselves to particular parts only of the ground which they might have traversed, and have superadded the faults of partiality and partizanship. Mo- slieim and Milner stand pre-eminent in respect of the compass they embrace, and the spirit in which they have executed their task; but 1 Modern church history is iaught, it appears, in the public Bchools of Trussia, to all the youth of that country. their volumes are not written in a popular style, and extend over too vast a period to admit of sufficient justice being done to all its parts. Not that either of those authors is superficial, for much solid learning and valuable criticism are to be found in both : but they necessarily partake of the nature of epitomes, and so far fall under lord Bacon's censure when he speaks of these as "the moths and corrupters of his- tory." This has also contributed to make them unpopular, particu- larly to the present generation of readers, which, as I sliall afterwards have toremark, considers minuteness of historical delineation as essential to interest, and all but essential to truth. Mere epitomes, such as we have in Bossuet's Universal history, or such as are so often to be found in the periodical literature of the day, may be animated and even captivating, but will always be found to owe these qualities more to the oenius of the writer than to the events he introduces. Genius may place a few detached facts in bold relief, and throw a splendid colouring over them, but this is neither rightly to appreciate past events, nor to learn the proper lessons of history. The very charms of our secular historians have done much to throw church history and historians into the shade. In childhood we arc fascinated with the spirit-stirring annals of Greece and Rome, and as we advance in years, Hume, Robertson, Gibbon, &c. tend to con- firm the illusion that while secular events form the staple of history, the memorials of that body to which all worldly things are subordin- ated in the Divine coimsels, and which is destined to surpass all earthly empires in duration and glory, are merely adventitious and episodical. Some of our histories of particular periods and churches, and many of our ecclesiastical biographies, are admirable of their kind. But, neither together nor separately, do they supply the place of more extensive works. No where do we find so long and important a period as the sixteenth century, treated with the fulness which it receives in the pages of this Genevan historian. If any be prejudiced against this work because written by a foreigner, be it remembered that this very circumstance is attended with peculiar advantages. Residing at one time in Germany, at an- other in Belgium, settling finally at Geneva, and frequently visiting France, the author has had manifest facilities for collecting his materi- als, and by familiarity with some of the most important scenes of the Reformation, he has been enabled to describe these with much of the animation and graphic power of an eye-witness. In the scenic efFect of many of his descriptions, and the dramatic turn which his narrative derives from a frequent use of the present tense,^ the author may ofifend the taste of many of his readers on this side of the Channel, and the same persons will probably complain that 1 This I liavc ventured very often to alter in tliP tranblation. PUEFACE. his style is occasionally too elaborate and ambitious; nay, they may object to those picturesque descriptions, and that occasionally romantic colouring which with others possibly constitute one of the grand charms of his work. I do not wonder at this. The extreme simplicity of the style of Herodotus has had many readers to admire, and many authors to perpetuate it in Britain. It may even be objected by some, who think they cannot extend the authority of holy Scripture too far, that the history of the Church ought to be written with the same unadorned simplicity that distinguishes the pages of inspiration. Puttino- the Bible out of view, I confess that the author's other writ- infrs, and the familiarity he must have contracted with the simple chroniclers of the sixteenth century, might have led us to expect somewhat more of the soberness of the Genevan style, and of the unclojano- simplicity of the elder annalists of France; qualities which would have secured him, likewise, from the sneer that his work is a romance rather than a history. But many valid considerations may have induced him so far to modify the form in which his labours are presented to the public, as to suggest the Idea, that while in substance they are from the hand of a master, imbued with the tastes as well as familiar with the solid learninw of a former age, in point of style they have received the ela- boration of some artist, who, from being chiefly conversant with the literature of the present day, has been able to adapt them to the taste of the living generation, particularly in France. If his history differ in pbint of style from his other productions; if it do not all possess the chasteness and simplicity which unquestionably mark a great part of it; may it not be that by an innocent modification of his style, he has sought to allure to the impartial study of one of the most important eras in the history of the Church, a multitude of readers who might otherwise have treated his labours with contempt? It was of infinite consequence that that host of prejudices, which has hitherto enveloped the ecclesiastical proceedings of the sixteenth cen- tury, and disfigured both the men and the measures of that period in the minds of the vast reading population, especially of France, should be removed; but in order to this being done effectually, the historian behoved to consult, and, in point of taste, to make what he himself might deem concessions to the likings and dislikings of the persons who needed to be disabused of their prejudices. This service the late Dr. M'Crie rendered to the cause of the Refoi-mation In his native country, and in Italy and Spain; he was engaged in attempt- ing the same task with regard to Geneva and France, when taken from his labours to his rest: the taste which he needed to consult, he did consult, seeking to gain the public ear by a rare combination of that simple vigour and purity which were then more popular than now with British readers; and he lived to see the men whose prin- 6 PREFACE. ciples and cliaracters he sought to rescue from caUimny and oblivion, occupy a new and honourable place in the judgments of all intelligent and candid men. But other qualities are now thought indispensable to the interest of history both in France and Britain. Our neigh- bours are accustomed to scenic representations from their infancy, and acquire an early relish for dramatic effect. This is not so with us, but a taste for the picturesque and romantic, and for having the scenes and events of history minutely delineated and brightly coloured prevails in both countries; and, accordingly, by some of those very peculiarities of style which have been blamed in the author's pages, there can be no doubt that he has obtained a reading from multi- tudes who would otherwise have slighted them. I do not see that this popularity has been improperly acquired, if the essential truth of history have been preserved, and it in no wise follows that that grand point has been sacrificed. The use of the present tense can mislead no one as to the time when the events related actually took place. There is such a thing, too, as the romance of real life, and this was pre-eminently the case in regard to many, both of tlie greater and lesser actors in the scenes of the Reformation. Many things, moreover, become picturesque, and to the taste of our ago interesting, in the exact proportion that they are minutely and accur- ately described. Truth and fiction are not necessarily associated with certain peculiarities of manner and style. Defoe's fictions, though written with what seems the most artless simplicity, are not the less the pure creations of their authoi-'s fancy, and the truth of the history before us must be tested by the numerous references to authorities scattered throughout its pages, and by the author's faithfulness to those authorities, not by vagaie insinuations grounded on the mere jjeculiarities of his style. In these views I am happy to find myself borne out by some very judicious remarks, occurring in a lately published criticism on the Pictorial History of England. 1 In alluding to that alteration in the public taste, mainly referable, the author thinks, to the almost omni- potent influence of Sir Walter Scott, and according to which historians who have written "with a total absence of every thing like historical colour and costume in their portraits," have become so far unpopular, he admits that "in as far as picturesque effect, and the minute particu- larities which give colour to history and fiction are concerned, there is of course no ground for quarrel with this progressive change in the public taste, in as much as it is an advance towards truth." His fears spring from a different source. He dreads, and with reason too, that the minute accuracy of historical painting demanded by the taste of the present day, may lead to those general characteristics which are common to men in all circumstances, being lost sight of in ' See Edinburgh Keview, No. CL. I'UETACR. our attention to those that arc distinctive. "Substantial reality," says he, "no longer suffices us, wo must have outward verisimilitude also; and we become apt to mistake the show for the substance;" and thus "history may become rather a gallery of portraits than a series of examples." These remarks, it must be confessed, go far to justify those Avho attribute to an express provision of divine wisdom the absence of every thing like the picturesque and romantic in the narratives of the four evangelists, even when, as relating our Lord's temptation in the wilderness, his preaching on the mount, his feeding the multi- tudes, &c., there seemed ample scope for introducing it; and they certainly suggest an important lesson to the readers of the work before us. It cannot be said that in endeavouring to meet in some measure the present taste for minute local colouring and so forth, the author has lost sight of "the substantial realities" of his subject, or of the great lessons and bright examples of the period which he reviews. The reader, however, may be tempted to do so. Fascin- ated by what is adventitious and peculiar to an age, the fashion of which has in so many respects past away, he may gratify bis curi- osity and his imagination while his heart and conscience remain untouched, and thus he may make what is true, and was designed to be instructive, as utterly worthless in point of moral results, as if it really were a mere romance. Two objections yet remain to be noticed. The reader needs to be on his guard against an Impression which the perusal of the first volume of the original work is likely to create, and which the author seems either not to have observed, or at least does not directly seek to rectify, until he has occasion to speak of Luther's return from the Wartburg to Wittemberg in his third volume. The substi- tution of forms for life, of superstitious ceremonies for the worship of the true God in spirit and in truth, and of domination on the one hand, and abject servility on the other, for the feelings of Christian love and brotlierhood, by all which popery stands out in such decided contrast with primitive Christianity, together with the cold and sceptical for- mality which marks, alas! many of the nominally protestant churches of our day, has led the author to speak too slightly, in the opinion of many excellent persons, of every thing like established ecclesiastical forms, constitution, and discipline. Indeed, one might suppose from some of his expressions, that he considered anything beyond a vague sympathy, loosely connecting persons of one faith and common feelings, as destructive of inward life and spirituality. But to those who give the whole work an attentive perusal, I am convinced it will appear that this in reality is as little the author's opinion as it is certainly far from being scripturally sound, or likely to promote vital godliness and true Christian libertv. J5 PREFACE. The last objection is that to which I advert in a note at page 69, and it appUes to the loose and dangerous employment which some have thought to be occasionally made by the author, of language borrowed from the infidel philosophy of the last century. My criticism having been quoted in a short notice of this translation by the London Record of 2d December last, it thus fell under the eye of M. Merle d'Aubigne himself, and drew from him an explanation to a corres- pondent, which was subsequently inserted in the same paper, and which in fairness at once to the author and myself I think it right to introduce here. As the expressions which have sounded strangely in the ears of some Christian readers, nearly all owe their suspicious aspect to their being supposed to attribute too much to the unaided powers of man, and to favour the idea, so popular with a certain school of philosophers, that mankind are in a progressive state, irrespective altogether of the action of Christianity on their individual and collec- tive characters, this more elaborate development of the author's views wiU be found to apply to nearly all of them. " The Record of December the 2d announces the translation of the first volume of my History of the Reformation by Mr. D. D. Scott, and cites a remark of the translator's. I do not think the words ' the human mind was growing older,' rightly interpret the French expression, '■L' esprit humain croissait! It appears to me that Mr. Scott has rather trans- lated the words as if I had WTitten L' esprit humain vieillissait, which is not the same thing, A youth of eighteen increases in years, but we cannot say that he grows old (vieilless2). From the ruins of ancient humanity God brought out a new one {une nouvelle)!' The English reader will at once perceive that M. M. d'A. fails to observe the wide difierence between our use of the word old^ and the French use of vieiix — that to " increase in years," and "to grow older," in English mean precisely the same thing — and that had I translated croissait as if it had been vieillissait, and represented the human mind as growing old or aged, the point of my remark would have been entirely lost. What I objected to was the idea of the human mind advancing by virtue of its own energies ; now old age implies, not advance, but decline. In the following paragraph, however, the discussion ceases to be verbal, and brings fully out the view that has been objected to: " It is youth which is referred to here rather than age. But as to the remark, I think Mr. Scott has not well imderstood that I dis- tinguish between ajfranchissement and reformation. The work of enfranchisement was rather that of the fifteenth century; the revival of letters and the discovery of printing, and the magnetic compass, are its most marked features. The work of reformation is that of the sixteenth century. There Luther is the first and principal. The v/ork of enfranchisement was negative; it concerned matters of which I'KEFACE. 9 the human mind is capable. The work of the Reformation Nvas positive; it was to creatp, and this is what the Spirit of the Lord can alone do. Opposition to Rome often existed among the humanists and men of letters as well as among the Reformers. 13ut the fifteenth century substituted nothing for Rome; the sixteenth century substi- tuted the primitive Church of Jesus Christ. This was tlie work of the Lord. I have also remarked, that with infidelity invading the Church it Avas all over with her, if the Reformation had not come to restore faith to her. JMr. Scott then is, I think, mistaken in his remark, and it appears to me that his is also the opinion of the Record. The Spirit of God, at the time of the Reformation, accomplished the work of enfranchisement much better than the human mind would ever have been able to do. But to deny, in the face of history, that it was begun in the fifteenth century, is a thing Impossible." There can be no doubt that the discoveries made in the fifteenth century, as well as the revival of letters, powerfully promoted the Reformation and the subsequent enfranchisement of the human mind. But I apprehend that the state of Italy and Spain down to the pre- sent day, not to speak of Turkey and other Mahometan and idolatrous countries which have long had the benefit of printing, the magnet, &c., fully establishes the point that, even with all these aids and appli- ances, the human mind is positively incapable of reaching any condition to which the word enfranchisement, or deliverance from bondage, can be justly applied. Take from philosophy what she owes to the Gos- pel, and even France will be found to owe little, indeed, to the natural powers of the mind. Vibrating between political bondage and anarchy as a state, and with a population divided between the slaves of Roman superstition or of selfish passions, she may fancy herself enfranchised because she has printing presses, schools of science and art, and a public press, but the enormous sums she pays to support a numerous priesthood whose tenets are vitally inimical to freedom, show that even she has not yet reached what can well be called a state of affran- chisement^ and when she does, I doubt not she will owe It to the Gospel not to " matters of which the human mind Is capable.'"' I am happy, however, to find that any remark of mine has brought out so full a statement of the Author's views; for incorrect though I still may deem them, his explanation will show at least, that in none of the expressions which have been objected to in his work, as imply- ing dangerous concessions to the philosophical spirit that would exalt the inherent capabilities of the human mind, has he really lost sight of its utter inability to do, what God alone can do, complete its own enfranchisement. In point of fact, both before and after the fifteenth century, we find attempts made by the human mind, unaided by the faith of the Gospel, to throw off both ecclesiastical and civil bondage. These, however, have generally proceeded from the rude energies of b 1 PREFACE. an uncultivated vulgar, not from men whose civilization bad been promoted by such aids as the invention of printing and the revival of literature. The unsophisticated instincts of iUiterate mobs have repeatedly produced a devoted and disinterested, though beadlona and ill-dh'ected revulsion against ecclesiastical and civil wrongs, where- as the literate and polite have generally preferred consulting their own ease to the risks attending a courageous opposition to established abuses, however clearly apprehended by them, in church or state. The brunt of the conflict has almost always been borne by the former, while the latter have meanly sheltered themselves by simulating conformity with rites which they despised, and acquiescing in a tyranny which they detested; and, instead of furnishing martyrs to the cause of religious and civil liberty, they have even passively promoted the persecution of those who were so. So much fo;: what man is capable of doing in virtue of any "growth" of which the human mind is susceptible, or of any aids afforded by the discoveries and inventions of past times, irrespective of divine revelation and the grace of God. Such are the censures and objections which this work, like every other of similar pretensions and notoriety, has called forth, in so far as they have reached me. Granting that these were more numerous and better founded than they are, the Author's " History of the Refor- mation in the Sixteenth Century" would still remain a magnificent monument to his piety, genius, and industry. May he long be pre- served in health and strength for its progress and completion ! The faithful in old times, as we learn from both Testaments, loved to review God's dealings with their fathers, and to retrace the great events that had marked the history of the Church. This was a divinely-commanded duty with which they rejoiced to comply. Far from isolating the generation to which they themselves might belong, or from forgetting the special responsibilities imposed by their rela- tion to the past and future, they found powerful encouragements to auty in connecting themselves with both. The work before us has invested a peculiarly instructive portion of the past with a fresh interest in the minds of many. May it long both continue to do so and to stimulate them also to pray and labour that the rich inheri- tance of privileges secured to us by the instrumentality of the faithful who have gone before, may be transmitted, increased not diminished, confirmed not weakened, to those who are to follow! D. D. S. CONTENTS-VOL. I. Page PllEFACE. 1"!'^ BOOK I.— State op the world before the reformation— Two Distinguish- ing Principles — First Encroachment— External Unity cf the Church — Co- operation of the Princes— Secular Power- Disorders at Rome— Hildebrand — Hildebrand's Successor- Coi-ruption of Doctrine — Penances— Indulgences — Jubilees— State of Christendom— Theology— Predestination— Man's Original State— The Popular Religion— Corruption of Morals— Disorderly Lives of the Bishops— Disorderly Lives of the Popes— Ignorance— Eflforts towards Refor- mation — Council of Constance— Christianity Imperishable— Transformation of the Church — Roman Theology— Remains of Spiritual Life — Tho Refor- mation saved Religion — Principles of the Reformation — The Mystics, the Vaudois, Wicliff witnesses within the Church— State of the European Nations— Peace— Servile Subjection of Germany— Opposition to Rome— Pro- vidential Preparations— The Smaller Countries— Italy— Obstacles to the Re- formation — Italy— France—The Netherlands— Scotland— The North— Russia —Poland— Frederick the Wise— Revival of Letters— Reuchlin in Italy- Contest with the Dominicans— Erasmus at Paris — Achievements of Erasmus — A Reformation impossible \^nthout commotion — Indecision of Erasmus — The Nobles of Germany— Hiitten— The Letters of some Obscure Men — Sickingen— Cronberg— Hans Sachs— General Treatment 19-124 BOOK II.— Early life, conversion, and first labours of luther.— Luther's Birth and Parentage- Luther's Paternal Home— Luther's extreme Poverty — Isenac— The Shunammite— Luther's Studies— Treborius— The University -Luther discovers a Bible— Luther made Master of Arts— The Tlmnder-bolfc —Providence— Luther Enters a Jlonastery— Luther's servile Employments- Luther's Studies in the monastery— The Bible— Asceticism — Luther during Mass at Erfurt— Luther's Sufferings in the Monastery— Staupitz's Visitation at Erfurt— The Grace of Christ— Staupitz's Views of Providence— The Old Monk at Erfurt — Luther receives Priest's Orders — Luther teaches Philosopliy at Wittemberg — Impression made by Luther's Lectures— Luther's Eloquence — He goes to Rome — Memorials of the Past in Rome — Profancness of the Clergy — Disorders in Rome — Inllucncc of tho Bible on Luther's Faith — Luther's Confession — His Return to Wittemberg — Luther made a Doctor — Carlfitadt— Grand Prmeiplc of the Reformation— The Schoolmen— Spalata— ] 2 CONTENTS. rage Reuclilin's Affair — Faith — Luther's Popular Declamations — The Monk Spenlein — Justification by Faith — Erasmus — Good Works — Luther's Visitation of the Monasteries — Dresden — Luther's many Occupations — Footing on which Luther stood with the Elector — Duke George — Court Dinner — Emser's Supper Party — Theses — Nature of Man — Eck — Urban Regius — Luther's Mo- desty 125-213 BOOK IIL — The indulgences and the theses — Procession — Tetzel — Tetzel's Harangues — Confession — How conducted — Sale of Indulgences — Public Pen- ance — Amusements and Debaucheries — Occurrences at Zwickau and Hage- nau — Tetzel at Annaberg — IMyconius — Trick practised upon Tetzel — Leo Tenth — Albert, Arclibishop-elector, &e. — Luther first hears of Tetzel at Grimma — Luther without a Plan — Luther's Sermon against the Indulgences — The Elector's Dream — Feasts of All Saints — Luther's Theses — Their Importance — Moderation of the Theses — Pro\'idence — Letter to Albert — Dissemination of the Theses — Fleck — Bibra — Maximilian — Myconius — Sajdngs of Albert Kranz and an Old Priest — Luther's Reply to objectors at Erfurt — Luther's Troubles — Motives that infiueneed him — Luther's Reply to Tetzel — Good Works — Spalatin — Study of the Scriptures — Sheurl — Luther pleads for the People — Frankfort Disputation — Tetzel's Theses — Wimpina — Knipstrow ■ — Rage of the Dominicans — Tetzel's Theses burnt at Wittcmberg — Visit from the Bishop — Prierias — Dialogue by Prierias — Reply to Pricvias — Hoch- straten— The Obelisks — The Asterisks— On Prayer— Give us this day our daily Bread — Forgiveness comes from Christ — Luther's Journey to Heidel- berg— Bibra — Luther's Paradoxes — MartinBucer—Snepf— Conversations with Luther— Luther returns— The old Professor 214-300 BOOK IV.— Luther before the legate— The Pope— Leo X.— Luther's Letter to the Pope— Luther's Letter to the Vicar -general— Luther Preaches on Ex- communication — Luther's Influence and Energy — The Emperor writes to the Pope— The University of Wittemberg intercedes— The Pope's Brief— Luther's Indignation— The Ai-mourer Schwarzerd and his Wife— Mclanehthon — Jlelan- chthon's Departure and Journey— Parallel— Luther and Melanchthon— Order to appear at Augsburg — Departure for Augsbm-g — Luther's Journey — Nurem- berg— De Vio— Serra-Longa — Visit from the Augsburg councillors, &c. — Serra-Longa returns— Luther and Serra-Longa— First Appearance before De Vio — Propositions to be retracted— Luther's Reply — Impression left on both Sides— Luther's Second Appearance— His Declaration- The Legate's Volu- bility — Luther's Tliird Appearance — Indulgences— Constitution of Clement VI. — De Vio loses his temper— Luther withdraws— Staupitz and Luther- Luther to Carlstadt— The Lord's Supper— Luther to Cajetan— The Cardinal's Silence— Luther leaves Augsburg by night— Nuremberg— The Pope's Brief — The Legate to the Elector— Luther to the Elector— Luther thinks of leav- ing Germany — Critical Moment — Discontentment with Cajetan at Rome — Appeal to a Comacil 309-392 BOOK v.— The leipsick disputation— Arrival of Miltitz— Miltitz attacks Tetzel— Luther offers to maintain silence— Miltitz invites Luther to Supper —Luther's Letter to the Pope— -The Nuncio's endeavours to decoy Luther to Treves— Luther's Cause extends beyond Germany— Controversy between Dr. CONTENTS. 13 Page Eck and Carlstadt — The Supremacy of the Pope qucstioucd— Luther's Reply — Fears of his Friends— The Bisliop opposes the Disputation — Arrival of the Wittembcrgcrs at Lcipsicli — Carlstadt's Mishap — The liisliop's Placards — Luther objects to there being Judges — Invocation Hymn sung — Dis- putation commences — God gives the power to will and to do — Disputation Interrupted — Victory claimed by each Party — Extent of Party-spirit — Christ the Head of the Church — Christ the only Foundation — Articles held by Huss, &c. — Effects of the Discussion — Subjects of the Disputation — It closes — Doctor Eck's Admissions and Vaunts — George of Anhalt — The Leip- siek Students — Luther's emancipation from Popery — Eck attacks Mclan- chthou — The Bohemian Brethren — Emscr — Infatuation of Luther's opponents — First Ideas on the Holy Supper — Attacks upon Eck 393-4G0 BOOK VI. — The bull from rome — Competitors for the Empire — Charles crowned Emperor — Tempest gathers round Luther — Luther's Faith waxes stronger — Sehaumburg — H'utten — Luther's Confidence — Faith consists with good Works — Its Source — Luther's Appeal to the Nobles of Germany — All Christians are Priests — Romish Practices for obtaining Money, &c. — Marriage of the Priests — Holidays, &c. — The Emperor should re-possess him- self of Rome — Luther's Modesty — Success of the Address — Rome's reasons for Resistance — Eck at Rome — A Swiss Priest pleads for Luther — Commence- ment of the Bull against Luther — Melanchthon's Popularity — His Marriage — Melanchthon's Writings — Tumult at Wittemberg — Luther's Courage increases — All Vows umiecessary — Luther urged to write to the Pope — Luther promises to write — Luther's Letters to the Pope — Luther Anathem- atized — The Pope's Bull a Bubble — Zwingli defends the Reformer — Luther treats the Bull as a Forgery — Luther repires~to'tKe'^il — Tlie Bun about to be put mto execution — Luther Appeals to a Universal Council — Luther burns the Pope's Bull, &c. — Luther's Discourses on Popery — Melanchthon's Opinion of Reform — Luther justifies his Conduct — The Pope's Nuncio to Charles V. — Frederick and the Pope's Nuncios — Fi-ederick refuses to burn Luther — The Elector sends for Erasmus — Erasmus confirms the Elector— The Confessional is Popery's Prop — The Popedom proved to be Antichrist — Melanchthon and Ulrieh aid Luther — Luther stimulates Staupitz — Nations are roused to Enthusiasm 461-5^3 BOOK VII. — TuE DIET OP WORMS — Death of Chievi-es at Worms— Luther expected at Worms — Aleander rouses Rome — Luther writes to the Elector — Undermining Schemes attempted — A Jesuitical conversation — Aleandcr's Machinations against Luther — The Nuncio addresses the Diet — Nuncio's Speech to the Diet — Impressions made by the Speech dissipated — Duke George supplicates Reform — The Diet appoints a Commission — Tlie Nuncio tries to frighten Luther — Luther is summoned to Worms — Luther is furnished with a Safe-conduct — Luther's Remarks on his Excommun- ication — A new Friend comes to Luther — Ulrieh of Huttcn writes to the Emperor — Luther leaves Wittemberg for Worms — The Doctor proceeds on his Journey— Luther preaches at Erfurt— Concern manifested for Luther by the People — Alarm of the Papists— Luther enters Worms — Capito and CochlcEus— Luther disquieted in Spirit— Luther proceeds to the Diet — Luther enters the hall of assembly — Luther's first Answer to the Diet — 1 4 CONTENTS. Page liUtlier is advised to Retract — Luther Addresses the Diet — Luther neither can nor -will Eetract — The Diet is adjourned till next Day — The Emperor's Message to the Diet — Party-spirit runs high in Worms — Strangers at Worms sympathize with Luther — A Reconciliation attempted — The Conversation soon closes — A Snare and Accident narrated — Iiuther consents to a General Council — Negotiations now brought to an end — Luther departs from Worms — The Reformer preaches at Isenac — The Decree of Charles V. against Luther — The Edict of Worms — Luther way-laid and carried off — Luther's imprisonment 553-654 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS VOLUME FIKST. MARTIN LUTHER, ........ Frontispiece. LUTHER BURNING THE POPE'S BULL, . . . Engraved Title. GEORGE SPALATIN, rage 185 FREDERICK III., Elecxok op Saxony, , . . . „ 202 JOHN TETZEL ,,215 POPE LEO X., ,231 JOHN BRENTZ, oe BRENTIUS, ,,304 MAXIMILIAN L, Emperor op Germany, . . . . ,,319 CHARLE& v., Ejipeeob of Germany, .... ,,402 PHILIP THE MAGNANIMOUS, MAEGRAirs op Hessk, . . „ 632 PREFACE. What I propose to write is the history, not of a party, but of one of the greatest revolutions that have ever been accomplished among men — the history of a mighty impulse, communicated to the world three hundred years ago, yet every where to be seen in its effects at the present day. The history of the Reforma- tion must not be confounded with that of Protestantism. In the former all betokens a new birth in human nature, a religious and social change proceeding from God; whereas we too often per- ceive in the latter, a notable falling away from first principles, the play of parties, the spirit of sect, and the marked influence of petty individualities. Protestants only can be interested in the history of Protestantism, while that of the Reformation addresses itself to every Christian, or rather to every man. The historian has a wide field before him. He may exert his descriptive powers on those great events which change the whole aspect of a people, or of the world; or he may delineate that calm onward course in a nation, in the church, or in human nature, which ordinarily follows after some sweeping social change. Highly important as are both these departments of history, most interest seems attached to those epochs which, under the name of revolutions, are the harbingers of new eras, and impart a new life to a particular nation, or to society at large. Such was the transformation which with very inadequate powers I essay to describe, hoping that the charms of the subject PREFACE. may supply my insufficiency. The name revolution, which I give to it, has fallen into discredit with many in our days, who all but confound it with revolt. But this is a mistake, for a revolution is a change wrought in the things of the world — some- thing new unfolded (revolvo) from the lap of humanity; and, indeed, previous to the last century, this word was taken oftener in a good than in a bad sense, and people then spoke of a happy — of a fflorious revolution. As the Eeformation involved the re-establishment of the primitive principles of Christianity, it implied the very opposite of a revolt. For all that was worth being revived, its movement was one of regeneration, while for all that ought ever to subsist, it was one of conservation. Both in esta- blishing the grand principle of the equality of souls before God, and in subverting the usurpations of a priesthood which pre- tended to place itself between the Creator and his creature, Christianity and the Reformation assume it as a first principle of social order, that there is no power but of God, and proclaim to all men : ' Love the brotherhood, fear God, honour the king.' The Reformation stands out in marked distinction from the revolutions of antiquity, as well as from most that the world has seen in modern times. In these, the changes that have been wrought are merely political, such as the consolidation, or the overthrow, of the dominion of one man or of many; whereas that which we have now to describe, sprang simply but power- fully from the love of truth, of holiness, and of everlasting life. It showed a forward movement in humanity; for when, ceasing to pursue material, temporal, and earthly interests, and aiming at something higher, man seeks for immaterial and imperishable blessings, then it is that he advances — that he is in progress. Now, the Reformation was one of the brightest days of this glorious march; it was an earnest that the new struggle now going forward, will end at last on the side of truth, in a triumph Btill purer, more spiritual, and more magnificent. rUEFACK. Christianity and the Reformation form the two most impor- tant revolutions on record. Unlike the various political move- ments mentioned in history, their past operation has aflfected not one people but many nations, and the sphere of their future influence must embrace the entire world. Christianity and the Reformation are but one revolution, effected at different epochs, and in the midst of different circum- stances. Unlike in their secondary features, in their primary and principal lines they are the same; the one is a repetition of the other: the one winds up the old world, the other opens out the new, and the middle ages lie between. The former is mother to the latter, and if, at some points, the daughter bears marks of inferiority, on the other hand she possesses charac- teristics peculiar to herself. Promptitude in action forms one of these characteristics. When great revolutions have subverted a monarchy, and changed an entire political system, or when they have thrown the human mind into a new course of development, they have been slowly and gradually matured; the displaced power has yielded only after a long process of undermining, and after its main props have been seen, one after another, to disappear. This remark applies even to the introduction of Christianity. But the Reformation presents a different aspect at the first glance. The Church of Rome appears in all its vigour and all its glory, under Leo X.; a monk speaks and all that vigour and glor}'- crumbles away throughout the half of Europe. Such a revolution reminds us of the words in which the Son of God speaks of his second coming: 'for as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west, so shall also the coming of the Son of man be.' There is no explaining such a revolution to men who see in this great event, nothing more than a reform^ and who would reduce it to a simple act of the judgment, consisting in tlie selec- PREFACE, tion of some, and the rejection of other doctrines, and in such a combination of the latter as formed a new whole. How could one people — still more, how could many nations so promptly accomplish so laborious a task? How should this exercise of the judgment have kindled that fire of enthusiasm which is necessary to all great, and especially to all sudden revo- lutions! But the Reformation, as its history will demonstrate, was a very different thing. It was a fresh outpouring of the very life that Christianity had brought into the world. It was the triumph of the greatest of doctrines ; the doctrine that warms its followers with the purest and most powerful enthusiasm, the doctrine of faith, the doctrine of grace. Had the Reformation been what many Roman Catholics, and many Protestants, too, of our day imagine it to have been ; had it been but the nega- tive system of a negative reason, childishly rejecting what dis- pleases it, and disowning the grand ideas and the great truths of universal Christianity ; never would it have passed beyond the bounds of an academy, of a monastery, possibly of a cell. But with Protestantism as understood by most, it had no con- nection; and far from being a worn out and emaciated carcase, it went forth like a man full of force and fire. If we would understand how this revolution was so sudden and so extensive, we must consider two things, looking to God for the one, and going to man for the other. The hand that gave the impulse was unseen and almighty ; the change efi'ected was a work of God: and to this conclusion every impartial and attentive observer, who penetrates beyond the surface of things, is necessarily led. But as God acts by second causes, the his- torian has a farther task to execute. Men were gradually and slowly prepared by many, often unforeseen, circumstances, for the great transformation of the sixteenth century, so that the human mind was so far ripe for emancipation at the moment when the hour of its deliverance struck. PUKFACR. The historian having to combine these two grand elements in the picture he exhibits, this has been attempted in the history that follows. While engaged in tracing out the secondary causes that concurred in producing the revolution we have to describe, we shall be easily understood; but many will under- stand us perhaps less easily, and will even be tempted to tax us with superstition, when we attribute the accomplishment of that work to God. And yet this is the idea we particularly cherish. The following history, as the motto which it bears under its title shows, assumes first of all, and in front of all, the plain but pregnant principle: God in history. It is a principle, never- theless, which is for the most part thrown aside, sometimes it is even contested; and we therefore think it fitting that we should present our views on the subject, and justify the plan we have adopted. History can no longer in our days remain that dead letter of dry details which most historians have been hitherto content to record. People now comprehend that in history as well as in man, there are two elements — matter and mind. Unable to resign themselves to the task of producing a mere material nar- rative, no better than a barren chronicle, our great writers have sought for some principle of vitality wherewithal to infuse ani- mation into the materials of past ages. This principle some have borrowed from art; aiming at sim- plicity, truthfulness, and the picturesque in description; and endeavouring to enliven their narration by the spirit-stirring vivacity of the events themselves which they relate. Others have gone to philosophy in quest of the spirit which was to impregnate their labours. These have interwoven their narratives of events with political and philosophical views, lessons and truths ; and they have given animation to their recitals by the meaning they make them suggest, and the ideas they have contrived to attach to them. PREFACE. Both methods are unquestionably good, and within certain limits, both may be employed. But there remains yet another source to which especially we ought to go in quest of the mind, the spirit, and the life of times gone by; and that source is religion. History must be vivified with its own proper life, and that life is God. God ought to be recognised — God ought to be proclaimed in history — and the history of the world ought to be held forth as comprising the annals of the Supreme Ruler''s government. On descending into the arena whither the narratives of our historians have called me, I have gazed on the strenuous exertions and violent conflicts of men and of nations; I have been stunned with the confused din of arms ; but no where has my regard been directed to the majestic figure of the presiding judge. And yet in all such movements among the nations, there is a living principle emanating from God. God moves on that vast theatre where the successive generations of mankind are, one after another, tossed to and fro in a course of never-ending agi- tation. No eye, it is true, beholds him there; but although the godless crowd pass before him, without caring whether he be there, seeing that he hides himself; souls that think more deeply, minds that long for the very principle of their existence, only seek him the more ardently, and never rest until prostrate at his feet. And magnificently is their search rewarded. From the elevation to which they must have ascended before they could meet God, far from beholding the confused chaos which presents itself to the ignorant crowd, the history of the world looks to them hke a majestic temple, to the building up of which God applies his own invisible hand, and which rises to his glory from the rock of humanity. Shall we refuse to behold God in those grand exhibitions, those great personages, those mighty nations which rise, and, so to speak, come forth from the dust of the earth and impart to human- PREFACE. ity a new impulse, form, and destiny? Shall wo nut behold him in those heroes who spring from society at set times, and put forth a might and a strenuousness beyond the ordinary reach of human capacity, while men and nations unhesitatingly flix-k around them, as they would around some mysterious hi'dior power. Who was it that launched into the field of time those hu"-o flaming comets which appear but at distant intervals, and shed down on the superstitious crowd of mortals either abundance and joy, or plagues and terror? Who, if not God? Alexander sou'dit his origin in the abodes of the Divinity. And even in the must irreligious age, there is no man, however great the glory he may have acquired, who does not find himself compelled to connect himself, in one way or another, with heaven. And those revolutions which hurl into the dust royal races, and even whole nations; those immense remains that arrest the traveller on the sands of the desert, those majestic ruins on the field of humanity — proclaim they not with a sufficiently audible voice, God in history? As Gibbon sat where once had stood the Roman capitol, and contemplated its august fragments, he owned the intervention of a superior destiny. In vain did he turn away his regard from what he saw and felt to be there ; — that shadow of a mysterious power re-appeared behind every ruin, until he conceived the idea of describing its influence in the history of the disorganisation, fall, and corruption of that Roman power which had enslaved the nations. Shall we not discover amid the ruins of the past the same Almighty hand which met the eye of that man of admirable genius, yet who never knelt to Jesus Christ, as he gazed on the rubbish left by the monuments of Romulus, the sculptured marbles of Marcus Aurelius, the busts of Cicero and Virgil, the statues of Osesar and of Augustus, the trophies of Trajan and Pompey's horses, and shall we not acknowledge it to be the hand of our God? How astonishing: that this intervention of God in hunum 8 PREFACE. affairs should be regarded as a superstitious notion by men who have been brought up amid the grand ideas of Christianity, while the very pagans acknowledged it. The name given to the Supreme Deity by Hellenic antiquity, proves that ancient Greece had received from primaeval revela- tions, the great truth that there is a God to whom we ought to trace the history and the life of nations. Him the ancient Greeks called Zeus,^ that is, he who gives life to all that lives, whether men or nations. At his altars we behold kings and tribes coming to bind themselves by oaths; we find Minos and other legislators pretending, that to mysterious revelations from him they were indebted for their laws; nay more, we perceive this great truth figured forth in one of the most beautiful myths of pagan antiquity. Mythology itself may teach a lesson to the sages of our day ; and we may be allowed to mention it, as there possibly may be some whose prejudices render them more accessible to the instructions of paganism than to those of Christianity. Well then, this Zeus, this Supreme Deity, this eternal Spirit, this principle of life, we discover to be the father of Clio, the muse of history, and that her mother was Mnemosyne, or memory. Thus, if we are to believe antiquity, history has both an heavenly and an earthly nature; and is the daughter both of God and man. But alas! for the purblind wisdom of our self-conceited age; it is far from reaching the heights of that pagan wisdom. By depriving history of her divine father, men make her a bastard child, a saucy vagabond, wandering hither and thither without very well knowing whence she comes, or whither she is going. Now, this divinity of the ancient pagans was but a pale reflec- tion, a dim shadow of the Everlasting of days — of Jehovah. The true God worshipped by the Hebrews would have all nations ' From (da>, I live. rilKKACIC. convinced that he reigns continually on the eartli; and in order to this, if I may venture the expression, he gives a body to this his reign in the midst of Israel. A visible theocracy behoved to exist on the earth at one time, in order that the invisible the- ocracy which governs the world at all times, might for ever fix itself in the apprehensions of men. And how brightly does this great truth, God in history, shine forth in. the Christian economy ! What is Jesus Ciirist, if he be not God in history? It was the discovery of Jesus Christ that enabled the prince of modern historians, John Miiller, to comprehend what history is. " The gospel," says lie, " is the fulfil- ment of all hopes, the point of perfection in all philosophy, the explanation of all revolutions, the key that opens up all apparent contradictions in the physical and moral world; it is life and immortality. From the time of my knowing the Saviour all has been clear to my eyes; with him there is no difficulty I cannot Bolve." Thus speaks that great historian, and, in fact, is not the manifestation of God in human nature the key-stone of the arch — the mysterious tie which binds together all earthly things, and connects them with heaven? In the history of the world there occurs a birth of God, and shall God be excluded from history? Jesus Christ is the true God in the history of man- kind, and this is demonstrated by the very insignificance of his appearance. When man would raise upon earth something to shade him or to shelter him, see what preparations, what mate- rials, scaffolding, and workmen, — what hewing, and digging, and heaps of rubbish. But God, when so it pleases him, can take the smallest grain of seed that a new-bom babe could grasp in its tiny hand; he puts it into the bosom of the earth, and from this grain, which lies at first unnoticed, he produces that ' Letter to Charles Bonnet. I. B 10 PREFACE. immense tree, beneath whose shade the families ot mankind may find shelter. The doing of great things by imperceptibly small means — such is the rule with God. This rule finds its most magnificent accomplishment in Jesus Christ. Look at that Christianity which has now possessed itself of the gates of the nations ; which at this moment reigns, or rather soars, over all earth's tribes from east to west ; which philosophy herself, with all her scepticism, admits to be the spiritual and social law of the universe — that Christianity which is the greatest of all things under heaven''s vault, nay more, of all things throughout the vast immensity of creation — ^yet, what was its commencement? A babe born in the pet- tiest town of the most despised nation in the world; a babe whose mother had not even what the most indigent, what the most wretched woman in any of our cities enjoys, a room in which to bring forth; a babe born in a stable and laid in a manger. God ! thee do I there recognize — thee do I there adore. The Reformation acknowledged this divine order of things, and felt that it was destined to accomplish it. The Reformers often spoke of the presence of God in history, and we find the idea once expressed by Luther in particular, in one of those homely and odd, and yet not quite vulgar figures, which he was fond of using, the better to make himself understood by the common people. " The world," saidjie one day, while conversing with his friends at table, " the world is a vast and magnificent game at cards, and among these you find emperors, kings, princes, and so forth. The pope had for several ages beat emperors, princes, and kings. They gave way and fell under him. Then came our Lord' God, distributed the cards anew, took for himself thd very smallest (Luther), and with that he beat the pope — ^the conqueror of the kings of the earth. . . . That was God's ace. ' He has cast down the mighty from PREFACE. 1 I their seats,' says Mary, 'and has exalted tlie humble and tlio meek.'"i The epoch whose history I desire to retrace, is important in its bearing on the times in which we live. When oppressed by a consciousness of his weakness, man is generally led to seek help in the institutions by which he is surrounded, or in the bold inventions of his own imagination. We learn from the history of the Reformation that nothing new is made out of things that are old, and that if, according to our Saviour's saying, new vessels must be had for new wine, so must there be new wine for new vessels. It refers men to God as the universal agent in history; it points to that divine word which is ever old in respect of the eternity of the truths it contains, and ever new in the regenerating influence which it puts forth; that influence which purified society three centuries ago, which then restored faith in God to men's souls when enfeebled by super- stition, and which is the fountain of salvation in all epochs of humanity. It is strange to see many who are now tossed to and fro by a vague longing to find something fixed to believe in, addressing themselves to ancient Catholicism. This, indeed, in one sense, is a natural movement ; for so little known is religion now -a-days, that no one dreams of finding it unless where advertised in large letters on some sign-post rendered respectable by its age. We say not that all Catholicism is incapable of bestowing on man the object that he longs for. We hold that Catholicism ought to be carefully distinguished from Popery. Popery, in our view, is an erroneous and destructive system, but we are far from confounding Catholicism with it. How many respectable men, how many true Christians has not the Catholic church contained? How vast have been the services rendered by Catholicism to the * Table Talk, or CoUoquia. J 2 PREFACE. nations now existing, at their first formation, at a time when it was still strongly impregnated with the gospel, and when the popedom was as yet but hovering over it like an uncertain shadow ! But such times have long since passed away. Efforts are made in our days to re-attach Catholicism to the popedom, and when the Catholic and Christian verities are put forward, it is almost for the sole purpose of making them a bait to allure men into the nets of the hierarchy; so that there is no hope on that side. Has the papacy renounced any one of its practices, of its doctrines, of its pretensions? Can a religion that was felt not to be endurable by other ages, fail to prove even less so now? What re2:eneration was ever found to emanate from Rome ? Is it from the pontifical hierarchy, altogether replete with earthly passions, that there can come forth that spirit of faith, of charity, and of hope, which alone can save us? Can a worn-out system, which is everywhere struggling with* death, and which subsists only by receiving help from extrinsic sources, impart to others the life it has not for itself, and animate Christian society with the celestial breath which itself requires. That void in the heart and mind which begins to agitate many of our contemporaries, will send others perhaps to the new Protestantism which, in various places, has superseded the mighty doctrines of the times of the apostles and of the Reformers. In many of those reformed churches whose first fathers sealed with their blood the precise and living faith that animated them, a grievous vagueness of doctrine now predomin- ates. Men remarkable for their intelligence, and who have a taste for all that this earth presents of the beautiful, in these churches find themselves hurried away into strange aberrations. The only standard of faith they would have, is a general credence in the divinity of the gospel. But what is this gospel? Here lies the essential question: yet here each holds his peace, or speaks after his OAvn fashion. What boots it to know that there is a vase placed by God among the nations for the cure of their maladies, if none care about its contents — if none endeavour to appropriate it to himself. Such a system cannot fill up the void that is now felt, and hence, at the very time that the faith of the apostles and the Reformers is everywhere displaying its active efficacy in converting the world, this vague system effects nothing, enlightens nothing, vivifies nothing. But let us not despair. Does not Roman Catholicism confess the grand doctrines of Christianity, even that God — Father, Son, and Holy Ghost — the Creator, Saviour, and Sanctificr, -who is the truth? And does not vague Protestantism hold in its hand the Book of life, which is profitable for doctrine, for conviction, for instruction according to righteousness. And how many honest souls, noble in the eye of men, and lovely in the eye of God, are to be found among persons ranged under these two systems? Why not love them? Why not ardently desire their complete emancipation from human elements? Charity is vast in its scope; it stretches out its arms to the most remote opinions, that it may bring all to the feet of Jesus Christ. We may even now observe symptoms of the approach of these two extreme opinions to Jesus Christ, as the centre of truth. Are there not some Roman Catholic churches where the reading of the bible is recommended and practised? and as for rationalistic Protestantism, what an advance has it not already made? It was no result of the Reformation, for the history of that great revolution will prove that it was an age remarkable for faith ; but may we not hope that it is gradually approaching it? For such Protestantism shall not truth go forth from the word of God; and shall not that word at length exercise on it a trans- forming influence? Already religious feelings may often be per- ceived in it, insufficient no doubt of themselves, but indicating a movement towards sound doctrine, which encourages us to hope for definite results. 1 4< PREFACE. But the new Protestantism and the old Catholicism are alike of themselves out of the question, and out of the field. The men of our days must look to something else for saving power; something proceeding, not from man, but from God. "Give me," said Archimedes, "a point beyond the globe, and I will lift it from its poles." This point may be found in true Christianity, which takes off man's heart from the double pivot of selfishness and sensuality, and will one day displace the whole world from its evil course and make it revolve on a new axis of righteous- ness and of peace. Every time religion has been in question, men's regards have been directed to three objects: God, man, and the priest; and, indeed, there can be but three religions in the world, according as the originating and governing power belongs to God, to man, or to the priest. I call that the religion of the priest, which has been contrived by the priest and for the priest, and which is governed by a sacerdotal caste. I call the religion of man those various systems and opinions which human reason invents for herself, and which, being created by man in his diseased state, are consequently destitute of all sanatory power. I call the religion of God the truth as it has come from God himself, and which for its object and issue, has God's glory and man's salvation. Hierarchism or the priest's rehgion, Christianity or God's religion. Rationalism or man's religion; such are the three doc- trinal systems that now divide Christendom. Now neither in hierarchism nor in rationalism, is there any salvation for man or for society. Christianity alone can give life to the world, and unhappily, of the three now prevailing systems, it is not the one that numbers most proselytes. Still it has some. Ciiristianity is now exerting its regenerating influence among many of the Catholics of Germany, and, no doubt, of other countries also. Its influence is purer and stronger still, in our opinion, among the Evangelical Christians of Swit- PREFACE. 16 zerland, France, Great JSritain, the United States, &c. Thank God, the instances of regeneration, whether in individuals or communities, which the gospel produces, are now no longer such rarities as we must go to seek in ancient annals. We have had occasion to witness the commencement of a powerful revival of Christianity, amid struggles and trials, in one small republic, whose citizens lead a calm and happy life, embosomed amid the wonders that creation has thrown around them.i It is but the commencement, yet already from the plenitude of gospel blessings, that people is receiving grace to make a noble, a lofty, and a courageous profession of the great truths of God's religion ; an extensive and substantial freedom; an enlightened and devoted government; a reciprocal affection in the magistrates for the people, and in the people for the magistrates, which is too seldom to be found elsewhere; a powerful impulse given to education and to general instruction, such as in that respect will make their territory a model country; a slow but sure improvement in morals ; men of talent, all Christians, rivalling the first writers of our language. All this profusion, pouring itself forth between the gloomy Jura and the sublimities of the Alps, and along the magni- ficent borders of the lake of Geneva, ought to strike the tourist who has been attracted to the spot by the wondrous scenes pre- sented by those mountains and those valleys, and ought to present to him one of the most eloquent pages that the providence of God has ever written in favour of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is the history of the Reformation in general, that I desire to write. I propose to follow its course among the different nations it visited, and to show that the same truths have always produced the same effects, without omitting to point out that diversity of aspect which naturally arose from the different characters of those nations. Notwithstanding, it is in Germany that we shall best recognise, and chiefly study the history of • The canton of Vaud, in Switzerland. 1 6 PREFACE, the Reformation. We there find its primitive type; there, too, it presents its most extensively organised developments ; and it is there, most of all, that it has the character of a revolution, not confined to such or such a people, but one in which the whole world has an interest. The Reformation in Germany presents the true and fundamental history of the Reformation in general ; it is the main planet round which, like satellites drawn into its movement, all the rest more or less revolve. The Reformation in Switzerland ought, however, to be regarded, as in some respects an exception, whether because it took place contemporaneously with that in Germany, and independently of it, or because, par- ticularly in its later period, it presented some of the grand features which we find in the German Reformation. Although family traditions of flight and shelter, and the thought of combats, and sufferings, and of exile, sustained in the cause of the Refor- mation in France, make the French reform a subject to me of peculiar attraction, I know not if we can place it quite in the same rank with the above. I believe the Reformation to have been a work of God; one may see God there. Nevertheless, in tracing its history I hope to be impartial. Of the chief Roman Catholic actors in this grand drama, such as Leo X., Albert of Magdeburg, Charles v., and Doctor Eck, I think I have spoken more favourably than most other historians; while, on the other hand, I have not sought to conceal the faults and defects of the Reformers. Ever since the winter of 1831-32, 1 have read public lectures on the age of the Reformation. I then published my opening address.^ Those lectures served as a preparatory labour to the history which I now commit to the public. It is a history drawn from sources with which I had become famihar during a long residence in Germany, in the Netherlands, ' See Discours sur I'etude de I'histoire du Christianisme, et son utilit6 poui r^poqne actuelle. Taris, 1832, chez J. J. Rislei. PREFACE. 1 7 and in Switzerland; and during a course of study devoted to documents in the original tongues, bearing on the religious history of Great Britain and some other countries. These sources of information will be referred to in the notes that accompany tlio work, so that any further notice of them here is unnecessary. I could have wished to authenticate various parts of my work by numerous original notes, but was afraid that their number and frequent recurrence might interrupt the narrative, so as to prove irksome to the reader. I have confined myself therefore to certain passages which seemed suitable for the purpose of better initiating him in the history I relate. M. M. Michelet and Mignet, men holdinir the first rank among the historians of our day, are now engaged in preparing works that bear upon the Reformation, and have already delivered some fragmentary discourses in the Faculty of Letters, and at a sitting of the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences. The task taken in hand by these celebrated writers, little resembles mine, which is a mere plain history, not pretending to talent, art, or philosophy, but simply relating events as they happened, and pointing to the principles which gave them birth. Should ISI. M. ^lichelet and Mi2,-net give the results of their labours to the public, we shall have works of a very difierent kind. Their future readers will not be the persons to peruse these pages, for, after being habituated by such writers to the charms of style, to freshness of illustration, or to that powerful organisation of history which so admirably brings out events before the reader''s eyes, what would they find interesting in my unadorned narra- tive? I intend it for those only who love to contemplate past events as they happened, not through the magic glass of genius, which colours and magnifies, but sometimes, also, diuiinishes and alters them.^ ' Since the above was written, the Memoirs of Luther by M. Michelet liave appeared. 18 PREFACE. Farther, it will be perceived that this history has been com- posed in a very different spirit. The views formed by M. M, Michelet and Mignet on the Reformation, widely differ from each other; and still wider is the difference betwixt theirs and mine. Going neither to the philosophy of the eighteenth century, nor to the romantic tendencies of the nineteenth for the conclu- sions I form, and the colours T employ, I write the history of the Reformation in the spirit of that event itself. The principles of my work, it is said, are not remarkable for modesty. It is their very nature to lord it over all others, and they imperturbably assert this supremacy. No sooner do they encounter other principles which would dispute their claim to empire, than they instantly offer battle, A principle cannot rest till vanquished; nor can it be otherwise, for to reign is its life, and when it ceases to reign, it dies. Hence, while I declare that I have neither the capacity nor the desire to rival the historians I have just men- tioned, I make a reserve for the principles on which this history reposes, and unshrinkingly assert their superiority. Down to this hour I am not aware that we possess, in French, any history of the memorable epoch with which I am about to be occupied; and when I began my work, there was nothing that led me to suppose that such a desideratum was about to be supplied. This circumstance alone might have led me to under- take it, and I here put it forward as my justification. This void still exists, and I pray that He from whom all good proceeds, may cause this feeble work not to remain fruitless, for some, at least, among those who shall read it. HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION SIXTEENTH CENTURY. BOOK FIRST. STATE OF THE WORLD BEFORE THE REFORMATION. The enfeebled world was tottering on its foundations when Christianity appeared upon the scene. It found the then existing generation dissatisfied with national religions which liad contented its sires, and struggling to disengage itself from forms which had become irksome to it. The gods of the various nations had become dumb on being carried off to Rome, losing their oracles where the tribes that had worshipped them lost their freedom. Set up, face to face, in the capitol, they there neutralized each other; their divinity vanished, leaving a huge void in the religion of the world. For a time, indeed, a certain deism, without spirit and without life, floated on the surface of the gulph in which the vigorous superstitions of the ancients had disappeared. This, however, like all other negative creeds, could produce nothing firm and solid. Strict nationalities were falling into decay along with their gods; a general fusion was taking place among the nations; Europe, Asia, and Africa, were merged in one empire, and the human race was beginning to feel that it was one family throughout. Then was the Word made flesh. God appeared among men, and as a man, that he might save that which was lost. In Jesus of Nazareth dwelt all the fuhict-s of the Godhead bodily. 20 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Hero we behold the greatest event in the annals of the world. Placed in the centre of time, it connects the ages that went before and prepared it, with those that came after and flowed from it, and thus gives continuity and unity to both. From that time forth all the popular superstitions became inept and meaningless. What little of them survived the great shipwreck of scepticism, sank before the majestic sun of everlast- ing truth. The Son of man lived thirty-three years on the earth, healing the sick, instructing sinners, not having where to lay his head; and amid this humiliation, giving tokens of a grandeur, a holi- ness, a might, a godlike nature, that the world had never known till then. He suffered, died, and rose again; he ascended into the heavens. His disciples, beginning at Jerusalem, traversed the empire and the world, everywhere announcing their Master as "the author of eternal salvation." From the midst of a people that rejected every other people, there went forth the mercy that addressed its invitations to all, and opened its arms to all. Multitudes of Asiatics, Greeks, and Romans, men wha up to that time had blindly followed their priests to the feet of dumb idols, believed the word. " Like a glance of the sun,"" says Eusebius, "it enlightened the earth in a moment."" ^ Life beo-an to breathe over the vast field of death; a new people, a holy nation, began to form itself among men; and the astonished woi-ld beheld in the disciples of the Galilean, a pureness, a self- denial, a charity, a heroism, the very abstract notion of all which it had lost. The new religion was distinguished mainly by two principles from all the human systems which it dissipated by its presence; and, of these, the one bore upon the ministers who conducted its worship, the other upon the doctrines it announced. The ministers of paganism were all but the gods to whom those human religions were related. The priest led the people blindfold, at least until the eyes of the latter were opened to the light. The world groaned under the pressure of a vast and haughty hierarchy; but Jesus Christ cast down those living idols from their thrones; that proud hierarchy he destroyed; ' oU Tii riXiou /Jo>-«. (Hist. EccL iL 3.) TWO DisTixGuismxa pnI^•cIPI,K5I. 21 he took from man what man liad taken from God, and restored tJie soul to an immediate contact with the divine source of truth, by proclaiming himself sole Master and sole Mediator. "One is your master, even Christ," says he, "and all ye are brethren." l In point of doctrine, religions of human origin sent man to himself for salvation. The salvation offered by earthly religions, was itself earthly. They told man that heaven was to bo given to him as wages; they even fixed the price, and such a price! The religion of God taught that salvation came from God; that it was a gift from heaven, flowing from the amnesty and free pardon of a sovereign: its language was, " God hath given to us eternal life." 2 In these two points, no doubt, we cannot sum up the whole of Christianity, but they seem to be the two leading features of the subject, particularly when we have to do with history; and as it is impossible for us to follow out the opposition between truth and error into all its ramifications, we must select the most salient. Such, then, were two of the constituent principles of the religion which began to take possession of the empire and the world. With these a man is within the true bounds of Chris- tianity; beyond these Christianity vanishes. Its decline or increase depended on their being preserved or lost. Now, of these two principles, one should take the lead in the history of religion, and the other in its doctrines. Both reigned paramount at the commencement; we have to inquire how they came to be lost, and begin by tracing the destinies of the former. The church, at its origin, was a people composed of brethren. All, as a body, were taught by God, and each was authorised to go and draw for himself from the divine source of light. -^ The epistles which then decided important questions, did not bear the pompous name of a single man, as chief, but, as the holy scriptures inform us, ran simply thus: "The apostles, ciders, and brethren, to the brethren." ■* But even the writings of the apostles inform us that, from » Matt, xxiii. 8. « 1 John v. 11. ^ John vi. 45. * Acts sv. 23. 22 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. among these brethren, there should arise a power which would subvert this simple primitive order. ^ This power, so foreign to the church, let us now contemplate both in its first formation and in its subsequent developments, Paul of Tarsus, one of the greatest apostles of the new religion, having come to Rome, then the capital of the empire and of the world, with the tidings of the salvation that proceeds from God, a church was formed at the side of the throne of the Caesars. Founded by that apostle, 2 it was composed at first of some con- verted Jews, some Greeks, and some Roman citizens. For long it shone like a pure light placed on a hill: its faith was every where spoken of; but at length it deviated from its primitive condition. It was by small beginnings that both Romes went on to usurp the dominion of the world. The first pastors, or bishops, of Rome, lost no time in devot- ins: themselves to the conversion of the small towns and cities by which that metropolis was surrounded. The necessity felt by the bishops and pastors of the champaign country encircling Rome, of having recourse, in difficult conjunctures, to an intelli- gent adviser, and the gratitude they owed to the metropolitan church, led them to cultivate the strictest intimacy with it. The result was what has ever been found in like circumstances; that intimacy, so natural in itself, soon degenerated into dependence. The bishops of Rome arrogated as a right, the superiority spon- taneously conceded to them by the neighbouring churches. The greater part of history is made up of such encroachments, as the resistance of the parties whose rights have been invaded, forms the other part; nor could the ecclesiastical power escape the intoxication which urges men, after being already raised above their brethren, to covet still farther elevation. In this respect it merely fell under the common rule of humanity. > 2 Thess. ii. 2 The author here chiefly refers, no doubt, to the more extended and com- plete establishment of the church at Rome. Otherwise we know that before Paul visited Rome in person, there were already many Christians to be found there ; that these, as a body, composed the church to which the apostle had previously written the epistle, now forming part of the New Testament ; and, also, that some of these brethren, on his reaching the neighbourhood of Rome at the close of his journey thither, went out to meet him, (Acts xxviii. 15.) Yet from what Luke farther tells us in the course of that chapter, as also from what Paul himself wrote from his prison (Phil. i. 12—14.) we may conclude that the church there was greatly augmented and fully established by his labours. — L. R. rlKST ENCROACHMEXTE'. lo Nevertheless, the supremacy of the Roman bishop was then confined to the inspection of churches lying within the territory subject to the civil jurisdiction of the prefect of llomc.^ But a vaster destiny still was presented to the ambition of this imperial city's first pastor, by the rank which it then held in the world. The consideration enjoyed by the various bishops of Christendom, during the second century, was proportioned to the rank of the city in which they resided. Now Rome was the largest, the wealthiest, and the most powerful in the world. It was the seat of the empire, the mother of nations: "All earth's inhabi- tants," says Julian, 2 "belong to her;" and Claudian proclaims her " the fountain of laws-''^ Since Rome was queen among the cities of the nniverse, its pastor seemed naturally enough entitled to rank as king among the bishops. Why should they not regard the nations as their children, and their own authority as the supreme law? It was easy for man's ambitious heart to adopt such reasoning, and such was the case with ambitious Rome. Thus it was that pagan Rome, at her fall, handed over to a humble minister of the God of peace, while seated in the midst of her ruins, those haughty titles which her unconquerable sword had won for her from the nations of the earth. Fascinated by the charm which Rome had for ages exerted over all the nations, the bishops of the various parts of the empire, followed in the wake of the Compagna of Rome, and helped on this work of usurpation. They strove to bestow on the bishop of Rome some part of the honour appertaining to the queen city. At first, indeed, no dependence was implied in the honour thus accorded. Affairs were transacted with the Roman pastor as between equals ; ^ but powers once usurped, swell in bulk like the avalanche. What at first were simple brotherly advices, in the mouth of the pontiff soon became binding com- mands. A first place among equals, was magnified by his eyes into a throne. ' Suburbicaria loca. See the sixth canon of the Council of Nice, -which Rufinus, (Hist. Eccles. x. 6.) quotes thus: " Et ut apud Alexandriam et in urbe Roma, vetusta consuetudo servetur, ut vel ille -iEgypti, vel hie suburbi- cariarum ecclcsiarum solicitudinem gerat, etc." * Julian, Or. i. ^ Claud, in paneg. stilic. lib. 3. ■* Euseb. Hist. Eccl. 1. 5. c. 2-i I Socrat. Hist. Eccl. c. 21 ; Cjprian, ep. 69, 12, 75. 24 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. This encroachment of the pastors of Rome, was favoured by the bishops of the West, what from jealousy of the bishops of the East, what from their preferring the supremacy of a Pope to the domination of a temporal government. On the other hand, the theological parties that were then rending the East, sought, each for itself, to interest E-ome on its side, and looked for the triumph of its principles in the coun- tenance it might receive from the chief Church of the West. The petitions and intercessions that came from that quarter Rome carefully registered, and looked on with a complacent smile, as these nations came and threw themselves into her arms. She neglected no opportunity of augmenting and extend- ing her power, and to her eyes, and in her hands, commendations, flatteries, exaggerated compliments, requests for advice from other churches, all became titles and documentary proofs of her authority. Such is man when placed on a throne; incense intoxicates him and turns his head. What he has, seems to him but a motive for obtaining more. Even so early as the third century, the doctrine of tliG church, and of the necessity for her having an external unity, had begun to gain ground, and contributed to favour the pre- tensions of Rome. The grand tie that bound together in one, the members of the primitive church, w-as that living faitli of the heart, by which they all held of Christ, as their common Head. But various circumstances ere long concurred in originating and giving extension to the idea, that there was a necessity for external unity. Men accustomed to the obliga- tions and political forms of an earthly country, transferred some of their views and habitudes into the spiritual and eternal kingdom of Jesus Christ. Powerless as persecution was to destroy, or even to unsettle, this new community, it gave to it a stronger consciousness of its own existence, and led it to form itself into a more compact corporation. The one universal truth received from the apostles, and preserved in the church, was opposed to error as it flowed from the schools of theosophy or from the sects. This was well, as long as the invisible and spiritual church was identified with the church visible and external. But a great divorce ere long began and led to a separation between forms and life. The outAvard show of an EXTERNAL IMTY Ol' 1 UK (HUHdI. z") uniform and external organization, gradually superseded tliat internal and spiritual unity which is the very essence of the religion of God. Men forsook the precious perfume of faith, and prostrated themselves before the empty vessel which had con- tained it. With the decay of faith as a cementing principle, sojne other was sought for, and the members of the church thus came to be bound together by means of bishops, archbishops, popes, mitres, ceremonies, and canons. The living church having gradually retired into the secluded sanctuary of some solitary souls, its place was taken by an external church which thereupon was declared to be of divine institution. Salvation no longer streaming from the now hidden Word, it was held to be transmitted through the medium of humanly invented forms, and that none should possess it, unless received through that conveyance. No man, it was said, can by his own faith attain to everlastins: life. The Christ communicated the anointins: of the Holy Ghost to the apostles, the apostles to the bishops, and the Holy Ghost dwells in that order alone! In primitive times, whoever had the Spirit of Jesus Christ, was a member of the church; but now an inversion of terms took place, and it was pretended that he alone who was a member of the church, received the Spirit of Jesus Christ. Once that the error of there being a necessity for the exist- ence of a visible church unity was established, another was seen to follow — that of there being a necessity for having an external representation of this unity. Although we no where find in the gospel, any traces of a pre-eminence in St. Peter above the other apostles; although the very idea of primacy is inconsistent with the brotherly bonds which united the disciples, and jars with the spirit of the gospel dispensation which, on the contrary, calls upon all the children of the Father to serve one another, owning but one Teacher and but one Chief; although Jesus had severely checked his disciples every time that ambitious notions of pre- eminence issued from their carnal hearts, a primacy was invented for St Peter, and made to rest on certain ill understood passages: and forthwith, that apostle and his pretended successor at Rome, were saluted as the visible representatives of the visible unity, and as the chiefs of the church. The patriarchal constitution contribntod also, to this exalta- 1. o 26 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION'. tion of the Roman papacy. So early as in tlie course of the three first centuries, metropolitan churches enjoyed particular consideration. The Council of Nice, in its sixth canon, marked out three cities whose churches, according to it, possessed afl ancient authority over those of the surrounding provinces: these were Alexandria, Rome, and Antioch. Now, the political origin of this distinction betrays itself in the very name first given to the bishops of these cities ; for they were called Exarchs, ^ as if political governors. 2 At a later period, they received the more church-like appellation of Patriarch. This title first occurs in the Council of Constantinople, which council created a new patriarchate, that of Constantinople itself — the new Rome, the second capital of the empire. With these three churches Rome then shared the patriarchal supremacy. But when the invasion by Mahomet caused the disappearance of the sees of Alexandria and Antioch, when the see of Constantinople lost its rank, and some time after even separated itself from the West, Rome was left alone, circumstances induced all to rally round its see, and from that time it remained without a rival. New and more powerful accomplices than all the rest, came, moreover, to its assistance. These were found in the ignorance and superstition that now took possession of the church, and delivered her over to Rome with blindfolded eyes and shackled hands. Meanwhile this bondage was not consummated without a struggle. Often did the churches raise their voices in behalf of their independence, and this courageous tone was chiefly to be heard in proconsular Africa, ^ and in the East. * ' The title of exarch was given among the Greeks to the governors of an extensive territory, comprising various smaller provinces. The exarchs of Ravenna, who after the greater part of Italy had been overrun by the bar- barians, governed a considerable part of that country in the name of the Greek emperors but with sovereign powers, are well known. — L. R. 2 See the eighth and eighteenth canons of the Council of Chalcedon, i 'i^oi^^o; rr,s 'hiDixritrias. ^ The part of Africa specially bearing that name (a name given afterwards to the whole continent), and lying chieily under the dominion of Rome, which governed it by a proconsul, a man of consular dignity. To it belonged Carthage, whose bishop, Cyprian, opposed the ambition of the Roman bishop, Stephen, and strenuously asserted the equality of bishops ; in like manner as the bishops of Asia Minor in the East scorned to acknowledge the lofty pretensions of the Roman bishop Victor, in the controversy respecting the time of keeping Easter. — L. 11. * Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, says of Stephen, bishop of Rome: Magia CO-OPERATION OF THE PRINCES. 27 But Rome found new allies to assist her in stifling the cries of the churches. Princes whoso thrones were often made to totter amid the storms of those times, oft'ered her their aid, on condition of her lending them a helping hand in return. Making concessions of spiritual authority in exchange for a due amount of secular power, they allowed her to have a cheap bargain of men's souls in the hope of obtaining, through her assistance, cheap advantages over their enemies; and thus did the hierar- chical power during its rise, and the imperial power during its decline, mutually lean on each other, and by this alliance hasten on their double destiny. In this Rome could lose nothing. An edict of Theodosius JL, and of Valentinian III., proclaimed the bishop of Rome " rector of the whole church.*" ^ A like law w'as passed by Justinian. These decrees by no means contained all that the popes pretended that they could see in them; but in times of such ignorance, they found little difficulty in securing that efi'ect should be given to the interpretation most favourable to them; and as the domination of the emperors in Italy daily became more precarious, the bishops of Rome could take advantage of this, in order to reduce them to a state of dependence on that see. But already had the true abettors of the papal power gone forth from the forests of the North. To the barbarians who had swept over Western Europe and established themselves in the countries that they had conquered, every thing in Christendom was new. They were ignorant of the spiritual nature of the Church ; they longed for a certain outward apparatus in religion , and threw themselves prostrate before the high priest of Rome ■with a half savage, half pagan adoration. With them for his ac magis ejus errnrem denotabis qui hscreticorum causam contra Christianos et contra Ecdesiam Dei asserrere conatur. . . qui unitatem et veritatem de divina lege venientem non tenens. . . Consuetude sine veritate, vetustas erroris est (Epist. 74.) Firmilian, bishop of Cajsarea in Cappadocia says also in the second half of the third century : Eos auteni qui Romaj sunt, non ea in omnibus observare quBO sunt ab origine tradita ct frustra auctoritntcm aposto- lorum prtetendcre. . . Casturum nos (the bishops of tlie churches of Asia, more ancient than those of Rome) veritate et cpnsuetudinem jungimus, et consuetudini Romanorum, consuetudinem sed veritatis opponimus; ab initio hoc tenentes quod a Christo et ab apostolo traditum est (Cypr. Ep. 75.). These testimonies are very strong. ' Hector totius ecclesi;r. 28 HISTORY OF THK KEFORMATIOX. partisans, lie had the West at his feet. First, the Vaudals; next, the Ostrogoths; at a somewhat later period, the Bur- gundians and the Alani ; then, the Visigoths ; and, finally, the Lombards and the Anglo-Saxons, came and bowed the knee to the sovereign pontiff. It is to the stout shoulders of the sons of the idolatrous North, that one of the pastors on the banks of the Tiber was indebted for being fully established on the loftiest throne of Christendom. These things took place in the West about the commencement of the seventh century, precisely at the same epoch that beheld the power of Mahomet advancing in the East, fully prepared, likewise, to make the conquest of a large portion of the globe. From that time forth the evil went on gathering force. In the eighth century bishops of Eome were to be seen with one hand repelling their lawful sovereigns, the Greek emperors, and endeavouring to chase them out of Italy, while with the other, they caressed the mayors of the palace ^ in France, and from that new power, then growing into importance in the West, strove to obtain some fragments of the empire. Thus did Rome establish her influence between the East which she repelled, and the West which she courted, so that her throne may be said to have been erected between two revolts. Nevertheless, it was ' The dignity of mayor of the palace under the kings of the first Franliish or Merovinliian race, after Clovis, was very high. They wlio held it were the first oflRcersof state, and a sort of viceroys, the government of a whole section of the kingdom being sometimes absolutely committed to them. Under weak and spiritless princes they contrived to engross all authority to themselves, and left the lungs in whose name they governed, the mere shadow of power. Tlie most famous ol these mayors was Pepin of Ilerstal, who under that title absolutely governed France in the early part of the eighth century, and at his death bequeathed his power and dignity to his son, Charles Martel, who became celebrated chiefly for his military expeditions against the Saracens. These had made the conquest of Spain, and hoped to effect tliat of France, but Charles arrested them in their victorious career, and thus rescued France and all Europe. By this his fame and power, as well as those of his family, were extended and confirmed; and consequently his son, Pepin, who suc- ceeded him as mayor of the palace, threw off the mask, and with the consent of Pope Zachary, dethroned Childcric, the last nominal king of the race of Clovis, confined him and his son in a monastery, and assumed the title of king, after being solemnly anointed such at Soissons by the renowned Boniface, bishop of Mentz, who first preached the gospel to the Germans. In this royal dignity Pepin was succeeded by liis son, Charles, afterwards surnamed the Great, who subsequently conquered a great part of Germany, and was crowned emperor by Pope Leo III. Both Pepin and Charlemagne, in return, bestowed extensive power and temporal authority on the popes : the former gave them those territories in Italy, afterwards called the States of the Church, which last cift was by the latter confirmed and augmented. — L. R. BKCULAK POWICK. 2Ji a throne nut beyond the reach of jeopardy. Affrighted at the cry of the Arabs ^vho, after overmastering Spain, boasted that they might soon reach Italy by the portals of the Pyrenees and the Alps, and proclaim the name of Mahomet on the seven hills; startled at the boldness of Aistolph who led on his Lom- bards with the fierceness of a lion,i and as he brandished his sword at the gates of the eternal city, threatened to cut the throats of all its Romans, Rome, tottering on the brink of destruction, cast her terrified eye around her and threw herself into the arms of the Franks. The usurper, Pepin, demanded from her a pretended sanction for his new royalty; this the popedom granted, and obtained from him, in return, a promise that he would openly avow himself defender of the " Republic of God." Pepin took from the Lombards what they had taken from the emperor, but instead of restoring it to that prince, he laid the keys of the cities he had conquered on the altar of St. Peter, swearing with uplifted hand, that not for the sake of man had he taken up arms, but that he might obtain from God the forgiveness of his offences, and do homage for his con- quests to St. Peter. Thus did France establish the temporal authority of the popes. Charlemagne now appears ; he ascends St. Peters church, the first time, devoutly kissing the steps ; a second time he presents himself there as sovereign lord of all the nations included in the empire of the West, and of Rome itself. Thinking himself bound to bestow the title on the man who already had the power, Leo. in. on Christmas day A. D. 800, placed the crown of the Emperors on the head of the son of Pepin.2 From that time the Pope appertained to the empire of the Franks, and his relations with the East were at an end. Detaching himself from a with- ered tree which was about to fall, he grafts himself into a vigor- ous crab; and among the Germanic races to whom he devotes himself, a futurity awaits him to which he never could have dared to pretend. To his feeble successors, Charlemagne bequeathed the mere 1 Fremens iit leo. . . assorcns omnes uno gladio jugulnri, ( Anastasius. Bibl. Vita, Pontif. p. 83.) * Visum est et ipsi Apostolico Lconi. . . ut ipsum Carolum, imperatoi'cm nominare debuisset, qui ipsam Romam tenebat ubi semper Cjcsares sedcre Boliti erant et reliquas sedes. (Annalista Lambaeianus, nd an. 801.) So HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, wreck of his power; ' and, indeed, during the ninth century, civil authority became everywhere unhinged by disunion, a state of things which Rome saw to be favourable to her advancing power. When could the church better make herself independent of the state than during that period of decline, when the crown which had been worn by Charles, was seen scattered in fragments over the territories of his late empire? Then it was that the false decretals of Isidore - appeared. In that collection of pretended decrees of the popes, the most ancient bishops, men who lived in the days of Tacitus and Quinctilian, were made to speak the barbarous language of the ninth century ; the legal customs and constitutions of France were gravely attributed to Romans of the times of the emperors; the popes were made to quote the Bible in its translation into Latin by Jerome, who lived one, two, or three centuries after them; and Victor, bishop of Rome, A.D. 192, was represented as wTiting to Theophilus, who was bishop of Alexandria, A.D. 385. The knave who forged this collection endeavoured to prove that all bishops ield their authority from the bishop of Rome, who held his imme- diately from Jesus Christ. Not only did he register all the successive conquests of the pontiffs, but, more than this, he traced these up to the most ancient times. Yet the popes were not ashamed to take advantage of this despicable trick, and even in 865, Nicolas I. drew from it arms for his attacks upon 1 Charles the Great's successors in no wise shared in his intellectual great- ness. His vast empire, extending over France and Germany, devolved on his death, to his son Louis the Pious, a prince of narrow and weak understanding, who experienced much vexation from his children, among whom during his own life he portioned out his territories, and to whom, after they had alternately dethroned and restored him, he left the whole. They fought against each other and ultimately possessed, one of them the German empire, the other the king- dom of France, so as to make two distinct sovereignties; both which through the weakness of succeeding princes, the one at an earlier, the other at alaterdate in the tenth century, passed from Charles the Great's successors into new dynasties. — L. R. ^ These consist of a collection of briefs and decrees, as was pretended, of popes of primitive times, collected and published in the name of Isidore, bishop of Seville, an ecclesiastical chief of reputation and learning, who lived in the sixth century, and all drawn up in such terms as to establish the pretended supremacy of the popes. As early as in the eighth century, some of these brieves appeared, but in the ninth, the entire collection was published and received as genuine without contradiction, owing to the gross ignorance of those times. After doing much to enhance and support the pope's authority during ihe middle ages, yet on the return of more intelligence, even judicious Roman Catho- lics acknowledged them to be a forgery, from the evident impossibility of recon- ciling their style and tenor with the times to which they were ascribed.— L. R. DiSOKDERS AT nOMI*:. ',]\ princes and bishops. ^ This bare-faced imposture Mas, in fact, the arsenal of Home for ages. Nevertheless, the vices and the crimes of the pontiffs could not fail to suspend for a time the effect of the decretals. The popedom indicated its accession to the table of kings, by shame- less libations ; it began to bo intoxicated; its head grew dizzy in the midst of debauch. This was about the time when tradition informs us of a girl, called Joan, being placed on the papal throne; of her having sought refuge in Rome with her lover, and of her sex being betrayed by her being seized with the pains of child-birth in the midst of a procession. But why should we needlessly heap shame on the court of the Roman pontiffs? Abandoned women at that time bore sway in Rome, The very throne which aff'ected to overtop the majesty of kings, grovelled in the mire of vice. Theodora and Marozia installed and dismissed at will the pretended masters of the church of Christ, ancf placed their lovers, their children, and grandchildren, on the throne of Peter. These scandals, which were too true, may possibly have given rise to the tradition of the popess Joan. " Rome now became a vast theatre of disorders, and the pos- session of it was disputed by the most powerful families in Italy^ in a series of struggles, in which the counts of Tuscany usually came off" the victors. That family, in 103*3, dared to place on the pontifical throne, under the name of Benedict IX., a boy of twelve years of age, who after being tutored in debauchery, con- ' See Ep. ad univer. Episc. Gall (Mansi XV.) * Although the author seems to think the \vell known story of the popess Joan a mere fable, yet the famous Mosheim is inclined not to withhold credit altogether from the account given of her. After stating that between the popedom of Leo. IV. who died in 856, and that of Benedict III. a certain woman, it was said, who had for long kept her sex concealed, by dint of learning, talent, and dexterity, opened for herself a way to the papal seat ; and being invested with the title and dignity of pope, ruled the Church for the space of two years, and is now known by the name of Pope Joan, he adds, that during the five following centuries, this was generally believed, that many writers have testified to its truth, that nobody before the Reformation considered the thing itself to be incredible, but that after that, in the seventeenth century, it became the subject of a thorny and learned controversy, in which sundry most learned persons, both Romanists and Anti-Romanists, whetted their wits and set their learning to work, to destroy the credibility of that part of history : still, some of the ablest and most learned writers liave judged it most reasonable to hold a middle course, agreeing that many fabulous and imaginary circumstances have been added to the fact, among which we may perhaps reckon what M. Merle relates of her fleeing with her lover to Rome, and giving birth to a child in the midst of a solemn procession, yet denying that the fact itself is destitute of all foundation in truth. And among these last, Mosheim seems to rank himself — I.. R. 32 HrsTonv of thk beformation. tinued his horrible turpitudes as pope. ^ One party elected Sylvester III. in his stead, and with a conscience defiled with adulteries, and hands stained with the blood of his murdered victims, 2 Benedict sold the popedom to a Roman clergyman. 3 The emperors of Germany were indignant at so many dis- orders, and extirpated them for a time by the sword. The im- perial government, availing itself of its sovereign prerogative, raised the triple crown from the mire in which it lay, and saved the worthless popedom by giving it decent men for its chiefs. In 1046 three popes were dismissed from office by Henry III., who, with the ring of the Roman patricians on his finger, pointed out the bishop to whom were to be delivered the keys of St. Peter's confessional. Four popes followed, all four Ger- mans, and all appointed by the emperor. Indeed, wlien the Roman pontiff happened to die, deputies from that Church appeared at the imperial court, just as did deputies from other dioceses, to ask for a new bishop. The emperor even looked, on with joy as the popes reformed abuses, held councils, and appointed and dismissed prelates, in spite of the opposition of foreign monarchs: and by such pretensions the popedom failed not to enhance the authority of its sovereign lord, the emperor. 1 Cujus quidem post adeptum sacerdotium, vita quam tui-pis, quam fceda, quam execranda exstiterit, horresco referre. (Desidci'ius, abbot of Cassino, afterwards Pope Victor III. De Miraculis a S. Benedicto, &c. lib. 3. init.) ^ Theophylactus. . . cum post multa adulteria et homicida manibus suis perpetrata, &c. (Bonizo, bishop of Sutri, afterwards of Placenza, Liber ad amicum.) ^ The times referred to in thi.s and the preceding paragraph, were certainly the darkest and mo.st confused that the Church has ever known The history of the Roman pontiffs that lived in this century is a history of so many monsters and not of men, and exhibits a horrible series of the most flagitious, tremendous and complicated crimes, as all writers, even those of the Roman communion, unanimously confess. In proof of this we may turn to Theodora and IMarozia mentioned by the author, the former of whom lived in open lewdness with Pope John X., farst archbishop of Ravenna, and afterwards advanced to the papacy, on her application the margrave of Tuscany, whose wealth gave him unbounded influence in Rome; w-hilo her daughter lived in the same way with Pope Sergius, and from this illicit connection there was born a son, who afterwards, through his mother's mfluence, attained the papal dignity under the name of John XI. Benedict IX. also here referred to by the author, was excessively dissolute, and was more than once deprived of the papal dignity, or sold it, after being replaced on the papal throne. All was confusion. With the elevation of Leo IX. to the popedom, order was somewhat re est-ablished ; yet he and some of his successors were almost entirely governed by the monk llildebrand. who afterwards reigned as pope, under the name of Gregory VII., and raised the papal power to its highest pinnacle. (See Mosheim's account of these times.) —L. R. HILDEBRAND. '53 But this was playing a game which exposed him to great riskn, it being evident that the forces which the popes thus bore down, might, by a sudden rebound, place the emperor himself in jeopardy. The full-grown reptile might turn its teetli against the very bosom that had cherished it, and this, in fact, was the result. Here there commences a new epoch in the history of the popedom; springing from its humiliation, it soon trampled under foot the lords of the earth. That whatever raised it, raised the Church along with it, aggrandised religion, and secured to the spirit its conquest over the flesh, and to God his triumph over the world — such were its maxims, and in these ambition found its advantage and fanaticism its excuse. The whole of this new tendency was personified in one man, and that man was Hildebrand. This extraordinary person, who has been by turns indiscreetly lauded and unjustly abused, was the very personification of the Roman pontificate, when in all its force and glory. He was one of those pattern apparitions in history, which, singly, comprise a whole new order of things, like those which in other spheres of action, are presented to us in Charlemagne, Luther, and Napoleon. Leo IX. took up this monk, in passing, at Clugny, and brought him to Rome; and from that time Hildebrand became the soul of the popedom, until at last he seemed to be the popedom itself. He governed the Church in the name of several pontiffs before reigning himself under that of Gregory. This great genius was completely possessed with one grand idea. He wanted to found a visible theocracy, with the pope at its head, as vicar of Jesus Christ. His imagination was haunted, and his fervour stimul- ated by the recollection of the universal domination of ancient Rome; and he would fain have restored to the Rome of the popes, what had been lost by the Rome of the emperors. "That which Marius and Caesar,"" said his flatterers, "could not effect with torrents of blood, you are effecting with a word."" The spirit that guided Gregory was not that of our Lord, for to that spirit of truthfulness, humbleness, and meekness he was a stranger. He scrupled not to sacrifice to his projects what he knew to be truth when he thought they required it, and tliis 34 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. he did, in particular, in the affair of Berenger. i Yet there can be no doubt that he was animated with a spirit far above that of the common herd of pontiffs, as well as by a profound convic- tion of the justice of his cause. Headstrong, ambitious, and unbending in his purposes, he was at the same time adroit and supple in the employment of means calculated to insure success. His first labours were devoted to the establishment of the Church's militia; for before he attacked the empire, it was necessary that he should be strong himself. A council, accordingly, was held at Rome, which withdrew pastors from their families and devoted them wholly to the hierarchy. The law binding them to celibacy, was both pro- jected and executed under popes who themselves were monks, and it changed the clergy into a sort of monkish order. Thus Gregory VII. claimed the same authority over all the bishops and priests of Christendom, that an abbot of Clugny maintained in the order over which he presided. Hildebrand's legates, com- paring themselves with the proconsuls of ancient Rome, tra- versed the provinces for the purpose of separating pastors from their lawful spouses, — nay, the pope himself, where the case required it, would excite the populace against married minis- ters. 2 But Gregory's grand object was the emancipation of Rome from the tutelage of the empire ; a design so bold, that even he ' Berenger, canon and regent of the academy at Tours, afterwards arch- deacon of Angers, is known in Church history by his more scriptural views on the doctrine of the Lord's supper, and his impugning of the doctrine of tran- substantiation. Under the compulsion of his enemies he had the weakness, more than once, to recant his opinions, which recantation he latterly revoked. On being summoned to Rome by pope Gregory VII. the latter assisted him in drawing up a confession of faith, set forth in equivocal terms, with which that pope expressed himself satisfied : — and although, at thf. instigation of Berenger's enemies, he consented to a more precise confession being proposed to him at a new council, which confession Berenger accepted under the influ- ence of fear, yet he did not evince the slightest disapprobation of Berenger's vacillation, when the latter, on returning home, again revoked that last confes- sion, nor would he allow himself to be driven to farther persecution by that churchman's enemies. And hence, it appears from the whole conduct of that pope in this matter, as well as from what he himself declared to Berenger on the subject, that he shared with him in the views he entertained on that head, although, from political motives, as pope, he dissembled them. (See Mosheim). _L, R. * ITi quocunque prodeunt, clamores insultantium, digitos ostendentium colaphos pulsantium, perferunt. Alii membris mutilati ; alii per longos cruciatus superbe necati, &c. (Martene and Durcand, Thesaurus nov. Anec. I. 231.) llII.DEnUA.\D''d succEssona. 3^ would never have dared to conceive it, had not the discords that disquieted the minority of Henry IV. and the revolt of the German princes from that young emperor, promised to facilitate its execution. The Pope ranked then as one of the magnates of the empire. Uniting his cause with that of the other great vas- sals, he drew to his side the aristocratical interest, and proceeded to prohibit all ecclesiastics from receiving the investiture of their benefices from the emperor, under pain of excommunication. Thus he tore asunder the ancient ties that had bound the churches and their pastors to the government of the prince; only, however, to attach them universally to the pontifical throne. He set himself with a strong hand to bind down priests, kings, and nations, and to make the pope universal monarch. Rome alone was to be the object, whether of fear or of hope, to every priest. Earth's kingdoms and principalities were to constitute its domain. All kinas were to tremble with awe at the thunderbolts launched by the Jupiter of modern Rome. Woe be to him who should resist! — subjects loosed from their oaths of allegiance; a whole country smitten with interdict ; places of worship closed ; church- bells mute; the sacraments no longer administered; and the curse pronounced reaching to the very dead, to which the earth itself, at the command of a haughty pontiff, refused even the repose of the grave ! Subjected from the very earliest period, first to the Roman emperors, next to the French emperors, and, lastly, to the German emperors, the pope was now emancipated, and for the first time, came forward on an equality with those potentates, if not rather as their master. Yet even Gregory VH. was humbled in his turn; Rome was taken, and Hildebrand obliged to flee. He died at Salerno, uttering these words, " I have loved righteousness and hated iniquity, therefore is it that I die in exile." ^ Who will venture to charge with hypocrisy words spoken on the verge of the tomb? Gregory's successors, with all the eagerness of soldiers follow^- ing up a victory, threw themselves as conquerors on the enslaved churches. Spain on her being snatched from Islamism, equally with Prussia on being delivered from idols, fell into the arms of ' Dilexi justitiam et odivi iiiiquitatem, jiroptcroa morior in exilio. 3i) HI8T0RY OF THE REFORM ATIOff. the crowned priest. The crusades which had gone forth at his call, every where extended and augmented his authority; the devout pilgrims who thought they saw saints and angels con- ducting their armed expeditions, and who, after meekly passing barefoot within the walls of Jerusalem, burnt the Jews in their synagogue and bedewed with the blood of several thousand Saracens the very ground where they had come in search of the sacred traces of the Prince of peace, these carried the pope's name with them into the East, — a name that had ceased to be known there ever since the supremacy of the Greeks had been abandoned for that of the Franks. On the other hand, the power of the Church eflected what the arms of the Koman republic and of the empire, had attempted in vain; the tribute which their forefathers had scorned to yield to the mightiest generals, the Germans now laid at the feet of a bishop. Their princes, indeed, imagined that on becoming emperors, what they received from the popes was a crown, but in reality it was a yoke of bondage, and the kingdoms of Christen- dom, already subject to Rome's spiritual authority, now became her tributaries and her bondsmen. Thus did the Church undergo a total change. At its com- mencement it was a nation of brethren, and now an absolute monarchy was established in its very centre. Time was when all Christians were priests of the living God. ^ But a haughty head now towered above the surrounding pastors ; a mysterious mouth uttered a language full of pride; an iron hand compelled all men, small and great, rich and poor, bond and free, to receive the mark of its power. The holy original equality of souls in the sight of God was lost. At the voice of one man Christendom was now divided into two unequal camps; here, an order of priests, having the effrontery to arrogate to themselves the title of Church, and pretending to be invested, in the Saviour's eyes, with mighty privileges; there, servile flocks, reduced to a state of blind and passive subjection, and a people gagged and manacled, delivered over to a supercilious caste. Every tribe, language, and nation of Christendom, submitted to the domination of this spiritual king, to whom power was given to overcome. > 1 Pet. ii. 9. CORRUPTION OF DOCTRINK. 37 II. But, collateral to the principle which ought to predomiuate in the history of Christianity, we find another which holds a like leading place in the sphere of doctrine. What was the crand idea of Christianity?— that of grace, of forgiveness, of remission, of the gift of eternal life. This assumed that man was in a state of alienation from God: and that he could not of himself return to communion with that infinitely holy Being. True it is, that the whole controversy between true and false doctrine, cannot be quite comprised in the question of salvation by faith, and salvation by works. Still, that question forms its main feature. Nay more; salvation regarded as coming from man, is the creative principle of all errors and of all abuses. By the extra- vagancies that arose from that fundamental error, the Refor- mation was first introduced, and it was consummated by the profession of the contrary principle. Hence this is a feature which ought to be fully brought out and made salient in an introduction to the history of the Reformation. Salvation by grace, then, was the second characteristic, essen- tially distinguishing the religion of God from all human religions. What had become of it? Had the Church preserved this grand primordial idea as a precious deposit? Let us follow out its history. The dwellers in Jerusalem, Asia, Greece, and Rome, in the aoe of the first emperors, heard these good tidings: — "By grace are ye saved, through faith; it is the gift of God." l And at this voice of peace, this gospel, this word of power, many guilty souls believed, were reconciled to him who is the fountain of peace, and numerous Christian churches were formed amid the deo-en- erate children of this world. But, ere long, a great misapprehension was entertained on the subject of saving faith. Faith, according to St Paul, is the means by which the whole being of the believer, his understand- ing, his heart, and his will, enter into possession of the salvation obtained by the incarnation and death of the Son of God. Jesus Christ is apprehended by faith, and forthwith he becomes all for man, and in man. He communicates a divine life to human nature, and man, thus renewed and disengaged from the power of selfishness and sin, has new aftections and does new works. Faith, says theology, in order to express her meaning, is the ' Eph. ii. 38 HISTORY OF THE REJ;X)RMAT10N. subjective appropriation of the objective work of Christ. If faith be not the appropriation of salvation, it is nought; the whole Christian economy is deranged, the fountains of eternal life are sealed, Christianity is subverted from its foundation. This was just what happened. This practical view of faith was gradually forgotten, and soon ceased to be more than what it still is to many — an act of the understanding, the mere submis- sion of the mind to a superior authority. From this primary error there necessarily flowed a second. On faith becoming thus despoiled of its practical character, it could no longer be said that it alone saves; as good works no longer followed it, they had to be made collateral with it, and thus the doctrine that man is justified by faith and works, entered into the Church. To that Christian unity which, under one principle, comprehends both faith and works, grace and law, doctrine and duty, there succeeded this sad duality, which makes of faith and morals two things wholly distinct ; this lamentable 'error, which by separating what, in order to live, ought to be united, and by setting the soul on one side and the body on the other, causes death. The words of the apostle proclaim to all ages : "Having begun in the spirit, are ye now made perfect by the fleshr' Yet another error came and unsettled the doctrine of grace; this was Pelagianism. Pelagius alleged that human nature is not fallen, that there is no hereditary corruption, and that as man has received the power to do good, the only thing wanting is an exercise of this will.' If this good consisted in some external actions only, Pelagius is in the right. But if we look to the principles whence these external acts proceed, and to the whole course of a man's inward life, then do we everywhere find in man, selfishness, forgetfulness of God, impurity and impotence. It was this that Augustine urged home upon the conscience. He showed that before such or such an act could be approved, it was necessary, not only that it should appear good when viewed externally and by itself, but, above all, that the source from which it issued in the soul, should be holy. After being expelled from the Church by Augustine when directly brought forward, ' Velle et esse ad hominem referenda sunt, quia de arbitrii fonte descendunt. (Pelagius in August, de Gratia Pf.i. pcji. 4.) PENTANCES. ,'59 the Pelagian doctrine ere long insinuated itself, indirectly, as semi-polagianism, and under the guise of Augustinian formular- ies. In vain did that great doctor still continue his opposition; death removed him from the scene, and error spread throughout Christendom with astonishing rapidity. It passed from the East to the West, and the Church to this day is unsettled and weakened by it. The dangerousness of this system chiefly revealed itself in this, that making good to consist in something without, not in something within, it led people to magnify the importance of outward acts, legal observances, and penances; so that the more a man performed of these things, the holier he became; through such practices lay the way to heaven; and so infatuated did people at last become, as to fancy they could see persons who, in point of sanctity, even exceeded what was required of them. Thus would the pride of man's heart refuse to give the glory to that God to whom all glory belongs; thus would it urge the plea of merit to obtain what Cod desired should be a gift; thus did it endeavour to find in itself that salvation which Christi- anity brought to man, fully perfected in heaven. It threw a vail over the saving truth of a salvation coming from God, and not from man ; a salvation which God gives, but does not sell ; and thenceforth, all other truths were thrown into the shade ; the Church was overspread with gloom, and a dark and dreary night ensued, from which numerous errors were successively found to issue. Let us first remark, that two grand classes of errors were here combined in one. Pelagianism at once corrupted sound doctrine and strengthened the hierarchy; with the same hand wherewith it depressed grace, it exalted the Church ; for grace — it is God, and the Church — it is man. No sooner was salvation taken out of the hand of God, than it fell into that of the priests. These usurped the place of the Lord, and souls panting for forgiveness, dared no longer look to heaven, but only to the Church, and above all, to the Churcirs pretended chief. Men's blinded minds beheld the high priest of Rome occupying the place of God; — hence all the grandeur, and all the authority of the popes ; hence a train of unutterable abuses. No doubt the doctrine of salvation by faith was not entirely 40 HISTORY OF THE REFOKMATION. swept from the Church, for it is to be found in the most cele- brated of the Fathers both immediately after Constantine, and durinor the middle ao-es. It was not that the doctrine was for- mally denied, and that popes and councils denounced it in bulls and decrees, but that it was conjoined with that which reduced it to a nullity. It continued to subsist in respect of many of the Church"'s doctors, as well as many humble andsimplesouls, but the multitude held something very different. Men had invented a complete system of pardon ; to that ran the multitude, and pre- ferred cleaving to that rather than to the grace of Jesus Christ. Let us now glance at some of the transitions in this sad meta- morphosis. In the days of Vespasian and his sons, he who had been the Galilean's closest friend, the son of Zebedee, spoke thus: "If we confess our sins to God, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins." About a hundred and twenty years later, under Commodus and Septimius Severus, TertuUian, a famous pastor at Carthage, held a very different language on the subject of forgiveness: "We must change our dress and food," he says, "we must clothe ourselves in sackcloth and ashes ; we must renounce what serves for the body"'s convenience or ornament; we must fall down before the priest, and beseech all our brethren to intercede for us.l Thus had man turned away from God and gone back upon himself. Acts of penance, as a substitute for the salvation of God, were multiplied in the Church from the days of TertuUian down to the thirteenth century. Fasting, walking barefoot, giving up the use of linen, and so forth, were enjoined, or perhaps, leaving home and country for some distant land, or, harder still, leaving the world altogether to become a monk. To all this there were added, in the eleventh century, volun- tary flagellations, and these at a later period and in Italy, then violently agitated, became quite a frenzy. Nobles and serfs, old and young, even to children of five years, went in pairs, by hun- dreds, by thousands, and by tens of thousands, through the vil- lages, towns, and cities, and with nothing but a napkin about ' Tortull. De jiiT-nif. INDULGENCES. 41 their loins, made processions to the churches in the depth of winter. Each armed with a whip, they pitilessly flogged one another, so that the streets resounded with cries and groans that drew tears from the eyes of those who lieard them. Yet long before this evil had gene thus far, the oj)j)ression that men endured from the priests was such that they sighed for deliverance. The priests themselves perceived that il some remedy were not applied, their usurped power would escape from them. Accordingly, they invented that system of barter which has since become famous under the name of indulgences. It is under John, the fasting man, archbishop of Constantinople, that we perceive their first beginnings. " ^'ou cannot, O penitents," said the priests, "discharge the tasks that are imposed on you. Well then, we, God's priests and your pastors, Avill take this heavy load on our own shoulders. Who can fast better than we can? VVho know better how to take to our knees, or who can more meritoriously recite the psalter?" But the labourer is worthy of his hire. " For a fast of seven weeks,'"* said Regino, abbot of Prum, " a man must pay, if rich, tenpence; if of moderate fortune, fivepence; if poor, three half- pence; and so in proportion for other things."! There were not wanting bold remonstrances against this traffic, but they were made in vain. The pope soon discovered what advantages he might derive from these indulgences. Amid his ever-increasing pecuniary exigencies, he saw that they supplied an easy method of filling his coffers under the sliow of voluntary contributions. But so precious a discovery behoved to be placed on a stable foundation, and accordingly to this task the leading men of Rome applied themselves. In the thirteenth century the irrefragable doctor, Alexander of Hales, invented a doctrine which was admirably fitted to secure this vast resource to the popedom, and which by a bull of Clement VII. was declared to be an article of faith. But even doctrines the most sacred were called in to the support of this Roman money-making. It was alleged that Jesus Christ did much more than was required for the reconciliation of man with God; that in order to that, a single drop of his blood was ' Liliri rluo de ccclesiastiris disriplini«. I F 42 HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATIO.V. sufliclent; but that he had shed much more than that, in order that he might thereby institute a treasury for the Church''s benefit, which not ever eternity itself should exhaust. This treasury had been farther augmented by the supererogatory merits of the saints, arising from good deeds performed over and above what was required of them. To the vicar of Jesus Christ on earth had been entrusted the custody and administra- tion of this treasure, and he applies to every sinner for sins com- mitted after baptism, those merits of Jesus Christ and his saints in the proportion, and according to the amount, that such sins render necessary. And who would dare to attack a custom having thus holy an origin I From that time forth, we find this inconceivably revolting traffic increasing in extent and complexity. The tariff imposed say ten or twenty years of penance for such or such a sin; "but," cried the greedy priests, "it is not only for each kind of sin, but for each several act, that so many years must be imposed," so that a poor man found himself overwhelmed with an almost everlasting penance. Yet what availed even this lengthened-out penance, since life itself was so short? When was a man to have done with it? Where find time for accomplishing it? You may lay upon him whole ages of severe practices, but lo! death comes and the man laughs at the task, for death relieves him in a moment. Happy death ! This, however, was provided against. The philosophers of Alexandria had spoken of a cleansing fire in which men behoved to be purified; several ancient doctors had admitted the idea, and this dream of philosophy, Rome now declared to be a doctrine of the Church; and, in fine, the pope issued a bull in which purgatory was made part of his domains, and included in his jurisdiction. He decreed that man should there expiate what in this life could not be expiated, but that indulgences could deliver men's souls from this intermediate state in which their sins must otherwise detain them. This dogma Thomas Acquinas sets forth in his famous Summa Theologica. And now nothing was spared that was likely to fill men's minds with terror. Man nat\irally shrinks from the contemplation of an unknown futurity, and of those gloomy abodes which he sees beyond the grave. New means were employed to give intensity ji:dii,ee8. ia to this dread; the torments inflicted by tliis purifying fire on those who wore consigned to it, were pictured forth in the most dismal colours. Even at tlio present day in many Roman Catholic countries, pictures are to bo seen set up in churches and at public crossings, and in these, poor souls are represented amid the glowing flames as calling out in their anguish for some relief. What man could grudge the redemption-money which, by passing into the treasury of Rome, was to rescue the soul from such sufferings i A new method was next discovered for augmenting this traffic, by turning to profit, not only the sins of the living but those, also, of the dead. It was announced in the thirteenth century, that at the cost of certain sacrifices, the livins* miirht abrido-e or even terminate the pains which their ancestors and friends were enduring in purgatory. Forthwith the treasury of the priest was enriched with fresh offerings from the compassionate hearts of the fiiithful. For the purpose of regulating this trade, the famous and scan- dalous indulgence-tariff was shortly afterwards contrived, pro- bably by John XXII., and more than forty editions of it have since been published. The least delicate ears would be shocked were I to repeat all the horrors to be found in it. Incest, if not known, was to cost five pence, and, if known, six. So much is set down for murder, so much for child-murder, so much for adultery, for perjury, for theft aggravated by house-break- ing, and so on. "O shame to Rome," exclaims Claud of Esperse, a Roman theologian; and we add, "0 shame to human- ity,"" for no reproach can be uttered against Rome which recoils not on man himself, and Rome is but human nature running wild in one of its mischievous propensities. This we say because it is true, and we say it, also, because we ought to be just. Boniface VIII., of all the popes after Gregory VII. the most daring and the most ambitious, contrived even to outstrip his pre- decessors. In the year 1300, he published a bull, announcing to the Church that every hundred years all who came to Rome should there obtain plenary indulgence. People flocked thither from Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, France, Spain, Germany, Hun- £fary ; in short, from all quarters. Old men of sixti' and seventy 4i UISTOKY OF THE UKFOHMATIO.N. took the road, and in one month two hundred thousand pilgrims were counted at Rome. All these strangers brought rich offer- ings along with them, and the pope and his Romans beheld their coffers replenished. In course of time, Roman cupidity fixed a jubilee for every fifty, more lately for every thirty-three, and at length, for every twenty-five years. Then, for the greater convenience of tho purchasers, and the more gain to the merchants, both the jubilee and its indulgences were transferred from Rome to all the market-places of Europe. No man needed longer leave home in order to obtain its benefits; for what people formerly had to cross the Alps to obtain, could now be had by each at his own door. The evil had reached its utmost height. Then the Reformer arose. We saw what became of the principle which ought to predo- minate in the history of Christianity; we now se3 what had become of that which ought to predominate in its doctrines: both principles were lost. The institution of a caste which was to mediate between man and God, and the bargaining away for works, penances, and value in money, of the salvation given by God, — such is popery. The opening up for all men by Jesus Christ, without any human mediator, without that power which calls itself the Church, a free access to the great gift of everlasting life, made by God to man, — such is Christianity, and the Reformation. Popery is an immense barrier raised in the course of whole centuries of labour, between man and God. If a man would pass it, he must either pay or suffer. And even thus, he does not surmount it. The Reformation is the power that overthrew this wall of separation, restored Christ to man, and thus made a smooth path for him, whereby to draw near to his Creator. Popery interposes the Church between God and man. Christianity and the Reformation bring God and man together, face to face. Popery separates; — the Gospel unites them. After thus tracing the history of the decline and fall of the two grand principles, by which we must ever distinguish the STATE OK CHUIS^IKNOOM THEOLOGY. 45 religion of God from all tho religions of men, let us see what were the results of this iunnense transformation. But before proceeding, let us render some honour at least to this Church of the middle age, which succeeded that of tho Apostles and the Fathers, and which pi-eceded that of the Eeformers. Fallen, and ever sinking into deeper and deeper bondage as she was, the Church was still the Church. This amounts to saying that she ever most powerfully befriended man. Bound as were her hands, they still could bless. Great servants of Jesus Christ shed for ages a benignant light around them ; and in the lowliest convent, and the obscurest parish, poor monks and poor priests were to be found for the comforting of great sorrows. We must not confound the Catholic church with the popedom. The latter was the oppressor; the former the oppressed. The Reformation, in declaring war against the one, announced deliver- ance to the other. Nay, it must even be admitted that the popedom itself was at times, in the hand of God, who can bring good out of evil, a necessary counterpoise to the might and ambition of princes. III. Let us now cast our eye over the state of Christendom. Theology and religion were at this time two very distinct things. What was taught by doctors, and what was practised by priests, monks, and people, presented two very different spheres. Yet they exerted a reciprocal influence on each other, and the Reformation had to do with both. Let us briefly examine both, and first take a view of the school of theology. Theology still lay under the influence of the middle age. That age had awoke, and given birth to some great doctors. But their learning was directed neither to the interpretation of the holy scriptures, nor to the examination of what had been done by the church. Exegesis and history, those two grand sources of theological science, remained dormant. They were superseded by a new science, and this was dialec- tics. The art of reasoning became the productive mine of the new theology. The middle age had made the discovery of Aristotle, and the study of this ancient author was pursued either in old Latin translations, or In the Arabic versions. In this revival of his philosophy, Aristotle rose like a giant in tho West, lording it over men's minds, one might almost say over 4j iiisioitY OK I 111-: ittroKMATiox. their consciences. His method of philosophising, strengthened the tendency towards dialectics which already marked that epoch; and, in fact, it was a method well adapted to subtle researches and minute distinctions. This dialectic subtlety tvhieh had taken possession of the western world, was farther promoted by the obscurity of tlie translations of this Greek philosopher. The Church at first took alarm and for some time tried to combat this new tendency, dreading that this reasoning humour might produce heresies. But dialectics gave token of possessing good qualities; monks employed them in attacking heretics, and thenceforward their triumph was secure. The distinctive feature of this method, was the invention of a multitude of questions on all sorts of theological subjects, and then deciding them by what was ca'iled a resolution. These questions often turned on the most useless points; as, for example, when it was asked whether all the beasts were in Noah's ark, and if a dead man could say mass ? ' But it is unfair to judge the schoolmen by such instances; for we must often, on the other hand, admire the depth and large reach of their under- standings. Many of them drew a distinction between theological and philosophical verities, affirming that such or such a thing might be theologically true, but philosophically false; and in this man- ner would they reconcile unbelief with a cold dead adhesion to the forms of the church. But other doctors, with Thomas Aquinas at their head, maintained that the doctrines of revela- tion were by no means contradictory to enlightened reason, and that just as charity, in the Christian scheme, does not annihilate man's natural affections, but rectifies, sanctifies, ennobles, and controls them; so faith does not annihilate philosophy, but may safely employ it when sanctified and illuminated by her light. The doctrine of the Trinity called the dialectics of these theo- logians into strenuous exercise; and what with their distinc- tions and arguments, we find them falling into opposite errors. Some distinguished between the three persons so as to make three Gods : this was the error of Roscelinus of Compiegne and liis adherents; others confounded them in such a manner as to reduce them to a mere distinction of ideas, and such was the ' Hettinger, Hist. Eccl69. V. PREPESTINATION. MAX 8 ORIGINAL STATR. 47 error of (Jilbcrt of Poitiers and his followers. Still, the ortlio- dox doctrine found strenuous assertors in other doctors. The dialectic subtlety of those times occupied itself no less with the doctrine of the divine will. How shall we make the will of God to accord with his onmipotence and his holiness? Here the schoolmen were beset with difficulties which they endeavoured to remove with the aid of logical distinctions. "No one can say that God wills what is evil,"" said Peter of Lom- bardy, "but no more can any man say that he does not will it."" The greater number of these tlieologians sought by their dialectic labour, to weaken the doctrine of predestination, which they found in the Church. To this end, Alexander of Hales made use of tlie following distinction of Aristotle, that every action supposes two agents, to wit, an acting cause, and a some- thing which is acted on by that cause. That divine predestina- tion, says he, exerts an agency in effecting man's salvation, there can be no doubt; but this must be accompanied with a receptibilitij for this grace in the soul of man. Without this latter agent, the former is of no avail; and predestination con- sists in this, that God, in virtue of his foreknowledge, recognis- ing those in whom this latter agent will be found, has resolved to impart to them his grace. As for man's primitive state, these theologians distinguished between natural gifts and gifts bestowed by grace. The former consisted in the purity of the human souFs original powers; the latter in those gifts of his grace which God bestows on that soul, to enable it to fulfil what is good. But here these doctors split anew; some alleging that man originally had natural gifts only, and by the use he made of these, must merit those bestowed by grace. Thomas Aquinas, however, who will generally be found on the side of sound doctrine, alleged that there had been from the beginning the closest blending between the gifts of grace and those of nature, since the first man had enjoyed a state of perfect moral health. The fall, said the former, who leant towards free will, deprived man of the gifts of grace, but did not entirely deprive him of the primitive powers of his nature, else all sanctification must have been impossible, had no moral power been any longer found in man; while the stricter theologians thought that the fall had not only taken away grace, but had also corrupted nature 48 HISTORY OF THE REFOHMATION. All owned the work of reconciliation which Christ had accom- plislied by his sufferings and death. But one party maintained that redemption could not be wrought out but by virtue of the expiatory satisfaction of the death of Jesus Christ, while others sought to prove that God had to this price simply attached redemption and grace. Others still, and among these Abelard, made the saving effects of redemption to consist in its causing confidence and love towards God to spring up in the heart of man. The dialectic subtlety of these theologians discovers itself to us afresh, in all its profusion, in the doctrine of sanctification or of grace. All, admitting the distinction of Aristotle, of which we have spoken, lay down the necessity for there being in man a matter disposed to the reception of grace: materia dlsposita. But this disposition Thomas Aquinas attributes to grace itself. Grace, say they, was the forming power for man before his fall, and now that there is something in him to destroy, it becomes reforming grace. Further, they distinguish between grace bestowed gratuitously, gratia gratis data, and grace that renders man well-pleasing, gratia gratum faciens, and many more. The doctrine of penances and indulgences, which we have already discussed, came in as. the crowning error of this system, and spoilt whatever it could possess that was good. Peter, the Lombard, was the first to distinguish three kinds of penance; that of the heart or compunction, that of the mouth or of con- fession, and that of works or outward satisfaction. It is true he distinguished between absolution in the sight of God, and abso- lution before the Church. He even went so far as to say that inward repentance sufficed for procuring the forgiveness of sin. But he contrived, on another side, to return to the Church's error. He admitted that for sins committed after baptism, a man must either suffer the fire of purgatory, or submit to eccle- siastical penance, excepting, however, cases of an inward repent- ance so perfect as to supersede all other inflictions. He then suggests certain questions which he finds it difficult to solve in spite of all his dialectics. Supposing two men, equal in regard to their spiritual condition, but the one poor and the other rich, should die at the same time, the one with no resource beyond the ordinary prayers of the Church, while for the other, on the THE POl'ULAR RELIGION. 49 contrary, there might be many masses to bo said, and many good acts to be done; what would be the result 2 Hero the schoolman turns himself from one difficulty to another, and says in the end: They will have the same destiny, but not proceeding from the same causes. The rich will not be delivered more perfectly from purgatory, but his deliverance will be more promptly eftected. Such are a few samples of the theology that reigned in the schools at the era of the Reformation. Distinctions, ideas, sometimes just, still mere ideas. Christian doctrine had lost that celestial perfume, that power, that practical utility, which proceed from God, and which mark the times of the apostles. It was necessary that these should come down again from on high. IV. Meanwhile the learning of the schools was pure if com- pared with the real state of the Church. The theology of the learned was in a flourishing state compared with the religion, the morals, and the education of the priests, the monks, and the people; so that if learning required renovation, still more did the Church require reform. The people of Christendom, in which term we may comprise nearly the entire population, no longer looked to a living and holy God for the free gift of everlasting life; and, accordingly, to obtain this they had recourse to all the means that a super- stitious, timid, and alarmed imagination could invent. Heaven became filled with saints and mediators whose office it was to solicit this favour, and earth was replenished with good deeds, sacrifices, religious practices and ceremonies, whose object it was to deserve it. The following is the picture given to us of this period by one who was for long a monk, and afterwards one of Luther's fellow-labourers, Myconius. " Christ''s sufferings and merits were either treated as a piece of idle history, or as no more to be believed than Homer's fables. The faith by which the sinner appropriates the Saviour's righte- ousness and the inheritance of eternal life, was out of the question; Christ was held forth as a stern Judge, ready to con- demn all who did not apply to the intercession of the saints or to papal indulgences; and in our Lord's place there figured as intercessors, first, the Virgin Mary, resembling the Diana "f I. u 60 HISTORY OP THE KEFOKMATION. paganism, and, after her, the saints, the catalogue of whom the popes were constantly enlarging. These mediators gave the benefit of their prayers to such only as deserved well of the religious orders which they had founded ; and in order to that, it was not what God commands in his word that was required to be done, but a multitude of deeds contrived by the monks and the priests, and which brought them in a deal of money. Such were the Ave-Marias, and the prayers of St Ursula and d" St Bridget; chanting and shouting day and night; and fre quenting particular spots to which pilgrimages were to be made, and which became as numerous as there were mountains, woods, and valleys. Now, all these devout doings might be redeemed with money; and, accordingly, the monasteries and the priests were continually receiving, not only money, but every thing that had a tangible value — fowls, geese, ducks, wax, straw, butter, and cheese. Then would the chanting resound, the bells would be set a-ringing, incense would perfume the sanctuary, sacrifices be offered, the kitchens be filled to overflowing, drinking-glasses would make a din, and the whole of this medley was wound up and retrieved by masses being said. Bishops no longer preached, but they consecrated priests, church-bells, monks, churches, chapels, images, books, and grave-yards, all which brought in large revenues. Bones, arms, and feet, were preserved in gold and silver boxes: they were presented to be kissed during mass, and this, too, was a source of large profit. " All these people maintained that as the pope stood in the place of God,l he could not be deceived, and they would not Buffer any contradiction." 2 In All-saints church at Wittemberg there were to be found a bit of Noah's ark, some soot that had come from the burning fiery furnace into which the three young men were cast, a bit of wood from the manger in which our Lord was laid, hairs from the beard of the great Christopher, and nineteen thousand other relics of more or less value. At Schaffhausen there was shown the breath of St Joseph as caught by Nicodemus in his glove. A seller of indulgences went about Wurtemberg retailing his wares, with his head set off with a large feather taken from one ' 2 Thess. ii. 4. * Myconius, Iliat.of the Reformation ; and Scckendorf' s Hist. of Lutheranism. COHRUI'TION OF MOHALS. 5 I of the wings of the archangel MichaoL ' But it was not necessary that people should go lar to procure these precious treasures. Dealers in relics traversed tiio country, hawking them through Ihe rural districts as has been more recently done with the scriptures, so that the faithful were saved the expense and trouble of making long pilgrimages, by having them brought to their doors. They were exhibited with great pomp in the churches. These travelling dealers paid a certain sum to the proprietors of the relics, and allowed tiiem a fixed per centage on the profits. . . The kingdom of heaven had disappeared, and men had introduced a shameless market into the place it had occupied on the earth. Religion, too, was now invaded by a spirit of profanity; and the Church's most sacred anniversaries, those seasons during which the faithful were specially called to the exercise of self- examination and love, were dishonoured by buffooneries and profanations altogether pagan. The Easter jokes held an emi- nent place in the acts of the Cliurch. As the feast of our Lord's resurrection called for joy, there were studious attempts made to introduce into the sermons preached on that occasion what- ever could make the people laugh. Such a preacher sung like a cuckoo, another hissed like a goose. One dragged to the altar a layman attired in a monk's frock; a second told the most indecent stories; a third related the tricks of the apostle St Peter; among others, how he had once in an alehouse cheated the landlord by not paying his reckoning. ^ The lower clergy took advantage of the occasion to turn their superiors into ridicule; the churches were converted into stages, and the priests into mountebanks. If such was religion, what must morals have been I No doubt this corruption was not universal, and candour requires that we should not forget this. The Reformation itself gushed forth in a copious stream of piety, righteousness, and energy. It sprang from the spontaneous action of the power of God, but how can we deny that he had deposited beforehand the germs of this new life in the bosom of the Church ? Were any one, in our own days, to bring together all the immoralities, all • Miillor's Rcliauicn, vol. iii. p. 22. ' CEcolam. p. Dp risn paschali. 62 HISTORY OF THE REIOK.M A TIOV, the abominations, in course of being committed in a single country, this mass of corruption would, no doubt, even now make us shudder. Nevertheless, moral evil had at that time a peculiar character, and pervaded society to an extent that has never been witnessed since. And, above all, did the abomination desolate the holy places, as it has not been again given to it to do since the days of the Reformation. Life had declined along with faith. The news of the gift of eter- nal life, is the power of God for the regeneration of men. Take away the salvation bestowed by God, and you take away sancti- fication and good works. This was verified in what followed. An ignorant populace was powerfully stimulated to evil by the doctrine and the sale of indulgences; for albeit it was true, that, according to the Church, indulgences could benefit such only as promised amendment and kept their word, what could be looked for from a doctrine purposely invented with an eye to the money which it was to produce? The indulgence-mongers were naturally tempted, the better to promote the sale of their wares, to represent the matter to the people in the manner best fitted to attract attention and seduce them to buy. The learned themselves did not very well comprehend this doctrine; and as for the multitude, all that they saw was that the indulgences permitted them to sin; while as for the venders, they were by no means urgent in dissipating an error so favourable to their trade. How many disorders and crimes must have been committed in those dark ages, when impunity could be had for being paid for! What enormities might not be dreaded, when a small con- tribution for the building of a church was supposed to deliver men from the retributions of the world to come ! What hope of any change for the better, when communication between God and man had ceased, and when man, alienated from God, who is spirit and life, moved only amid a routine of petty ceremonies and stupid practices, in an atmosphere of death. The priests were the first to fall under this corrupting influ- ence. In their eagerness to elevate themselves, they had only sunk the lower. They had wished to deprive God of a ray of his glory which they wanted to transfer to their own breast, but their attempt had been vain, for they only concealed there a leaven of corruption, stolen from the power of evil. The annals UISORDKRI.Y MVE9 OF THE BISHOPS. 63 of those times teem with scandals. In many j)laces, people liked to see priests living in concubinage with one woman, as married women were the more secure from their^ seductions. What humbling scenes did a pastor's house then present ! From the tithes and alms he received, the wretched man sup- ported the mother and the children she had given him.'- His conscience was troubled; he blushed before the people, at the sight of his »wn servants, and in the presence of God. The mother, fearing that at tlie priest's death she might fall into penury, provided against this beforehand: she stole in his house. Her honour was gone. Her children became an ever-living tes- timony against her. Objects of general contempt, they threw themselves into brawls and debaucheries. Such was the house of a priest. These frightful scenes furnished instructive lessons by which the people knew how to profit.-^ The rural districts became the theatres of many excesses. The very abodes of the clergy were often the haunts of the dis- solute. Cornelius Adrian at Bruges,'^ and the abbot Trinkler at Cappel,5 imitated Eastern manners, and had their harems. Priests companied with depraved persons, frequented alehouses, and crowned their orgies with brawls and blasphemy .^ The council of Schaffhausen prohibited them from dancing in public except at marriage feasts, and from carrying two kinds of arms; it ordained, also, that all who should be found in houses of ill fame, should be stript of their clerical robes.7 In the arch- bishopric of Maintz, they leapt over the walls under night, and disturbed the neighbourhood with the noise they made while committing all sorts of disorders in the inns and alehouses, breaking the very doors and locks.^ In some parts, the priest paid the bishop a tax for the woman he lived with, and for each child she bore him. A German bishop, happening one day to be present at a great festival, stated publicly, that in a single year, eleven thousand priests had presented themselves to him for that purpose. We have this on the authority of Erasmus.^ ' Nicol. De Clemangis, de presuUbus simoniacis. « The ^vords of Seb. Stor, pastor at Lichstall in 1524. ^ Fusslin Beytrscge.ll. 224. ♦ Meteren. Ned. Hist. VIII. * Hott. His: Ecc. IX., 305. « Mandement of 3d March. 1517, of Hugo, bishop of Constance. 7 MviUcr's Reliquien, III.. 251. « Steubing. Gesch. der Nass. Oran-Lando. 9 Uno anno ad se delata undecim millia sacerdotum palam concubui- ariorum. (Erasmi 0pp. torn. IX. p. 40]. 5-1- HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. This depravity of manners by no means diminished on ascend- ing the scale of the hierarchy. Church dignitaries preferred the din of camps to the chants of the altars, and one of a bishop's chief qualifications was to know how, lance in hand, to enforce obedience from all around him. Baudouin, archbishop of Treves, maintained an unceasing warfare with his neighbours and vas- sals; he razed their castles to the ground, built forts, and thought only of increasing his territory. A certain bishop of Eichstadt, when administering justice, wore a shirt of mail under his coat and held a huge sword in his hand. He used to say that provided they attacked him in fair fight, he defied any five Bavarians.^ Hostilities between bishops and their episcopal cities prevailed every where; the burgesses calling for liberty, and the bishops being resolved to have nothing sliort of absolute obedience. When the latter had the best of the struggle, they punished revolt by immolating many a victim to their revenge; but the flame of insurrection shot forth at the very moment when it was thought to have been completely put down. And what was the spectacle which the pontifical throne pre- sented in the times immediately preceding the reformation! Home, we must say, saw not often so much shamelessness. Roderick Borgia, after having lived five years with a Roman lady, continued the same illegitimate commerce with the daugh- ter of that lady, Rosa Vanozza, by whom he had five children. He was residing at Rome as cardinal and archbishop; cohabit- ing with Vanozza and with other women too; and withal attending the churches and hospitals, when by the death of Innocent VIH. the pontifical see became vacant. This he contrived to obtain for himself, by purchasing each cardinal at a certain price. On that occasion, four mules, each laden with money, made a public entrance into the palace of the wealthiest of them all, cardinal Sforza. Borgia became pope under the name of Alexander VI. and was overjoyed at thus reaching what he considered the summit of earthly felicity. The very day of his coronation, he made his son, Caesar, a youth of ferocious and dissolute habits, archbishop of Valentia, and bishop of Pampeluna. He next celebrated, in the Vati- ' Schmidt, Gesch, der Deutsclipn U1S0RDER1.Y LIVES OF THE I'OPEH. 55 can, the nuptials of his dau<;hter, Lucretia, with festivities in which his mistress, Juha Jiolla, took part, and which were enli- vened with indecent plays and songs. " All the ecclesiastics," says an historian, ^ " had mistresses, and all the monasteries and con vents of the capital were houses of had fame." C^sar Borgia espoused the part of the Guelphs; and when with their assistance, h« had annihilated the Gibelines, he turned round on the Gu'lphs themselves, and overwhelmed them in turn. He wished, however, to have the whole of the spoils, thus acquired, at nis entire disposal. In the year 1497, Alex- ander gave his eldest son the duchy of Benevento. The duke disappeared. A dealer in wood on the banks of the Tiber, George Schiavoni, had seen a corpse thrown into the river during the night, but said nothing about it: it was a thing of ordi- nary occurrence. The duke's body was recovered. His brother Caesar had perpetrated this murder.^ But it was not enough; he had a brother-in-law who gave him umbrage; and him Caesar one day caused to be stabbed on the very staircase of the ponti- fical palace. He was carried bleeding into his apartments. His wife and sister unremittingly attended him, and even with their own hands prepared his food, dreading his being poisoned by Caesar. Alexander stationed guards at his gate, but Caesar lauo-hed at these precautions, and as the pope was on his way to see his son-in-law: "what was not done at dinner, will be done at supper,"" said Caesar to him. One day, in fact, he succeeded in reaching the chamber of the convalescent, thrust out his wife and sister, called in his executioner, Michilotto, the only man he treated with any confidence, and caused his brother-in-law to be throttled to death before his eyes.^ Alexander had a favourite, Peroto, his father"'s regard for whom gave offence to the young duke. He attacked him; Peroto threw his arms round the pope, under whose mantle he had sought protection, but Cajsar struck his victim, so that the blood sprang from the wound on tlie pontiff's face.^ "The pope," says the contemporary witness ' Infessnra. ' Amazzo i fratello ducha di Gandia e lo fa Imtar nol Tevcre. (M. S. C. of Cap^llo, ambassador at R ime in 1500, extracted by Ranke.) ■ Intr6 in camera . . . fe ussir la moglie e sorella . . . ostrangolo dito zoveiie. (Ibid.) * Adeo il snngne li salto in In fazn dol papa. (Ibid.) 56 HISTORY OF THE REKOKMATIO.V. of these scenes, "loves his son, the duke, and stands in great dread of him."" Caesar was the handsomest and strongest man of his age. At a bull-fight he could easily make six wild lulls fall under the blows he struck. Not a morning passed at Rome but some one was found assassinated during the night, and poison consumed those whom the dagger failed to reach. People durst hardly move or breathe in Rome, each trembling lest his turn should be next. Caesar Borgia was the very hero of crime. The spot on earth's surface where iniquity went to such a height, was no other than the throne of the pontiffs; and no wonder, for when man once gives himself up to the powers of evil, the more he affects to rise in the sight of God, the deeper does he plunge himself in the gulph of hell. It is impossible to describe the immoral festivities with which the pope, his son CaBsar, and his daughter Lucretia, indulged themselves; and no one can contemplate them but with horror. The very groves of antiquity perhaps never saw the like. Historians have accused Alexander and Lucretia of incest, but proof of this charge seems wanting. The pope's death was extraordinary. He had ordered poison to be prepared in a box of sweetmeats for one of the cardinals who was to have had it served to him at the close of a sumptuous supper, but this intended victim had gained over the steward, and the drugged comfits were placed before Alexander himself, who ate of them and died. ^ " The whole city ran together, and gloated with delight on this dead viper.*" 2 Such was the man who filled the papal see at the commence- ment of the century in which the Reformation burst forth. Thus had the clergy lowered both the reputation of religion and their own; and thus might a powerful voice well exclaim, "The ecclesiastical state is opposed to God and his glory. This the people well know, and it is too well proved by so many songs, proverbs, and sneers, at the expense of the priests, now passing current among the common people, as well as by the caricatures of monks and priests to be seen on all the walls, and even on play- ing cards; not a man but feels disgust when he sees or hears a clergyman approaching." These are Luther's words. ^ * E messe la scutola venenata avante il papa. (Sanuto.) * Gordon, Toniasi Infessura, Guicciardini, pp. ii. 674.) IGXORA.NCI!:. The evil spread throughout all ranks: an erroneous specific had been sent abroad among men; con-uption of morals answered to the corruption of doctrine; a mystery of iniquity weighed heavily on the enslaved Church of Jesus Christ. Yet another consequence necessarily flowed froin the neglect into which the fundamental doctrine of tiie gospel had fallen. Men's minds grew dark as their hearts became depraved. When the priests reserved to themselves the distribution of a salvation which belonged to none but God, they seemed by that alone to have acquired a sufficient title to popular respect. What need liad they to study sacred literature ? Their business now was, not to explain the Scriptures but to grant diplomas of indulgence, and for this, the painful acquisition of much learning was alto- gether unnecessary. In the country parts, says Wimpheling, preachers were chosen from among wretched creatures, originally brought up as beggars, and who had been cooks, musicians, gamekeepers, stable boys, and even worse. Nay, the very higher clergy were often sunk in grievous ignor- ance. A bishop of Dunfield congratulated himself on his never having learned Greek or Hebrew; and the monks pretended tliat these two languages, but especially Greek, were the source of all heresies. "The New Testament," said one of them, " is a book full of snakes and thorns. Greek," he goes on to say, "is a new lano-uaofe, of late invention, and of which a man needs be well on his guard. As for Hebrew, my dear brethren, it is certain that all who learn it become Jews." We have this on the authority of Heresbach, the friend of Erasmus and a respectable writer. Thomas Linacer, though a learned and celebrated clergyman, never had read the New Testament. At the close of his life (in 1524) he made a copy be brought to him, but immediately tossed it from him with an oath, because on opening it, his eye had fallen on these words: "But I say unto you. Swear not at all." Now he happened to be a great swearer. "Either," says he, "this is not the gospel, or we are not Christians."" 2 The very theological faculty at Paris was not then afraid to say before the parhament, "It is all over with religion if leave be given to study Greek and Hebrew." ' Apologia pro Rep. Christi. " MuUcr's Kclig. vol. iii. p. 2.3-T. T H 58 HISTORY OF THE REFORilATION. Whatever accomplisliments might here and there be found among the clergy, proficiency in sacred literature was not one of them. The Ciceronians, as the admirers of Cicero were called in Italy, affected to sneer at the Bible on account of its style ; and men who held themselres out as priests of the church of Jesus Christ, translated the writings of holy men, inspired by the Spirit of God, into the style of Virgil and Horace, in order that they might not offend the ears of good society. For example, cardinal Bembo for Holy Ghost writes hreath of the celestial Zephyr; for to remit sins, to hend the manes and the sovereign gods, and instead of Christ, Son of God, Minerva come forth from the forehead of Jupi- ter. Finding that respectable scholar, Sadolet, engaged in trans- lating the epistle to the Romans: "leave off such childish work,"" said he to him, "such fooleries are unbecoming a man of sense." ^ Such were some of the consequences of the system under which Christendom lay oppressed. The picture which they present, no doubt, makes -the corruption of the Church and the necessity for a reformation evident, being the conclusion which we intended in sketching it. The vital doctrines of Christianity had entirely disappeared, and with them had departed that life and that light which are the very essence of the religion of God. The Church, as a body, had lost its vital energy, and there it lay, all but lifeless, extended over that part of the globe which had been occupied by the Roman empire. Who could be expected to restore its lost animation? Where was there to be found a remedy for such an accumulation of evils? V. A reform in the Church had now been the universal cry for ages, and all the powers of humanity had set themselves to make the attempt. But it was what God alone could accomplish. He began, accordingly, by humbling all the powers of men, in order that there might be full proof of their incapacity. He beheld them, one after another, dashing themselves to pieces at the foot of the colossus which they were endeavouring to destroy. The princes of this world were the first who began the strug- gle with Rome. All the might of the Hohenstaufen family, 2 * Felleri, Mon. ined., p. 400. 2 The German emperors of the house of Hohenstaufen in Swahia. To wit, the emperors of Charlemagne's family who reigned during the ninth century, were succeeded, first, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, by emperors of the ducal houses of Saxony and Franconia alternatively, and thereafter, in the twelfth century, by those here referred to, of the hout^e of Swahia. and tracing their EKF01U3 TOW Anus HEFOR.M ATIOX. 59 heroes wiih tlie crown of the cmph-o ciicu-chng their brows, seemed pledged to huinblo and reform Rome, and to rescue the nations, and Germany in particular, from her tyranny. But the petty castle of Canusium discovers to us of what small avail was the power of the empire, when matched with the Church's usurping chief. We there see that redoubtable prince, the emperor Henry IV., after a long and useless struggle with Rome, reduced to spend three whole days and nights in the ditches ot that insignificant Italian fortress, exposed to the winters piercing cold, despoiled of his imperial robes, without shoes, with no better covering than some woollens, imploring with cries interrupted with sobs, the compassion of Hildebrand, before whom he throws himself on his knees, and who deigns at length, after three lament- able nights had past, to allow himself so far to be wrought upon as to grant forgiveness to the suppliant.- Of so small account was the might of the great ones of the earth, of the world's kings and emperors, when matched against Rome. These were followed by perhaps yet more formidable adver- saries, the men of genius and learning. The mere revival of literature in Italy involved an energetic protest against the popedom ; but, to mention a few particular instances, Dante, the father of Italian poetry, boldly places the mightiest of the popes lineage from the free lords of Ilohensfaufen who were raised to the ducal dignity of Swabia in tlie eleventh century, and afterwards supplied several emperors. Previous to this, of the Franconian princes, Ilonry IV. in particular, had lived on very ill terms with pope Gregory, with whom he quarrelled about the appoint- ment of bishops ; yet being put under the ban by the pope, he had to submit to the disgraceful humiliation alluded to by the author in the text, and also in the 3.5th page. This, however, did not so intimidate subsequent emperors of the house of Hohenstaufen, and in particular Frederick Barbarossa and his grand- son, Frederick II. as to deter them from resisting the power of the pope. Frederick II. though repeatedly placed under the pai)al ban, held out by force of arms, at the expense, however, of bequeathing the hatred of the popes to his descendants. Ilis son, Conrad, could with difficulty maintain his power against the revolts excited against him, and was the last emperor of the family, while his grandson Conradin was deprived of his kingdom of Sicily, bestowed by the pope on the duke of Anjou, by whom he was beheaded. — L. R. - See how pope Hildebrand himself relates this event : " Tandem rex ad oppidum Canusii in quo morati sumus, cum paucis advenit, ibique per triduum ante portam, deposito omni regie cultu, miserabiliter, utpote discalccatus et laneis inductus, persistens, non prius cum multo fletu apostolica; miserationis auxilium et consolatium implorare dcstitit. quam omnes qui ibi aderant, ad tantam piotatem et compassionis mi-scricordiam niovit, ut pro eo multis prccibus et lacrymis interccdentes, omnes quidcm insolitam nostra; mentis duritiam mirarentur, nonnulli vero non apostolicse sevoritatis gravitatem, sed quas^i tyrannicoe feritatis crudelftatem esse clamaront " (Lib. iv. ep. 12; ad Gei'manos.) CO HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION-. in his hell; he makes the apostle Peter utter the severest and most humiliating language against his unworthy successors, and of the monks and the clergy he gives the most horrible description. Another great genius, Petrarch, a man of a mind superior to all the emperors and popes of his time, boldly insisted on a return to the primitive constitution of the Church; and to effect this, calls upon the men of his time and the government of the emperor, Charles IV., to lend their assistance. Laurentius Valla, one of the most illustrious of the literary men of Italy, most energetically assailed both the pretensions of th-e popes and the pretended inheritance they liold from Constantine. These were followed by a whole legion of poets and of men of science and philosophy, and thus the torch of literature being every- where rekindled, threatened to burn down the Roman scaiFolding that obscured it. All these endeavours, however, were useless. Leo. X. took literature into his own service, and made poetry and the arts and sciences, as it were, the ministers and menials of his court, humbly kissing the feet of the very power which in their childish self-conceit they had vaunted that they could destroy. At last there appeared an adversary which, more than any ether, seemed capable of reforming the Church, and that was the Church itself. The call for reform now burst from all quarters, and had been sounding for ages, when there met at Constance, in the council that takes its name from that city, the most imposing of ecclesiastical assemblies. Christendom had never, indeed, known a meeting of the kind, that carried with it so much weight and authority; comprising, as it did, an immense number of cardinals, archbishops, and bishops, eighteen hundred priests and doctors of divinity, the emperor with a following of a thousand persons, the elector of Saxony, the elector Palatine, the dukes of Bavaria and Austria, and the ambassadors of all the other powers. Among these distinguished persons the chief place must be assigned to the illustrious and immortal doctors of the university of Paris, the d'Aillys, the Gersons, the Clemangis, men eminent at once for piety, learning, and moral courage, and who communicated an energetic and salutary impulsion to the council by the truths which they pub- lished, and the power with which they spoke. All gave way COUNCir, OF COXSTANCR. 61 before this assembly. With cne liaiul it threw down three popes, while, with the other, it dcHvered Jolm lluss to the flames. A commission, in which all nations had their deputies, was appointed to draw up the plan for a fundamental reform. To this measure the emperor Sigismond gave the whole weight of his influence. But one voice prevailed in the council. All the cardinals swore that whoever of them might be elected pope, should not break up the meeting, or leave Constance, until the reform so much called for, should be effected. Colonna was chosen under the name of Martin V. And now had arrived the critical moment which was to decide the reformation of the Church. All the prelates, the emperor, all the princes and all the nations of Christendom, Avcre watching the result with incon- ceivable impatience. " The council is closed," exclaimed Martin V. the moment that his head received the tiara. Sigismond and the Church uttered a cry of mingled surprise, indignation, and grief ; but the air closed upon this cry, and on the 16th of May, 1418, the pope appeared in full pontifical array, and mounted on a richly caparisoned mule. The emperor appears on his right and the elector of Brandenburg on his left, each holding the reins of his steed; four counts raise a magnificent canopy over the papal head; several princes flock round and lend their assistance; and a cavalcade, a historian informs us, of forty thousand persons, composed of noblemen, knights, and ecclesiastics of all ranks, in solemn state convoy the pontift' beyond the walls of Constance. And Rome, alone, on his mule, laughs in liis sleeve at Christendom as it surrounds him, and tells him, that the charm he exercises is such, that it must be overcome, if at all, by some power other than emperors, kings, bishops, doctors; ay, than all the learning, and all the might, of that age and of the Church. How could that which needed reform become itself the reform- ing power ? How could the sore have found any healing virtue in itself? Nevertheless, the means employed for the reformation of the Church, and which the event proved to be impotent, had their share in weakening obstacles, and in smoothing the way for the Reformers. C)2 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. VI. The ills with which Christendom was now afflicted — superstition, infidelity, ignorance, idle speculations, and corrup- tion of manners — all sprang naturally from man's own heart, and were no new thing on the earth. They had often figured in the history of the nations, and, especially in the East, had attacked various religions in the decline of their glory. To these evils such enervated religions had given way — had perished when thus smitten, and none had ever again raised its head. Could it be that Christianity was to undergo the same fate, and that it, too, was to perish like the ancient popular religions' Was the stroke that had dealt death to them, to prove equally deadly to it? Was there no saving power to be found? Was it possible that the unfriendly forces that had begun to over- whelm it, after having crushed so many different kinds of wor- ship, were to be suffered to settle down, unopposed, on the ruined Church of Jesus Christ? No — Christianity has that which none of these popular religions possessed. What it presents to man is not, as with them, certain general ideas, mingled with traditions and fables, all fated, sooner or later, to fall before the attacks of human reason. It contains a pure truth, based on facts that are capable of bearing the examination of every honest and intelligent mind. Christianity aims not merely at the excitement in man of certain vague religious feelings, the impression made by which, when once lost, cannot be renewed ; its object is to satisfy, and it does satisfy, all the religious yearnings of human nature, whatever the degree of development it may have reached. It is not man's work, for that is ever transient and evanescent; it is the work of God, who maintains what he creates, and the promises of its divine Author are the pledges of its durability. Never can humanity obtain the ascendency over Christianity. And if, for a time, the former has thought that it might dis- pense with the latter, yet soon does it appear again in all the freshness of a new life, as the only medicine that can heal men's souls; then do degenerate nations return with quite fresh eager- ness to the ancient, simple, and yet mighty truths which, in the hour of their besotted folly, they had disdained. In fact, Christianity put forth the same regenerating power in the sixtcorith century Avliich it liad exerted in the first. After CIIUISTIAMTY IMl'KUlSlIAliLK. C3 the lapse of fifteen hundred years, the same trutlis prochicod the same effects; and in the days of the lleformation, as in those of Paul and of Peter, the gospel overcame immense obstacles, with resistless force. Its sovereign potency manifested itself from north to south, and among nations presenting every variety of manners, character, and intellectual development. Then, as in the time of Stephen and of James, it kindled the flame of enthusiasm and devotedness among extinct nations, and raised them even to the moral elevation of martyrdom. Now, let us see how this vivification of the Church and of the world was effected. Here we observe the operation of two laws by which God at all times governs the world. First, he makes slow and remote preparation for whatever he means to accomplish, and to effect which, all time is at his disposal. Then, when the moment for executing his purposes has arrived, he effects the greatest objects by the most inconsider- able instruments. Thus does he act, both in nature and in history. When he means that a huge tree should extend its branches over the earth, he drops a small seed in the soil; when lie means to renovate his Church, he employs the pettiest instru- ment to effect what has exceeded the capacity of emperors, and of the learned and eminent men of the Church. As we proceed with our research, we shall soon discover this small seed, planted by a divine hand at the time of the Reformation; but at present, we must set ourselves to discern and recognize the various means by which God prepared the way for this great revolutiori. First, let us glance at the state of the popedom itself; and then pass under review the several influences which God made to concur in promoting his designs. Just as the Reformation was ready to burst forth, Rome seemed to be in peace and safety. One might have said, indeed, that her triumph was now beyond the reach of being shaken; she was reposing, after having gained great victories. Councils general, which might be regarded as the parliamentary cham- bers, the upper and lower houses, of the Church, had been put down; the Vaudois and the Hussites had been repressed; no university, with the exception, porlmps, of tl.at of Paris, wliich 6i HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATION. at times would raise its voice on receiving the signal from its kings, disputed the infallibility of the oracles of Rome. Each seemed to accept his own share of her power. The higher clergy thought it better to allow the tenth of their revenues to go to a distant chief, and quietly to consume the other nine parts, rather than risk the whole for the sake of an independence which might cost them dear, and give them little in return. The lower clergy, lured by the prospect of the brilliant places which ambition pictured forth to them in the distance, willingly consented to a little bondage while indulging expectations so flattering to their vanity. They were, moreover, almost every where so oppressed by the chiefs of the hierarchy, that they dared hardly stir their wings under such powerful hands; far less,resolutely throw off the pressure and make head against them. As for the people, they bowed their knees at the Roman altar; and even the kings themselves, although they had begun secretly to despise the bishop of Rome, dared not raise what that age would have called a sacrilegious hand against his power. But although when the Reformation broke forth, opposition from without seems to have declined, or even altogether ceased, it had been collecting inward vigour; and on a closer inspection of the edifice, we shall discover that it showed more than one symptom of its approaching ruin. Thus, even in their fall, general councils had diffused their principles throughout the Church, and had carried division into the camp of their oppo- nents. The defenders of the hierarchy split into two parties: those who, on Hildebrand's principles, maintained the absolute domination of the pope, and those who were for a constitutional popedom, reserving securities and franchises to the churches. More than this: faith in the Roman bishop's infallibility had received a violent shock; and if no voice was lifted against it, this arose from each rather endeavouring anxiously to retain what- ever small remains of faith he had. The slightest shake caused alarm, because it was thought that it might bring down the whole edifice. Christendom held its breath, but only to prevent a disaster in the midst of which it might have trembled for its existence. But from the moment that man trembles to think of giving up a long revered persuasion, he proves that he no TRANSFORMATION' Or TIIK CIlUKCll. ().» longer really possesses it; nor will ho very long keep up cvon the appearance which lio wants to maintain. Let us see how this singular condition of things was brought about. Its first cause is to be found in the Church itself. Not that the errors and superstitions which it had introduced into Chris- tianity, were what properly had inflicted a fatal blow. Christen- dom behoved to have been placed above the Church in point of intellectual and religious developement, in order to have the capacity forjudging in this respect. But there was an order of things level to the capacity of the laity, and it was there that the Church was judged. She had become worldly. That sacer- dotal empire which lorded it over the nations, and which sub- sisted only because its subjects were deceived and thought that its crown was a glory, had forgotten its true nature. Leaving heaven and its spheres of light and glory, it had immersed itself in the vulgar concerns of burghers and of princes. Born repre- sentatives of the Spirit, the priests had bartered it for the flesh; and abandoned the treasures of learning, and the spiritual power of preaching, for brute force and the tinsel of this world. All this happened very naturally. True, it was the spiritual order of things that the Church first stood forth to defend. But for its defence against the resistance and the attacks of the nations, she had sought the aid of those earthly means, and vulgar arms, which a false prudence had induced her to employ. Once that the Church set herself to the handling of such arms, it was all over with her spirituality. Her arm could not become a secular one without her heart becoming so also; and forthwith, the original state of things with her was perceived to be apparently reversed. Beginning with the intention of calling in the earth for the defence of heaven, she ended with making use of heaven in defending the earth. The forms of a theocracy were no longer anything better in her hands than the means of accomplishing worldly undertakings. The offerings which the tribes of Christendom laid before the sovereign pontiff", served but to pamper his luxurious court and to pay his soldiers. The charm was dissipated, and the Church became an impotent thing from the moment the men of this world could say, " She has become like unto us." I. I 66 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. The great were the first to scrutinize the titles of this imaginary power. ^ Such an inquest might have sufficed for her exposure and ruin; but happily for her, the education of princes was everywhere in the hands of her adepts. These were sure to instil into their august pupils sentiments of veneration for the Roman pontiff. The chiefs of the nations spent their early years in the sanctuary of the Church; princes of ordinary capacity never knew how to come altogether out of it; not a few desired nothing more than to find themselves there at the moment of their death. They liked better to die under a priest's frock than under a crown. No country contributed more than Italy, that apple of discord to the rest of Europe, to open the eyes of kings. With the popes they had to form alliances in which, not the bishop of bishops, but the temporal ruler of the States of the Church, was the person really concerned. In the course of such transactions, they discovered that these pretended organs of the truth, had recourse to all the petty artifices of politics — to deception, to dissimulation, and even to perjury. "2 Then it was that the bandage with which education had hoodwinked the eyes of princes, fell off". Then did the adroit Ferdinand of Aragon^ play off' stratagem against stratagem. Then did the impetuous Louis XII. cause a medal to be struck with this legend: Perdam Bahylonis nomen. ^ And the honest Maximilian of Austria, grieved to the heart on being informed of Leo X.'s treachery, openly declared: " This pope, too, is in my eyes no better than ' Adrien Baillet, Ilistoire des demeles de Boniface VIII. avec Philippe le Bel, (Paris, 1708.) ^ Guicciardini, History of Italy. ^ P'erdinand of Aragon is celebrated in history on various accounts. By his marriage with Isabella, queen of Castile, he united all Spain into one kingdom, absolutely annihilated the dominion which the Moors had held in Spain ever since the eighth century, put down the robberies and oppressions of the great, and introduced a better order of things. He extended his authority into other lands also, became proverbial for craftiness, and showed great apparent zeal in the cause of religion, by persecuting the Jews and introducing the Inquisition. All this procured for him the surname of " the Catholic," yet he not the less fell under the suspicion of the popes, who distrusted his cunning, and thought with others that he aimed at universal empire. Louis XII. of France was a high-spirited monarch. He was occasionally outwitted by Ferdinand, and was not afraid to oppose the pope, having even summoned pope Julius II. to appear before a meeting of cardinals at Pisa: though after- wards, when under the necessity of procuring peace, he humbled himself before the pope. — L. R. * I will destroy the name of Babylon. ROMAN THEOLOGY. 67 a felon. Now I can say tliat not one pope, during m.y whole life, has kept faith with nic, and been true to his word. . . I hope, if God please, that this will bo the last."" ' Such discoveries, though first made by kings, gradually reached and influenced the people under them. But several other causes opened the long- closed eyes of Christendom. The wisest began to accustom themselves to the notion that the bishop of Home was a mere man, and sometimes a very wicked man. The common people began to suspect that he was not a great deal holier than his bishops, and their reputation was very equivocal. The popes themselves, however, did more than all beside, to make themselves dishonoured; for when the Council of, Basel had freed them from all restraint, they gave themselves over to that unbridled license which ordinarily follows a victory. The very Romans, dissolute as they were, felt shocked at this; the scandal caused by these excesses passed from mouth to mouth throughout all Christendom ; and its inhabitants, though incompetent to the task of preventing their treasures being swept off into this deluge of profligacy, sought compensation in hatred. 2 While many circumstances concurred in undermining what then existed, the tendency of others was to introduce something new. The strange theological system then established in the Church, could not fail to contribute powerfully to the opening of the eyes of the new generation. This system, made for an age of dark- ness as if that age were to subsist for ever, must have been left behind and destroyed in all its parts, as society moved forward. Such was actually the case. The popes had made now one, now another, addition to the doctrines of Christianity, but had altered or expunged only what would not square with their hierarchy; while whatever was found not inconsistent with their plan, was suffered to remain until farther orders. True doctrines were to be found in this system, such as that of the redemption, and of the power of the Spirit of God, and with ' Scultet. Annal. ad an. 1520. 8 " Odium llomani nominis pcnitus infixum esse multamin gentium aniniis opinor, ob ea qua3 vulgo dc moribus ejus urbis jactantur," (Erasmi E]>istol. lib. xii.p. 031.) 68 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. these a skilful theoloirian niio;ht attack and subvert all the rest. The pure gold that was mingled with vile lead in the Vatican treasury, could easily make the fraud appear evident; and although it be true that when any one had the courage to notice it, Rome straightway winnowed this good grain out of her threshing-floor, still these very condemnations only increased the chaos. Immense, indeed, was that chaos, and pretended unity was but one vast disorder. At Rome itself there were the doctrines of the court and the doctrines of the Church. Then, the creed of the metropolis differed from that of the provinces, and the diversity that prevailed in these went almost to infinity. There was the creed of the princes, the creed of the people, and the creed of the religious orders, among which people distinguished the opinions of such a convent, such a district, such a doctor, or such a monk. In order to secure its existence during the period when Rome might have crushed it with her iron mace, truth had done like the insect when it incloses itself in its chrysalis during the wintry season ; and, strange to say, the means which this divine verity had employed in thus shrouding itself from assault, were the very schoolmen who have been so much decried. These indus- trious artificers of thought, had set themselves to the spinning out of all the ideas known in theology, and with the threads thus formed, they had made a network, within which it had been most difficult for their subtlest contemporaries to recognise the truth in its primitive purity. One may complain that an insect, full of life and sometimes sparkling in the brightest colours, should shut itself up, to all appearance dead, in an obscure cone; but to that it owes its preservation. And so it was with truth. Had Rome, with her interested and suspicious policy, encountered it in the days of her might, in its naked state, she would have destroyed, or at least attempted to destroy it. But while dis- guised as it had been by the theologians of that age, in an inter- minable web of subtilties and distinctions, the popes either did not perceive it at all, or thought that in that state it could never hurt them. They even protected both the workmen and their work. But spring-time might come round, and then truth miijht rise from its concealment, and cast off the threads that REMAINS OF SPIRITUAL LIFE. 69 enveloped it. With the fresh energies it had acquired in what was apparently a tomb, its rising again might soon bo followed by a victory over Rome and her errors. This spring-time did come round. And while the absurd wrappings of the schoolmen cave wav, one after another, before the able attacks and the sneering ridicule of the new generation, the truth, in all its fresh- ness and loveliness, escaped and was free. But it was not only from the writings of the schoolmen that the truth received powerful testimonies in its favour. Christi- anity, it may be remarked, had everywhere mingled some of her own vitality in that of the nations. The Church of Christ was, indeed, a degraded structure; but when men began to dig into its foundations, they so far discovered the living rock on which it was originally built. Several institutions dating from the good times of the Church, still subsisted, and could not but call forth in many souls such evangelical sentiments as opposed the dominant superstition. Here and there would a solitary voice fall upon the ear from inspired men, and from the Church's ancient teachers ; and we may hope that it was listened to in silence by more than one attentive hearer. Let us not doubt, and it is a delightful reflection, that Christians had many brothers and sisters in those monasteries, where people are too ready to perceive nothing but hypocrisy and dissoluteness. Nor was it only things old that smoothed the Avay for this religious awakening; there was something new which must have powerfully favoured it. The human mind was growing older, and this single fact must have brought about its enfranchise- ment. ^ The shrub, as it advances in its growth, overturns the walls near which it was planted, and for their shadow substitutes its own. The Roman pontiff had taken advantage of his superiority in point of intelligence, to reduce the nations to a state of pupilage under him, and while he kept them long in minority, he knew, also, how to keep them obedient to his will. But they were now becoming men, and escaped from his grasp on every side. This venerable guardianship, which had its first cause in the principles of everlasting life and of civilization com- i In this and sundry other expressions wo see how difficult it is for a Christian author altonether to escape from tlie philosophical cant of the day. Any such advance of "the human mind is a dream of modern philosophy. Tn. 70 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. municated by Rome to nations of barbarians, could no longer go on unopposed, for a formidable adversary had now placed itself in a position to watch and control it. We find this new power in the natural proneness of the human mind to develope its powers, to examine and to inform itself. Men''s eyes were now opening, and they wanted to have reasons for every step which they took by the direction of this long respected guide, under whom they had been seen for ages, and as long as their eyes were shut, to move without a word of remonstrance. The tribes of a new Europe had now passed the period of their childhood; their adult age was commencing; and the childlike simplicity which had been ready to believe everything, had now given place to an inquiring mind and to a reason which was impatient of all imperfect knowledge. People now inquired what God's object had been in speaking to the world, and if men had any right to place themselves as mediators between God and their brethren. The Church had but one means of safety; and this lay in maintaining its ascendency over the nations. It was not enough that it should be on a level with them, yet it found itself greatly overtopped. At the very time these began to mount, it began to go down; as men in general were gradually rising towards the domain of intelligence, the priesthood found themselves absorbed with earthly pursuits and human interests. Such a phenomenon repeatedly meets us in history. The eaglefs wings had grown, and no one could be found with a powerful enough hand to prevent its spreading them for flight. While in Europe itself the light was thus bursting from the prison in which it had long remained captive, the East began to shed a new radiance over the West. This was caused by the flight of the learned from Constantinople on the standard of the Osmanlis being planted on the walls of that city, in 1453; and their carrying with them into Italy the literature of Greece. Minds that had been extinct for ages, now caught flame from the torch of the ancients. Printing, then a late invention, multi- plied the energetic protests raised against the corruptions of the Church, as well as those not less potent voices which call^ed the human mind into new paths. It seemed as if errors and vain practices, were exposed to view in one bright jet of light. It TIIK REFORMATION SAVED KKLIGION. 71 was a light, however, Avhich though sufficiently adapted to destroy was incapable of building up again. It never could be the voca- tion either of Homer or of Virgil, to save the Church. In short, the principle of the Reformation is not at all to be found in the revival of literature, and of the sciences and arts. The paganism of the poets when it re-appeared in Italy, was more likely to bring back the paganism of the heart. When vain superstitions were attacked and gave way, they were suc- ceeded only by inlidelity with its scornful sneers; so that it became the fashion and was thought the mark of a superior mind, to laugh at everything, not excepting things the most sacred. Religion was looked upon merely as a means of gover- ning the people. "I have my fears," exclaimed Erasmus in 1516, "that with the study of ancient literature, we may see the return of ancient paganism." It is true that then, just as after the sneering age of Augus- tus, and as, in our own days, after the irreligious scoffs of the last century, a new Platonic philosophy was seen to pierce the soil, and attracted attention by attacking this impudent incredu- lity, and endeavouring, like the philosophy of the present day, to produce a certain respect for Christianity and to revive reli- gious feelings in the hearts of men. The Medici family, at Florence, gave their countenance to these eflorts of the Plato- nists, but never will a philosophical religion regenerate the Church or the world. In its haughty contempt for the preach- ing of the cross, and its affectation of seeing nothing but figures and symbols in the doctrines of Christianity, to the greater number of men it becomes incomprehensible, and may evaporate in a mystical enthusiasm, but will ever prove incapable of reform- ing men in this world or of saving them in the next. What, then, would have been the result, had true Christian- ity not re-a]ipeared in the w'orld, and had faith failed to replen- ish men''s hoarts with its moral power and purity? The Refor- mation saved religion, and with religion society itself; so that if the Church of Rome had had God's glory and man''s wel- fare really at heart, she would have greeted it with joy. But what cared Leo X. for either? Very different from its consequences in Italy and Franco were those that followed the stud}' of ancient literature in Gcr- 72 HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATIOX. many. In the latter country that study was mingled with faith, and hence what in the one case had only produced a certain refinement of the understanding, minute in effort and barren in results, penetrated and pervaded men''s whole minds in the other case, warming their hearts and preparing them for receiving a yet better illumination. The first restorers of literature in Ital}' and in France, were notorious for the levity, — often even for the downright immorality, of their conduct; whereas the men who succeeded them in Germany, were of a serious turn, and zealously devoted themselves to the search of truth. While oftering her incense to profane literature and science, Italy beheld the rise of an infidel opposition ; Germany, too, while engrossed with a profound theology and thrown back on her- self, beheld the rise of an opposition, but it was one replete Avith faith. There the foundations of the Church were undermined — ^liere they were laid anew and restored. A remarkable union of free, learned, and generous men took place in the empire; — ■ men among whom some princes occupied a conspicuous place, and who endeavoured to make learninhich he then acquired remained with him throughout his whole life; even in the course of his travels which were usually performed on horseback, he lost no time. He composed on the road as he ambled across the country, and wrote down his thoughts on arriving at an inn. It was thus that he produced his famous "Praise of Folly 2" as he was travelling from Italy to England. Erasmus soon earned a high reputation among the learned. But the monks, stung by his Praise of Folly, in which he had ridiculed theirs, devoted him to intense hatred. When he was ' His proper name was Gerhard, as was his father's. This Dutch name he translated into the Latin Dc?idcriiis and the Greek Erasmus. ^ Eyxi^fii'jv i^-ji^las. Seven editions were taken off in the course of a few moi.ths. 103 HISTORY or THE REFORMATIOX. souo-lit for by princes, his excuses, when he wanted them for tlie purpose of avoiding compliance, were exhaustless; for he liked much better to earn his bread as a corrector of books for the printer, Frobenius, than to live surrounded by luxuries and favours at the magnificent courts of Charles V., Henry VIII., and Francis I., or to place on his head the cardinaFs hat that was offered to him. ^ From 1509 downwards he taught at Oxford. In 1516 he came to Basel, and established himself there in 1521. Now, what influence did he exert on the Reformation? That influence has been over-estimated on the one side, and too much depreciated on the other. Erasmus never was, and never could have been, a Reformer; but what he could not do himself, he facilitated the doing of by others. Not only did he diffuse in his own age, that love of learning, and that spirit of research and inquiry which led others much farther than ho went ; but, moreover, under the protection of great prelates and of mighty princes, he contrived to expose and attack the vices of the Church by the most pungent satires. Erasmus did more than this: not content with attacking abuses, he endeavoured to recall the clergy from the study of the schoolmen, to the study of holy scripture. " The highest object," said he, " of the revival of philosophical studies, will be to learn to become acquainted with simple and pure Christianity in the bible." Noble saying ! and would that the organs of the philosophy of our days as well understood their calling ! " I am firmly resolved," he farther said, " to die in the study of the Scripture: in it I find my joy and my peace."- "The sum of all Christian philosophy," says he in another place, " is com- prised in this: To place our whole hope in God who, without our merit, by grace, gives us all in Jesus Christ; to know that we are redeemed by the death of his Son ; to die to worldly lusts, and to walk in conformity with his teaching and example, not only without offence to any, but, further, doing good to all; patiently to endure trial in the hope of future recompense; in fine, to take to ourselves no credit for our virtues, but to give ' A principibus facile mihi contingeret fortuna, nisi mihi nimium dulcis esset libertas, (Epist. ad Pirck.) 2 Ad Scrvatiuni. ACHIEVEMENTS OF EHASMUS. 100 thanks to God for all our powers and all our doings. Such are the convictions with which man ought to bo penetrated, until this has become in him a second nature." ^ But Erasmus was not satisfied with this frank confession of evangelical doctrine; his labours were more efficient than his words. In particular, he greatly promoted the truth by the publication of his critical edition of the New Testament, which was the first, and for long the only one; it appeared at Basel in 1516, a year before the Reformation began. He accompanied it with a Latin translation in which he boldly corrected the Vulgate, and with justificatory remarks. Erasmus thus did for the New Testament what lleuchlin had done for the Old. From that time forth, theologians could read the word of God in the original tongues, and proceeded from that to the acknowledgment of the purity of the doctrine of the Reformers. " Would to God," says Erasmus in publishing his work, " tliat it may bear as much fruit for Christianity as it has cost me pains and application!" and he had his wish fulfilled. The monks exclaimed in vain: " He wants to correct the Holy Spirit!" The New Testament published by Erasmus, opened a fresh flood of light; and this great man farther difl'used a taste for the word of God by his paraphrases on the Epistle to the Romans. The efi'ect of these labours went even beyond his intentions. Reuchlin and Erasmus unsealed the Bible to the learned; Luther restored it to the people. Erasmus was to many a kind of bridge of passage. Many who would have taken alarm at the truths of the gospel when presented in all their force and purity, allowed themselves to be allured to them by him, and became afterwards the most zealous abettors of the Reformation. But his very fitness for the task of preparation, unfitted him for that of accomplishment. " Erasmus," said Luther, " is admirable in pointing out errors, but he knows not how to teach the truth." Christ's gospel was not the fire that kindled and kept up his life, — the centre from which his activity threw out its rays. He was first a learned, and next only, a Christian man. He was too much influenced by vanity to exercise a decisive * Ad Joh Slcchtam. 1519. IIa?c sunt animis hominum inculcanda, sic, ut velut in naturam transcant. (Er Epp i p. 6S0.) 110 HlSTOliV OF THE KKFORMATION. influence over his age. He anxiously calculated the consequences which each of his proceedings might have in regard to his repu- tation, and there was nothing lie liked so much to speak of as 'himself and his glory. " The Pope," he wrote to an intimate friend with childish vanity, at the time of his declaring himself the adversary of Luther, " the Pope has sent me a diploma full of kindness and testimonies of honour. His secretary swears to me that such a thing was never before heard of, and that the Pope dictated it to him word for word." Erasmus and Luther are the representatives of two grand ideas on the subject of reform, and of two great parties in their own age and in all ages. The one is composed of men of a timid prudence; the other comprises the resolute and the bold; both as they existed at that time, were personified in these two illustrious chiefs, "^'our men of prudence trusted to a reforma- tion being brought about in the Church by little and little, and without schism, by the cultivation of theological literature, but the men of action thought that the diffusion of the soundest ideas among the learned, would not dispel popular superstitions, and that the correction of such or such an abuse was a small matter if the entire life of the Church were not renewed. " A disadvantageous peace," Erasmus would say, " is to be preferred to the justest war." ^ He thought, and how many Erasmuses have there been since, and are there Hving now ! — he thoudit that a reformation which was to shake the Church might risk overturning it; he was alarmed at the prospect of men's being excited, of evil mingling with the small amount of good that could be effected, of existing institutions being destroyed without being replaced by others, and the vessel of the Church, with the water rushing into it at all parts, being engulphed at last amid the storm. " They who would introduce the sea into new marshes," said he, " often do what they have cause to repent of; for the formidable element, when once let in, does not flow as they would wish it should, but rushes abroad as it pleases, and causes immense devastation," ^ But the courageous among his contemporaries had wherewithal > Malo hnnc, qualisqnisque ost. rerum humcaiicarum statum quam novos excitari tumultus, ho farther said. (Erasm. Epp. i. p. 953.) 2 Semcl admissuin non ea fertur, qua destinarat admissor . . . (Erasm. Epp. i. p. 950.) A UKl'ORMATION UMPOSSlIiLIC \V1T1I0UX COMMOTIONS. HI to reply to this. History lias given ample proof that a fi-ank exposition of the truth, and open battle with falsehood, could alone make victory certain. Had mild measures been followed, political artifices and the trickery of the papal court, would have extinguished the light as soon as kindled. And had not mild measures been employed for ages ? Had not councils upon councils been convened for the purpose of reforming the Church? All had been of no avail, and why pretend anew to repeat an experiment which had so often proved abortive? No doubt a fundamental reform could not have been effected without schisms. But when did there ever appear anything great or good among men, which did not cause some agitation? This dread of seeing evil mingle with good, may be ever so legitimate, but even then, would it not lay an arrest on what are precisely the noblest and the holiest undertakings? Instead of shrinking from the evil which may arise out of a great agita- tion, we ought to gather up our energies for the task of com- batting and destroying it. We ought besides, to consider the total difference between a commotion resulting from human passions, and one emanating from the Spirit of God. The one shakes society to its base — the other strengthens and braces it. How erroneous, then, like Erasmus, to suppose that in the state in which Christendom then was, with that medley of conflicting elements, of truth and falsehood, of death and life, there yet remained any possibility of preventing violent convulsions ! As well might we attempt to shut up the crater of Vesuvius when the angry elements are boiling in its breast ! Already had the middle ages seen several violent commotions under an atmosphere less charged with storms than was that of the times of the Reformation, and what was now to be done was not to suppress and arrest, but to direct and guide. Had the Reformation failed to break out, who could have answered for the fearful ruin that might have come in its place? A prey to numberless destructive elements, and without any to regenerate and preserve it, society must have been frightfully convulsed and shattered. Assuredly it would have been just a reform according to the notions of Erasmus, and such as many moderate but timid men of our dav fondlv dream of, that would 112 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. have entirely subverted the social system of Christendom. Without either the intelligence or the piety which the Eeforma- tion caused to descend, even to the obscurest ranks, the people given over to their violent passions, and to the spirit of restless- ness and revolt, would have rushed out like some furious animal, provoked to madness, and incapable of being controlled by any check that could be put upon its wrath. The Reformation was nothing less than an intervention of God's Spirit among men — an arrangement introduced by God himself upon the earth. No doubt, it might cause a fermentation of the elements that lie hid in man's heart; but God overcame these. The doctrines of the gospel, the truth of God, penetrating the mass of the popula- tion in various countries, destroyed what it was well should perish, but strengthened what ought to have been retained. The Reformation has had a conservative influence in the world — prejudice only can say that its tendency has been destructive. "The ploughshare,"" it has been justly said in speaking of the doings of the Reformation, "might as well think that it hurts the earth because it tears it open; whereas it only makes it fruitful." The grand principle with Erasmus was: "Enlighten, and the darkness will disperse of itself." It was a sound principle, and Luther put it in practice. But when the enemies of the truth, make eiforts to extinguish it, or to wrest the torch from the hand that bears it, ought we, from love of peace, tamely to look on? Ought we not to resist the wicked? Erasmus was wanting in courage; a quality no less requisite in effecting a reformation than in taking a town. Constitutional timidity marked his character. From his early years, the mere mention of death made him tremble. He took infinite pains to preserve his health, and grudged no cost in getting to a distance from a place where a contagious malady prevailed. His very vanity was surpassed by his love of the conveniences of life, and it was this that made him refuse more than one brilliant offer. No wonder such a man made no pretence to the part of a reformer. "If the corrupt morals of the court of Rome," said he, "call for some great and speedy remedy, this is neither my affair nor that of men like me."l He had none of that vigorous 1 Ingens aliquod ct pi-mseiis remedium, certe meum non est. (Er. Ep. i. . 653.) INDECISION OF EH ASM US. i I 3 faith which animated Luther. And wliilo the latter was ever ready to lay down his life for the truth, Erasmus would ingenu- ously say: "Let others pretend to martyrdom; as for me, 1 do not hold myself worthy of that honour.' 1 fear, were thero to be any tumult, I might imitate Peter when he fell." Erasunis, more than any other, had by his discourses and writings prepared the Reformation; then, when he saw the storui he had raised, ho gave way to fear, lie would have given any thing to have had the previous calm brought back, surcharged as it was with heavy vapours. But it was now too late, for the dyke was already broken, and none could stay the flood which was at once to purify and to fertilize the world. Erasums was mighty as an instrument in the hand of God ; ceasing to be that, he was nothinir. In the end, he knew not for which party to declare himself. None pleased him, and he feared them all. "It is dangerous to speak," said he, "and it is dangerous to hold one's peace." In all great religious movements we may find such undecided characters, persons respectable in some points of view, but who injure the truth, and who while wishing to give offence to none, displease all. What would become of the truth, did not God raise up more courageous champions for its defence? The following is the advice given by Erasmus to Viglius Zuichem, afterwards president of the higher court at Brussels, on the manner in which he ought to conduct himself towards the sectarians, for such was the name he gave the reformers. "My friendship for you, makes me desire that you would keep aloof from the contagion of the sects, and that you would give them no room to say, 'Zuichem is one of us.' Though you may approve their doctrines, at least dis- semble, and above all, dispute not with them. A jurisconsult ought to finesse with these folks, as a dying man once did with the devil. The devil asked him, What is your creed? The dyinij man, being afraid that were he to say what it was, he might be caught in some heresy, replied: 'What the Church believes."" But the other urged him again: 'What does the Church believe?' The man replied: 'What I believe.' The devil rejoins with the question: 'And what then do you believe?' On which ' Ego me non arbitror hoc honore dignus. Ibid. 11-t HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. the dying man again replies, 'What the Church believes.'"''' ' Duke George of Saxony, also, a mortal enemy of Luther, having received from Erasmus an equivocal answer to a question he had put to him, said, "Dear Erasmus, wash me my fur cloak, and do not wet it only." Ourius Secundus, in one of his works, describes two heavens, the popish and the Christian. He finds Erasmus in neither, but describes him as incessantly moving between the two, in endless gyrations. Such was Erasmus. He had none of that inward deliver- ance from bondage which makes a man truly free. How dif- ferent would he have been, had he but had sufficient self-denial to devote himself unreservedly to the truth ! But after having endeavoured to effect some reforms with the approbation of the Church's chief, after having abandoned the Reformation for Rome when he saw that these two things could not advance together, he lost himself in the esteem of all. On the one side, liis palinodes could not appease the wrath of the fanatical parti- zans of the popedom, who feeling how much mischief he had done them, would not forgive him for it. The monks, with impetuous rage, overwhelmed him with insulting language from their pulpits, calling him a second Lucian; a fox that had laid waste the Lord's vineyard. A certain doctor, at Constance, had a portrait of Erasmus hung up in his study, that he might have the satisfaction of indulging the grudge he bore him, by spit- ting in his face. But on the other hand, Erasmus, having abandoned the cause of the gospel, saw himself deprived of the esteem and affection of the most generous men of his time; and must, no doubt, have forfeited those heavenly consolations which God diff'uses in the hearts of such as conduct themselves as good soldiers of Jesus Christ. At least it would appear that we must infer this from those bitter tears, and painful watchings, that troubled sleep and loathing of food, that distaste for the study of the muses which used to be his only solace, that sor- rowful brow, that pallid face, those downcast melancholy looks, that hatred of a life which he calls cruel, and those sighs for death, of which he speaks to his friends.^ Poor Erasmus! » Erasm. Epp. 374. 2 Vigilise molestro, somnus iiTcquietus, cibus insipidus omnis, ipsum quoque musarum studium .... ipsa froiitis majstitia, vultus palor, oculorum subtristis dejectio .... (Erasm. Epp. I, p. 1380.) THE NOHLKS OF GKRMANY miTTKN. 115 The enemies of Erasmus, we conceive, went a little beyond the truth, when they exclaimed on the appearance of Luther: "Erasmus laid the egg, and Luther has hatched it.* XIL The same symptoms of regeneration which were to be found among tlie princes, the bishops, and the learned, appeared, also, among men of the world, noblemen, knights, and tiie military. The nobles of Germany acted an important part in the Reformation. Several of the most illustrious sons of Ger- many, formed an intimate alliance with the chiefs of literature, and under the impulse of an ardent though sometimes excessive zeal, strove to deliver tlieir people from the yoke of Rome. Various causes must have concurred to raise up friends to the Reformation from the ranks of the nubility. Some members of that body, while attending the universities, had had their hearts warmed by the ilame that glowed in the breasts of the learned; while others, in the course of a generous education of the feelings, had had their souls opened to the excellencies of gospel doctrine, and to many the Reformation bore a kind of chivalrous aspect, which caught their fancies, and enticed them into its train. And it must be confessed, that there were yet others who had no good will to the clergy, regarding them as a body that, under the reign of Maximilian, had powerfully con- tributed to deprive them of their ancient independence, and to reduce them into subjection to the princes. In the ardour of their enthusiasm, these last thought the Reformation would be found the prelude to a great political renovation; they believed that the empire would come forth from the crisis with quite a new splendour, and that the sword of knights as well as the word of God, was about to establish a better order of things in the world — an order of things radiant with the purest glory.-2 ' The works of Erasmus were published by John Le Clcrc, at Liege, in lYOS, in ten vols, folio. For his life see Bourigny's Life of Erasmus, Paris, 1757. A. Mliller, Leben des Erasmus, Hamburgh, 1828; and his biography inserted by Le Clerc, in his Bibliotheque choisie. See also the beautiful and conscientious work of M. Nisard, (Revue des deux mondes), who appears to me, however, to have been mistaken in his appreciation of Erasmus and of Luther. 2 Animus ingons et ferox viribus pollens . . . Nam si concilia ct conatus Ilutteni non defecissent, quasi nervi copiarum, atque potcntiffi, jam mutatio omnium rerum exstitisset et quasi orhis status public! fuisset conver- Bus. (Camer. Vita Melanchthonis.) 116 lUSTOUY Ol' THE REFORMATION. Ulricli of iiutten, wlioso philippics against the popedom pro- cured him the name of the German Demosthenes, formed the connecting link which then united men of the sword with men of letters, for he acquired a brilliant distinction among both. Born of an ancient family in Franconia, he was sent, at the age of eleven, to the monastery at Foulda, and there he was to have become a monk. But as he had no liking for that kind of life, Ulrich fled from the monastery at the age of sixteen, and betook himself to Cologne, where he sedulously studied the lan- guages and poetry. At a later period, he led a wandering life, was at the siege of Padua as a common soldier, saw Rome in all its scandals, and there he pointed those shafts which he after- wards launched against her. On his return to Germany, Hutten composed an attack upon Eome, under the title of the Roman Trinity. He therein unveils all the disorders of its court, and shows the necessity of putting an end to its tyranny by force. A traveller, called Vadiscus figures in this tract, and is made to say: "There are three things people generally bring back from Rome: an ill conscience, a spoilt stomach, and an empty purse. There are three things that Rome does not believe: the immortality of the soul, the resur- rection of the dead, and hell. There are three things that Rome trades in: the grace of Christ, ecclesiastical dignities, and women.'"' This publication compelled Hutten to quit the court of the archbishop of Maintz, where he was residing when he composed it. When Reuchlin's affair with the Dominicans came out, Hut- ten actively exerted himself on the side of the learned doctor, and it was then that Crotus Robianus, one of his university friends, and some other Germans, wrote the famous satire intituled, Letters of obscure men, a year before the theses of Luther appeared. Hutten had the chief credit of the composition, and probably the greater part was his. Reuchlin's opponents among the monks, are supposed to write the letters, and are repre- sented as entertaining one another on the affairs of the day, and on theological subjects, in their own manner and barbarous Latin. They send their correspondent, Eratius of Cologne, the silliest and most useless questions; giving him the most child- TllIC LETTERS OF SOME OUSCURE MEN. 117 ishly siniplo proofs of (lioir gross ignorance, of tlioir unbelief of their superstition, of tlicir low vulgarity, and, at the same time, of their haughty spirit, and fanatical and persecuting zeal. They relate several of their queer adventures, their excesses, their dissoluteness, and divers scandalous passages in the livea of Ilochstraten, Pfefferkorn, and other heads of their party. The perusal of these letters is very diverting, from the medley of hypocrisy and absurdity they exhibit, while the whole appears so natural that the Dominicans and Franciscans of England received the work with much approbation, and tliought it had been actually composed in the principles of their order and in its defence. A Brabant prior, with credulous simplicity, even gave orders for the purchase of a great many copies, which he sent as presents to the most distinguished of the Domini- cans. The monks, waxing more and more angry, now asked the Pope for a severe bull against all who should dare to read these epistles, but to this Leo X. would not consent; so that they had to endure the general laugh, and to devour their resent- ment as they best could. No work ever gave so terrible a blow to these pillars of the popedom as this, but it was not to sneers and ridicule that the gospel was to owe its triumph; and had such a method been persisted in, had the Eeformation betaken itself to the shafts of a sneering worldly spirit, instead of attacking error with the arms of God, its cause would have perished. Luther loudly condemned these satires, and on a friend sending him one intituled The tenour of Pasquins Supplica- tion^ he replied: — "The fooleries you have sent me seem to have been written by an unbridled mind. I imparted them to a meeting of my friends, and we all judged alike.'"' Referring to the same work, he writes to another correspondent as follows: " This supplication appears to me to be from the same pen as the letters of some obscure men. I like the author's wishes, but I do not like his work, for he indulges in insults and out- rages." ^ This is a severe judgment, but it shows what mind Luther was of, and how much he rose above his contempo- raries; although, it must be added, that he did not himself always follow such sage maxims. > L. Epp. i. p. 37. "Ibid.p. SS. 118 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Compelled to renounce the protection of the archbishop of Maintz, Ulrieh sought that of Charles V., who was then on ill terms with the Pope, and proceeded to Brussels where the emperor then held his court. There, however, far from obtaining what he wanted, he learned that the Pope had required the emperor to send him bound hand and foot to Rome. Hochstraten the inquisitor, Reuchlin"'s persecutor, was one of the persons who received a commission at Rome to prosecute him. Indignant at men having dared to present such a request to the emperor, Ulrieh quitted Brabant. While leaving Brussels, he met Hoch- straten on the highway. The terrified inquisitor falls on his knees and commends his soul to God and the saints. No ! says the knight, I soil not my sabre with thy blood. He then gave him a few blows with the flat of his sword, and let him depart in peace. Hutten found shelter in the castle of Ebernburg, where Francis of Sickingen ofiered protection to all who were per- secuted by the Ultramontanes. There it was that his burning zeal for his country ""s deliverance, dictated those remarkable letters which he addressed to Charles V., to the elector Fred- erick of Saxony, to archbishop Albert of Maintz, to the princes and the nobility, and which have placed him in the first rank of writers. There it was that he composed those works which were destined to be read and comprehended by the common people, and which diffused through the whole German territory, horror for Rome, combined with love of liberty. In his devo- tion to the cause of the Reformation, he purposed inducing the nobility to take up arms in favour of the Gospel, and to fall, sword in hand, upon that Rome which Luther Avas fain to destroy only by the Word, and by the invincible force of truth. Notwithstanding all this warlike excitement, one loves to find that Hutten was susceptible of feelings of tenderness and delicacy. On the death of his parents, he ceded all the family property to his brothers, although he was the eldest sou, and he begged of them neither to write to him, nor to send him money, lest, in spite of their innocence, they might have to sufl'er from his enemies, and fall with him into the ditch. If the truth cannot own Hutten as a child, for with her a holy SICKINUKN. 119 life, and a charitable heart, are indispensiblo, she will at least allow him an honourable mention as one of the most formidable foes of error. ^ No less may be said of his illustrious friend and protector, Francis of Sickingen; that noble knight who by many of his contemporaries was thought worthy to wear the imperial crown, and who, as a warrior, shines in the foremost rank of those who became the antagonists of Home. Much as he delighted in the din of arms, he ardently admired the learned sciences, and venerated those who possessed them. While connnanding an army that threatened the province of Wurtemburg, ho gave orders that in the event of Stuttgard being taken by assault, the house and property of the great scholar, John Reuchlin, should be spared. He then sent for him to come into his camp, threw his arms around him, and offered to assist him in his quarrel with the monks of Cologne. Knighthood had long gloried in its contempt for literature, but the epoch whose history we are tracing presents us with a spectacle entirely new, and beneath the ponderous cuirasses of such men as Sickingen and Hutten, we may observe that movement of the human intellect which was now everywhere to be felt. The first fruits presented by the Reformation to the world, were men of war enamoured of the arts of peace. On his retiring from Brussels as a refugee to the castle of Ebernburg, Hutten invited the brave knight to study the doc- trines of the Gospel, and explained to him its fundamental prin- ciples. "And does any man," cried the astonished Sickingen, " dare venture to overturn such an edifice ! . . . Who could do so!*" . Many who were afterwards famous as reformers, found shelter in his castle; among others, Martin Bucer, Aquila, Schwebel, and CEcolampadius, so that it was not without reason that Hutten used to call it "the hostelry of the righteous."" CEco- lampadius had to preach at the castle every day. The warriors however, who had assembled there, began to be tired of hearing BO much said about the gentle virtues of Christianity; short as he tried to make them, they always thought his sermons too ' Huttcn's works were published at Berlin, by Munchen, 1822 — 25, in five voluinos 8vo. 120 HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATION. long, and though, to be sure, they seldom missed their daily attendance at church, it was hardly to do more than hear the blessing pronounced and repeat a short prayer, so that ffico- lampadius exclaimed : "Alas! the word is sown here on stony ground." Ere long, Sickingen, wishing to promote the cause of truth in his own way, declared war against the archbishop of Treves, "for the purpose," he said, "of opening a door for the gospel." In vain did Luther, who was now upon the scene, labour to dissuade him; he attacked Treves with five thousand horse and a thousand foot, was compelled to retire by the valiant arch- bishop, aided by the elector palatine, and the landgrave of Hesse, and in the following spring, was attacked by the allied princes in his castle of Landstein. After a bloody assault, Sickingen was forced to surrendei", having received a mortal wound. The three princes entered the fortress, traversed the interior, and found at length the indomitable knight in an apartment underground, stretched on his dying bed. He held out his hand to the elector palatine, without seeming to notice the princes that accompanied him ; but these overwhelmed him with questions and reproaches-. "Leave me alone,"''' says he, "for I must now prepare to answer to a greater lord than you ! . . ." On hearing of his death, Luther exclaimed: " The Lord is righte- ous but wonderful ! It is not with the sword that he would have his gospel promulgated." Such was the melancholy end of a warrior, who, had he been emperor, or elector, might perhaps have raised Germany to a high pitch of glory, but in the narrow sphere to which he was confined, uselessly expended the powerful talents with which he had been endued. It was not in the stirring spirits of such warriors that divine truth had come down from heaven to fix her abode; it was not by arms like theirs that she was to conquer, and in annihilating the insensate projects of Sickingen, God exhibited anew the truth of what St Paul says: — The weapons of our warfare are not carnal^ hut mighty through God. More wisdom and knowledge of the truth seems to have been possessed by Harmut of Cronberg, the friend of Hutten and of Sickingen. He sent a very modest letter to Leo. X., inviting him to restore his temporal power to its proper owner, the CRONBERG.— HANS SACHS. 121 emperor ; and his languaf^c to his subjects was that of a father, endeavouring to make them understand the gospel, and exhortin"- them to faith, to obedience, and to trust in Jesus Christ, "who," he added, "is sovereign lord of us all." He resigned into the emperor's hands a pension of two hundred ducats, "not being willing," said he, "to serve onewho gave heed to the enemies of the truth." We find somewhere in his writings the following words, which seem to place him much above Hutten and Sickingen: " Our heavenly teacher, the Holy Ghost, can in one hour, when he pleases, teach us more of the faith that is in Christ, than a man could learn during ten years at the university of Paris." They who look for the friends of the Reformation only on the steps of thrones,! or in cathedrals and academies, and who pre- tend that none are to be found among the people, are grievously mistaken. The same God who prepared the hearts of so many of the wise and the mighty, prepared, also, many humble and simple persons in the retreats of the people, who were one day to serve as the ministers of his word. The history of the time shows us what a ferment there then was among the lower classes. Not only are young men to be seen passing from these ranks, and at last filling the first places in the Church, but we see men, too, who remained all their lives devoted to the most humble occupations, powerfully contributing to the awakening of Christendom. We shall now give a few traits in the life of one of these. On the 5th of November 1494, a tailor of Nuremberg, called Hans Sachs, had a son born to him. This son, called after his father, Hans (John) after giving some time to studies which a severe illness compelled him to relinquish, applied himself to the trade of shoemaker, and took advantage of the scope for thought, which his humble calling allowed him, to soar into that higher sphere in which his soul sought its happiness. The reader must know, that ever since songs had ceased to be chanted in the halls of chivalry, they appear to have sought, and found, an asylum- among the burgesses of the joyous cities of Germany. A singing school used to meet in the church of Nuremberg; and ' See Chiteaabriand's Etudes Eistoriques. ^^ I. Q " 122 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. the practice of music there, in which this young man took part, opened his heart to religious impressions, and helped to give him a taste for music and poetry. The genius of Hans, however, could not remain shut up within the narrow walls of his work- shop. He wanted to see for himself that world of which he had read so many things, which his fellows had told him so much about, and which his imagination had peopled with wonders. Accordingly, in 1511, he bundled up what things he might need, and set oS", directing his steps towards the south. The young tourist was not long of meeting on the road with jovial companions, in the persons of students crossing the country, and with many dangerous attractions, and it was then that he felt the commencement of a fearful struggle within him. The desires of this life, and his holy resolutions, became directly con- fronted, and in his alarm at what might be the issue, he fled and hid himself in the small town of Wels, in Austria (1513), where he lived retired and devoted himself to the fine arts. While he was thus employed, the emperor Maximilian happened to pass through the town, attended by a brilliant retinue. The youthful poet allowed himself to be allured by the splendour of such a court; the prince admitted him into his hunting establishment, and Hans forgot himself anew under the noisy vaults of the palace of Inspruck. But again his conscience loudly remon- strated, and the young huntsman immediately threw ofi" his gay hunting dress, quitted the palace, reached Schwatz, and then came to Munich. It was there, in 1514, that at the age of twenty, he sung his first hymn, " to the honour of God,"" to a remarkable tune. He was loaded with applause. Every where in the course of his travels, he had found occasion to remark the many melancholy proofs of the abuses beneath which religion was well nigh smothered. On his return to Nuremberg, Hans set up in business, married, and became the head of a family. When the Refor- mation broke out, he gave heed to it, and the holy scripture which he had cherished as a poet, he now took up, not to look for poetical images and subjects for his songs, but that he might find the light of truth. To that truth he soon consecrated his lyre; and from a lowly workshop, placed at one of the gates of the GENERAL TIIKATMENT. 123 imperial city of Nuremberg, went forth those accents which were to resound throughout the whole of Germany, prepare men's minds for a new era, and everywhere endear to the people the grand revolution which was then in course of being accom- plished. Tjic spiritual songs of Hans Sachs, and his versified Bible, powerfully promoted this work, and, indeed, it is not easy to say, which did most for it — the prince elector of Saxony or the Nuremberg shoemaker. It appears, then, that there was something in all classes that gave warning of the Keformation. On every side signs might be observed, and events were pressing onward, which threatened to subvert what luid been the work of ages of darkness, and lo usher in amon£j mankind "a new time."" The liijht which the age had discovered, shed a shower of new ideas over all countries with inconceivable rapidity. Men''s minds, after a slumber of st> many centuries, seemed as if they would redeem, by extraordinary activity, the time they had lost. And it would have argued ignorance of human nature, to leave them without occupation or nourishment, or to offer them no better aliment, than that which had long sustained their drooping vitality. Already could the human mind clearly discern between what was, and what should be, and measured, with resolute gaze, the vast abyss that lay between these two worlds. Great princes filled the thrones of Europe ; the antique colossus of Rome, tottered beneath its own weight; the ancient spirit of chivalry had forsaken the earth, and had given place to a new spirit, which breathed at once on the sanctuaries of learning, and on the dwellings of men of no renown. The art of printing had given wings to speech, which bore it, as the wind bears certain seeds, to the most remote places. The discovery of the two Indies had enlarged the world All announced a great revolution. But from what quarter are we to look for the blow which is to scatter the ancient edifice to pieces, and bring a new struc- ture forth from its ruins? None then knew. Who more wise than Frederick? who had more learning than Rcuchlin? who more talent than Erasmus? who more mind, and warmth of fancy than Hutten? who more courageous than Sickingen; or more virtuous than Cronberg? And yet it was neither Frederick, 124 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. nor Eeuclilin, nor Erasmus, uor Sickingeu, nor Hutten, nor Cronberg. . . Men of learning, princes, warriors, the Church itself, "all had sapped some of the foundations, but there they had stopped; and no where was there to be seen the mighty hand which was to become the hand of God." Meanwhile all felt that it was soon to appear. Some pretended that they could find certain prognostics of it in the stars. One party, contemplating the wretched state of religion, announced the near approach of antichrist, while others presaged an im- pending reformation. The world was in expectation, and Luther appeared. BOOK SECOND. EARLY LIFE, CONVERSION, AND FIRST LABOURS OP LUTHER. I. All was now ready. God who exhausts ages in preparation for what He does, accompHshes his purposes when the hour has come, by the feeblest instruments. To effect great ends by small means, may be regarded as the rule with God; and that rule, which we everywhere behold in nature, is to be found in history also. He took the reformers from where He had taken the apostles; choosing them from that poor class which with- out being the lowest, hardly ranks with the burgess class. All was to manifest to the world that the work was not of man but of God. The reformer Zwinglius came from the hut of a shepherd of the Alps ; Melanchthon, the theologian of the Refor- mation, from an armourers workshop; and Luther from the cottage of a poor miner. The first epoch of a man's life, the period during which his character is formed and his capacity developed, under the hand of God, is always important. This was especially the case in the career of Luther. In fact, we find the whole Reformation already transacted there; for the several phases which that work assumed, one after the other, successively appeared in the soul of the man who was to be the instrument of its accom- plishment, ere yet it had taken place in the world. The only key to the reformation of the Church is supplied by our know- ledge of the reformation wrought first in Luther's own heart. It is only by studying this work in the individual, that we can come to understand it in its general operations; and they who neglect the one, can know the other only in forms and externals. 126 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Thej may have a knowledge of certain events and results, but they will fail in making themselves acquainted with the intrin- sic nature of that renovation, in as much as the living principle, which was its very soul, will remain hid from them. Let us, then, study the Reformation in Luther, before studying it in the facts that altered the face of Christendom. John Luther, son of a peasant of the village of Mora, near Isenac, in the county of Mansfeld, in Thuringia, descended from an old and wide spread family^ of simple burgesses, married Margaret Lindemann, daughter of an inhabitant of Neustadt, in the bishopric of Wurzburg. John and his spouse left the fields of Isenac, and came to settle m the small town of Eisleben in Saxony .2 Seckendorff relates, on the testimony of Rebhan, superinten- dent at Isenac, in 3 601, that Luther's mother, not expecting to be confined for a considerable time, went to Eisleben fair, and was there unexpectedly brought to bed of a son. Much as Seckendorff deserves our confidence, this story does not seem to be exactly true; in fact, none of Luther's older biographers make any mention of it; moreover, the distance between Mora and Eisleben is about eighty leagues, and in the condition in which his mother then was, one does not so readily decide on such a journey, to he present at a fair; in fine, the testimony of Luther himself, seems quite opposed to this assertion. ^ John Luther was a plain honest man, a keen workman, open hearted, and firm even to obstinacy. Having had more mental cultivation than most men of his class, he was a great reader. Books were then rare, but John let slip no opportunity of acquir- ' Vetus familia est et late propagata mediocrium hominum. (Melancht. Vita Lutheri.) ^ Ego natus sum in Eisleben, baptisatusque apud Sanctum Petrum ibidem. Parentes mei de prope Isenaco illuc migrarunt. (L. Epp. i. p. 390.) ^ (23) With respect to this testimony by Luther, it does not appear to me to be directly opposed to the account given by Seckendorf on the authority of the superintendent of Eisenach ; but that the two may easily be reconciled when we A'iew the matter thus, that while Luther was accidentally born at Eisleben in consequence of his mother's journey to that place, it being evident enough that she was mistaken in her reckoning, still the emigration of his parents thither as a family, first took place afterwards, and perhaps was owing to what had happened. Luther's very words, viewed aright, quite agree with this. He does not say, as he might otherwards have said, after mentioning his birth at Eisleben, " illic migrarant, had emigrated thither," in the pluperfect tense ; but in the perfect tense: " migrarunt, emigrated ;" that is, as the immediate connection indicates, "after my birth and baptism there." — L. R. I.UTIlKR'fc HIKTU AM) I'AHENTACP,, 127 iui^ thom. Tliey supplied tlio means of recreation during such intervals of repose as were att'orded by a life of hard and assi- duous toil. Margaret possessed the virtues that adorn upright and godly women; was noted for her modesty, her fear of God, and her prayerful spirit; and was regarded by the matrons oi that neighbourhood, as a model of good qualities. ^ It is not precisely known how long the spouses had been settled at Eisleben, when, on the 10th of November, at eleven at night, Margaret gave birth to a son. JNIelanchthon often inquired of the mother of his friend in what year the latter was born; " I very well remember the day and the hour," she would reply, "as for the year, 1 cannot certainly say." But James, Luther's brother, an honest and upright man, stated that in the Oj)inion of the whole family, Martin was born in the year of Christ 1483, on the 10th. of November, being St. Martin's eve. 2 The first thought of his pious parents, was to consecrate to God by holy baptism, the infant He had bestowed upon them. The very day following, which happened to be a Tuesday, the grate- ful and happy father took his son to St. Peter's Church ; and there he received the seal of consecration to the Lord. He was called Martin, as a memorial of the day. When little Martin was not yet six months old, his parents left Eisleben to go to Mansfekl, which is only five leagues dis- tant. The Mansfeld mines were then very famous, and John Luther, a laborious man, thinking that he might possibly have a large family to support, hoped to earn bread for himself and children more easily there. It was in that town that the youth- ful Luther's mental and bodily capacities were first developed; there his activity first displayed itself, and his words and actions bespoke his future character. The plains of Mansfeld and the banks of the Wipper, formed the theatre of his first frolics with the children of the neiohbourhood. Honest John and his wife had difficulties to struggle with on their first settlement at Mansfeld, and lived for a time in great poverty. " My parents," says the Keformer, " were very poor. My father was a poor woodman, and my mother often carried ' Intueban+urque in earn cretcrse honestcc mulicres ut in exemplar virtiitum (Melancht. Vita Lutheri.) 2 Ibid. 128 ' HISTOEY OF THE KEFORMATION. his faggots on her back, in order to procure the means of bring- ing up us their children. For our sakes they undertook tasks so rude as even to draw blood." The example of parents whom he thus respected, and the habits he acquired from them, soon inured Luther to toil and frugality. How often may we not fancy him accompanying his mother into the forest, there to gather up his tiny bundle of sticks ! Blessings have been promised to the labours of the righteous, and these John Luther lived to experience. Having amassed a little property, he set up two blast furnaces at Mansfeld. It was beside these furnaces that young Martin grew up to boy- hood, and from the produce of such toil, his father, at a later period, provided for his son's studies. " It was from a family of miners,*" says the good Mathesius, " that the spiritual thunder- bolts of Christendom were to come. And this was a figure of what God desired to do in making him the means of cleansing the sons of Levi, and purifying them in his furnaces, likegold.""^ Universally respected for his plain honesty, his unblemished life, and his good sense, John Luther was made a counsellor of Mansfeld, the chief city of the county of that name. Exces- sive wretchedness might have weighed too heavilv on the mind of the child; whereas the easy circumstances of his father"'s household opened his heart and elevated his character. John availed himself of his new position in cultivating the society that he preferred, making much of educated men, and often inviting to his table the clergymen and schoolmasters of the neighbourhood. His house presented a spectacle of those social meetings of simple burgesses, which reflected so much honour on Germany at the commencement of the sixteenth cen- tury. It was a mirror on which were cast the numerous images successively presented by the agitated scenes of that period. The child was the better for this. We cannot doubt that the very sight of those men to whom he saw so much attention paid in his father's house, must have sometimes made young Martin ambitious of being himself one day a schoolmaster, or a man of learning. As soon as he was of an age to be capable of instruction, his * Drumb musste dieser geistliche Scnmelzer . . (Mathesius, Historien. 1666, p. 3.) LiiriiKrrs I'ArKitNAj. iio.mi:. 120 parents endeavoured to brin^,^ him up in the knowledge and tlio fear of God, and in the practice of the Christian virtues. ' They dihgently attended to this iirst domestic education, but tlieir affectionate soHcitude went farther than tliis. His father wanted to see him acquire the elements of all that knowledge which he held in such esteem himself, and after commending him to the divine blessin"-, sent him to school. Martin was still very young. His father, or else a youth of Mansfeld, called Nicolas Emler, used to take him in their arms to the house of George Emilius and come back for him afterwards. Emler subsequently married one of Luther's sisters. Fifty years after, the Reformer reminded old Nicolas of this touching mark of kindness, received from him in early childhood, and noted it down on the fly-leaf of a book given as a present to his old friend. 2 • The piety, industry, and austere virtue of his parents, had a happy influence on their boy's character, and produced in him an attentive and serious turn of mind. There then prevailed in education a system which sought to operate chiefly by punish- ments and fear; but Margaret, although she sometimes approved of her husband's excessive severity, would often open her motherly arms and soothe little Martin when in tears. Never- theless she, too, went beyond the rules of that wisdom which says : Whoso loveth Ms son chadeneth him betimes. The impetuosity of the child's character led to many corrections and reprimands. " My parents," said Luther afterwards, "treated me harshly, and this made me very timid. One day my mother chastised me so severely about a nut as to draw blood. They most sincerely thought it was for my good, but they were no dis- cerners of spirits, which, however, it is necessary to be, if we would know wdien, upon whom, and how, punishments should be inflicted." 3 The poor child had no less harsh treatment to endure at school. His master flo£r2;ed him one morning fifteen times runnincf; a fact in relating which, Luther says, " we must whip children, but at the same time we must love them." Such an education ' Ad Isonacum enim pcne totam parentelam meam habct. (L. Epp. p. 390.) • Linjfk's Reisejfescli. Liith. ISE.NAC Till!; sir; NAM All lie. 1133 devotion.^ She had overheard the harsh words that had been addressed to the poor scliolar, and seeing him standing at her door, wrapt in sad reflections, she had come to help him, beck- oned him to enter, and put bei'ore him wherewithal to satisfy his hunger. Conrad approved of this kindness shown by his wife, and was so taken with young Luther's society that, some days after, he made him an inmate of his house. From that moment there was no cause to fear for his studies ; all necessity for his return- ing to the mines of Mansfeld, and burying the talent which (jod had given him, was removed. When he knew not what was to become of him, God opened to him the heart and the door of a Christian family, and such was the trust in God with which this event inspired his soul, that it was not to be shaken by the wildest storms of his future life. Very different from what he had hitherto known, was the life which Luther now led in the family of Cotta. Enjoying a calm existence, with neither cares nor wants to trouble him, his mind became more serene, his character more sprightly, and his heart more open. His whole being seemed to awake to the gentle beams of affection, and began to beat with life, and joy, and happiness. He became more ardent in prayer, his thirst for knowledge increased, and he made rapid progress. To literature and the sciences he added the charm of the arts; for these, too, were then rising into importance in Germany. Men when designed by God to influence their contemporaries, are first seized and drawn along by the peculiar tendencies of their age. Luther learnt to play on the flute and on the lute; on the latter instrument he would often play an accompaniment to his fine deep voice; and thus would he cheer his heart in its moments of sadness. It gave him pleasure, too, by this har- mony, to express his lively gratitude to the mother who had adopted him, and who was fond of music. He himself loved the art even to old age, and composed both the tune and words of some of the most beautiful hymns that Germany possesses. Several of these have even been adopted in France. 2 ' Die weil sie umb seines Singen und herzlichen Gcbets willen .... (Mathesitis, p. 3.) " And in Great Britain. — Th. 134 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. This was a happy time for the young man, and Luther ever recurred to it with deep emotion. A son of Conrad having come to study at Wittemberg many years afterwards, and when the poor scliolar of Isenac had become the doctor of his age, he rejoiced to receive him at his table and under his roof. He would fain so far recompense the son for what he owed to the father and mother; and it was in the recollection of this Chris- tian woman who gave him bread when every body else repulsed him, that he uttered these beautiful words: "Earth has nothing more tender than a woman's heart when it is the abode of piety." Luther never was ashamed of those days when, under the pressure of hunger, he would mournfully beg for the bread that was required, in order that he might at once study and live ; far from this, he recalled the sore necessities of his younger days with thankfulness, regarding them as among the means employed by God for making him what he afterwards became, and for which he would express his gratitude. His heart felt for poor boys obliged to follow the same mode of life. " Despise not," he would say, " boys who by singing before people's doors, seek panem propter Deum, bread for the love of Grod; I, too, have done the same. It is true that at a later time, my father sup- ported me very lovingly and bountifully at the university of Erfurt, and that with the sweat of his brow; nevertheless, I was once a poor applicant for alms. And now, with the help of my pen, I would not exchange fortunes with the grand Turk. Still more, were all this world's wealth to be piled up in a heap, I would not take it in exchange for what I possess. And yet I never should have reached the place I now occupy, had I never been at school and never been taught to write." Thus does the great man find the origin of his glory, in these first humble beginnings. He does not scruple to recall the fact, that that voice of his which startled the empire and the world, used at one time to sue for a bit of bread in the streets of a poor city. The Christian delights to contemplate these memorials, in as much as they remind him that he ought to glory in God alone. The vigour of Luther's intellect, the liveliness of his imagi- nation and his excellent memory, enabled him speedily to out- LUTlli;il.S STUDIES. TUEFJONIUS. THE UNIVEllSITY. 135 strip all his fullow students;^ and he made rapid progress parti- cularly in the ancient languages, in eloquence, and in poetry. He wrote discourses and made verses. Oiay, obliging, and what is called good-hearted, he endeared himself to his masters and his comrades. Among the professors, he attached himself particularly to John Trebonius, a learned man, of pleasant address, and who in Jiis behaviour to the young, had that kindly manner which does so much to encourage them. Martin observed that on enterinir the class-room, Trebonius uncovered his head and saluted his scholars — a piece of great condescension in those pedantic times! This pleased the young man. He saw, too, that it was of some consequence. The respect shown to him by his master, raised the student in his own eyes. The colleagues of Trebonius who did not follow the same practice, expressing to him one day their astonishment at such extreme condescension, he gave the follow- ing reply, which struck young Luther no less; "Among these boys there are men whom God will one day make burgomasters, chancellors, doctors, and magistrates. Though you do not see them yet invested with the badges of their dignities, it is but fair that you should show them respect." Without doubt, the young scholar listened with pleasure to these words, and perhaps fancied himself already decked with a doctor's bonnet. II. Luther had now reached his eighteenth year, had tasted the sweets of literature, and in his burning desire for farther attainments, sighed for an university. Fain would he quench his thirst for knowledge at one of those fountain-heads of all the sciences.2 His father insisted on his studying law. In the confidence of his expectations from the talents of his son, he wished him to cultivate them so as to exhibit them to advan- tage before the world. Already he saw his son filling posts of honour among his fellow-citizens, gaining the favour of princes, and shining on the public scene. In short, it was resolved that the young man should go to Erfurt. Luther entered that university in 1501, while Jodicus, sur- ' Cumque et vis ingenii acerrima essct, ct imprimis ad eloqnenti.im idono.i, celeriter equalibus suis praecurrit. (Melancht. Vita Lutheri.) ^ Degustata igitur litterarum dulcedino, natura flagi-ans cupiditate aisccndi, appetit academiam. (Melan., Vit. Luth.) 136 HISTORY OF THE REFORM ATIOX. named the doctor of Isenac,was teaching the scholastic philosophy there with much success, Melanchthon expresses his regret that nothing was then taught at Erfurt, but a system of dialectics hedged about with difficulties; aud thinks that had Luther found other professors, — that had he been instructed in the milder and calmer methods of true philosophy, it might have tempered and softened his natural vehemence.^ Here, then, the new disciple gave himself to the study of the philosophy of the middle ages, in the writings of Occam, Scot, Bonaventura and Thomas Acquinas. The whole of this scholastic philosophy he after- wards regarded with horror. He would tremble with indigna- tion were the name of Aristotle uttered in his presence, and went so far as to say that had Aristotle not been a man, he would not have scrupled to take him for the devil. But even now his mind's appetite for learning was looking out for better food; he began to study the beautiful monuments of antiquity, — the writings of Cicero, Virgil, and the other classics. Not content, like the common herd of students, with learning the pro- ductions of such authors by heart, his grand object was to render himself thoroughly master of their thoughts, make their wisdom his own, comprehend the design with which they wrote, and enrich his mind with their weighty sentences, and glowing images. He put numerous questions to the professors, and soon surpassed many of his equals.^ Endued with a strong memory and fine imagination, his mind seemed able, at any time, to recall what he had read or heard, as if he beheld it with his own eyes. "Thus did Luther shine in his youth. The whole university," says Melanchthon, "admired his genius."^ But even at this early period our young man of eighteen had more to occupy him than the mere cultivation of his under- standing; he had that seriousness and thoughtfulness, that upward tendency of the heart, which God bestows on such as he intends to make his most zealous servants. Luther felt that he depended on God; a simple but powerful feeling, and the ' Et fortassis ad leniandum vehementiani naturae mitiora stmlia verap philoso- phis9. — (Ibid) ^ Et quidcm inter primos, ingenio studioqno niultos co-tequaliuin antecello- bat. (Cochlteus, Acta Lutheri, p. 1.) * Sic igitur in juventute eminebat, ut toti academiix; I.iiHif>ri inijonium idmirationi esset. (Vita Lutlt^n.) LUTHER DI3C0VEKS A IIIHI.E. 137 sonrce at once of deep humility, and of great actions. lie fer- vently implored God to bless his labours; beginning the day with prayer, then going to church ; after that, sitting down to study, and not losing a moment during the whole course of the day. "Earnest prayer,"" he used to say, "is more than the half of study." ^ Every moment that could be spared from his academical labours, the young student now spent in the university library. Books were as yet ill to be had, and access to the treasures brought together in that vast collection, was to him a great privilege. After having been two years at Erfurt, and being then about twenty, he happened one day to be turning over a number of books in the library, to see who their authors were ; a volume which he opened in its turn, struck his attention; until that hour he had seen nothing resembling it; he reads the title — it was a Bible! a book which was at that time seldom to be met with and unknown.- It excited his liveliest interest; he was utterly astonished to find that the book contained some- thing beyond the fragments taken from the gospels and epistles, and selected by the Church, for people to read at public worship for each successive Sunday in the year. He had always thought that in these was comprised the whole word of God; but here he found pages, chapters, entire books, of which he never had had an idea before! His heart beat high as he held in his hands the whole of that Scripture which is divinely inspired. With an eagerness and interest that no words could express, he ran over all those leaves of the Book of God.^ The first page that caught his attention, told him the story of Hannah and the boy Samuel, and in reading it he could hardly contain him- self with delight. That child, lent by his parents to the Lord for the whole of his life; the song of Hannah in which she declares that the Lord raiseth up the poor out of the; dust, and lifteth up the beggar out of the dunghill, to set him among princes; the boy Samuel growing up in the temple before the Lord — that whole history — that whole word then discovered, ' Flcissig jrebet, ist uber die helfft stadirt. (Mathcs. .3.) ■ Auf ein Zeyt, vrie er die Biicher fcin nacheinander besieht. . . kombt cr fiber die lateinischc Biblia. . . (Matbcs. 3.) ^ Avide percurrit, coepitque optaro ut olim talcm librum et ipse nancisci posset. . . (M. Adami. Vit. Luth. p. 103.) I. S 138 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. made him experience feelings till then unknown to him. He went home with a full heart, thinking: "0 that God would give me such a book to be my own ! "" Luther did not yet know Greek or Hebrew. There is little probability of his having studied those tongues during the two or three first years of his university course, and it was a Latin Bible that had thrown him into such a transport of joy. He was not long of returning to his treasure in the library; he read, and read again; and with mingled surprise and delight, he still returned to read. It was then that the first dawn of a truth, entirely new to him, gleamed upon his mind. Thus did God put his word into his hands. Thus did he dis- cover the book, of which he was one day to present his country with that admirable translation in which Germany has now, for three centuries, read the oracles of God. Perhaps for the first time, a hand takes down this precious volume from its place in the library at Erfurt; and the book, thus deposited on the unknown shelves of an obscure hall, is destined to become a book of life to a whole people. The Reformation lay hid in that Bible. That same year Luther obtained his first academical step, that of bachelor. The excessive exertions he had made in preparing for his exami- nations, threw him into a dangerous illness. Death seemed to be at hand. His mind was absorbed with grave reflections, and he thought his earthly career was about to close. People felt sorry for the youth ; it was thought a pity that such high hopes should be so speedily extinguished. Several friends came to see him on his sick-bed, and among these was a venerable old priest who had watched with interest the academical life and labour of the student from Mansfeld. Luther couM not conceal his thoughts from him: "Soon," said he, "I shall be called away from this world." But the old man kindly replied: "Don't lose heart, my good bachelor; you will not die of this illness. Our God will yet make of you a man who in his turn will console many.^ For God makes his cross to be borne by those whom he loves, and they who bear it with patience learn much wisdom thereby." The young patient was much struck with • Deus te virum faciei qui alios multos iterum consolabitur. (M. Adami Vita Luth. p. 103.) I.UTHER MADE MASTEU OF AKT3. 139 these words. It was while tlius at the point of death, ho hoard from the mouth of a priest that God, as the mother of Samuel had said, raiseth up the wretehed. The ohl man shed sweet comfort over his heart, revived liis drooping spirits, and made an impression that was never to be effaced. " This was the first prediction the doctor had over heard," says Mathesius, the friend of Luther, in relating this incident, "and he used to recall it."" We need not say in what sense Mathesius calls the saying a prediction. On Luther's recovery, he was no longer quite the same man. The Bible, his illness, and the words addressed to him by the old priest, seemed to present a new call to him. Yet his mind was incapable of forming any fixed resolution; he returned to his studies, and in 1505, was made master of arts or doctor in philosophy. The university of Erfurt was then the most famed in Germany; the others were but like inferior schools in com- parison; the ceremonial, as was customary, was pompously con- ducted, and Luther had homage paid to him by a procession accompanied with flambeaux. ^ The festival was superb. All were rejoicing, and Luther may have been so far cheered by these honours as to think of complying with his father's Avishes, and devoting himself entirely to jurisprudence. But such was not the will of God. While Luther was engaged with a variety of studies, and beginning to teach the physics and ethics of Aristotle and other branches of philoso- phy, his heart never ceased to urge upon him that godliness was the one thing needful, and that before all things else he ought to be assured of his salvation. He knew that God had testified his anger against sin; he recollected the punishments which his word denounces against the sinner; and he asked himself with alarm, whether he was sure of possessing the divine favour. His conscience tells him: No. The promptitude and decision of his character made him resolve to do his utmost to assure himself of a firm hope of immortality, and, while in this state, two events successively contributed to shake his soul and precipitate his purpose. Among his university friends he was very intimate with ' L. 0pp. W. xxii. p 2229. 140 HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATIO.V, one named Alexis. One morning it was rumoured in Erfurt that Alexis had been assassinated. Luther ascertains the fact, and is much agitated by this sudden loss of his friend. He asks himself: " What would become of me on receiving as sudden a call?" and is terror-struck. ^ In the course of the summer of 1505, Luther availed himself of the usual university vacation to make a journey to Mansfeld, with the view of revisiting the cherished scenes of his childhood, and again embracing his beloved parents. Possibly, too, he may have wished to open his heart to his dear father, to sound him on the subject of the design that now began to form itself in his mind, and to obtain his consent to follow another calling. He foresaw all the difficulties that would attend it. The bustling miner of Mansfeld despised the lazy life of most of the priests; besides, ecclesiastics were little esteemed by the world; most had a paltry income, and a father who, after many sacrifices to support his son at the university, saw him commence as a public teacher in a celebrated school, when only in his twentieth year, was not at all disposed to relinquish hopes so flattering to his pride. We have no means of knowingwhat transpired during Luther's stay at Mansfeld. The decided manner in which his father had expressed his wishes, may have made him a/raid to open his heart to him. We only know that he again left his father's home to resume his place on the benches of the academy. He was at but a short distance from Erfurt when a violent storm overtook him. The thunder rolled and the lightning fell at his sides. Luther threw himself on his knees. He seemed to think that his last hour might be come. Death, judgment, and eternity, stood in dread array around him, and addressed him in a voice which it was impossible for him to resist. "Overwhelmed with anguish and the dread of death," 2 as he himself tells us, he makes a vow that if the Lord will deliver him from his danger, he will abandon the world, and devote himself entirely to God. On rising from the ground, he cannot dismiss from his thoughts that death which must one day overtake him; he seriously examines himself and inquires ' Intcritu sodalis sui contristatus. (Cochlajns, p. i.) * Mit Erschreckcn und Angst des Todes umgeben. (L. Epp. ii. 101.) 8 Cum esset in campo, fulminis ictu territus. (Cochlseus, I.) THK THUNDER-BOLT — PROVIDENCE. 141 what lip must do, l He feels morethan ever the urgency of his nro- vious reflections. True, he has endeavoured to discharge all iiis duties; but how does it stand with his soul? Can he dare with a polluted heart to appear before the tribunal of so terrible a Grxl ? He must become holy; and he now thirsts after holiness as he had thirsted after knowledge. But where is he to find itil How shall he acquire it? The university has supplied means for satisfying his first desires; but who sliall slake the burniu" thirst that now consumes him? To what school of liolincss shall he now direct his steps? He must go to a cloister; he must find his salvation in a monastic life. How often h;is lie been told of its power in transforming the heart, sanctifvini:- tiie sinner, and making man perfect! He resolves to enter into one of the monastic orders, there to become holy, and thus make sure of everlasting salvation. 2 Such was the incident that altered the vocation and whole destiny of Luther, and we must recognise in it the finger of (iod. It was his mighty hand that brought to his knees on the higli- way the young master of arts, the aspirant to the bar, the future jurisconsult, for the purpose of entirely altering his whole pliin of life. Rubianus, one of Luther's university friends, afterwards wrote to him: "Divine Providence had an eye to what you was one day to become, when, on your way back from your parents, the bolts of heaven struck you to the ground like another Paul, near the town of Erfurt, and removing you from our society, thrust you among the followers of Augustine.^' Analogous circum- stances marked the conversion of the two greatest organs employed bv divine Providence in the two greatest revolutions it has ever wroudit on the earth : St Paul and Luther. 3 ' Occasio aiitem fuit ingrediendi illud vitsD genus, quod pietati et studiis Joctrinai de Deo, cxistimavit esse convenientius. (Mel., Vit. Luth.) * Some historians say that Alexis was killed by the stroke of lightning that terrified Luther ; but two contemporaries, Mathesius (p. 4.) and Selneccei- ( in Orat. de Luth.). distinguish between these two events; to whose testimony we may even add tli.at of Mclanchthon, who says; "a companion slain I know not how." (Vita Luth.) 3 The comjiarison here adopted by the worthy author from the reported savin"- of Luther's fiiend Rubianus, between what befell Paul and the incident related of Luther, may be so far justified, in as much as both were overwlit-huod by something unconmion and powerfully atfecting the senses, wliich in both cases o-rcatly influenced the subsequent lives, sentiments, and vocations of the persons afiected. Still, 1 conceive, that the ])ni-all('l iiad better be avoided, at least that it should not be carried beyond a metaphorical sense, as Uubiamis .seems to have meant. In the case of Paul, the incident was not merely extraordinary — • 142 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. Luther returned to Erfurt with a resolution that nothing could shake, and yet it was not without pain that he proceeded to cut ties which were so dear to him. Imparting his purpose to no one, he one evening invited his university friends to a cheerful though frugal repast. This meeting of intimate friends was once more enlivened with music. It was to be Luther's last farewell to the world. Henceforth monks were to take the place of the amiable companions of his pleasures and his toils; the stillness of the cloister was to succeed to this gay and witty talk ; and instead of these lively airs, he was to hear but the solemn tones of a quiet chapel. At what he considered to be the call of God, all was to be immolated. In the mean while, once more, and for the last time, he would indulge in the joys of his youth I The entertainment put his friends into good spirits, and Luther himself enlivened the party. But just as they began to give free scope to their gaiety, the youth could no longer keep down the serious reflections that filled his heart. He speaks. . . he opens his design to his astonished friends. These attempt to combat it, but in vain. And that very night, dreading perhaps what the effect of such solicitations might be, Luther quits his apartment. There he leaves his whole effects, including all his books, and taking with him only Virgil and Plautus, for as yet he had no Bible. Virgil and Plautus ! epic poetry and comedy ! singular picture of Lutlier''s own mind ! In fact, a whole epic was it ■was supernatural ; a divine light appearing suddenly, and for that one purpose ; in that of Luther it was only a natural event, overruled by Providence. The light that shone upon Paul was literally to work towards his conversion, while he was an enemy and persecutor of Jesus and his people. This was not so with Luther, for, according to the preceding narrative, he was already the subject of serious thoughts, which were only strengthened by the incident, while all of an opposite tendency were set aside by it. By the light that shone upon Paul, he was turned immediately from a wrong path into the right one, so as to repudiate all self-righteousness, and to look for righteousness thenceforth only in Christ. With Luther, on the contrary, the first result of the incident that had befallen him was the choice of what was really a perverted way, in which he still sought to establish his own righteousness, and that even more than ever : and it was only by the farther divine guidance which he experienced, that he at length entered on the right way; and then it afterwards appeared that that very incident was to serve, not immediately to discover to him the right way, but, on the contrary, to co-operate with subsequent leadings, in convincing him experi- mentally of the insuificiency of the way which most people at that time chose for procuring peace to an unquiet conscience. Such, I believe, was Luther's own view of the matter in after life ; regarding that incident not as the commence- ment of his conversion, but as one of those remarkable divine leadings, whose mutual co-operation, after manifold struggles and vain efforts, was finally to reveal to him the true consolations of the gospel, and thus to fit him for declaring these to others. — L. R. LUTHER ENTERS A MONASTEUV. 143 comprised in liim ; a beautiful, a grand, a sublime poem ; but wl< h a natural tendency to gaiety, pleasantry, and drullery, he mingled more than one familiar thread with the grave and magnificent staple of his character. Carrying those two books with him, he went alone, and in the dark, to the monastery of the hermits of St. Augustine, and craved admission. The door opens and shuts him in. And now behold him for ever separated from his parents, from the companions of his studies, and from the world ! This happened on the 17th of August, 1505. Luther at the time was twenty- one years and nine months old. Ill, And now he thought himself to bo with God, and that all was safe with his soul. Now was he about to find the sanc- tity he had so earnestly been desiring. The monks were filled with admiration at the sight of this young doctor, and spoke m loud praise of his courage and contempt for earthly things. ' Luther did not, however, forget his friends, but wrote them farewell letters, in which he took leave of them and of the world; and, next day, sent these ofi", together with the clothes he had previously worn, and his master of arts' ring, which he restored to the university, that there might be nothing to tempt his thoughts to return to the world which he abandoned. His Erfurt friends were confounded. Should so eminent a genius go to shut himself up in the half-death of the monastic life? 2 In the intensity of their grief they hasted to the monas- tery, hoping to prevail on Luther to retrace so afflicting a step, but all was to no purpose. The gates were shut upon them, and a whole month passed without any one being able to see the new monk, or to exchange a woi-d with him. To his parents, also, Luther was in haste to communicate the great change that had taken place in his life. His father was in consternation at the news. Luther himself tells us, in the dedication of his work on the monastic vows, addressed to his father, that the latter trembled for his son. His weakness, his youth, the violence of his passions, all made him fear that when the first moments of enthusiasm were over, want of occupation ' Hujus mundi contemptu, ingressus est repente, multis admirantibus, monas- terium . . . (Cochlseus. i.) ^ In vita semi-mortua. (Melch. Adami. Vit. Luth. p. 102.) 14;4 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. in a cloister might drive the youth to despair, or make him fall into worse faults. He knew that that kind of life had been the destruction of many, and, besides, the councillor of Mansfeld had other plans for his son to follow. He had had an eye to his making a rich and honourable marriage, but now this impru- dent step had, in one night, upset all his schemes. John wrote to his son a very angry letter, in which, Luther farther tells us, his father theed and thoud him, whereas he had yoad him ever since he had taktn his degree of master of arts. He withdrew his whole favour from him, and declared him disinherited of his paternal affection. In vain did the friends of Luther, and his mother in particular, endeavour to soften him; in vain did they say: " If you would sacrifice anything to God, what better or dearer to you than your son, — your Isaac \ " the inexorable councillor would listen to nothing. Some time afterwards, however, and this, too, we have from Luther, who relates it in a sermon delivered at Wittemberg on the 20th of January, 1544, the plague broke out and carried off two of John Luther's other sons. On this occasion, some one told the almost heart-broken father that the monk of Erfurt was dead also! . . . This opportunity was taken advan- tage of to restore the novice to his place in his father's affections. " If the alarm prove false," said his friends, " sanctify at least your affliction by heartily consenting to your son's becoming a monk." . . . "Agreed," was the reply of John Luther, with a crushed though still half-rebellious heart, "and God grant he may succeed!" Some time after, when Luther, who had been reconciled with his father, related to him the incident which had induced him to throw himself into monastic orders : " God grant," said the honest miner, " that you did not take to be a sian from heaven what was but a delusion of the devil ! " ^ There was not then to be found in Luther what was afterwards to make him the Reformer of the Church, and this is proved by his going into a monastery; an action in which he followed the tendency of that order of things from which he wns ere long to assist in delivering the Church. The man who was to become the teacher of the world, was as yet but its slavish imitator; ' Gott geb dass es nicht oin Betrng und teuflisch Gespenst sev I (I.. 10i)p. ii. p. 101.) LUTHER 8 SERVILE EMPLOYMENTS. 1 45 and tlio edifice of superstitions had a stono added to it by him wlio was soon to overturn it. Luther sought for salvation in himself — in human practices and observances; — ho knew not as yet that salvation camo wholly from God. He would have hia own righteousness, and his own glory, without owning the righteousness and the glory of the Lord. But what as yet he knew not, he was soon to learn, and it was in the cloister of Erfurt that that immense change was etFected wliich gave to God and his glory the place in his heart previously occupied by the world and its traditions; thus preparing that mighty revolution of which ho was the most illustrious instrument. On his entering the monastery, Martin Luther changed his name, and took that of Augustine. '• What more insensate or more impious," he would say, mentioning this circumstance, *'tlian to reject a baptismal name out of love for a monk'^s hood! It is thus that the Popes are ashamed of the names they received at their baptism, and in this manner show that they are deserters from Jesus Christ." ^ The monks had given him a joyful welcome; and, indeed, it was no small gratification to their self-conceit, to see the univer- sity abandoned by one of its most esteemed doctors, for a house of their order. Nevertheless, they gave him harsh enough treatment, and imposed on him the lowest labours. They would fain humble the doctor in philosophy, and teach him that his learning did not set him above his fellow -friars. They thought, likewise, thereby to prevent him from engaging in what could bring so little profit to the monastery as his studies. The late master of arts had to act as porter, had to open and shut the gates, wind up the clock, sweep out the church, and clean the rooms. '2 Then, when the poor monk who was at once door- keeper, sacristan, and household servant to the cloister, was done with his work. Cum sacco per civitatem! Through the town with the bag! cried the friars; and he had to go through the streets of Erfurt with his bread sack, begging from house to house, and obliged perhaps to present himself at the doors of those who had been his friends or his inferiors. But he sub- mitted to it all. Led by his character to consecrate himself ' On Gen. xxxiv. -3. " Loca immunda piirgare coactus fuit. (Mclch. A'l. Vit. Luth. p. 103.) I T 146 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. without reserve to whatever he might undertake, it was with his whole soul tliat he had become a monk. How, besides, could he dream of sparing his body, or pay any regard to the satisfac- tion of the flesh? It was not thus that he was to acquire the humility and the sanctity which he had come to seek within the walls of a cloister ! Weighed down by his sufferings, the poor monk eagerly availed himself of every moment he could spare from his base occupations to bestow upon learning. He would gladly retire in order to devote himself to his favourite studies, but the monks would soon find him out, would come about him, grumble at him, and take him away from his lal)ours, saying to him: " Come, come, it is not by study that people make themselves useful to a monastery, but by begging for bread, wheat, eggs, fish, meat, and money. ^ Luther would submit, put aside his books, and resume his bag. Yet far from repenting his having brought such a yoke on himself, he wanted only to carry out his purpose to the utmost; and then it was that he showed the inflexible perseverance wherewith he ever followed out the reso- lutions he had once formed. The resistance he opposed to rude assaults gave a powerful tone to his will. God was now exer- cising him in small things, that he might acquire stedfastnoss in things that were great. Besides, in order to become fit for delivering the age in which he lived from the wretched supersti- tions beneath which it lay groaning, he behoved first to bear the burden himself. He had to drink out the dregs of the cup before it could be emptied. Yet this rough apprenticeship did not last so long as Luther might have feared ; for at the intercession of the university cf which he was a member, the prior of the monastery relieved him of the base offices with which he had been charged. The young monk then devoted himself to study with fresh zeal. His attention was drawn to the works of the fathers of the Church, particularly to those of St. Augustine. That illustrious doctor's exposition of the Psalms, and his work On the Letter and the Spirit, were his favourite compositions. Nothing struck him more than that father"'s views on the corruption of man's will, and on divine grace; he felt in his own experience the * Selnecceri Orat. de Luth. (Mathesius, p. 5.) ..utheh's studies in the MONAHIKUY. 147 reality of tliat corruption, and the necessity i'or that grace; the words of St. Augustine wore an echo to his own heart and could he have been of any school but that of Josus Christ, it would undoubtedly have been that of the doctor of Hippo. He could almost repeat by heart the works of Peter d'Ailly and Gabriel Bicl.^ He was struck with a saving of the former, that had not the Church decided the contrary way, it were much to be preferred that we should really receive bread and wine, and not their mere appearances, in the Holy Supper. 2 He carefully studied, also, the theologians Occam 3 and Ger- ' Peter d'Ailly and G.al>ricl Uiel were two famons pchoolmen of the four- teenth and fifteenth centurie?, both of the sect of the so-eallcd Ndininalists — hotti clear-thinking men, who did much to discredit the hair-Kfilittiii!» scholasticism of that period. Peter d'Ailly, or de Ailiaco, was cliancelUir of the university of Pans, afterwards bishop of Pwy and C'am1)ray, and finally a cardinal, in which dignity he died in 142/i. lie belonged to that y)arty among the philosophers and theologians who endeavoured to combine the ac\iteness of the Schoolmen with the simplicity of the Mystics. Gabriel Hiel was provost of Aurach, and professor of theology and philosophy at Tubingen, where he died in 1495. — L. R. 2 This refers to one of those subtleties by which the scholastic theologians of that time sought to u])hold and demonstrate the doctrine of transubstantia- tion against the plain evidence of the senses. These ever plainly witness, that even after the supposed change of the bread and wine in the Supper, into the body and blood of Christ, yet nothirg but the a|)pearance. smell, taste, and otjier qualities of bread and wine are received. In opposition to this, a distinction is made between substance and qualities, it being maintained that the former has undergone a change, while the latter remain as before ; however much this ran contrary to simple comprehension, which plainly teaches us that substance and qualities cannot be separated, since the former is known by the latter, and the latter are determined l)y the former. Peter dWiily was fully sensible of this. It would, however, have been dangerous for him at that time to have spoken it fully out. He therefore dissembled it under the cautious limitation : " provided the Church shall have declared nothing to the contrary." Meanwhile he clearly enough showed by this what he really thought.— L. R. ^ William Occam, a Franciscan monk, born in England, but aftenvards pro- fessor of theology at Paris in the fonrteenth century, was the chief Nominalist of his time, and brought that doctrine intj fresh and great re])ute. It con- sisted in this, that general ideas serve only as certain general names for par- ticular things, and have thus no existence beyond the un silence. CocIiLtus relates that one day while they were saying mass in the chapel, Luther had brought thither his sighs, and had joined the friars in the choir, dejected and in anguish. Already the priest had thrown himself on the ground, the altar had been incensed, the Gloria chanted, and they were reading the Gospel for the day, when the poor monk, unable to restrain his agony, exclaimed in dtJeful accents and throwing himself on his knocs : "It is not I! It is not I."- The rest were confounded, and the solemnity was for a moment interrupted. Possibly, Luther may have thought that he was reproached with something of which he knew himself to be innocent; possibly, he might wish to declare himself unworthy to be one of those to whom the death of Christ had brought everlasting life. Cochlasus says that the passage they were then reading, was that which relates the history of the dumb man, from whom our lord cast out a devil. If this were so, it is possible that Luther's exclamation may have had a reference to that circumstance, and that, dumb as that man, he protested by his cry, that his silence arose from another cause than possession by the devil. In fact, Cochlaeus informs us that the monks sometimes attributed their fellow friar's suf- ferings to secret commerce with the devil, and that writer him- self is of the same opinion. ^ The tenderness of Luther's conscience made him regard the smallest fault as a great sin; and hardly had he discovered such an oftence in himself, than he would make an effort to expiate it by the severest mortifications; a course which only opened his eyes to. the uselessness of all such human remedies. " I • Visu3 est fratribus nonnihil singularitatis habere (Cochlaeus, i.) * Cum. . . . reponte ceciderit vociferans : Nonsum! n on sum! (Ibid.) ^ Kx occulto .iliquo cum sermone < omminario (Cochlicus, i.) 152 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. tormented myself to death," says he, " in order that 1 niiglit procure the peace of God for my troubled heart and agitated conscience; but being surrounded with horrible darkness I groped for peace in vain." The practices of monastic sanctity which lull so many con- sciences asleep, and to which, in his anguish, he had recourse himself, soon appeared to Luther but the useless remedies of an empirical and knavish religion. " In my state of monkhood, on finding myself assaulted by some temptation: I am lost! I would say to myself. Straightway I would fly to a thousand means of appeasing the cries of my lieart. I confessed myself daily, but this availed me nothing. Then, weighed down with grief, I allowed myself to be tormented by the multitude of my thoughts. See, I cried to myself, see how envious, impatient and irascible you still are ! . . . It is of no use to you, then, wretched man, that you have entered this sacred order." ... Yet Luther was so imbued with the prejudices of his time, as from his youth up, to have considered those practices, the impotency of which he was now experiencing, to be the grand specifics for sickly souls. What was he to think of tlie strange discovery he had made in the solitude of the cloister? Can it be, then, that one may dwell in the sanctuary and yet bear about within him a man of sin ! . . . He had put on another dress, but his heart remained the same. His hopes were blasted. Where was he to stop? Might not all these rules and observances be mere human inventions? Such a supposi- tion appeared to him, at times, to be a temptation of the devil, and at times, too, an irresistible truth. Struggling by turns with the holy voice that was addressing itself to his heart, and with the venerable institutions sanctioned by the age in which he lived, Luther passed his life in unintermitted warfare. Meagre as a shadow, the young monk would pace the long pas- sages of the monastery, making them answer in hollow echoes to his groans. His body was wearing itself out; vital energy seemed ready to leave it altogether, and it sometimes happened that he lay to appearance dead. ^ > Saepeeum cogitantem attentius de ira Deiautdemirandispajnarumexemplis, Bubito tanti tcrrores concutiebant, ut pcne exanimaretur. (Melan. Vit. Lutii.) LUTI1KU\S SUFFERINGS l.\ I HE AIONA.STKUY. 1 5o In tho depth of his grief ho one day shut himself up in liis cell, and for several days and nights would sutter no one to conio near him. On this, ono of his friends, called Luke Edemberger, felt so disquieted about the unhappy monk, and had such a pre- sentiment of his condition, that taking some boys with him who used to sing in the choirs, ho went to the cell door and knocked. No one opened or answered. This frightened good Edemberger still more, so that he drove in the door; and there found Luther stretched out on the planks quite insensible and apparently lifeless. His friend endeavoured in vain to recall him to his senses: he lay motionless as ever. The boys then began to sing an hymn, to a low sweet air. Their clear voices acted like a charm on the poor monk, to whom music had ever been one of the highest enjoyments, and by little and little he recovered strength, self-recollection and vitality.^ But although music for a few short moments, might restore some calm to his mind, another, and a more powerful remedy was required for his effectual cure. To effect that, he required the mild and insinuating tones of the gospel, which is the very voice of God. He well understood this, and, accordingly, his sorrows and his fears led him to study the writings of the apostles and the pro- phets with fresh zeal.^ IV. Luther was not the only monk who had passed through such struggles. Monasteries often screened in the obscurity of their walls, vices so abominable, as if discovered, would make a virtuous man shudder; but often, too, they concealed Christian virtues which grew up in silence and would have been admired, had they been known. The possessors of these virtues, living only with themselves and with their God, attracted no notice, and were often even unperceived by the modest monastery, or convent, tliat enclosed them. These humble solitaries sometimes fell into that mystic theology, sad malady of the noblest minds, which in by-gone times, was the delight of the monks on the borders of the Nile, and which uselessly consumes the souls of which it once gains possession. Notwithstanding, if one of these happened to be called to a ' Seckendorf. p. o3, • Hoc studinm ut magis expetcrct, illis suis doloribus ct pavoribiis rnovclia- tur. (Melancht. Vita. Luth.) ^ V 154 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATIOX. place of eminence, there he would find practical scope for good qualities, the healthful influence of which made itself long and widely felt. The candle was then put upon a candlestick, so as to give light to all who were in the house. Many were awakened by that light. Thus were such pious souls continued from generation to generation; and seen to blaze like torches held apart, even at times when monasteries were often but the impure receptacles of the thickest darkness. A young man had distinguished himself in this manner, as an inmate of one of the monasteries of Germany. His name was John Staupitz, the descendant of a noble family in Misnia. From his earliest youth he had been marked by a taste for learn- in «• and by love of virtue ;i had felt retirement necessary in order to the cultivation of literature; but soon found that philosophy, and the study of nature, could do little to secure everlasting salvation. But he sought chiefly to combine practice with learning; for, says one of his biographers, it is idle for one to have the name of theologian, if not confirmed by his life.2 The study of the Bible and of the theology of St. Augustine, the knowled"-e of himself, the warfare which, like Luther, he had to wage with the deceits and evil desires of his heart, led him to the Redeemer. Faith in Christ brought peace to his soul. The doctrine of election by grace, particularly laid hold of his mind. He was recommended to his contemporaries by the uprightness of his hfe, the depth of his learning and his eloquence of speech, not less than by a stately figure, and by manners remarkable for their dignity. ^ The elector of Saxony, Frederick the Wise, made him his friend; he employed him in various embassies, and under his direction founded the university of Wittemberg. This disciple of St. Paul and St. Augustine, was the first dean of the theological faculty of that school, which was soon to become a source of illumination to the schools and the churches of many nations. He represented the archbishop of Salzburg in the council of Lateran, became provincial of his order in Thuringia and Saxony, and afterwards, its vicar-general for all Germany. Staupitz groaned under the corruption of manners, and the • A teneris unguiculis, generoso animi impetu, ad virtutom ct cruditam doc- trinam contendit. (Melch. Adam. Vita Staupitzii.) - Ibid. ^ Corporis forma atque statura conspicuus. (Cochl. 3.) STATIPITZS VISITATION AT KUFUKT. \l)i> errors in doctrine, which desolated the Churcli, as may be seen from his writings on the love of God, on Christian faith, on conformity to the death of Christ, and from the testimony of Luther. But of these evils, he looked upon the former as by far the greater; and, besides, the gentleness and indecision of his character, and his reluctance to quit the sphere which he con- sidered to be assigned to him, made him far more fit to restore a monastery than to reform the Church. He wished to fill impor- tant offices with none but distinguished men; sucli, however, being not to be found, he had of necessity to employ others. " One must till the ground," said he, " with the best cattle we can find, and if we cannot have horses, we must use oxen."" ^ We have remarked the anguish and inward struggles to which Luther was a prey in the monastery at Erfurt, and while he was in this condition, the visitation of the vicar-general was announced. Staupitz had arrived to make his ordinary inspec- tion. This friend of Frederick, this founder of the university of Wittemberg, this chief of the Angus ns, was full of kindly feeling to the monks subject to his authority, but his attention was particularly attracted by one of the friars — a young man of middle stature, made thin by study, abstinence, and watching, so that all his bones might have been counted. 2 His eyes, which were afterwards thought like those of a hawk, were cast down ; his bearing was sorrowful, his looks discovered the agitation of a soul tossed by a thousand struggles, yet retaining its strength and unwilling to succumb. His general aspect bespoke seriousness, melancholy, and solemnity. Long experi- ence had sharpened the discernment of Staupitz; he found no difficulty in discovering what was passing in that soul, and signaled out this young man from among all who surrounded him. He felt himself drawn towards him, had a presentiment of his high destinies, and took quite a fatherly interest in this sub- ordinate friar. He, too, like Luther, had liad his own struggles. and therefore could comprehend his case; and, in particular, he could point out to him that path of peace which he himself had found. This fellow-feeling was farther augmented by what he learned of the circumstances which had brought the young Augustinian to the monastery. He suggested to the prior tliat ' L. 0pp. (W.) V. 2189. " P. Mosellaiii Epist. 156 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. he should deal with him more gently, and he availed himself of the opportunities which his office afforded of gaining- this young brother's confidence. Affectionately approaching him, he sought by every means to dissipate that timidity of his, which must have been farther augmented by the respect and awe inspired by a man of Staupitz's exalted rank. At length did Luther's heart, hitherto closed by harsh treat- ment, open and dilate itself before the kindly rays of Christian affection. As in water face answereth toface^ so the heart of man to man. ^ The heart of Staupitz answered to that of Luther. The vicar-general understood him, and the monk felt a confidence in his new friend which he had never felt in any one else. He opened to him the cause of his distress of mind, laid before him the horrible thoughts that agitated him, and thus did there com- mence within the cloisters of Erfurt conversations replete with wisdom and instruction. " In vain," said the dejected Luther to Staupitz, " do I make promises to God ; sin is ever the stronger of the two." " my friend," replied the vicar-general, returning to his own case, " I have vowed more than a thousand times to the holy God to live piously, but never have I kept my vow. Now, I have no wish to swear thus any more, for I know that I shall not keep to it. If God refuse to be gracious to me for the love of Christ, and to give me a happy exit when called to leave this world, I could not, with all my vows and all my good works, stand before him. I must perish." ^ The young monk, terrified at the thought of divine justice, lays open all his fears to tlie vicar-general. God's unspeakable holiness and sovereign majesty alarm him. Who can abide the day of his coming? Who can stand when he shall appear? Staupitz resumes. Knowing where he has found peace him- self, he proceeds to point it out to the young man. " Why," he says to him, " will you torment yourself with these high thoughts and speculations? . . . Look to the wounds of Jesus Christ; to the blood which he has shed for thee: it is there that thou wilt discover the grace of God. Instead of making thyself a martyr for thine offences, cast thyself into thy Redeemer's arms. Trust thyself to him; to the righteousness » Proverbs xxvii. 19. * L. 0pp. (W) vii, 2725 TIIK GRACK. OF CHRIST. 157 of his life; to the expiation of his death. Shrink not from cloiii<,' this. God is not angry with thee ; it is thou that art angry with God. Listen to the Son of God. He became man that ho might give thee assurance of the divine favour. IIo says to thee: Thou art my sheep; thou hearest my voice; none shall ever pluck thee out of my hand." ^ But Luther could not find in himself the repentance whicli he thought necessary to salvation: he replied, and it is the common reply of anguished and fearful souls: "How sliall I dare to believe in the fiivour of God, as long as there is no true conver- sion in me? I must be changed before He accepts me."" His venerable guide showed him that tliere can be no true con- version, so long as man dreads God as a severe judge. " What say you, then," exclaimed Luther, "of so many consciences having a thousand intolerable ordinances prescribed to them, in order that they may gain heaven?" Then it was that he heard the following reply from the vicar- general, or rather he does not believe that it comes from a man; it seems as if it were a voice resounding from heaven:- " There is no true repentance," says Staupitz, " but that which begins with the love of God and of righteousness. 3 What others imagine to be the end and the completion of repentance, is no more, on the contrary, than its commencement. If thou wouldst be replen- ished with love for what is good, thou must first of all be replen- ished with love for God. If thou wouldst be converted, endeavour not after all these macerations and all these martyrdoms. Love Him who first loved thee." Luther listened, and listened still. These words of comfort filled him with a joy till then unknown, and introduced a new light into his soul. " It is Jesus Christ," thought he in his lieai't, " yes, it is Jesus Christ himself who so admirably consoles me w'ith his mild and health-giving words." ^ These words, in fact, pierced the young monk's inmost soul like the sharpened arrow of a mighty man.-^ In order to repent- » L. 0pp. (W) ii. 264. * Te velut e ca?lo soncantem accepimus. (L. Epp. i. 115, ad St.aiipitziuni, SOth May, 1518.) ^ Pcenitentia vero non est, nisi ouse ab amore justitia; et Dei incipit, etc. (Ibid.) * Memini inter jucundissimas et salutares fabnlns tuas, quibus me solet Dom- inus Jesus mirifice consolari. (L. Epp. i. 115, ad Staupitzium, 30 Mnf, 151S.) * Ilffisit hoc verbiiin tuiiin in nio, sirnt sngitta potontis aoita (Ibid.l 158 niSTOUY OK THE KEFORAIATION. anee, we must love God. Struck by this new light, he began to compare scripture with scripture. He looked for all the pas- sages in which repentance and conversion are mentioned; and these, till then so much dreaded, to use his own expressions, became a most pleasant game to him, and the most delightful of recreations. All the passages of scripture which had fright- ened him, now seemed as if coming up to him from all parts, smiling and leaping around him, and playing with him." ^ " Up to this time," he cried, " however carefully I might dis- semble the state of my heart before God, and compel myself to express a love for him which was but constrained and fictitious, there was no word in scripture more bitter than that of repentance. But now there is not one sweeter or more agreeable. ^ Oh ! how sweet are God's precepts, when we read them not only in books, but also in the precious wounds of the Saviour ."3 Comforted, however, as Luther was by the words of Staupitz, he sometimes relapsed into low spirits. Sin made itself felt anew by his timid conscience, and then to the joy of salvation there succeeded all his former despair. O my sin ! my sin ! my sin! exclaimed the young monk one day in presence of the vicar-fjeneral, and in a tone of the most intense sorrow. "What ! " replied the latter, " would you be but the painted image of a sinner, and have likewise but the painted image of a Saviour?" Then added Staupitz in a tone of authority: " Know that Jesus Christ is Saviour even of those who are great and real sinners, and who deserve utter condemnation." What agitated Luther was not only the sin that he found in his heart, for to his troubles of conscience were added such as perplexed his understanding. If the holy precepts of the Bible inspired him with dread, one or other of that divine book''s doc- trines added to his torment. The truth, though employed by God as the grand means of giving peace to a sinner, necessarily commences by depriving him of that fallacious security which is his destruction. The doctrine of election, in particular, per- plexed the young man, and launched him into a field which it was difficult for him to traverse. Was he to believe that it was ' Ecce jucundissimum ludum, verba undique mihi colludeoant, planeque huic sententisc arridebant et assultabant. (L. Epp. i. 115.) 2 Nunc nihil diilcius aut gratius mihi sonct qnam poenitentia, etc. (Ibid.) * Ita enim dulcescunt precepta Dei, quando non in libris tantum, sed in viil- neriljiis dulcissimi Salvatoris iegenda intelligimns. (Ibid.) STAUPITz's VIKWS Ol' 1'I10VIDKN( K. 150 man who should .first chooso God for his porlii^n? or if it wero God who should first choose man? The ]3il)lo history, daily experience, the writings of St. Augustine, all showed him that, always and in everything, we must ascend at last to the sove- reign will by which all things exist, and on which they all depend. But his ardent mind would fain have gone farther still. He could have wished to scan the secret counsel of God, to unveil its mysteries, to view the invisible, and to comprehend the incomprehensible. Staupitz stopped liim. He urged him not to pretend to sound the hidden Godhead, but to keep to what of it is manifested to us in Christ. *' Behold the wounds of Christ," said he to him, " and there thou shalt see God's counsel towards man clearly shining forth. We cannot com- prehend God out of Jesus Christ. In Christ thou shalt find what I am, and what I require, saith the Lord. "Sou will find him no where else, whether in heaven or on earth." i 2 The vicar-creneral did more than this. He made Luther recognise the fatherly design of God's providence in permitting the various temptations and conflicts which his soul had to sus- tain. These, he taught him to view in a light well calculated to re-animate his courage. It is by such trials that God pre- pares for himself the souls which he destines for some important work. The vessel must be proved before it is launched into the mighty ocean. If some education be necessary for every man, a particular education is required for those who have to act on their generation. This was what Staupitz represented to the monk of Erfurt. " It is not in vain," he told him, " that God » L. 0pp. (W.)xxii, p. 489. * Here we have the true gospel of Christ stated by Staupitz, as Luther under- stood it, and had been instructed in it by God himself. It engrossed liis whole soul, and was gradually made clearer and clearer to him. We perceive it in all those disclosures of his inmost feelings, quoted, so much to the pur])ose, in various parts of the worthy .author's account of Luther's adaptation and pre- paration for the great work to which he was called ; as, for example, when here, and a little before, he introduces what Luther says oi repentance, and afterwards of the righteousness of God, expressions than which none had been more bitter or hateful to him hitherto; but which, afterwards, when he came to know their true meaning in Christ, sounded most sweetly in his ears. Yes, this is the true spirit of the gosj)cl : and it is the true spirit of the Reformation also ; not Luther's only, but as originally professed in our own, so-called Reformed Church. Would not many, who withal zealously atiect orthodoxy, cover these views again as with a vail, so that the words repentance, God's righteousness, and such like, are anew employed rather to the oppression than the relief ot the mind; and this even thought necessary in order that men may not be care- less and at their ease. — T, R. IGO HISTORY OF THE UEFORMATIOX. exercises thee by so many conflicts: tliou wilt see that He v\ill make use of thee as his minister in great afiairs." These words, heard by Luther with mingled astonishment and humility, filled him with courage, and gave him the conscious- ness of a moral energy which he had not even suspected that he possessed. The wisdom and the prudence of an enlightened friend reveal, by degrees, the strong man to himself. Nor does Staupitz rest at this point. He gives him precious directions for his studies, and exhorts him from thenceforth to throw aside the scholastic systems, and to find all his theology in the Bible. " Let the study of the Scriptures," said he, " be your favourite occupation."" And never was the best counsel better followed. But what more than all gladdened Luther, was the present of a Bible made to him by Staupitz. At length he himself possessed the treasure which up to that hour he had been obliged to look for, either in the university library, or at the chain of the monas- tery, or in the cell of a friend. Forthwith he studied the Scrip- tures, and especially St. Paul's epistles, with an ever-growing zeal. To the study of the Bible he now united no other but that of St. Augustine. All that he reads now comes powerfully home to his soul. Conflicts have prepared his heart to under- stand the Word. The incorruptible seed powerfully penetrates the soil into which the ploughshare has been deeply driven. When Staupitz quitted Erfurt, a new day had dawned upon Luther. Nevertheless, the work was not yet complete. The vicar- general began it, but God had reserved its completion for a humbler instrument. The conscience of the young Augustinian had not yet found repose, and his body began, at length, to sink under efibrts which kept his soul at its utmost stretch. He was attacked by a grievous illness which brought him to the gates of death. It was now the second year of his abode in the monas- tery. All his anguish and his terrors returned on the approach of death ; his own defilement, and the holiness of God, troubled his soul anew; when one day, as he was well nigh overwhelmed with despair,! ^n old monk entered his cell, and addressed to > Thus was Luther exercised and prei>ared by much anguish of soul for relishing, and knowing how to teach, the true consolation of the gospel. It were, however, a false view, did we thence infer that whoever is to enjoy that TIIK OLD MONK AT KRl'l-KT. 1()1 him some words of comfort. Luther opened liis heart to liim, and told him the fears by which his rest was taken from him. The wox-thy okl man had not the capacity to follow tliat soul through all its doubts, as Staupitz had dune; but ho knew his Credo^ and there he had found wherewithal to solace his heart. He thought, then, that he would apply the same cure to this young friar. Taking him back to that symbol of the apostles which Luther had learned in his early childhood, the old monk in a kind tone pronounced the article, / believe in the forgiveness of sim. These simple words, which the pious friar candidly recited, at that decisive moment, shed great comfort over Luther's soul. " I believe," he soon repeated to himself on his bed of suffering, " I believe in the forgiveness of sins ! " " Ah ! " says the monk, " we must not only believe that the sins of David or Peter are forgiven : for that is no more than the devils believe. God's command is, that we should believe that our own are for- given." 1 How sweet did this command appear to poor Luther ! " See what St. Bernard says in his discourse on the annuncia- tion," added the old friar, " the testimony given by the Holy Ghost in thy heart is this : ' Thy sins are forgiven thee.' " From that moment light broke upon the heart of the young monk of Erfurt. The word of grace had been spoken, and he has believed it. He renounces meriting salvation, and gives himself up with confidence to the grace of God in Jesus Christ. Not, that in admitting this principle, he apprehended its conse- quences ; he remained sincerely attached to the Church, although he had no more need of her; for having received salvation inime- oonsolation must pass tlirough the same process ; still worse were it to view this as communicating to the soul a certain worthiness, or right, to ohtain that consolation, or as it were a condition ordained by God for obtaining it. This latter notion is quite subversive of the gospel, and is exactly what it was requi- site that Luther should utterly banish. Alas ! has it not regained too much ground in the very church that Luther reformed ? The bare idea, too, of its being required as a preparative for the consolations of the gospel, without which these cannot be rightly enjoyed, obscures the true gospel. By that course, Luther was led just to renounce all those things in which he had been seeking for peace, and to perceive how vain they all were. Happy the mind of him for whom so severe a training is not required, and who, at once, with a believing confidence, takes to himself the consolation which God freely and unconditionally bestows. Such a Christian shows that he has best understood Luther, and is penetrated with the true spirit of the doctrine which he reformed ^the doctrine of the genuine gospel. — L. R. ' Davidi aut Petro . . . Sod mandatum Dei esse, ut singuli homines nobis remitti peccata crcdamus. (Melancht. Vit.a. L.) '• X 162 HISTORY OF THE RETORMATIOX. diatoly from God, Roman Catholicism was virtually destroyed in him. But he goes on and searches the writings of the apostles and prophets, for all that can strengthen the hope that now fills his heart. He daily seeks aid from on high, and daily, too, the light brightens in his soul. Recovered health of mind brought with it the recovery of his bodily health, and he speedily rose from his sick-bed. He had received a new life in a double sense. The festival of Christ- mas which came on soon after, enabled him to taste in abund- ance all the consolations of faith. He participated in the solem- nities of that season with delightful feelings; and when, amidst the pomps of Christmas day, he had to sing these words : heata culpa quce talem meruisti Bedemptorem ; i his whole man said Amen, and leapt for joy. Luther had now been two years in the monastery, and the time was come for his being ordained a priest. He had received much, and he joyfully surveyed the prospect which the priest- hood presented to him, of freely giving what he had freely received. He wished to take the advantage of the ceremony of consecration, as a means of being fully restored to his father's aflFections, and accordingly he invited him to be present and even asked him to fix the day. John Luther, never yet fully recon- ciled to his son, accepted this invitation notwithstanding, and appointed Sunday, May 2d. 1607, as the day. Among Luthers friends was the vicar of Isenac, John Braun, who had been a faithful adviser to him during his stay there. Luther wrote to him on the 22d. of April, and this letter is the oldest that remains to us of the Reformer's writing. It has the following address : " To John Braun, holy and venerable priest of Christ, and of Mary." The name of Mary occurs in the two first of Luther's letters only. "God who is glorious and holy in all his works," says the candidate for priest's orders, "having deigned to give me a mag- nificent education ; me, a wretched and in every way worthless sinner, and to call me by his sole and most bountiful mercy, to his sublime ministry, I ought, in testimony of my gratitude for so magnificent, and so divine a bounty (in so far as dust can do ' O happy fault which has deserved such a Redeemer ! ( Mathesius p, 6.) LUTHER RECEIVES PRlESx's OKDEUfl. 1G3 this), to discharge with my whole heart the office entrusted to mc. "Therefore it is, most dear father, lord, and brother, that 1 would request, should time, and your church and family affairs admit of it, that you will condescend to aid me with your presence and your prayers, to the end that my sacrifice may, in God's sight, be acceptable. "But I must tell you, that you must come directly to our monastery, and stay there with us for a time, without going about the streets to look for any other hostelry. You must become an inhabitant of our cells." The day at last arrived. The miner of Mansfeld did not fail to be present at the consecration of his son ; nay, he even gave him a mark of his affection and generosity which was not to be mistaken, by presenting him on this occasion with a gift of twenty florins. The ceremony took place, Jerome, bishop of Brandenburg, officiating. In conferring on Luther the power of celebrating mass, he put a chalice into his hand, and uttered these solemn words: '•'•Accipe potestatem sacrificandi pro mms and mortuis. Receive power to sacrifice for the living and for the dead." Luther calmly listened at the time to these words, conferring upon him the power of doing the very work of the Son of God; but at a later period, they made him shudder. "If the earth," said he, "did not then swallow us both up, it could only be ascribed to the great patience and long suffering of the Lord." ^ Thereafter, the father joined his son at dinner in the monas- tery, with other friends of the young priest, and with the monks. The conversation fell on Luther's entering that establishment. The friars applauded his having done so, as a most meritorious act. Hearing this, the inflexible John, turning to his son, said to him: "Hast thou not read in Scripture that a man ought to obey his father and his mother?'" These words struck Luther: they presented the act which had introduced him to the monas- tery, in quite a new light, and made a lasting impression on his heart. Following an advice given him by Staupitz, Luther, after his » L. Opp. xvi. (W.) 1144. 164 HISTORY OF THE REFORilATIO:^. ordination, made short excursions on foot among the parishes and monasteries of the neighbourhood, with the view both of enjoying mental relaxation and giving his body its necessary exercise, and of practise in preaching. The feast called God's festival, was about to be celebrated with great pomp at Eisleben. ^ The vicar-general behoved to be there. Luther failed not to attend ; he still stood in need of Staupitz, and sought all opportunities of meeting with that enlightened adviser, who was now guiding his soul into the paths of life. In the procession, which was numerous and brilliant, Staupitz himself carried the host; Luther followed in his priest''s robes, and so much did the idea all at once strike his imagination and alarm him, of Jesus Christ himself being borne by the vicar- general, and our Lord's being presented in person before him, that he could hardly move forward; the sweat fell from him in drops ; he staggered and thought he must die with distress and terror. The procession came, at last, to a close. The host which had thus awakened all the monk's alarms, was solemnly deposited in the sanctuary, and Luther, finding himself alone with Staupitz, threw himself into his arms and confessed how much he had been afraid. On this the good vicar -general, who had long known that kind Saviour who doth not break the bruised reed, mildly said to him; "It was not Jesus Christ, my brother; Jesus Christ does not frighten ; he only comforts." ^ Luther was not doomed to remain hid in one obscure monas- tery, and the time was now come for his being transferred to a wider theatre. Staupitz, with whom he lived in uninterrupted correspondence, was well aware that the young monk possessed too stirring a soul, to be long shut up within so narrow a sphere. He spoke of him to Frederick, elector of Saxony; and in 1508, probably towards the close of the year, that enlightened prince called Luther to be a professor in the university of Wittemberg. Wittemberg was a field on which he had many a hard battle to fight; but Luther felt that there it was his vocation to be. He was asked to betake himself speedily to his new post, and ' Ei, hast du nicht auch gehbrt das man Eltern soil gehorsam seyn (L. Epp. ii. 101.) 2 Es ist nicht Christus, denn Christus schrecht nicht, sondern trbstet nur, f L. 0pp. (W.) xxii. p. 613. and 724.) 1,'jrHKR TEACHKS I'llILOSOPIIY AT WirrEMIiKlia. 1(15 answered this cappeal without delay; hurrying off with such pre- cipitation as not even to write to the man whom ho used to call his much beloved master and father, John Braun, parish priest of Isenac. Some months after, ho did write to him, saying: "So sudden was my departure that the very people I lived with, hardly knew of it. I am gone to a distance, I admit, but the better part of me remains near thee." ^ Luther had spent three years in the monastery at Erfurt. V. On arriving at Wittemberg, Luther repaired to the mon- astery of the Augustinians, where he had a cell allotted to him; for although a professor, he ceased not to be a monk. He was called to teach physics and logic, an arrangement in which regard was doubtless had to the philosophical studies he had pursued at Erfurt, and the degree he had obtained of master of arts. Thus did he find himself, while hungering and thirsting for the Word of God, compelled to attend, almost exclusively, to the study of Aristotle''s scholastic philosophy. He needed the bread of life which God gives to the world, yet was obliged to occupy himself with human subtilties. What a constraint this, and how must it have afflicted him ! " I am well, by the grace of God," wi'ites he to John Braun, "were it not that I have to devote my whole energies to the study of philosophy. I have greatly desired, ever since my coming to Wittemberg, to exchange this branch for that of theology, but," adds he, that it might not be supposed that he meant the theology of that time, "the theology I mean, is that which looks for the kernel of the nut, the marrow of the wheat, and the marrow of the bones. ^ Be it as it may, God is good," he goes on to say with the con- fidence which was his life's very soul, "man is almost always deceived in the judgments he pronounces ; but he is our God. He will kindly conduct us evermore." The labours in which Luther had then to engage, were of the utmost service to him afterwards, when he had to combat the errors of the schoolmen.^ > L. Epp. i. p. 5. (17th March, 1509.) ^ Theologia quae nucleum nucis et medullam tritici et medullam ossium scrutatur. (L. Epp. i. 6.) ^ While here, and in what follows, we observe how Luther was gradu.ally pre- pared by God, and constrained, as it were, at every turn, involuntarily to undertake the enterprize that he accomplished ; what shall we say of those spiteful and little-minded slanderers who impute what he did to dishonourable motives ; alleging that it was an achievment in which he had sought to be engaged, for the 166" HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". It was impossible that he could keep to this; his heart's desire behoved to be fulfilled. That same power which, some years before, had driven Luther from the bar to the monastic life, now drove him from philosophy to the Bible. He zealously applied himself to the study of the ancient tongues, chiefly Greek and Hebrew, that thus he might derive learning and divinity from their proper sources; and in such labours, his mental and physical constitution enabled him to be indefatigable.' Some months after arriving at the university, he applied for the degree of bachelor in theology, and obtained it about the end of March, 1509, with the particular vocation of devoting himself to biblical theology, ad Biblia. And now every day at one o'clock, Luther had to speak upon the Bible ; precious hour alike for the professor and the disciples, and one that enabled them to enter, ever more and more deeply, into the divine sense of those revelations, so long lost both to the learned and the common people. He began his lectures with an explanation of the psalms, and passed from that to the epistle to the Eomans ; to his medita- tions on which, he was chiefly indebted for the light of truth that broke upon his heart. In the retirement of his quiet cell, with the epistle of St. Paul open before him, he devoted hours of study to the divine Word. Having one day come to the 17th verse of the first chapter, he there read the passage of the prophet Habakkuk : The just shall live by faith. He was struck with these words. For the just, then, there is a diff"erent life from that of the rest of men, and this life is bestowed by faith. This word which ho received into his heart as if God had deposited it there, unveiled to him the mystery of the Christian life, and gave farther growth to that life in himself. Long after, amid his many labours, he would think that he still heard a voice saying to him: "The just shall live by faith." ^ sake of worldly fame, or to satisfy the cravings of ambition or of envy? They can have no eyes to see, or heart to comprehend, or they must be totally unac- quainted with the true state of the case. Hence the work of M. Merle is admirably fitted to place it before us in its true light. It makes us thoroughly acquainted with the man as he really was, and with the work of the Reforma- tion, to which he was destined, and for which he was prepared, by God himself. No amendment can be looked for in the man who is not convinced of this. We must leave him to indulge his malice, as a hopeless slanderer of the truth. L. R. See, Dr. M'Laine's note in refutation of Hume. M'Laine's Mosheim, vol. iv. p. 31. Also, Milner's Hist, of the Church of Christ, vol. iv. p. 321. Tr. ' In studiis litterarum corpore ac mente indefessus. (Pallavicini Hist. Cone. Trid. I. 16.) * Seckend, p. 55. IMl'RKSSlON MADE IIY LUTHER S l.ECTUIirS. 1G7 Luther's lectures, thus prepared, were little like any thing that had been heard up to that time. It was no fine-worded rhetorician, or pedantic schoolman, that now spoke; it was a Christian who had experienced the power of divine truths, who drew them from the Bible, brought them forth again from the treasury of his own heart, and presented them, all full of life, to his astonished auditors. Is was not man's teaching; it was the teaching of God. This altogether novel exposition of the truth made a noise; the news of it spread far and wide, and attracted a crowd of young foreign students to the recently founded university. Several even of the professors attended Luther's lectures; among others the famous Martin PoUich, of Mellerstadt, doctor of medicine, law, and philosphy, who together with Staupitz, had organised the university of Wittemberg, and was its first rector. Mellerstadt, often called the light of the world, had the modesty to take his place among the disciples of the new pro- fessor. "This monk," said he, "will put to rout all the doctors; he will introduce a new doctrine, and reform the whole Church; for he takes his post on the Word of Christ, and no man can impugn or overthrow that Word, even were he to attack it with all the arms of philosophy, of the sophists, the Scotists, Albertists, the Thomists,! and with all the Tartarus !"2 Staupitz who was the hand employed by providence to draw forth the gifts and treasures that lay hid in Luther, now invited him to preach in the Church of the Augustinians. But the young professor recoiled from this proposal. He wished to confine himself to academical functions, and trembled to think of undertaking to preach also. Staupitz urged him in vain. "No, no,"" he replied, "it is no small matter to speak to men in the place of God."^ How touching is this humility in the great ' Melch. Adam. Vita Lutheri, p. 104. 2 These were so many different adherents among the learned, of the three chief doctors of the thirteenth century, and who taught their doctrines. The Scotists were the followers of John Duns, Scotus, an English Franciscan fi'iar who taught at Oxford and Paris; the Albertists of Albertus Magnus, a German Dominican, who after having studied at Padua, and been bishop of Regensburg, resigned his honours, in order that he might devote himself entirely to study, being regarded as the wonder of his age ; and the Thomists of Thomas Acquinas, an Italian Dominican, one of Albert's pulpils, and known as the greatest theologue and philosopher of his time. These though all great men for that age, had by their abstruse subtilties, done more to obscure than to explain the gospel. — L. R. 3 Frabrioius centifol. l^uthcri. p. 33. — Mathesius. p. 6. 168 HISTORY OF THE KEFORAIATIOX. reformer of the Church ! Staupitz insisted. But the ingenious Luther, says one of his historians, found fifteen arguments, pre- texts, and pretences to defend himself against this call. In the end, as the chief of the Augustinians continued his attack: "Ah, Mr. Doctor," said Luther, "in doing this you are killing me. I could not last three months at it." — "Agreed," said the vicar- general, "and be it so in God's name! For our Lord God has need of devoted and humble men in the upper world also." Luther had at last to yield. In the middle of Wittemberg market-place there stood an old wooden chapel, thirty feet long by twenty broad, with its partitions propped on all sides, and ready to fall to ruins. An old pulpit, made of boards and three feet high, received the preacher, and in this wretched chapel began the preaching of the Reformation. God desired that what was to re-establish his glory should have the most lowly beginnings. The founda- tions of the Church of the Augustinians had just been laid, and in the meantime, while waiting for its being finished, this paltry place of worship was used. "That building," adds the contem- porary of Luther who relates these circumstances,' "might well be compared to the stable in which Christ was born. It was in that miserable enclosure that God desired, so to speak, that his beloved Son should be born for a second time. Among the thousands of cathedrals and parish churches that crowd the world, God chose not one for the preaching of everlasting life." Luther preached, and all were struck with the new preacher; his hearers were captivated with his expressive face, noble air, and clear and sonorous voice. Before his time, most preachers had sought rather for what might amuse their auditors, than for what might convert them. But the deep seriousness that pre- dominated in Luther s sermons, the joy wherewith his know- ledge of the gospel had filled his heart, gave to his eloquence an authority, a fervour, and an unction, which not one of his pre- decessors had possessed. "Endued with a mind remarkable for promptness and vivacity," says one of his adversaries,^ " of a strong memory, and singularly happy in the use he made of his mother tongue, Luther yielded to no one of his age in eloquence. Discoursing from the elevation of the pulpit, like a man under ' Myconius. ' Florimond Raymond. Hist, heres. cap. 5. Lt'THEU'.S Kf.OQUKXCE. HE GOES 10 KO.ME. I C)[) tlio inllut'uce of some strong passion, he suited his action to his words, struck the minds of his hearers in the most extraordinary manner, and hurried them Hke a torrent, wliithersoever he would. So much force, grace, and eloquence, are seldom found among the northern nations." "He had an eloquence,"" says Bossuet, "full of life and impetuosity, which drew along M'itli it and ravished the people."' Soon the little chapel was found too small to contain the hearers that pressed into it in crowds. I'pon this, the town- council of Wittemberg, chose Luther as their preacher, and invited him to preach in the town church. He made a still greater impression there. The force of his genius, the eloquence of his diction, and the excellence of the doctrines he announced, ahke astonished his auditors. His fame became widely diffused, and Frederick the Wise himself, on one occasion, came to Wit- temberg to hear him. A new era now commenced for Luther. His unprofitable life in the monastery was succeeded by great activity. The free- dom, the labour, the energetic and uninterrupted exertions to which he could devote himself at Wittemberg, completed the re- establishment of harmony and peace in his soul. He was now at his post, and the work of God was soon about to devclope its majestic march. VI. Luther was now giving instructions both in the academi- cal hall and in the church, when his labours met with the fol- lowing interruption. In 1510, according to some not until ]511 or 1512, he was sent to Rome, in consequence of a disagreement having arisen on some points, between seven monasteries of his order and the vicar-general,- and Luther's mental vivacity, his power of expressing himself, and his talents for discussion, hav- ing; led these seven monasteries to select him as ajjent in con- ducting their case before the Pope. 3 This divine dispensation was necessary to Luther. It was of consequence that he should know Eome, for monastic prejudices and illusions still influenced him, so much as to make him regard it as the head quarters of holiness. ' Hist, fles variat. hook i. * Quod soptem coiiventus a vicario in quihnsflani dissrntircnt. (Coch!a?us. 2.) * Quod essct accr ingenio et ad contradiccndum audax ot volicmens. (Tliid,) 1. V 170 HISTORY OF THE RErORMATIOX. Commencing his journey, Luther crossed the Alps, but hardly had he descended into the plains of rich and voluptuous Italy, than he found, at every step, new subjects of astonishment and of scandal. The poor German monk was received by a rich monastery of Benedictines, situate on the Po, in Lombardy. The rent-roll of this religious house amounted to thirty-six thousand ducats; whereof twelve thousand were spent on eat- ing and drinking, another twelve thousand on buildings, and the remaining twelve thousand on the other needs of the monks.^ The richly furnished rooms, beautiful dresses, and exquisite viands, all confounded Luther. Marble, silk, luxury in all its forms; what a new spectacle to the humble friar of the poor monastery of Wittemberg! Ho was astonished, but held his peace; however, when Friday came, what was his surprise, for the table of the Benedictines continued to be covered with abun- dance of animal food! On this he resolved to speak out. " The Church,'" said he to them, " and the Pope forbid such things."' The Benedictines were indignant at being thus repri- manded by a coarse German. But Luther having insisted, and having threatened them, perhaps, that he would make their dis- orders known, some thought that the simplest plan would be to make away with their troublesome guest. The porter of the monastery warned him that he ran some risk in staying longer where he was. Accordingly, taking the hint, he escaped from this Epicurean monastery and arrived at Bologna, where he fell dangerously ill.^ Some have considered this illness as the result of an attempt at poisoning; but, it is more natural to suppose that change of diet had affected the frugal monk of Wittem- berg, who had been accustomed to live chiefly on herrings and bread. This illness was not to be unto death but for the glory of God. The low spirits and oppression to which he was natu- rally subject, now laid hold of him. To die thus far from Ger- many, under that burning sky, and in a foreign land — how sad a lot! The anguish he had endured at Erfurt was intensely revived. He was troubled with a sense of his sins, and terri- fied on looking forward to the divine judgment. But just as those terrors had reached their utmost pitch, the words of St. Paul that had struck him at Wittemberg: The just shall lite by faiih, forcibly presented themselves to his mind, and like a ray 1 L. 0pp. ( W). XXII, p. MGS. ^ Matth. Dresser, Hist. Luthcri. MliMORlAI.S 01' TIIK PAST IN llOMIC. 171 from heaven, threw hf^ht into liis souL Refreshed and com- forted, he soon recovered his health and resumed his journey to Rome; expecting to find there quite a diiferent Hfe from that of the Lombardy monasteries, and eager to efface by what he sliould behold of Roman sanctity, the mournful impression left on his mind by his visit to the banks of the Po. At last, at the close of a disagreeable journey, performed beneath the scorching sky of Italy, about the beginning of summer, he drew near to the city placed on seven hills. His heart beat with emotion ; liis eyes eagerly looked out for the queen of the world and of the Church. No sooner did he descry, at a dis- tance, the eternal city, the residence of St. Peter and St. Paul, the metropolis of catholicity, than he threw himself on the ground and exclaimed: "Holy Rome, I salute thee!" We now find Luther in Rome. The Wittemberg professor stands amid the eloquent ruins of consular and imperial Rome, the Rome of the confessors of Jesus Christ and of the martyrs. There once lived that Plautus and that Virgil, whose works he had taken with liim into the monastery, together with all those great men whose history had often made his heart throb with interest. He finds their statues and the ruins of monu- ments that attest their glory. But all this glory, all this might, had passed away: and he trode the dust of it under his feet. Every step recalls the melancholy presentiment of Scipio, as he wept on beholding the ruins of Carthage, its burnt down palaces and demolished walls, and exclaimed: "Thus shall it be with Rome !" " And in fact," said Luther, " The Rome of the Scipios and the Caesars has been changed into a carcase. Such is the mass of ruins that the foundations of the houses at this day, rest where the roofs formerly were." "And there," he adds casting a sorrowful look over these ruins, "there were piled up the wealth and the treasures of the Avorld!"i All these heaps of rubbish, over which he stumbles at every step, proclaim to Luther, within the very walls of Rome, that what is most mighty in the eyes of man, may be destroyed with the utmost ease by the breath of the Lord. But with the ashes of the profane were mingled the ashes of saints, and of this he is not forgetful. The burying place of the martyrs does not lie far from that of the Roman generals and 1 L. 0pp. (W.) XXII, p. 2374 and 2377. 172 HISTORY OF THK REI-OllMATIOX. conquerors, and we may well believe that the sorrows of Chris- tian Rome affected the heart of the Saxon monk, more powerfully than did pagan Rome with all her glory. Here it was that the letter came, in which St. Paul M'rote: The just is justified hy faith. He is not far from Appii Forum and the Three Taverns. There stood the house of Narcissus, here was Caesar's palace, where the Lord delivered the apostle from the jaws of the lion. How many memorials were there, to fortify the heart of the monk of Wittemberg ! Rome at that time presented quite a different aspect. The papal see was then filled by Julius H., not by Leo X., as has been said, no doubt from inattention, by some eminent German historians. Luther often related the following anecdote of this Pope. When informed of his armies being defeated by the French before Ravenna, he was engaged in repeating his hours: on hearing the news, he threw down the book, and said with a horrible oath. "Well now ! so thou art become French. Is it thus that thou dost protect thy ChurchT' Then turning him- self in the direction of the country, to the arms of which he thought of applying for succour: "Holy Switzer i pray for us," he added. The spectacle presented by that wretched city, formed a medley of ignorance, frivolity, and dissoluteness ; a profane spirit, contempt of every thing sacred, and a disgraceful traffic in holy things, were every where perceptible ; notwithstanding all which, the pious monk remained for some time influenced by its spell. When the feast of St. John came round, he heard the Romans about him repeating a proverb which had spread among the common people. "Happy,"" it was said, "is the mother whose son says a mass on St. John's eve.'' "Oh," said Luther to him- self, "how much do I wish I could make my mother happy;" and, accordingly, this pious son of Margaret, wanted to say a mass on that day, but was prevented by the pressure of the crowd. ^ At once fervent and meek, he made the circuit of all the churches and chapels ; he believed all the lying tales that were told there; he devoutly acquitted himself of all the religious ' Sancte Swizere ! ora pro nobis. (L. 0pp. (W.) xxii. p. 1314. and 1332. 8 L. 0pp. (W.) Dedication of the 117. psalm. Vlth. Voi,. L. g. rKOlANKMCSS Ol lllli CJ.LIU.Y. J 7.') practices that were there required of him; and was delighted at being able to do so many pious acts which his countrymen liad no opportunity of performing. "Ah how much do I regret," the pious German would say to himself, "that my father and mother are still alive! How delighted should I be to deliver them from the fires of purgatory, by my masses, my prayers, and so many other admirably good deeds." ^ He had found the light; but darkness was still far from being quite expelled from his under- standing. His heart was converted ; still his mind was not yet enlightened; he had faith and love, but he was wanting in knowledge. It was no small matter to come out altogether from that thick darkness which for so many ages had covered the earth. - Luther repeatedly said mass at Home, and did it with all the dignity and unction that such an action seemed to require. But what was the sorrow that seized the heart of the Saxon monk, on beholding the sadly profane and mechanical devotion of the Roman priests, while celebrating the sacrament of the altar. One day when he happened to be officiating, seven masses had been read at an adjacent altar before he had read one. " Get on, get on," cried one of the priests, " and let our Lady soon have her Son again," thus impiously alluding to the transubstantiation of bread into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. On another occasion, Luther was only at the gospel when the priest next to him had already finished his mass. "Passa, passa! " cried the latter, "haste you, haste, now do be done with it! 3"" Still greater was his astonishment at finding in the dignitaries of the popedom, what he had observed in the common priests. He had hoped better things of the former. It was the fashion of the papal court to attack Christianity, and no man could pass for a well bred person who did not hold some wrong, or heretical notion on the doctrines of the Church. An attempt had been made to prove to Erasmus, by passages ' L. 0pp. (W.) Dedication of the 117. psalm. VI. Vol. L. g. ' Here, too, we see how all went on gradually and without Luther's seeking. It was God's work ; not his. L. R. ^ L. 0pp. (W.) xix. von der Winkelmesse, Mathesius, 6. * In quel tempo non pareva fosse galartuomo e buon cortcgiano colui che de dogmi della chiesa non aveva qualche opinion erronea cd heretica. (Carraciola, Vit. msc. Paul. IV., quoted by Ranke. 174 HISTORY OF THE REFORM ATIO.V. from Pliny, that there is no difference betwixt the souls of men and beasts; ^ and some of the pope's young courtiers, pretended that the orthodox faith was the produce of the astute inventions of certain Saints.- His quality of envoy from the Augustine monks of Germany, brought Luther many invitations to meetings of distinguished ecclesiastics. One day, in particular, he found himself seated at table with several prelates, when these ingenuously shewed themselves off to him in their true character, as men of ribald manners and impious conversation; not scrupling to pass a thousand jokes in his presence; and they, no doubt, judged him to be such an one as themselves. Among other ludicrous stories which they told in the monk's hearing, they related with laughter and gloriation, how in saying mass, at the altar, instead of the sacramental words which were to transubstantiate the bread and the wine into the Saviour's body and blood, they pronounced over the bread and wine, the following words in derision : Panis es et panismanehis^mnum eset vinum manebis, (bread thou art, and bread thou shalt remain; wine thou art, and wine thou shalt remain). Then, continued they, we raise the ostensory and all the people worship. Luther on hearing this could hardly believe his ears. Notwithstanding the remarkable vivacity, and even gaiety he shewed in the company of his friends, his mind was full of serious- ness when sacred things were in question. He was shocked at the pleasantries of Rome. '* I was a grave and pious young monk,"" says he, "and words like these gave me much pain. If at Rome, people talk at table thus freely and publicly, thought I to myself, what if their actions correspond to their words ; and if all, pope, cardi- nals, and courtiers, say mass thus ! And I who have heard them read devoutly so very many, how they must have deceived me ! " 3 Luther minaled much with the monks and the citizens of Rome; among whom, some might cry up the pope and his party, the greater number gave free vent to their complaints and sarcasms, what had they not to relate of the pope then reigning, of Alex- ander VI., and of so many others ! His Roman friends told him one day how Csesar Borgia, after having fled from Rome, was ' Burigny's life of Erasmus, i. 139. 2 E medio Romanje curia?, sectam juvenum. . qui asserebant nostram fidem orthodoxam potius quibusdam sanctorum astutiis subsistere (Paul Caa- ensius. Vita Pauli. II.) ^ L. 0pp. (W.) xix. von der Winkelmesse. DISORDERS IN HOME. ] 73 taken prisoner in Spain ; that when al)out to be brought to trial, he cried for mercy while in prison, and asked for a confessor. A monk was sent to him. This monk he murdered, disguised himself under his hood, and escaped. "This have I heard in Rome for certain," ^ says Luther. Another day, as he happened to be passing along the great street that leads to St. Peter's church, he stop't in amazement before a statue in stone, repre- senting a pope in the form of a woman, holding a sceptre in her hand, attired in the papal mantle, and with an infant in her arms. It is a girl from Maintz, he is told, whom the cardinals elected pope, and who was brought to bed of a child at this spot- Accordingly never does a pope pass along this street. " I am amazed," says Luther, "that the popes should tolerate such a statue." - Luther had expected to find the edifice of the Church encircled with might and splendour; but he found her doors driven in and her walls consumed with fire. He looked round on the desolations of the sanctuary, and recoiled with horror from the sight. He had dreamed of nothing but holiness, and discovered nothing but profanation. Nor was he less struck with the disorders that prevailed outside the churches. "The police of Rome," he used to say, *' is harsh and severe. The magistrate, or captain, traverses the city every night on horse-back, with a train of three hundred servitors; he stops all persons whom he meets in the streets, and should he find an armed man there, he hangs him or throws him into the Tiber. And yet the city is full of disorders and murders; whereas, wherever the Word of God is purely and honestly preached, order and peace are found to reign, without any need for the law and its rigours.""^ — 'It is not to be believed how many sins and infamous actions are committed in Rome," he says farther ; " one must see and hear, if he would believe this." He was wont to say likewise; " If there be a hell, Rome is built over above it; it is an abyss whence all sins proceed." '* Even at that time, Luther''s mind was deeply impressed with ' Das lialie Teh zu Rome fiir gewiss gehbrt. (L. Opp. (W.)xxii. p. 1322., * Es niinint mich Wunder dass die Pabste solclics Bild leiden kbiinen. (Ibid p. 1320.) « L. Opp. (W.) xxii. p. 2376. * 1st irgend cine llopllc, so niu.'ss Rome daraxif gebaut seyn. (Ibid p. 23T7.) 176 HISTORY OF TIJfc; IlEFOUMATIOX. what he saw, and at a later period the impression became still stronger. " The nearer one gets to Rome, the more bad Chris- tians does he find," said he, many years afterwards. "It is commonly said, that he who goes to Rome, for the first time, seeks for a knave ; that the second time he finds him ; and that the third time, he takes him with him, at the moment of his leaving the place. But people have become so clever now, that all three journeys are made in one." ^ On'e of the most sadly celebrated, but one too, of the most profound geniuses of Italy, Machiavel, who was living at Florence when Luther passed through that city, on his way to Rome, makes the same remark: " The greatest symptom," said he, " of the approaching ruin of Christianity (meaning thereby Roman Catholicism) is, that the nearer the nations are to the capital of Christendom, the less do we find in them of a Christian spirit. The scandalous examples and the crimes of the court of Rome, are the cause of Italy having lost all principles of piety and all religious feelings." "We Italians," this great historian goes on to say, "have chiefly to thank the Church and the priests, for having become impious persons and cut-throats." 2 Luther, at a later date, could fully appreciate the advantages of this journey: " Not for an hundred thousand florins," he would say, " would I have missed seeing Rome." ^ In relation to learning, also, this journey proved of the greatest advantage to him. Like Reuchlin, he contrived to make his stay in Italy subservient to his obtaining a deeper insight into holy Scripture ; taking lessons in Hebrew, from a celebrated Rabbin, called Elias Levita, and acquiring in part at Rome his knowledge of that divine Word, under whose blows Rome was destined to fall. ^ But it was chiefly in another respect, that this journey to Rome was of great importance to Luther. Not only was the veil withdrawn so as to reveal to the future reformer the sneering laugh, and the ribald infidelity that lay concealed behind the Roman superstitions; but, more than this, the living faith which God had implanted in him, was then mightily strengthened. 1 Address to the cLristian nobility of the German nation. ' Dissertation on the first Decad of Livv. a 100,000 Gulden. (L. 0pp. (W.) xxii, p.*23T't.) * Even the blind, but not the willfully blind, may recognise in this journey of Luther to Rome, the superintendence of God in forming, and fitting liim for tha grand work of the Reformation. — L. R. INl'LUENCE 01' illK UlULE ON KUTllKKS lAllH. 177 We have seen how he gave himself up at fust to all the vain praetices which the Church had established, as the price to bo paid for the expiation of sins. Now, it happened that one day amon"- others, he wanted to gain an indulgence which had been promised by the Pope, to whoever should go up what is called Pilate's stair-case, on his knees ; and the poor Saxon monk was meekly crawling up the steps which he was told had been trans- ported from Jerusalem to Rome by a miracle. But while acquitting himself of this meritorious act, he thought that he heard a voice loud as thunder, which cried to his inmost soul, as at Wittemberg and Bologna: the just shall live bt/ faith! These w ords, which had already twice come upon him, as if spoken by an angel of God, resounded incessantly and powerfully within him. He rose, in great alarm, from the steps up which he had been drairging his body ; he was horrified at himself, and mortified to see to what a pitch superstition had degraded him. He then fled to a distance from the scene of his folly. ^ That strong expression had a mysterious influence on the life of Luther. It was a creative word in regard both to the reformer and the Reformation. By it God then said: " Let there be light and there was light." It often happens that before a truth can produce the effect which it ought to have on our minds, it must be repeatedly pressed upon us. Luther had bestowed much study on the Epistle to the Romans, yet never had he seen justification by faith, as taught there, in so clear a light. Now it is that he comprehends that righteousness which alone can stand before God; now it is, that he receives for himself from the hand of Christ, that obedience which God gratuitously imputes to the sinner, from the time that he humbly looks to the God-man crucified. Here we find the decisive epoch in the inward life of Luther. That faith which had delivered him from the terrors of death, becomes the soul of his theology, his fortress in all dangers, the weight of his words, the force of his charity, the foundation of his peace, the spur that urged him on in labour, his consolation in life and in death. Now, this great doctrine of a salvation flowing from God, and ' Seckciidorff, p. 5<}. 178 HISTORY OF THE REFORJiATION, not from man, was not only the power of God in saving Luther''s own soul; but it became likewise the power of God for the reformation of the Church. It was the effective weapon wielded by the apostles; a weapon too long neglected, but taken out at length, in all its original brightness, from the arsenal of the mighty God. The moment that Luther rose up at Rome, deeply affected and overwhelmed by the word which had been addressed by Paul to the inhabitants of that metropolis, fifteen centuries before, truth, which till then had lain sadly captive and bound in the Church, rose up too, never to fall any more. Here we must mark his own words. " Holy and blameless as I might be, as a monk," said he, " my conscience, neverthe- less, was full of trouble and anguish. I could not endure that expression, the righteousness of God. I had no love for that righteous and holy God who punishes sinners. I was secretly incensed against Him; I hated Him, inasmuch as, not content with bringing the law and the miseries of this life, to intimidate us poor creatures, when already lost by original sin, He still farther augmented our torment by the gospel. . . . But when, by the Spirit of God, I understood those words, when I learned how the justification of the sinner proceeds from the Lord's mere mercy through the medium of faith, l . . . then I felt myself born again, like a new man; then the gates were thrown open, and I entered into the very paradise of God. 2 From that time, too, I saw dear holy scripture with eyes alto- gether new. I went through the whole Bible, and collected a great many passages which taught me in what the work of God consisted. And whereas, before that, I most cordially hated that expression, righteousness of God, I began thenceforth to appreci- ate it, and to love it, as the sweetest and most consolatory. Truly, those words of Paul were to me the very gate of para- dise." When called, too, on solemn occasions to confess this doc- trine, Luther's enthusiasm and rude energy never failed him. " I see," said he at an important moment,^ " that by the agency ' Qua V08 Deus misericors justificat per fidem. . . . (L. 0pp. lat. in praif. ) ^ Hie me prorsas rcn.atum esse sensi et apertis portis in ipsum paradisum intrasse. (Ibid.) ^ Gloss on the Imperial Edict, ir.fll. (L. 0pp. (L) vol. xx.) Luther's confession. — ins uetukn to wriTEMitEiiG. 171i of his doctors, the devil is unceasing in his attacks on this fun- damental article, and that with regard to it, he can neither cease nor take repose. Well then, I, doctor Martin Luther, unworthy evangelist of our Lord Jesus Christ, confess this article, that faith alone justifies before God., without works, and I declare that 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, the bisho{)s, priests, monks, nuns, kings, princes, lords, all the world and all devils, ought to leave it standing, and allow it so to remain for ever. That if they will take in hand to impugn this truth, they will draw upon them the flames of hell. It is there that we find the true and holy gospel, and my declara- tion, that of me doctor Luther, according to the light of the Holy Ghost." . . . "No one," he continues, " has died for our sins, if it be not Jesus Christ, the Son of God. I say it once more, were the whole world, and all the devils, to rend each other, and to burst with rage, this is not the less true for all that. And if it be he alone who takes away our sins, it cannot be we, with our works. But good works follow redemption, as the fruit appears upon the tree. Such is our doctrine ; it is that which the Holy Ghost, and with it, all holy Christendom, teach. We shall maintain it in the name of God. Amen." Thus did Luther find what had been wanting, in a certain degree at least, to all the doctors and reformers, even the most illustrious. It was in Rome that God gave him this clear view of the fundamental doctrine of Christianity. He had come to the city of the pontiffs in search of the solution of certain diffi- culties respecting an order of monkhood, he took away with him, in his heart, the salvation of the Church. VII. Luther left Rome and returned to Wittemberg, with a heart swelling with grief and indignation. Turning with disgust from the contemplation of the pontifical city, he looked with hope to the Holy Scriptures, and to that new life which the Word of God seemed to promise to the world. That Word gained in his heart all that the Church had lost there; and when, setting himself loose from the one, he turned towards the other, the whole Reformation was involved in that movement, for it placed God where the priest had been. Staupitz, and the emperor, did not lose sight of the monk IgQ HISTORY or THE REl-ORMATION'. whom tliey had called to the university of Wittemberg. It would appear that the vicar-general had a presentiment of the work which was about to be accomplished in the world ; and that in the consciousness that it was too much for him to undertake, he wished to urjre Luther to do so. Nothino: is more remark- able, nothing perhaps more mysterious, than this personage, whom we find at every turn hurrying the monk into the course to which God was calling him, and who then goes himself and ruefully ends his days in a monastery. The young professor''s preaching had made a deep impression on the prince; he admired the powers of his genius, his nervous eloquence, and the excellence of his matter. ^ The elector and his friend, wishing to promote a man who was the subject of such high hopes, resolved to make him take the elevated degree of doctor in theology. Staupitz went to the monastery, took Luther with him into the cloister garden ; and there, while alone with him, under 2 a tree which Luther was fond of showing to his disciples, the venerable father said to him: " You must now, ni}' friend, become a doctor of Holy Scripture." Luther shrank from the idea; it was an honour that frightened him. " Look about for some worthier person," he replied, " as for me, I cannot consent to it."" The vicar-general insisted. " The Lord God has much to do in the Church; he now needs young and vigorous doctors." "This may have been said in raillery," adds Melanchthon, " yet it was confirmed by the event; for many presages ordinarily precede great rerolutions."^ It is not necessary to suppose that Melanch- thon here means miraculous prophecies. Even the most unbe- lieving age, such as that preceding our own, has seen this opinion verified ; for how many presages, without there being any mira- cle, preceded the revolution that brought it to a close ! "But I am weak and sickly," replied Luther; "I have no long time to live. Look about for a strong man." " The Lord," replied the vicar-general, " has work to do in heaven as well as upon earth; dead or alive, God requires you to be in his council." ^ ' Vim ingenii, nervos orationis, ac rerum bonitatem expositarum in concioni- bus admiratus fuerat. (Melancht. Vita Luth.) ^ Unter einem Baum, den er mir und andern gezcigt. (Math. 6.) ^ Multa precedunt mutationes prscsagia. (Vita Lutheri.) * Ihr lebet nun odersterbet, so darff cuch Gott in seinem Rathe. (Mathcs. 6.) IX'llIKH MAUK A HOI TOK. — CAKI.STADT. 181 " None but the Holy Cliost can create a doctor in tlicology," ' exclaimed the monk, with ever-increasing alarm. "Do what vour monastery calls on you to do," said Staui)itz, " and what I myself, your vicar-general, command; for you have come under a promise to obey us." " But my poverty T' replied the friar, " for I have nothing out of which to pay the expenses which such a promotion involves." " You need not disquiet yourself about that," said his friend ; " the prince has been so gracious as to charge himself with all the expenses." Thus pressed on every side, Luther thought himself obliged to yield. It was towards the close of the summer, 1512, that Luther went to Leipzic to receive from the elector's treasurers, the money required for his promotion. According to what is common in courts, the money was not to be had. The friar grew impatient and wanted to go away, but was withheld by his vow of obedi- ence. At length, on the fourth of October, he received from Pfeflfinger and from John Doltzig, fifty florins ; giving them a discharge for this sum, in which he assumes no higher quality than that of monk. " I Martin," says he, " friar of the Order of Hermits." - Luther lost no time in returning to Wittemberg. Andrew Bodenstein, of the city of Oarlstadt, was then Dean of the faculty of theology, and by the name of Oarlstadt that doctor is chiefly known. He was, also, called the A, B, 0; a name first given him by Melanchthon, and suggested by the three initials of his name. Bodenstein acquired the first elements of literature in his native country. He was of a grave and demure character, apt perhaps to be jealous, and of a rest- less temper; but eagerly desirous of learning, and gifted with a large capacity. He went through several universities with a view of augmenting his knowledge, and studied theology even at Rome. On his return from Italy into Germany, he fixed him- self at Wittemberg, and there became doctor of theology. " At this period," he says of himself, at a later date, "I had not yet read Holy Scripture;" ^ a fact which gives us a most correct idea of the theology of that time. In addition to his functions ' Neminem nisi Spiritum Sanctum crearo posse doc toremthcologia". ("Wcis- manni Ilistoria. Eccl. i. p. 1404.) ■' L. Epp. i. p. 11. ^ Weismanni, Hist. Eccl. d. 141C. 1S2 HISTORY OF THE RKI'OUMATION. as professor he was a canon and arch-deacon. Such is the man who was afterwards to divide the Reformation. At that time he regarded Luther merely as an inferior ; but the Augustinian friar soon became an object that excited his jealousy. " I do not wish to be less great than Luther," ^ said he one day. Very far from then foreseeing the greatness to which the young professor was destined, Carlstadt conferred on his future rival the highest university dignity. On the 18th of October, 1512, Luther was received licentiate in theology, and took this oath: "T swear that I will defend evan- gelical truth with all my power.""- On the following day, Boden- stein, in the midst of a numerous assembly, invested him with the insignia of doctor of theology. He was made biblical doc- tor, and not doctor of sentences, ^ and thus was called on to devote himself to the study of the Bible, and not to that of human traditions. He, then, as he tells us, swore fealty to his beloved holy Scripture. ^ He engaged to preach it faithfully, to teach it purely, to study it during his whole life, and to defend it, by his disputations and Avritings, against all false doctors, so far as God should enable him. This solemn oath was, for Luther, his call to be a reformer. By laying his conscience under the sacred obligation of freely investigating, and boldly announcing Christian truth, this oath raised the new doctor above the narrow limits within which he might have been confined by his monastic vow. Called by the university and by his sovereign, in the name of the imperial majesty and of the see of Rome itself, engaged in the sight of God by the most sacred oath, he was, thenceforth, the intrepid herald of the Word of life. On that memorable day, Luther was armed knight of the Bible. We may add, that this oath of allegiance to Holy Scripture, may perhaps be regarded as one of the causes that led to the renovation of the Church. For the first and fundamental prin- ciple of the Reformation lay in the sole infallible authority of the Word of God; and all the reformations in detail, subse- ' "Weismann, Ilist. Eccl. p. 1416. * Juro mo veritatcni evangelicam virilitcr defensurum. 3 Doctor biblicus, not sententiarius. (Melanchton,) * L. Oi>i). (W.) xvi. p. 20t31. (Matbosius. p. 7.) GllAN!) rUINCUM.E Ol" TllK KKIOHAIATIO.V. 183 quently effected in the doctrines, morals, and goverunicut of tlio Church, and in public worship, were but the following out of that first principle. It is hardly possible, at this day, to iuiagiue the sensation that must have been produced by this elementary truth; a truth so simple, and yet for so many ages unknown. A few men only, of larger views than the common herd, foresaw its inmiense consequences. Soon did the bold voices of all the Reformers proclaim this mighty principle, the reverberation of which was to make Rome crumble into dust: "Let not Christians receive any doctrines but such as rest on the express words of Jesus Christ, of the apostles, and of the prophets. No man, no assembly of doctors, has any right to innovate upon these." Luther's situation now underwent a change. The vocation he had received, was to the Reformer, like one of those extra- ordinary calls which the Lord addressed to the prophets under the old dispensation, and to the apostles under the new. ^ The solemn engagements which he had undertaken made so profound an impression on his soul, that the remembrance of that oath, in the sequel, sufficed to console him amid the utmost dangers, and the rudest struggles. Even when he beheld all Europe upheaved and shaken by the doctrine he had announced; when the accusations of Rome, the reproaches of many pious men, the doubts and alarms of his own heart, at all times so easily agitated, seemed likely to make him waver, lose heart, and sink into despair, he called to mind the oath he had sworn, and remained calm, stedfast, and full of joy. "I have gone forward in the name of the Lord,"" said he at a critical conjunc- • We must correctly understand what is here said by the worthy author, that it may not be made a pretext for renewing the charge that we ascribe an extrerceive that a Church which, for a moment, could tolerate such traffic, must have long since lost the sjiirit of infallibility, if it ever could have possessed it? — L. R. 222 HISTORY OF the reformation. The following is one of the letters of absolution ; and it ia well worth our while to know the contents of these diplomas, for they were the occasion of the reform of the Church. " May our Lord Jesus Christ have pity upon thee N. N**** and absolve thee by the merits of his most holy passion ! And I, in virtue of the apostolic commission which has been com- mitted to me, absolve thee from all ecclesiastical censures, judg- ments, and penalties, which thou mayest have deserved ; further, from all the excesses, sins, and crimes, which thou mayest have committed, however great or enormous they may be, and extend- ing to all cases whatever, even were they reserved to our most holy Father, the Pope, and to the apostolic see. I wipe out all the stains of inability, and all the marks of infamy, which thou mayest in that respect have drawn upon thee. I remit for thee the pains thou mightest have had to endure in purgatory. I restore thee to participation in the sacraments of the Church. I incorporate thee afresh into the communion of the saints, and I re-establish thee in the innocence and the purity in which thou wast at the time of thy baptism. So that at the moment of thy death, the gate by which souls pass into the place of pains and torments, will be shut upon thee, while, on the con- trary, that which leads to the paradise of joy, will be open to thee. And if thou art not called upon to die soon, this grace will remain unalterable for the time of thy latter end. " In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. "Friar John Tetzel, commissary, has signed it with his own hand." How cleverly do we find presumptuous and lying words intercalated in this document, amid others that are holy and Christian ! The faithful were all to come and confess themselves in the very place where the red cross was set up. To this there was no exception, save in the case of the sick, the aged, and women with child. If, however, there happened to be any nobleman residing at his castle in the neighbourhood, or some great personage in his palace, exceptions were also made for such; ^ for he miiiht not care to mingle with the vulgar crowd, * Instruction, 0. AMCSEMENTS AND DEnAUCHKIMFS. ^2.3 and yet his money was well -vvortli the trouble of going in quest of it to his house. If there happened to be any monastery, the superiors of which, in their opposition to Tetzel's trallic, prohibited their monks from paying visits to the places where the indulgence had set up its throne, a renu>dy was found for this by sending them confessors, empowered to absolve them in the face of tho rules of their order, and the will of their superiors, l Not a single vein of ore Avas left in the mine without something being done to work it to advantage. Then came what was the aim and end of the whole affair: the reckoning up of the coin. To ensure its safety, the chest had three keys; one remained in the hands of Tetzel; another in those of a treasurer delegated by the house of Fugger of Augsburg, which had been charged wdth the agency of this stupendous enterprise; the third was confided to the civil authority. When the time for doing so had arrived, the chests were opened in presence of a public notary, and -the contents duly counted over and recorded. Might not Christ have been expected to return for the purpose of driving out these profane traffickers from the sanctuary? When tho mission was closed, the merchants relieved them- fielves of their fatigues. They were forbidden, it is true, by the instructions delivered by the commissary general, to frequent taverns and suspicious places; - but they cared little for any such interdictions. Sins must have seemed very little to be dreaded by persons who made so easy a trade in them. "The collectors," says a Koman Catholic historian,"'ledabad life; they expended in taverns, at card tables, and in infamous places, all that the people had saved from their necessities." 3 It was even positively asserted that when carousing in taverns, they would even stake the salvation of men's souls at dice.^ II. Let us now see what scenes resulted from this traffic in the forgiveness of sins, as carried on in Germany. Some of its features are sufficient of themselves to give us a picture of those times, and, in describing these, we like to allow the men whose history we are relating, to speak for themselves. 1 Instruction 69. - Instruction 4. " Sarpi. Concil.of Trent, p. 5. * Shrock, R. G v. il. K. I, IIG. 224 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. At Magdeburg, Tetzel refused to absolve a wealthy woman, unless, as he told her, she would pay him in advance an hundred florins. She sought the advice of her ordinary confessor, who was a Franciscan, "God grants the remission of sins gratuit- ously," was the confessor's reply; "he never sells it."" Meanwhile he begged her not to inform Tetzel of the counsel that he had given her. The report of it, however, reached the nierchant"'s ears, and in his rage at an advice so opposed to his interests, he exclaimed: "Such an adviser, people ought to banish or burn." 1 Tetzel rarel}^ found persons enlightened enough, and, more rarely still, persons courageous enough to resist him. Generally speaking, he made large gains of the superstitious crowd. He had put up the cross of the indulgences at Zwickau, and the good folks of the parish had hastened with all speed, to make the money which was to save their souls, chink at the bottom of the chest. He was about to leave the place with a well-filled purse, but the night before his departure, the chaplains and their acolytes came to request that he would give them a farewell entertainment. Nothing was more reasonable, but Avhat could he do, for the money had already been counted over and put under lock and seal. The following morning he ordered the large steeple bell to be tolled; a crowd rushed to church; all thinking that something strange must have happened, as the station was over. " I had made up my mind," said he, " to leave you this morning, but I was awakened last night by groans ; I listened. . . . they came from the church-yard. . Alas ! it was a poor soul that called on me, and besought me instantly to deliver it from the torment that was consuming it ! Accordingly I have staid one day longer, that I might move Christian hearts to have compassion on this miserable soul. I desire myself to be the first to give; but whoever follows not my example will deserve condemnation." What heart could refuse to reply to such an appeal? And, besides, who was to know what soul it might be which complained from the church-yard? A liberal amount was collected, and Tetzel gave the chaplains and their acolytes a festive entertainment, the expenses of which were ' Scultet Aflnal. evangel., p. iv. OCCURRENCES AT ZWICKAU AN'D IIAGKNAU. 22''> defrayed from the offerings made in bulialf of the toul of the Zwickau corpse. ' - Tlie indulgence merchants established themselves at Ilagenau in 1517, and the wife of a shoemaker thei^, availing herself of the sanction given in the commissary general's instructions, had, in opposition to her husbancTs wishes, procured a letter of indul- gence, for which she gave a golden llorin. She died soon alter, and as her husband took no measures to have mass said for the repose of her soul, the parish priest charged him before a magis- trate with contempt for religion. The shoemaker was summoned to appear in court but took care to put his wife's indulgence in his pocket, before going to be examined. " Is not your wife dead V said the magistrate. " Ves," he replied. "What have you done for her?"" "I have buried her body and recommended her soul to God." "Jjut have you seen to a mass being said for her souFs health V "I have not done so. It could be of no use; she passed into heaven the moment that she died." " How came you to know that?" " Why here is the proof," on which, he drew the indulgence from his pocket, and there, in presence of the priest, the magistrate read, in so many words, that at the moment of her death the woman who had received it was to go, not into purgatory, but directly to heaven. " If the priest," he added, "pretend that a mass is still necessary, my wife has been deceived by our most Holy Father the Pope; if she has not been so deceived, it is the priest then that deceives me." To this there was no reply, and the accused was acquitted. Thus did the good sense of the people treat these pious frauds as they deserved. 3 ' Lbschers Ref. Acta. i. 404. L. 0pp. xv. 443,