Columbia ^1nit>cm'tp 
 
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 SIXTEENTH C£^JTU;iY. 
 
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 y-^^- 
 
 TWELVE ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL. AFTER P. A. LABOUCHERE 
 
 AND 
 
 TWO HlJ^iDKED ILLl/STKATlO^IS 0\i Y^OOD. 
 
 INCLUDING PORTRAITS OF THE MOST EMINENT REFORMERS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 p. P. PuTis(7^M & Sons 
 
 1870. 
 
HISTORY 
 
 OP 
 
 THE REFORMATION 
 
 IN nil. 
 
 SIXTEEISTTH OENTXJriY. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. II. MERLE D'AUBIGNE, D. D. 
 
 WITH 
 
 Twelve Engravings on Steel, AFTEf\_P. k. Labouchep^e 
 
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 (Lluo ijuuijrcb Jllustrations on 'Galoot), 
 
 INCLUDING PORTRAITS OF TUE MOST EMINENT REFORMERS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 Gc. P. PTJTNAlVr & SONS. 
 
 18 72. 
 

FRBFACE, 
 
 Almost a goncratiou has jiassed away r-iiice tlio " IIIsti)rv nf tlic Reformat ion" \va.s first published. I 
 
 When the idea of writing it occurred to the autlior, he was young, and he felt strongly impelled 
 to give a narrative of the wonderful works that (J()<1 had wrought for Christendom in the Sixteenth - 
 Century. Aware of his own incapacity to accomplish the task, and fearing that, in undertaking it, j 
 he might be acting rashly, he at first only published a small edition. His fears were not realized; and : 
 the work met with success, such as lie hail never for a moment anticipated. He must thankfully 
 ascribe the jiruise to the Lord, who, he humbly believes, has helpeil him. 
 
 The History was not, howe\er, written without much labour, and much prayer. The author 
 earnestly desired that it should conduce to the glory of (Sod; and it appeared to him that it might 
 prove useful to shew forth, even in a feeble degree, the living Christianity of the Reformers, the 
 sanctifying doctrine by which the Church was raised, through their instrumentality, from her state 
 of j)rostration, and transfonned into a life-giving Church. He felt that the Holy Spii'it, which then 
 worked in so many hearts, might again manifest His power, and bring to God some souls as yet 
 unacquainted with His saving strength. 
 
 The author had no idea, however, of writing a book of devotion; his intention was to write a 
 History. He wished to represent faithfully the men and the events of the Sixteenth Centurj*. With 
 this object he studied the writings of the Reformers, and the chronicles of their contemporaries. He 
 made researches in tlie public and in the private libraries in different countries. He deciphered many 
 manuscripts of the Sixteenth Century, several of which were unknown till he made use of them. But 
 he felt that, in order to accomplish his object, it was not enough simply to give a chronicle of facts. , 
 That which constituted the great wonder of the Reformation, was the setting forth of God's truth in the 
 midst of human error — the breath of heaven, that blew upon the Church, and quickened into life so ' 
 many of the Lord's sen'ants. To shut oneself into a study and pore o\er manuscripts, was not 
 enough to enable him to write this History; it was necessary to know the true springs of the work, of 
 which the Reformers were the insti-unit.'nts. 
 
 The author was called, by the circumstances in which he was placed in (iennany and in his own 
 countiy, to take part in struggles similar to theirs, and to share in some experiences like theirs. He there- 
 fore felt himself in active and hearty sympathy with their work. The fields of labour on which he was 
 engaged were, it is true, not extensive; the battles he had to fight were, in comparison to theirs, to use 
 a celebrated expression of Voltaire, " but as a tempest in a tumbler,'" — " ttiie tewpctc dans un verre 
 d'eau;" while those of the Reformers were like the ocean storm, which beat and break to pieces the 
 sturdiest ships. The one and the other were, however, for the defence of the same A^'orll of God — for the 
 glory of the same Gospel; and often did it occur, that the events which happened in his ministerial 
 life gave the author a clue to understand those which had happened three centuries before. 
 
 If the " History of the Reformation " met with some success, it is owing to the living power of the i 
 doctrines of the Reformation which are there professeil. In our day historical writings have been 
 more numerous and important than at any other period. Li France, in Germany, in England, in the | 
 United States, and elsewhere, works have appeared which have won lasting fiime for their authors. 
 The writer of this book has no hesitation in acknowledging, that the " History of the Reformation " is 
 inferior to them. He does not comjiete with Thierry, with Guizot, with Thiers, Mignet, Macaulay, | 
 Prescott, Motley, and other historians; and yet his History has had immense circulation, and has j 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 penetrated into the most distant countries. He is tempted to ask: Why is this? Is it not because 
 the truth of God is openh' proclaimed in the work? The doctrine of justification by faith in Christ is 
 presented as being what it really is — the powerful lever which, in the Sixteenth Century, raised up the 
 fallen churches, and brought souls to Christ. 
 
 !Man is well aware that a new life can only be begun in him when he has true and joyful communiou 
 ^ith God. He knows that if he is in any degree to accomplish the Divine will here below, he must 
 first find in God a reconciled Father, who forgives him all his offences. He knows that he can only 
 lo\e God when he is con^■inced that God first loved him. He knows that it is the love of God towarcls 
 him which can only bring forth in him true humiHty, self-denial, hunger and thirst after righteousness. 
 How would it be possible for him to enter, with courage, into the work of personal sanctification, if he 
 were continually troubled by the reproaches of conscience, and kept back by the burden of his sins 
 weighing always upon him? He must, before all, have pardon; he must knoio that his sins are no 
 longer imputed to him, because the Saviour has given His life as a ransom for his soul — because He bore 
 on the cross the punishment of his guilt. The conscience of a true Christian tells him that, if his 
 reconciliation with God by Christ depended in any degree on his sanctification, he could never feel 
 assured of having acquired the necessary amount of holiness, and, consequently, could never have joyful 
 confidence in God; and he would thus be incapable of taking even the first step in the path of sanctifica- 
 tion. Faith in the expiation of Christ, and reconciliation through His blood, is the commencement of 
 the union of man with God ; the gift of Divine grace gi-atuitously made, received by faith without any 
 merit on our part, is the beginning of the new creation and of the new creature. That is the faith 
 taught by St. Paul and the apostles — that is the doctrine taught by Luther and the other Reformers, 
 as it had never been taught since the apostohc times. That doctrine may, perhaps, bring a smile to the 
 lips of some great writers, of men of the world ; and yet it was that which transformed Christendom 
 three centuries ago, and brought about a new era, — one of light, of liberty, and of faith, — contrasting 
 forcibly with the darkness of the Middle Ages. If this book — inferior in many respects to the works of 
 the great historians we have named — has had some success, it is owing not only to the fact, that it 
 narrates faithfully the exterior structure of the Reformation, but also, we repeat it, because it sets forth 
 the spirit which pervaded it, and shews the heavenly influence by which it renewed the Church. 
 
 The " History of the Reformation " has been translated into the greater number of modern languages. 
 In England, the first volumes which became public — before there existed an international law to protect 
 the property of foreign authors — had six different translators, and six different English editors. The work 
 was also translated into German, Dutch, Italian, Swedish, Spanish, and Armenian, as well as into Arabic 
 and Ilindostanee ; but the author is not aware whether these last two translations were printed. There 
 is, perhaps, no place where the work has been so widely circulated as in the United States of America. 
 It would be almost impossible to ascertain the exact number of copies published there ; some have esti- 
 mated it at between two and three hundred thousand. It is said that it has had a larger circulation 
 than any historical work published in America by any author, either foreign or national. One circum- 
 stance, however, may have contributed to this great publicity: there is no international law to protect 
 foreign authors in the United States, while there are laws which protect the woi-ks of Americans. 
 Messrs. Prescott, Motley, and others, have, therefore, found the reward of their labour, while the author 
 of the "• History of the Refonnation " has been deprived of the (;opyright, and of the benefit accruing 
 therefrom. The saving, thus produced to his detriment, enabled the American publishers to give the 
 work at a very low price. Literary labours — which demand the time, the intellectual powers, the best 
 exertions of an author — constitute property, and are as desening of protection as the material I'esult of 
 a workman, or of an artisan, who only gi\es the laboiu- of his arms. If, however, the author has not 
 grown rich thi-ough his works, he has had the greater satisfaction of knowng they have done some 
 good. " It is with us a household work," said an American to him ; to which another added : " We 
 have gone through the forests and lonely prairies of our country, and we hardly entered into a log-house 
 in the far West, in which the Bible and the ' History of the Reformation ' were not to be found." 
 
 Letters received from different parts of Europe, from the United States, from India, and Australia, 
 have shewn that it is a work on which the Lord has deigned to pour a blessing. 
 
 There are some principles which the author applied himself to carry out, and which contributed to 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 imprint a special cliaracter upon his work : he uutloaA oureil to shew forth God in History — Christ in 
 the Church — life in the record of past eiynts. 
 
 History nuist Hve by tiiat principle of life whicli is j)roi)cr to it, — and that life is God. He must be 
 acknowledf^ed and proclaimed in history; and the course of events must be displayed as the annals of 
 the government of a Supreme Head. 
 
 I have, says the author in beginning his work, descended into the lists to which the recitals of 
 our historians attracted me. I have there seen the actions of men and of nations developing themselves 
 ■with power, and encountering in hostile array ; I have heard a strange din of arms ; but nowhere has 
 my attention been directed to the majestic aspect of the arbiter who presides over the struggle. And 
 yet there is a principle of movement emanating from God himself. In all the changes amongst nations, 
 God looks upon that wide stage on which the generations of men successively meet and strive. He is 
 there, it is true, an invisible God; but if the profane multitude pass without noticing Him, because 
 " He is a God that hideth himself," thoughtful men, and such as feel their need of the Principle of 
 their life, seek Him with the more earnestness, and are not satisfied until they find Him and throw 
 themselves prostrate at His feet. And their search is richly rewarded ; for — from the heights to which 
 they are obliged to meet their God — the world's history, instead of offering, as to the ignorant crowd, 
 a confuseil chaos, appears a majestic temple, which the invisible hand of God erects, and which rises 
 to His glory above the rock of luuuanity. 
 
 Siiall we not .icknowledge the hand of God in those great uien, or in those mighty nations which 
 arise, as it wore, from the dust of the earth, and give a new impulse, a new form, or a new destiny 
 to human aff\iirs I Shall we not acknowledge His hand in those heroes who spring up among men at 
 appointed times; who display activity and energy beyond the ordinary limits of human strength, and 
 around whom individuals and riations gather, as if to a superior and mysterious power? Who launched 
 them into the expanse of ages, like comits of vast extent and llaming trains, appearing at long intervals, 
 to scatter among the superstitious tribes of men anticipations of plenty and joy, or of calamity and 
 terror? Who but God himself? Alexander would seek his own origin in the abodes of the Divinity. 
 And in the most irreligious age there is no eminent glory but such as is seen seeking to connect 
 itself with the idea of Divine intei'position. 
 
 If God is sujn-cme in history, Christ is supreme in the Church. Evangelical faith apjieals to the 
 understanding, to the heart, and to the will of every Christian, only to impose on him the duty of 
 submitting to the Di\ine authority of Christ; of listening, believing, loving, comprehending, and acting 
 as God requires. 
 
 Evangelical faith does not place on the throne of the Church the civil power, or the secular 
 magistrate; but it sets thereon Jesus Chiist, who has said, I am a King; who imparts to His subjects 
 the principle of life ; who establishes Ilis kuigdom here on earth, and develops it until the time come 
 when He shall exercise, in person. His Dinnc authority. 
 
 Evangelical faith does not place on the throne of the Church priests, councils, doctors, or that vice- 
 God, {i-eri Dei viceni gerit in terris, as the Romish Church has it,) that infallible pontiff", who, reviving 
 the errors of the pagans, ascribes salvation to forms of worship, and to meritorious works of men. It 
 sets thereon Jesus Christ, the great high priest of His people — the God-man, who, by an act of His free 
 love, bore in our stead, in His atoning sacrifice, the penalty of sin;— who has taken away the cui-se from 
 our heads, and thus becomes the creator of a new race. 
 
 "While the thoughts of great numbers are led astray in the midst of ceremonies, priests, human 
 lucubrations, pontifical fables, philosophic reveries, and are driven to and fro in the desert of this world, 
 evangelical faith rises even to heaven, and falls prostrate before Him who sitteth on the throne. 
 
 The Reformation is Jesus Christ. 
 
 Lord, to whom shall wc go, if not unto Thee? Let others follow the devices of their imaginations, 
 or prostrate themselves before traditional superstitions, or kiss the feet of a sinful man. O King of 
 glory ! we desire but Thee alone. 
 
 The final characteristic which the author wished to imprint upon his History, was life in the recital 
 of past events. The historian must do more than exhume from the sepulchre, in which they are sleeping, 
 the relics of men and things of times past, that he may exhibit them in the light of day. We value 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 highly such a work, and those who perforai it, for it is a necessary one; and yet we do not think it 
 sufficient. Dry bones do not faithfully represent the men of other days. They did not live as skeletons, 
 but as beings full of life and activity. The historian is not simply a resiuTectionist; he needs — strange 
 but necessary ambition — a power that can restore the dead to life. 
 
 The author firmly believes that, if a history should have truth, it should also have hfe. The events 
 of past times did not resemble, in the days when they occurred, those grand museums of Rome, Naples, 
 Paris, and London, in whose galleries we behold long rows of marble statues, mummies, and tombs. 
 There were then living beings who thought, felt, spoke, acted, and struggled. The picture, whatever 
 history may be able to do, will always have less of life than the reality. The history which exhibits 
 men thinking, feeling, and acting, as they did in their lifetime, is more truthful than compositions in 
 which the actors arc deprived of speech, and even of life. 
 
 The Text of the present Edition, undertaken by one of the English Publishers, is the same in every 
 respect as that first presented to the British Public, with this important addition, that the principal actors 
 in the great drama, and the chief scenes rendered famous by the events of the period, have been brought 
 more vividly under the eye of the reader by the skill of the artist and engraver. Labouchere's well- 
 known and beautiful representations of the leading events in the life of Luther, will form an appropriate 
 and interesting accompaniment to the narrative, of which so large a portion is taken up with the great 
 Reformer. The importance and value of pictorial illustrations, especially in historical writings, is sure 
 to render this Edition both interesting and attractive to all classes of readers. 
 
 May the Lord, who, thirty years ago, blessed the "History of this Reformation," be pleased now to 
 pour a new blessing on the work! In our days it is important that the principles of the Refoi-mation 
 should be embraced and appreciated by believers, and that they should be professed openly and coui'a- 
 geously in the world. It is necessary that all Christians should unite around the Head of the Church, 
 look unto Jesus, and abide in Him. 
 
 The author found pleasure in telhng the story of the acts of the Reformers ; but he must say with 
 one of them, John Calvin: ^^ Let us ascribe honour to those men tvho have excelled in the fear of God; 
 but on condition that God should remain above all, and that Christ should triumph," 
 
 MERLE D'AUBIGN^. 
 
 Gexeva, December, 1869. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 STATE OF MATTERS BEFORE THE REFORJ[ATIOy. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Cliiislianily— Tito dUtingiiisliiiig Principles— Formation of the 
 Pai>acy — First Encivaclmionts— Iiillucnco of Rome— Co- 
 operation of Bishops and Factious— External Unity of the 
 CliurcU— Internal Unity of the Church — Primacy of St. 
 Peter— Patriarchates— Cooperation of Princes — Inllnenco 
 of the Barbarians — Rome invokes the Franks — Secular 
 Power- Pepin and Charlemagne— Tlie Decretals — Disorderj 
 of Rome- Tlie Emperor the Pope's Liege Lonl — Hildebrand 
 —His Character— Colilwicy — Struggle with the Emperor — 
 Emancipation of the Pope — Hildebrand's Successors— The 
 Crusades— Tlie Church— Corruption of Doctrine, . . 1 
 
 CIIAI'TER II. 
 Ci-acc- Dead Faith — Works— Unity and Duality— Pelagianism 
 — Salvation at the hands of Priests — Penances — Flagellations 
 — Indulgences — Works of Supererogation — Purgatory- 
 Taxation— Jnbilee— Tlie Papacy and Christianity— State of 
 Cliristendora, <i 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Itcligiou — Relics — Easter Merriment — Manners — Comiption — 
 Disorderly Lives of Priests, Bishops, and Popes- A Pricjit's 
 Family— Education— Ignorance— Cicerouians, ... J) 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Imperishable nature of Cliristianity — Two Laws of God — Ap- 
 parcnt power of Rome— Hidden Opposition— Decay-Three- 
 fold Opposition — Kings and Subjects — The Pope judged in 
 Italy— Discoveries by Kings and Subjects— Frederick the 
 Wise— His Moderation— His Antioipatiou, . . . .12 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Tlic People— The Empu-e— Providential Preparations— Impulse 
 of the Reformation— Peace— Middle Classes— National Char- 
 acter-Yoke of the Pope— State of tlie Empire— Opposition 
 to Rome— The Burghers— Switzcriand— Valour— Liberty- 
 Small Cantons — Italy— Obstacles to Refonu— Spain— Ob- 
 stacles — Portugal — France — Prjparations— Hopes Deceived 
 — Netherlands— England— Scotland — The North — Russia — 
 Poland— Bohemia— Hungarj', 14 
 
 CHAPTER Vr. 
 Roman Theology— Remains of Life — Justification by Faith— 
 V/itncsses for the Truth— Ckudc— Tlie Mystics— Tlio Vau- 
 dois-Valdo- Wicklilfc—IIuss— Prediction— Protestantism 
 beforetheRoformatiim— Anioldi—Utenhcim— Martin— Now 
 Witnesses in the Church— Thomas Conccte— Tlie Cardinal 
 of Crayn — Institoris— Savonarola — Justification by Faith — 
 John Vitraire— John Laillier— John of Wessalia— John of 
 Goch — John Wcssel — Protestantism before the Reformation 
 — Tlie Bohemian Brethren — Prophecy of Proles— Prophecy 
 of the Franciscan of Eisenach— Tliird Preparative— Litera- 
 ture, 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 Letters— Revival — Remembrance of Antiquity in Italy — In- 
 fluence of the Humanists — Cliristianity of Dante— Valla — 
 Infidelity in Italy— Platonic Philosophy— Rise of Literature 
 in Germany— Youth in Schools — Printing — Cliaracter of 
 Genuan Literature — Literati and Schoolmen — A New 
 World— Rcuchlin—Reuchlin in Italy— His Works— His 
 Influence in Gcnuany— Mystics— Struggle with the Domini- 
 CilUS, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Erasmus — Erasmus a Canon — At Paris — His Genius — His 
 Reputation- His Influence — Popular Attack— Praise of 
 Folly— Tatters— Cliurch People— Saints— Folly and the 
 Popes — Attack on Science- Principle— Tlic Greek New 
 Testament- His Profession of Faith— His Writings and 
 Influence— His Failings — A Reform without Shocks — Was 
 it po5isiblc— Tlic Oiurch without Refonn— His Timidity— 
 His Indecision— Erasmus loses himself with all Parties, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Tlie Nobles— Different Motives— Hiitten— Literary League- 
 Letters of some Obscure Men — Their Efl'cct — Luther's 
 Opinion— Hiitten at Brussels — His Letters — Seckingen — 
 War— His Death— Cronberg— Hans Sachs— General Fer- 
 mentation, 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 rOUTIT, CONVERSION, AND FIRST LABOURS OF LUTHER — 1483-1517. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Luther's Descent— His Parents- His Birth— Poverty- Tlie 
 Patem.il Roof— Strict Discipline— First Lcs.5ons— Tlie School 
 of Magdeburg — Wretchedness— Eisenach— The Shunamniite 
 —The House of Cotta— The Arts— Remembrance of those 
 Times—His Studics—Tiebonius— Tlic University, . . 3!> 
 
 CHAI>TER II. 
 Scholasticism and the Classics— Luther's Piety— Discovery — 
 The Bible — Sickness— Master oi Aits— Conscience— Death 
 of Alexis— Tliundcrstorm— Providence— Adieus— Entrance 
 into a Convent, 12 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 
 rAGE 
 
 Pace 
 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 
 
 
 His Father's Anger— Pardon— Servile Employments- ITie Bag 
 
 Retiu-n-Doctor's Degree— Carlstadt-Luther's Oath— Prmciple 
 
 
 
 
 and tlie Cell-Coiirage-St. Augnstiue-D'Ailly-Occam- 
 
 of Reform-Luther's Courage-First Views of Reformation 
 
 
 
 
 Gerson-TIie Bible-Hebrew and Greek— The Hoiirs-As- 
 
 -The Schoolmen-Spalatin— Affair of Keucldin, . , 
 
 53 
 
 
 
 ceticism— Agony— Luther during Mass— Useless Obser- 
 
 
 
 
 
 vances— Luther in a Faint, 45 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Pious Men in Cloisters— Staupitz— His Piety— His Visitation— 
 Conversation— The Grace of Clmst—Repentance— Power of 
 Sin— Sweetness of Repentance— Election— Providence— The 
 
 Faitli-Popidar Declamations-Academical Instruction-Moral 
 
 
 
 
 Purity of Luther— German Tlieology, or Mysticism— The 
 Monk Spenlem— Justification by Faith— Luther on Erasmus 
 —Faith and Works — Erasmus — Necessity of Works- 
 Practice of Works, 
 
 60 
 
 
 
 Bible-The Old Monk— The Remission of Sins-Consecra- 
 
 
 
 tion Dinner-Tlie Fete Dieu-Call to Wittemberg, . . 48 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The University of Wittembcrg— Fii-st ErapIojTuent- Bibli';al 
 Lectures-Sensation-Preaching at Wittenibcrg-The Old 
 
 First Theses-The Old Man and Grace— Visit to the Convents— 
 
 
 
 
 Dresden— Ei-fiui;—Toi-nator— Peace and the Cross— Results 
 of the Journey— Labours— The Plague, .... 
 
 63 
 
 
 
 Chapel-Impression, 52 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Relations of Luther with the Elector— Luther and the Elector- 
 
 
 
 
 Journey to Eome— A Convent on the P6— Siclcness at Bologna- 
 
 Counsels to the Chaplain— Didse George— His Character- 
 
 
 
 
 Remembrances in Rome — Superstitious Devotion — Profane- 
 
 Luther before the Court— Dinner at Court— Emser's Supper, 
 
 65 
 
 
 
 ness of the Clerg)-—Conversation— Disorders in Rome- 
 
 
 
 
 
 Biblical Studies-Pilate's Stair— Influence on his Faith and 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 
 
 
 on the Reformation— Tlie Gate of Paradise— Luther's Con- 
 
 Return to Wittembcrg— Tlieses-Nature of Man— Rationalism- 
 
 
 
 
 fession, 54 
 
 Demand at Erfiui;-Eck-Urban Regius-Luther's Modesty, 
 
 67 
 
 
 
 BOOI 
 
 C III. 
 
 
 
 
 THE LNDULGENCES AND THESES— 1517, 1518. 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 
 
 
 Cortege— Tetzel—Tetzel's Discourse— Confession— Four Graces 
 
 Tetzel's Attack-Luther's Reply-Good Works-Luther and 
 
 
 
 
 —Sale— Public Penance- A Letter of Indulgence- E.xcep- 
 
 Spalatm— Study of Scripture— Scheurl and Luther— Doubts 
 
 
 
 
 tions-Feasting and Debauchery, 70 
 
 on the Theses— Luther for the People— A New Suit, . 
 
 87 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Franciscan Confessor- Tlic Soul in the Bniying-Ground— 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 
 
 
 a-he Shoemaker of Hagenau-The Studeuts-Myconius- 
 
 DisputationatFrankfort-Tetzel'sTheses— Menaces— Opposition 
 
 
 
 
 Conversation with Tetzel- Stratagem by a Gentleman- 
 
 ofKuipstrow—Luther'sTheses Burnt —The Monks— Luther's 
 
 
 
 
 Conversation of the Wise and of the People— A Miner of 
 
 Peace— Tetzel's Theses Bimit— Luther's Vexation, . 
 
 89 
 
 
 
 Schneebcrg, 73 
 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 
 
 
 Leo X.— Necessities of the Pope-Albert- His Character- 
 
 rrierio— System of Rome— The Dialogue— System of Refonn 
 
 
 
 
 Favoura the Indulgences— The Franciscans and the Domini- 
 
 —Reply to Prierio— Tlie Word— The Pope and the Church 
 
 
 
 
 cans, 75 
 
 -Hochstraten-The Monks-Luther RepUes-Eck— Tlie 
 School- The Obelisks- Luther's Scntimcnts-Tl.e Asterisks 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 —Rupture, 
 
 P2 
 
 
 
 Tetzcl approaches— Luther at the Confessional— Tetzel's Rage- 
 
 
 
 
 
 Luther without a Plan- Jealousy among the Orders- 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 
 
 
 Luther's Discourse-The Elector's Dream, .... 77 
 
 Popular Writmgs-Our Father-Thy ICingdom Come— Thy Will 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 be Done- Our Daily Bread— Sermon on Repentance- For- 
 giveness through Christ, 
 
 96 
 
 
 
 Feast of All Saints— Tlie Theses— Their Force— Moderation— 
 
 
 
 
 
 Providence— Letter to Albert— Indifference of the Bishops 
 
 
 
 
 
 —DisseiKinatiou of the Theses, 80 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Appvehousions of Luther's Friends-Journey to Hcidlebcrg- 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Bibra-The Palatine Castle- Rupture-'Hie Paradoxes- 
 
 
 
 
 Reuchliu— Erasmus— Flek—Bibra— 111 e Em peror— Tlie Pope— 
 
 Dispute— Tlie Hearers— Bucer— Brentz — Snepf — Conver- 
 
 
 
 
 Myconius— Tlie Monks — Apprehensions— Adelman— An Old 
 
 sations with Luther-Labours of the Young Doctors- 
 
 
 
 
 Priest— The Bishop— Tlie Elector— The Inhabitants of Erfnrt 
 
 Effects on Luther-'Hie Old Professor-Tho True Light- 
 
 
 
 
 —Luther's Rcply-IYouble-Lutl.er's Moving Principle, . 84 
 
 Arrival, 
 
 98 
 
 
 
 .1 
 

 
 
 
 
 CONTENTS. ix 
 
 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 
 
 LUTIIEU nKFOKli THE LEUATE— MAY TO DECEMBER, 1518. 
 
 
 
 Paci: 
 
 Paoe 
 
 
 
 CUAPTEU I. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 
 
 Repenlancc— Tlic Pope -Uo X.-Lutlier to liis Bishop— Luther 
 
 First Appearance— First Words- Conditions of Rome— Propo- 
 
 
 
 to the PoiKS-Lutlier to the Vicar-General— Kovere to the 
 
 sitions to Retract— Luther's Reply— He Withdraws—Im- 
 
 
 
 Elector-Discourse on Exconinuiiii.ation— Influence and 
 
 pressions on both sides- Anival of StaupiU, . . .116 
 
 
 
 Power of Luther, 102 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 
 
 CILA.PTER H. 
 
 Commuuicition to the Le-^-ate— Second Appearance— Luther's 
 Declaration- The Legate's Rc|ily— The Jygate's Volubility 
 -Luther's Request, . . " 118 
 
 
 
 Diet at Augsburg— The Emperor to the Pope— Tlio Elector to 
 
 
 
 Kovore-Luther Cited to Rome-Luther's Peace-Inter- 
 
 
 
 cession of the University— Papal Brief- Luther's Indignation 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 
 
 -Tlie Pope to the Elector, 105 
 
 Tliiixl Appearance— Treasury of Indulgences-Faitli— Humble 
 Re.iuest-Legate'8 Reply-Luthcr's Reply- Legate's Rage- 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Luther Retires-First Defection, 120 
 
 
 
 The Armourer Schwarzenl-His Wife— Philip-His Genius-His 
 
 
 
 
 Stu>Ues-The Bible-Call to WittemU-rg-Mclancthon's 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 
 
 Departure and Journey— Leipsic-Mistake-Luther's Joy- 
 
 
 
 
 Parallel-Revolution in Education-Study of Greek, . . lOS 
 
 — Lutlier to Carlstadt— Communion— Link aud De Vio— 
 Departure of Staupitz and Link-Luther to Cajetan-Tlie 
 Canlinal's Silence— Lutlicr's Farewell— Departure— Appeal 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 to the Pope, 121 
 
 
 
 Sentiments of Luther aud St.iupitz— Onler to Appear— AKirins 
 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 
 
 Augsburg-Sojourn at Weimar-Nuremberg, . . .110 
 
 Luther's Flight-Admiration-Luther's Wish-The Legate to 
 the Elector— Elector to the Legate— Prosperity of the 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 University, 125 
 
 
 
 
 
 Anival at Augsburg-Do Vio-HLs Character-Serra-Longa- 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 
 
 Preliminar)- Conversation— Visit of the Councillors— Return 
 
 Tl.oughts of Dcpartm-e-Adieus to the Cl.urch- Critical Moment 
 
 
 
 of Serra-Louga-The Prior-Luther's Wisdom-Luther and 
 
 - Deliverance— Luther's Courage— Discontentment at Rome 
 
 
 
 Scrra-Longa-Thc Safe-Conduct-Luther to Melancthon, . 113 
 
 -Bull-Appeal to a Council, 127 
 
 
 
 BOO 
 
 K V. 
 
 
 
 THE DISCUSSION 
 
 OF LEirSir— 1519. 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 C'lIAI'TER III. 
 
 
 
 Luther's Dangers— Go<l saves Luthcr-Tlie Pope sends a Clianlbcr- 
 
 Aniv.il of Eck and the Wiltembergers-Amsdorf-The Students 
 
 
 
 lain-'n.c Legate's Joumcy-Briefsof Rome-Circumstances 
 
 -Caristadt's Accident-Placard-Eck and Luthcr-Pleis- 
 
 
 
 favourable to the Refonnation— Miltitz with Spalatin— 
 
 scnburg-Shall JudgesbeAppointcd?— Luther Objects, . 138 
 
 
 
 Tetzcl's Terror -Caresses of Miltitz— A Recantation De- 
 
 
 
 
 manded -Luther Refuses, but Ofl-ei-s to be Silent -Agree- 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 
 
 ment between Luther and the Nuncio-Tlic Legate's Embrace 
 
 The Procession-Mass-Mosellanus- Veni, Sancle Spinlus/- 
 
 
 
 — Tetzcl overwhelnie<l by the Legate— Luther to the Pope - 
 
 PortraiU of Luther and Carlstadt-Doctor Eck-Caristadf s 
 
 
 
 Nature of the Reformation-Luther against Separation- 
 
 Books— Merit of Congniity— Natural Powers— Scholastic 
 
 
 
 Dc Vio aud Miltitz at TrCvcs-Luther's cause cxUnds in 
 
 Distinction-Point where Rome and the Refonnation separate 
 
 
 
 different Countries— Luther's Writings the Commencement 
 
 —Grace gives man Freedom- CarlsUdfs Note-Book— Com- 
 
 
 
 of the Reformation, 130 
 
 motion in the Auditorj-- Jlclancthon during the Debate— ' 
 Mana=u>Tes of Eck-Luthcr Preachcs-Tlic Citizens of 
 
 
 
 CHAITER n. 
 
 Leipsic-Quarrels of StudenU .and Quarrels of Teachers, . 1-39 
 
 
 
 Tlic Will seems ended in Germany- Eck Revives the Contest- 
 
 CHAPTER V. 1 
 
 
 
 Deb.itc between Eck aud Carlstadt-The Question of the 
 
 Hierarchy and Ration.ilism-lVo Peasants' Sons-Eck and 1 
 
 
 
 Pope-Luther Replies-^UarraofLuther'sFriemU-Luther's 
 
 Luther Iwgin-Thc Hea<l of the amrch-Tlie Primacy of 
 
 
 
 Courage -Truth Triumphs single-h.inded— Refus.il of Duke 
 
 Rome— Equality of Bishops— Peter the Foundation- Christ 
 
 
 
 George-Delight of Mosellanus, and Fears of Erasmus, . 135 
 
 the Foundation— Eck insinu.ites that Luther is a Hussite— 
 
 
 1 
 

 X CONTENTS. 
 
 Pace 
 
 Page 
 
 Luther on the doctrine of Huss— Agitation in the Audience 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 —Pleasantry of Dr. Eck— The Word alone— The Court 
 Fool— Luther at Mass-Saying of the Duke— Purgatory- 
 Close of the Discussion, 113 
 
 Eck Attacks Melancthon- Melauctlion's Defence— Interpretation 
 of Scriptm-e-Luther's Firmness— The Bohemian Brethren 
 — Emser— Staupitz, 149 
 
 I CHAPTER VI. 
 
 
 Interest felt by the Laity— Luther's Opmion— Admissions and 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 j Boastings of Dr. Eck— Effects of the Discussion— Poliander 
 
 Epistle to the Galatians— Christ for us— Blmdness of Luther's 
 
 — Cellarius— The Young Prince of Anhalt- The Students of 
 
 Adversaries— First Ideas on the Supper— Is the Sacra- | 
 
 Leipsic— Ci-uciger- Calling of Melancthon— Emancipation 
 
 ment Sufficient without Faith ?-Luther a Bohemian -Eck ! 
 
 of Luther, Ii7 
 
 Attacked— Eck sets out for Rome, 150 ; 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 THE CULL OF KO.ME— 1520. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Character of Maximili.an— The Competitors for the Empire— 
 
 New Negotiations— Miltitz and the Augustines of Eisleben— 
 
 Cliarles -Frauds I. -Inclination of the Germans -The 
 
 Deputation to Luther— Miltitz and the Elector— Conference 
 
 Crown offered to Frederick— Cliarles is Elected, . . . 15.3 
 
 at Lichtemberg— Luther's Letter to the Pope— Book Pre- 
 
 
 sented to the Pope— Union of the Believer with Christ- 
 
 
 Freedom and Bondage, 166 
 
 1 CHAPTER II. 
 
 
 Luther Writes to the Emperor— Luther's Dangers— Instructions 
 
 
 of Frederick to the Court of Rome-Luther's Sentiments- 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. j 
 
 Melancthon's Fears-The German Nobles favourable to the 
 
 The Bull ui Gennany— Eck's Reception— The Bull at Wittem- 
 
 Reformation-Schaumburg -Seckingen-Ulric de Hutten- 
 
 berg— Interposition of Zwingle, 169 
 
 Luther's Confidence-Luther's gi-eatcr Freedom— Faith the 
 
 1 
 
 Source of Works-Wiat Faith gives- Luther Judging his 
 
 
 own Writings, 154 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 
 Luther Examines himself in the presence of God— Luther's 
 
 
 Opinion of the BuU-A Neutral Family-Luther on the BuU, j 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 and against the Bull of Antichrist— The Pope Prohibits 
 
 Tlie Papacy Attacked- Appeal to the NobOity-Tl:e Three Walls 
 
 Faith-Effocts of the BuU-The Faggot Pile of Louvain, . 171 
 
 —All Christians are Priests— The Magistrate's duty to Cor- 
 
 
 rect the Clergy— Abuses of Rome— Ruin of Italy— Dangers 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 of Germany— The Pope— The Legates— Tlie Monks— 'flie 
 
 
 Marriage of Priests— Celibacy-Festivals- Tlie Bohemians 
 
 Decisive Steps by the Reformer— Luther's Appeal to a General 
 
 —Charity- Tlie Universities— Tlie Empire- Tlie Emperor 
 
 Council— Struggle at Close Quarters -The Bull Burned by 
 
 must retake Rome— A Book not Published— Luther's 
 
 Luther-Meaning of this bold act-Luther iu the Academic 
 
 Modesty- -Success of the Adch-ess, 153 
 
 Chau-- Luther agamst the Pope— New Work by Melancthon 
 
 -How Luther encourages his Friends— Progi-ess of the 
 
 
 Contest-Melancthon's Opinion of the Timid-Luther's Work ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 on the Bible -Doctrine of Grace-Luther's Recantation, . 173 
 
 Preparations at Rome-Motives to Resist the Papacy— Eck at 
 
 ■ 
 
 Rome-Eck gains the Day-Tlie Pope is the World-God 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 produces tlie Separation— A Swiss Priest pleads for Lutlicr 
 
 —The Roman Consistoiy— Preamble of tlie Bull-Condem- 
 
 Coronation of Cliarles V.-'Hie Nuncio Aleandcr-Will Luther's 
 
 nation of Luther, 161 
 
 Books be Bimit— Aleaiider and the Emperor— The Nmicios 
 
 and the Elector-The Son of Duke John Pleads for Luther 
 
 
 —Luther's Calmness-Tlie Elector Protects Luther-Reply 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 to the Nuncios— Er.asraus at Cologue— Erasmus with the 
 
 j Wittemberg-Melancthoii-HisMarriage-Citlierino- Domestic 
 
 Elector— Declaration of Er.%smus— Advice of Er.ismus— 
 
 Life-Beneficenco-Good Humour— Clirist and Antiquity— 
 
 System of Charles V., 173 
 
 L.abour-Love of Letters-His Mother-Outbreak among 
 
 
 the Students, 16i 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 ■ 
 
 Lutlicr ou Confession— True Absolution —Antichrist— Rally 
 
 , CHAPTER VI. 
 
 •aroiuid Luther-Sath-es-Ulrich von Hiitten-Lucas Ci-a- 
 
 Tlie Gospel in Italy-Discourse on the Ma^s-The Babylonish 
 
 nach-The Carnival at Wittemberg-Staupitz Intimidated 
 
 Captivity of the Church— Baptism— Abolition of Vows- 
 
 -Luther's Labours -Luther's Humility-Progress of the ! 
 
 Progress of the Reformation, 165 
 
 Reformation, 179 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 THE r>IET OF WOUMS— (.JANUARY TO MAY) 1021. 
 
 OIAPTER I. 
 
 Conquests by Iho Woi\l of Gixl— llio Dii-t of VVonin— niftioiiUics 
 — Charles Demaiiils Luther— Tlio Eliflorto (nmrles-SUito 
 of Men's Minds— AIe«ii<lor'« Alnrni— The Elcetur sots out 
 without Lutlier—Alennilcr Awakens Rome - Gxcouiinunica- 
 tion of the Pope, ami Communion with Christ— Fulniination 
 ofthoBuU-Lither's Motives in the Rcfornialion, . , 182 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A Foreign Prince —Ail vice of Politicians— Conference between 
 the Confessor anil the Elector's Cliancellor— Uselcssnoss of 
 these Mana-u\Te.s— Alcamlcr's Activity— Lutlicr's Sayings- 
 Charles gives in to the P.-jm', ISr. 
 
 CIIAITER III. 
 I Aleoudcr Admitted to the Diet— -Meander's Adilrcss— Luther 
 Accused— Rome Defended— Appeal to Cliarles against Luther 
 —Effect of the Nuncio's Address, 1S7 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Sentiments of the Princes— Speech of Duke George— Cliaracter 
 of the Reformation — A Hundred and One Grievance.s — 
 Charles Yield*— Tactics of Aleander— The Grandees of 
 Spain— Luther's Peace — Death and not Retractation, . ISO 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Will a Safe-conduct be given ?— Safe-conduct — Will Luther go? 
 —Holy Thuisilay at Rome— Tlie Pope and Luther, . . 191 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 Luther's Courage— Bugenhagen at Witteniberg— Persecutions in 
 Pomerania — Melancthon wishes to set out with Luther— 
 Amsdorff—Schnrff—Suaven-Hutten to Charles v., . . 193 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Departure for the Diet of Worms— Luther's Adieu -His Con- 
 demnation Published— Cavalcade near Erfurt— Meeting of 
 Jonas and Luther— Luther in his old Convent— Luther 
 Preaches at Erfurt — Incident— Faith and Works— Concourse 
 of People— Luther's Courage— Luther to Spalatin— Halt at 
 
 Frankfort -Fears at Wnnns-PIan of the Imperialists- 
 Luther's Firnmess, 195 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Entry into Worms— tliant for the Dead- Council held by Cliarles 
 v.— Capito and the Temiiorizers— Concourse around Luther 
 — CiUtion— Iliitten to Luther— Proceeds to the Diet- 
 Saying of Fi-eundsberg- Imposing Assembly— Tlie Cliancel- 
 lor'g Address— Luther's Reply— His Wimlom— Saying of 
 Charles V.— Alarm— Triumph— Luther's Finnuess — Insults 
 from the Sp."»niards— Council — Luther's Trouble and Prayer 
 —Might of the Reformation — Luther's Oath to Scripture — 
 Tlie Court of the Diet— Luther's Address— Thr«e kinds of 
 Writings— He demands Proof of his EiTor— Solemn Warnings 
 —He repeats his Adilress in Latin— Here I am : I tin't do 
 otherwise— The "Weakness" of God-New Attempt, . 198 
 
 CHAPTER I.\. 
 Victory— Tumult and Calm— Duke Brick's Glass of Beer- Tlio 
 Elector and Spalatin— Message from the Emperor— Wish to 
 Violate the Safe-conduct — Strong Opposition — Enthusiasm 
 for Luther— Voice for Conciliation— The Elector's Fear— 
 Assemblage at Luther's Lodging— Philip of Hesse, . .204 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Conference with the Archbishop of Treves— Wehe's Advice to 
 Luther — Luther's Replies — Private Conversation — Visit of 
 Coclilojus — Supper at the Archbishop's— Attempt on the 
 Hotel of Rhodes— A Council Proposed— Last Interview 
 between Luther and the Archbishop— Visit to a Sick Friend 
 —Luther Ordenxl to quit Worms, 207 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Luther's Departure— Journey from Worms— Luther to Cranacli 
 —Luther to Charles V.— Luther with the Abbot of Hirsch- 
 feld— The Curate of Eisenach — Several Princes Leave the 
 Diet— Charles Signs Luther's Condemnation— The Edict of 
 Worms— Luther with his Parents— Luther Attacked and 
 Carried off— Tlie Ways of God— Wart burg— Luther a 
 Prisoner, 210 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 THE SWISS— 1484 1522. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 vcments in Switzerland— Source of the Reformation— Demo- 
 cratic Cliaracter— Foreign Ser\ice —Morality —The Tocken- 
 burg— An Alpine Hut— A Pastoral Family, , . . 21 r> 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 ling Ulrich at Wesen— At Bale- At Berne— Tlie Dominican 
 Convent— Jctzer— 'file Apparitions— Tlie Pitssion of the 
 Jjty Brother— The Imposture— Discover)- and Punishment 
 -Zwingle atVienna-At Bale-ilusic at Bale-Witteml>ach 
 Teaches the Gospel— Leon Juda— The Curate of Glaris, . 217 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 Love of War— Schinner— Pension from the Pope— The LabjTinth 
 —Zwingle in Italy— Principle of Reform- Zwingle and 
 Luther — Zwingle and Erasmus— Zwingle and the Elders- 
 Paris and Glaris, ; 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 vingic in regari to Er.ismus— Oswahl Myconius— The Vagrants 
 
 — CEcolampadius — Zwingle at Marignan — Zwingle and 
 
 Italy— Method of Zwingle— Ooromencement of Reform— 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 Meinrad of HohenzoUern— Our Laily of Eicisidluii— Calling of 
 Zwmgle— The Abbot — GeroMsek — Companionship in Study 
 —The Bible Copied— Zwingle and Superstition— First 
 Opposition to Error— Sensation— Hedio— Zwingle and the 
 Legates — The Honours of Rome— The Bishop of Constance 
 -Samson and Indulgences— Stapfer—Cliarity of Zwingle— 
 His Friends, 2-2-1 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Zurich— The College of Canons— Election to the Cathedral- 
 Fable — Accusations— Confession of Zwingle— The Designs 
 of God Unfolded — Farewell to Einsidlen — Arrival at Zurich 
 — Courageous Declaration of Zwingle — First Sermons — 
 Effects— Opposition -Character of Zwingle— Taste for Music 
 — An-angement of the Day— Circulation liy Hawkers, . 223 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Indulgences — Samson at Berne- Samson at Baden— The Dean of 
 Bremgarten — Young Henry Bullinger — Samson and the 
 Dean — Internal Struggles of Zwingle— Zwingle against 
 Indulgences— Samson Dismissed, . . . ., . 'i32 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Labours of Zwingle— The Baths of Pfeffers— God's Time— 
 The Great Death — Zwingle seized with the Plague — His 
 Enemies— His Friends-Convalescence— General Joy— Effect 
 of the Plague— Myconius at Lucerne— Oswald encourage? 
 Zwingle— Zwingle at Bale— Capito Called to Mentz— Hedio 
 at Bale — An Unnatural Son — Preparation for Battle, . 2"! 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Two Reformers— The Fall of Man— Expiation of the God- 
 Man— No Merit in Works— Objections Refuted— Power of 
 Love to Christ— Election— Clirist alone Master— Effects of 
 this Preaching— Despondency and Courage— First Act of the 
 Magistrate— Church and State— Attacks— Galster, . . 2-38 
 
 Page 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A New Combatant— The Reformer of Berae— Zwingle Encourages 
 Haller— The Gospel at Lucerne- Oswald Persecuted— 
 Preaching of Zwingle — Henry Bullinger and Ceroid of 
 Knonau— Rubli at Bale— The Chaplain of the Hospital- 
 War in Italy— Zwingle against Foreign Service, . . 211 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Zwingle against the Precepts of Man— Fermentation during Lent 
 — Ti'uth Advances during Combat — The Deputies of the 
 Bishops — Accusation before the Clergy and Council — ^Appeal 
 to the Great Coiuicil — The Coadjutor and Zwingle — Decree 
 of the Grand Council — State of Matters— Attack by 
 Hoffman, 243 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Grief and Joy in Germany— Ambush against Zwingle— Mandate 
 of the Bishop — Archeteles — Tlie Bishop Addresses the Diet 
 —Prohibition to Attack the Monks— Declaration of Zwingle 
 —The Nuns of fEtenbaeh— Zwmgle's Address to Schwitz, . 246 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A French Monk — He Teaches in Switzerland— Dispute between 
 the Monk and Zwingle— Discourse of the Leader of the 
 Johaunites— Tlie Carnival at Berne— The Eaters of the 
 Dead— Tlie Skull of St. Anne— Appenzel- Tlie Orisons- 
 Murder and Adultery— Marriage of Zwingle, . . .243 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 How Truth Triumphs— Society at Einsidlen — Request to the 
 Bishops — To the Confederates — The Men of EiusitUeu 
 Separate — A Scene in a Convent— A Dinner by Myconius— 
 The Strength of the Reformers— Effect of the Petitions to 
 Lucerne — The Council of the Diet— Haller at the Town- 
 House— Friburg— Destitution of Oswald— Zwingle Comforts 
 him— Oswald quits Lucerne— First Severity of the Diet - 
 Consternation of the Brothers of Zwingle— His Resolution 
 —The Future— Tlie Prayer of Zwingle, . . 251 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 FIRST REFORMS— 1521-1522. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 f the Reformation— New Period— Advantages of 
 Luther's Captivity — Agitation of Germany — Melancthon 
 and Luther— Enthusiasm, 257 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Luther in the Wartburg— Object of his Captivity— Agonies- 
 Sickness— Labour of Luther— On Confession— To Latomus 
 —Walks, 259 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Reformation Begins — Maniage of Feldkirchen — Marriage of 
 Monks— Tlieses— Writes against Monachism— Luther Ceases 
 to be a Monk, 201 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Archbishop Albeit— The Idol of Halle— Luther Appears— TeiTor 
 at the Court— Luther to the Archbishop— Tlie Archbishop's 
 Reply- Joachim of Brandenburg, ..... 263 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Translation of the EiWe— Wants of the Cliurch— Principles of 
 the Reformation— Alarm at Court— Luther to the Arch- 
 bishop-Temptations of the Devil — Condemnation of the 
 Sorbonne— Melancthon's Replj' — Visit to Witteniberg, . 265 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 New Reforms— Gabriel Zwilling on the Mass— The University- 
 The Elector— Monachism Attacked— Emancip.ation of the 
 Monks— Disturbances— Chapter of the Augustines— The 
 Mass and Carlstadt— First Supper— Importance of the Mass 
 in the Roman System, 267 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Spurious Reform— The New Propliets-Tlie Prophets at Wittem- 
 beig — Melancthon — The Elector— Luther, Carlstadt, and 
 Images — Disorders — Luther Sent for— He Hesitates not — 
 Dangers, 271 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ClIArTER VIII. 
 Departure from tho Wortburg— New Position— Lutlior niul 
 Primitivu Catholicism— Meeting at the Blark Boar— Liitber 
 to the Elector— Return to Wittcinlwrg — Discourses at 
 Wittcmbcrg— Charity- The Won!- How the Uofonnation 
 was Effoctcil— Faith in Christ— EfTect-Diilyinus-Carktmlt 
 — ^Tho Projihets- ConfiTCiu'p witli LutliiT— Kml of the 
 Struggle, 274 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Translation of tho New Tivstanicut -Kaitli ami Scripture — 
 Opposition— Importance of Luther's Publication — Need of 
 a Systematic Exposition- Melancthon's "Common Places" 
 -Original Sin— .Salvation— Free-will— Effect of the "Com- 
 mon Places," • . . .250 
 
 CHAITEU X. 
 Opposition — llciiry VIII. — Wi.Uiy — The Queen — Fishor— 
 Thomas More — Luther's Books Burnt- Henry Attacks 
 Luther— Presentation to tho Pope-Effect on Luthcr-Forco 
 anil Violence— His Book-Reply of the Bi-hop of Rochester 
 -Reply by More— Step by the King ; 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 flcnoral Movement— Tlio Monks— How the Reformation Is Acoom- 
 l>lishctl— Onlinary Believers— The Old ancl the New Teachers 
 —Printing ami Literature -Booksellers ami Hawkers, . | 
 
 CHAPTER XU. 
 Luther at Zwickau-Tlic Castle of Freyljcrg— Worms- Frankfort 
 —Universal Movement —Wittcmlxjrg, the Centre of tho 
 Reformation— Luther's Stiitimonts, | 
 
 BOOK X. 
 
 AOITATIOX, RF.VER^F.>i, AND PROGRESS— 1523 1526. 
 
 ^ CHAPTER I. 
 Political Element— Want of Enthusiasm at Rome— Slejo of 
 Pampeluna— Courage of Inigo— Transformation- Liillier 
 and Loyola— Visions— The Two Principles, . . .292 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Victory of the Pope— Death of Leo X.— Oratory of Divii 
 —Adrian VI.— Schemes of Refonn— Opposition, 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 Diet of Nurcml)crg-Invasion of Solj-man— The Nuncio Demands 
 the Death of Luthei^Thc Preachers of Nuremberg— Promise 
 of Reform— Nation.al Orievancos — Decree of the Diet- 
 Thundering Letter of the Pope— Luther's Advice, . . 298 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Persecution- EITort-s of Duke Geoi-ge- Tlie Convent of Antwerp 
 — MUtenberg- Tlio Tliroe Monks of Antwerp— Tlie Scaffold 
 —Martynlom at Brussels, 299 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 New Pope — Tlie Legate Campeggio— Diet of Nuremberg — 
 Demand of tho Legate— Reply of the Diet — Project of a 
 Secular Council— Alarm and Efforts of the Pope— Rivaria— 
 League of RatislKin— Rigour and Reform— Political Schisms 
 — Opposition — Intrigues of Rome- Edict of Bruges — 
 Rupture, 301 
 
 CHAITKK VI. 
 Persecution — Gaspattl Tauber — A Bookseller— Cruelties in 
 Wurtemberg, Solzlxiurg, Bavaria, Pomerania — Henry of 
 Zuphten, 304 
 
 CHAPl'ER VII. 
 Divisions— Lord's Supper— Two Extremes— Carlstadt— Luther 
 —Mysticism of the Anabaptists— Carlstadt at Orlamund— 
 Mission of Luther— Interview at Dinner— Conference of 
 Orlamund— Carlstadt Banished, 306 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Progrcs5— Resistance to the Leaguers- Meeting between Philip 
 of Hesse and Melancthon— The Landgrave Gained over to 
 the Gospel— The Palatinate, Luneburg, Holstein— Tlie 
 Grand Master at Wittemberg, 803 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Reformers— Tlie Church of All-Saints— Fall of the Mass — 
 Literature— Cliristian Schools— Science Offered to the I.aity 
 —Arts— Moral Religion— Esthetical Religion — Music — 
 Poetry— Painting, 310 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Political Ferment — Luther against Revolution- Tliomas Miinzcr 
 —Agitation— Tlie Black Forest— The Twelve Articles- 
 Luther's Advice— Helfenstein— Advance of the Peasants- 
 Advance of the Impcri,->1 Army — Defeat of the Peasants — 
 Cnielty of the Princes, 313 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Miinzcr at Mulhausen— Appeal to the People— March of the 
 Princes— End of the Revolt— Influence of the Reformers- 
 Sufferings — Change, 317 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Two Issues— Death of Frederick — Tlie Prince .ind the Rc.'ormer 
 —Catholic Alliance— Projects of Cliarlcs— Dangers, . .319 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Tlie Nuns of Nimptsch— Luther's Feelings— End of the Convent 
 — Luther's Marriage— Domestic Happiness, , , . 321 
 
 CHAPTER Xn'. 
 
 Tlio Landgrave-Tlic Elector-Prussia— Reformation— Seculariza- 
 tion— Tho Archbishop of Mentz— Conference of Friedcwalt 
 — Diet— Alliance of Torgau— Resistance of the Reformers — 
 Alliance of Magdeburg— The Catholics Redouble their 
 Efforts— Marriage of the Emperor— Threatening Letters— 
 The Two Parties, 323 
 
x!v CONTENTS. 
 
 1 
 BOOK XI. 
 
 DIVISION, SWITZERLAND, GERMANY— 1523-1527. 
 
 Page 
 ■ CHAPTER I. 
 
 Paoe 
 Convent-He Returns to Seckingen- Returns to B.ale- 
 
 Unity in Diversity— rrimitive Faith and Liberty— Formation of 
 
 Ulrich Von Hiitten— His Projects— Last Effort of Cliivaliy 
 — Hiitten Dies at Ufl'nau, siO 
 
 Roman Unity— A Monk and Leo Jnda-Tlieses of Zwingle 
 
 —Tlie Discussion of January, 32G 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Erasmus and Luther-Uncertainty of Erasmus Luther to Eras- 
 
 Caresses of the Pope— Progi-ess of the Refonnation— The Image 
 
 mus—Work of Erasmus against Lutlier on Free Will— Tlu-ee 
 
 of Stadelhofen— Sacrilege— The Ornaments of the Saints, . 32S 
 
 Opinions— Effect on Luther— Luther ou Free Will— The 
 
 
 Jansenists and the Reformers— Homage to Erasmus— Rage 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 of Erasmus- -Tlie Tliree Days, 342 
 
 Tlie October Discussion-Zwingle on the Chmch-The Cliuroh - 
 
 
 First Outline of Preshyterianism-Discussion on the Mass— 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Enthusiasts— A Voice of Wisdom— Victory— A Character- 
 
 The Three Adversaries— Source of the Truth -Anabaptism- 
 An.abaptism and Zwingle— Constitution of the Chm-ch— 
 
 istic of the Swiss Reformation— Moderation— Oswald My- 
 
 conius at Zurich— Tlie Revival of Letters— Thomas Plater 
 
 Prison— The Prophet Blaurock— Anabaptism at St. Gall— 
 
 oftheValais, 329 
 
 An Anabaptist Family-Dispute at Zurich-The Limits of 
 
 
 the Reformation-Punishment of the Anabaptists, . . 3iG 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 
 Diet of Lucerne-Hottinger Aj-rested- His Death— Dejiutation 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Popish Immobility— Pi-otestaut Progression— Zwingle andLutlier 
 -Zwingle and the Lord's Supper-Luther's great Principle 
 
 of the Diet to Zurich-Abolition of Processions-Abolition 
 of Images— The Two Reformations— Appeal to the People, 331 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 — Carlstadt's Writings Prohibited— Zwingle's Commentary 
 
 —The Swabian Syngi-ara- Capito and Bucer— Need of Unity 
 
 New Opposition— CExlin carried off— Tlie Family of the Wii-ths 
 
 in Diversity, " '.343 
 
 —The Mob at the Convent of Ittingen— The Diet of Zug— 
 
 
 The Wirths seized and given up to the Diet -Condemnation, 334 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Tlie Tockenburg-An Assembly of the People-Reformatiou- 
 
 Alwlition of the Mass-Zwingle's Dream-Celebration of the 
 Lord's Supper— Brotherly Charity— Original Sin— The Oli- 
 
 The Grisons— Discussion of Ilantz— Results -Reform at 
 Zurich, 351 
 
 
 garchs against the Reformation— Divers Attacks, . . 336 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Executions— Discussion at Baden— Rules of the Discussion- 
 
 Eerne-The Provost of Watteville-First Successes of the Re- 
 
 Riches and Poverty-Eck and (Ecolampadius-Discussiou- 
 
 formation— Haller at the Convent— Accusation and Deliver- 
 
 Part taken by Zwingle-Boasting of the Romans-Insults 
 
 ance—The Monastery of Konigsfeld— Margaret of Watteville 
 
 of a Monk— End of the Discussion, 3.-;3 
 
 to Zwingle— The Convent Open— Two Opposite Champions 
 
 
 -Clara May and the Provost of Watteville, . . .338 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 
 Consequences at Bale, Benie, St. Gall, and other Places-Diet 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 at Zurich— Tlie Small Cantons— Menace-s .at Borne -Foreign 
 
 Eale-CEcolampadius- Ho goes to Augsburg— He Enters the 
 
 Aid, 355 
 
 BOOK 
 
 : XII. 
 
 THE FRENCI 
 
 1—1500-1526. i 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Lefevre and Farcl meet— Doubts and Inquiries of Farel— 
 
 Universality of Cliristianity— Enemies of the Reformation in 
 
 First Awakening- Prophecy of LefevTe-He Teaches Justi- 
 
 France— Heresy and Persecution in Dauphiny— A Gentle- 
 
 fication by Faith-Objections— Irregularities in Colleges— 
 
 man's Family— Tlie Family Farel— Pilgrimage to St. Croix 
 
 Effects on Farel— Election— Holiness of Life, . . . 3.' J 
 
 —Immorality and Superstition— William desires to become 
 
 
 a Student, 3.w 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 
 Farel .and the Saints— The University— Conversion of Farel— 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Parol and Luther-Other Disciples— Date of the Reformation 
 
 Louis XII. and the Assembly of Tours-Francis and Margaret 
 
 in Franee-The Different Reforms Spontaneous— Which is 
 
 —The Literati-Lefevre-His Teaching at the Univer.sity- 
 
 the First ?-PIace Due to Lefevre, 3G3 
 
Paoc 
 
 CHAPTER rv. 
 
 Clinractcr of Francis I.— Beginning of .Modern Timos— Liberty 
 anil Obedience— Margaret of Valois— Tlic Court— Brioonnct, 
 Count of Moutbruu— Lcfovro Applies to tho Bible— Francis 
 I. and Ilia "Sous"— TIio Gospel brought to Margaret— A 
 CoDVcrsiou — Adoration— Character of Margaret, . . 3C5 
 
 C1IA1>TER V. 
 Enemies of the Reformation— Louisa— Duprat—Coucoi\lat at 
 Bologna— Opposition of the Parliament and tho University 
 —The Sorbonno— Beda— Uis Character— His Tyranny— 
 Bcrquin, tho most Learned of the Nobles— Tho lAiadors of 
 tho Surboune — Heresy of the Three Magdalenes —Luther 
 Condemned at Paris— Tlie Sorbonne Addresses tho King— 
 Lefcvro quita Paris for Meaux, 3CS 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 Briconnet Visits his Diocese— Reformation— The Reformers 
 Prosecuted at Paris- Phililwrta of Savoy— Correspondence 
 of Margaret and Briconnet, . , , . . , S71 
 
 CIIArTER VII. 
 First Beginnings of the Church of Meau.x— Tlio Scriptures in 
 French- The Tradesmen and the Bishop — Evangelical 
 Harvest— The Epistles of St. Paul sent to tho King— Lofevre 
 and Roma— The Monks before the Bishop— Tlie Monks 
 before the Parliament — Briconnet Yields, , . . 374 
 
 CHAPTER Vlir. 
 Lcfevre and Farel Persecuted- Difference between the Lutheran 
 and Reformed Churches— Leclerc puts up his Pancartes— 
 Leclerc Branded — Ze.il of Borquin — Berquin before the 
 Parliament— Francis I. saves him — Apostacy of Mazurier- 
 Fall and Grief of Pavanno—Metz—Chatclain— Peter Tous- 
 snint becomes Attentive — Leclerc breaks Images — Con- 
 demnation and Tortnre of Loclcic— Martynlom of Chatelnin 
 — Flight, . . .377 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Farol and his Brothers — Farcl driven from Gap— He Preaches in 
 the Fields-Chevalier Anemond of Coct— Tlie Minorite— 
 Anemond quits France— Luther to the Duke of Savoy— 
 Farel quits France, 381 
 
 Paoi 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Catholicity of the Reformation — Fricmlshlp of Farel and 
 Oicolampadius- Farel and Erasmus- Altercation— Farel 
 calls for a Discussion-Tliescs- Scripture and Faith — 
 Discussion, 333 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 New Campaign— Calling of Farol to the Ministrj' — An Advanced 
 Post— Lyons an Evangelical Focus— Sebville at Grenoble- 
 Conventicles — Preaching at Lyons — Maigret in Prison — 
 Margaret Intimidated, 33<] 
 
 CHAPTER XU. 
 Tho French at Bile- Encouragement of tho Swiss— Fear of Dis- 
 union-Translations and Printing Presses at Bale— Bibles 
 anil Tracts Circulated in France, 3S9 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Progress at Montbeliard— Opposition and Disturbance— Touis- 
 saint quits CEcolampadius — The Day of tho Briilge— Death 
 of Anemond— Si 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Francis taken at Pavia — Reaction against the Reformation- 
 Louisa consults tho Sorbonne— Commission against the 
 Heretics— Briconnet Denounced— Appeal to the .\ssembled 
 Parliament- Fall — Reconciliation— Lefevre Accused — Con- 
 demnation and Flight — Lefevro at Stnisburg— Louis de 
 Berquin Incarcerated— Erasmus Attacked— Schuch at Nantz 
 — His Martyrdom — Contest with Caroli — Sadness of Pavanne 
 —His Fagot Pile— A Christian Hcnnit— Concourse at 
 Notre Dame, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A Scholar of Noyon — Cliaracter of Young Calvin — Early Educa- 
 tion — He is devoted to Theology — Tlie Bishop gives him the 
 Tonsure- He quits Noyon because of the Plague— The Re- 
 formation creates new Languages— Persecution and Terror— 
 Toussaint put into Prison — Persecution gives new strength 
 —Death of Du Blet, Meriin, and Papillon— God saves the 
 Church— Project of Margaret— Departure for Spain, . . • 
 
 BOOK XIII. 
 
 THE PROTEST AND THE CONFERENCE— 1526-1529. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Twofold Movement of Reform — Reform the Work of God— First 
 Diet of Spires— Palladium of Reform — Firmness of the 
 Reformers— Proceedings of the Diet — Report of the Com- 
 missioners— Tlie Papacy Painted and Described by Luther 
 — The Destruction of Jerusalem — Instructions of Seville- 
 Change of Policy— Holy League— Religious Liberty Proposed 
 — Crisis of the Reformation, 403 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Italian War— The Emperor's JIanifesto— March on Rome— Revolt 
 of the Troops — Tlio Sack of Rome— German Humours — 
 Violence of the Spaniards- Clement VII. Capitulates, . 411 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Profitable Calm— Constitution of the Cluirch— Philip of Hesse— 
 
 Tlie Monk of Marburg— Lambert's Paradoxes — Friar Boni- 
 face-Disputation at Hfimburg— Triumph of the Gospel in 
 Hesse — Constitution of the Cliurch — Bishops — Synods- 
 Two Elements of the Church— Luther on the Ministry- 
 Organization of the Cliurch— Luther's Contradictions on 
 St.ite Interference— Luther to the Elector— German Mass— 
 Mclancthou's Instructions— Disaffection — Visitation of the 
 Reformed Churches — Results— Tlie Reformation Advances 
 —Elizabeth of Brandenburg, 413 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Edict of Ofen— Persecutions — Winkler, Carpenter, and Keyser 
 -Alarm in Germany — Pack's Forgery — League of the 
 Reformed Princes — Advice of tho Rcformera — Luther's 
 Pacific Counsel— Surprise of tho Papist Princes— Pack's 
 Scheme not Improbable— Vigour of the Reformation, . 419 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Alliance between Charles and Clement VII.— Omens— Hostility 
 
 ofthePapists—Arbitraiy Proposition of Charles— Resolutions 
 
 of the Diet— The Refonuation in Danger— Decision of the 
 
 Princes — Violence of Ferdinand — Tlie Sdiism Completed, . • 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Protest— Pi-inciples of the Protest— Supremacy of the Gospel 
 -Christian Union— Ferdinand Rejects the Protest— Attempt 
 at Conciliation— Exrdtation of the Papists— Evangelical 
 Appeal— Christian Unity a Reality— Dangers of the Pi'o- 
 testants— The Protestants leave Spires— Tlie Princes the 
 Ti-ue Reformers— Germany and Reform, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Union necessary to Reform— Luther's Doctrine on the Lord's 
 Supper— A Lutheran Warning— Proposed Conference at 
 Marburg— Melancthon and Zwingle— Zwingle leaves Zurich 
 
 — Rumoiu-s in Zurich— The Reformers at Marburg— Carl- 
 stadt's Petition — Preliminary Discussions — Holy Ghost- 
 Original Sin— Baptism— Luther, Melancthon, and Zwingle 
 —Opening of the Conference— The Prayer of the Church — 
 Hoc est Corpus J/eitni- Syllogism of (Ecolampadius — The 
 Flesh profiteth nothing — Lambert Convinced — Luther's Old 
 Song— Agitation in the Conference— An-ival of New Deputies 
 — Chiist's Humanity Finite— Mathematics and Poetry- 
 Testimony of the Fathers — Testimony of Augustine — 
 Argument of the Velvet Cover— End of the Conference— 
 The Landgrave Mediates — Necessity of Union — Luther 
 rejects Zwingle's Hand— Sectarian Spii-it of the Germans— 
 Bucer's Dilemma — Christian Charity prevails — Luther's 
 Report — Unity of Doctrine — Unity in Diversity— Signatm-es 
 — Two Extremes— Thi-ee Views— Germ of Popery— Departure 
 —Luther's Dejection— Turks before Vienna— Luther's Battle 
 Sermon and Agony — Luther's Firmness — Victory— Exas- 
 peration of the Papists— Threatening Prospects, , . 429 
 
 BOOK XIV. 
 
 THE AUGSBURG CONFESSION— 1530. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Two Striking Lessons— Charles V. in Italy — The German Envoys 
 — Their Boldness — The Landgrave's Present— The Envoys 
 under Arrest— Their Release and Departure— Meeting of 
 Charles and Clement — Gattinara's Proposition— Clement's 
 Ai-ms-War Imminent — Luther's Objections— The Savio\ir's 
 Coming— Charles's Conciliatory Language— The Emperor'.s 
 Motives, 440 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Tlie Coronation— The Emperor made a Deacon— The Romish 
 Church and the State— Alarm of the Protestants— Luther 
 Advocates Passive Resistance — Brack's Noble Advice — 
 Ai-ticles of Faith Prepared— Luther's Strong Tower- Luther 
 at Coburg — Charles at Innspruck — Tivo Parties at Court — 
 Gattinara— The King of Denmark won over by Charles — 
 Piety of the Elector— Wiles of the Romanists, . . .443 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Augsbm-g- The Gospel Preached— Tlie Empe 
 
 -The 
 
 Sermons Prohibited — Firmness of the Elector — The Elector's 
 Reply — Preparation of the Confession — Luther's Sinai— His 
 Son and his Father— Luther's Merriment- Luther's Diet at 
 Coburg— Saxony, a Paradise below— To the Bishops— Travail 
 of the Church— Charles — The Pope's Letter — Melancthon 
 on Fasting — The Church, the Judge — The Landgi-ave's 
 CathoUo Spirit, 446 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Agitation in A ugsbiu-g— Violence of the Imperialists— Charles 
 at Munich— Charles's Arrival — The Nuncio's Blessmg— The 
 Imperial Procession — Charles's Appearance — Enters Augs- 
 burg— Te Deum— The Benediction — Charles desires the 
 Sermons to be discontmued— Brandenburg offers his Head 
 — The Emperor's Request for Corpus CAmii— Refusal of 
 the Princes— Agitation of Charles — The Princes oppose Tra- 
 dition — Procession of Corpus Chrisli — Exasperation of 
 Charles, 450 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Tlie Sei-mons Prohibited— Compromise Proposed and Accepted— 
 The Herald— Curiosity of the Citizens— The New Preachers 
 —The Medley of Popery— Luther encourages the Princes— 
 Veni Spiritics—Mass of the Holy Ghost— The Sermon- 
 Opening of the Diet— The Elector's Prayer— Insidious Plan 
 of the Romanists — Valdez and Melancthon — No Public 
 Discussion — Evangelical Firmness prevails, . . . 454 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Elector's Zeal— The Signmg of the Confession— Courage of 
 the Princes— Melancthon's Weakness— The Legate's Speech 
 — Delays — The Confession in Danger — The Protestants are 
 Fii'm — Melancthon's Despondency — Luther's Prayer and 
 Anxiety— Luther's Texts— His Letter to Melancthon— 
 Faith, 453 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 The 25th Jime, 1530— The Palatine Chapel— Recollections and 
 Contrast— The Confession — Prologue— Justification — The 
 Church— Free Will and Works— Faith— Interest of the 
 Hearers — The Princes become Preachers — The Confession — 
 Abuses — Church and State — The Two Governments— Epi- 
 logue — Argumentation— Pradence — Church and State— The 
 Sword— Moderate Tone of the Confession— Its Defects— A 
 New Baptism, , , . . 4G1 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Effect on the Romanists— Luther Demands Religious Liberty— 
 His Dominant Idea — Song of Triumph — Ingenuous Confes- 
 sions-Hopes of the Protestants — Failure of the Popish 
 lutrigues— The Emperor's Council — Violent Discussions — 
 A Refutation Proposed— Its Authors— Rome and the Civil 
 Power — Perils of the Confessors — Melancthon's Minimum— 
 The Emperor's Sister— Melancthon's Fall — Luther Opposes 
 Concession— Tlie Legate Repels Melancthon— The Pope's 
 Decision— Question— Melancthon's School Matters— Answer, 465 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CnAPTEB IX. 
 Tlis Refutation— Charles's Dissatisfaction — Intcn'iow with tlio 
 Princes— The Swiss at Autjsburg— Tctrapolitan Confession 
 — Zwinglo's Confession— Afflicting Divisions— The Elector's 
 Faith— His Peace- Tlie Lion's Skiu— The Refutation— One 
 Concession— Scripture and the Hierarchy- Imperial Com- 
 mands—Interview between Molaucthon and Campcggio— 
 Policy of Charles— Stormy Meeting— Resolutions of the 
 Consistory— The Prayers of the Church— T>vo Miracles— The 
 Emperor's Menace- The Princes' Courage— The Mask- 
 Negotiations— The Specttes at Spires— Tumult in Augs- 
 burg, 409 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Philip of Hesse— Temptation- Union Resisted— The Land- 
 grave's Dissimulation— The Emperor's Order to the Protest- 
 ants—Brandenburg's Thi-eateuing Speeches— Resolution of 
 Philip of Hesse— Flight from Augsburg— Discovery— 
 Charles's Emotion— Revolution in the Diet— Metamorphosis 
 —Unusual Motleration— Peace, Peace ! .... 475 
 
 PlOE 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Tlio MUed Commission— The Three Points— Romish Dlssimnla- 
 tion— Abuses— Concessions— The Main Question— Bishops 
 and Pope Conceded— Danger of Concession— Opposition to 
 the Pretended Concord — Luther's Opposing Letters — The 
 Word above the Church— Melancthon's Blindness— Papist 
 Infatuation— A New Commission- Be Men, and not Women 
 — The Two Phantoms- Concessions- Tlie Tliree Points — 
 The Great Antithesis— Failuie of Conciliation— The Gordion 
 Knot— A Council Granted— Charles's Summons— Menaces 
 —Altarcations— Peace or War- Romanism Concedes— Pro- 
 testantism Resists— Luther Recalls his Friends, . . 477 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Tlie Elector's Preparatives and Indignation— Recess of Augsburg 
 — Initatiug Language— Apolog)' of the Confession— Intimida- 
 tion— Final Inten-iew— Messages of Peace— Exasperation of 
 the Papists— Restoration of Poperj-— Tumult in the Church 
 — Union of the Cliurchcs — The Pope and the Emperor- 
 Close of the Diet— .\rmaments— Attack on Geneva — Joy of 
 the Evangelicals— Establislunent of Protestantism, . . 483 
 
 BOOK XV. 
 
 SWITZERLAND— CONQUESTS— 15261530. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Originality of the Swiss Reform— Change— Tlireo Periods of 
 Reform— Switzerland Romande— The Two Movements in 
 the Church— Aggressive Spirit— The Schoolmaster— Farel's 
 New Baptism— Mysticism and Scholasticism— A Door is 
 Opened — Opposition— Lausanne— Manners of the Clergy— 
 Farcl to Galeotto— Farel and the Monk— The Tribunal— 
 The Monk Cries for Pardon— Opposition of the Ormonds— 
 A False Convert— Christian Unity, 4S8 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 State Religion in Berne— Irresolution of Berne— Almanac of 
 Heretics- Evangelical Majority— Haller—Zwingle's Signal 
 —Anabaptists in Berne- Victory of the Gospel— Papist 
 Provocations— The City Companies— Proposed Disputation 
 —Objections of the Forest Cantons— The Church, the Judge 
 of Controversies— Unequal Contest— Zwingle— A Christian 
 Band— The Cordelier's Church— Opening of the Conference 
 —Tlie Sole Head— Unity of Error— A Priest Converted at the 
 Altar— St. Vincent's Day— The Butchers— A Strange Argu- 
 ment-Papist Bitterness— Necessity of Reform— Zwingle's 
 Sermon— Visit of the King of kings— Edict of Reform-Was 
 the Reformation PoUtical ? 193 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 The Reform Accepted by the People— Faith, Purity, and Cliarity 
 —First Evangelical Comraimion— Bernese Proposition to 
 the Diet— Cavern, and Head of Beatus — Threatening Stonii 
 from the Mountains— Revolt— Confusion in Berne— Untcr- 
 waldcn Crosses the Brunig— Energy of Berne- Victorj-- 
 PoUtical Advantages, '. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Keformation of St. Gall— Nuns of St. Catherine— Reformation of 
 Claris, Berne, Appenzell, the Orisons, Schaffhausen, and 
 the Rhine District— A Popish Miracle— Obstacles in B&le— 
 Zeal of the Citizens— (Ecolampadius Marries— Witticism of 
 Erasmus— First Action— Half-Measures— Petition of the 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Crisis in Bale— Half-Measures Rejected— Reformed Propositions 
 —A Night of TeiTor— Idols Broken in the Cathedral— The 
 Hour of Madness— Idols Broken in all the Chui-ches- Reform 
 legalized— Erasmus in Bale — A Great Transformation- 
 Revolution and Reformation, 000 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Farel's Commission — Farel at Lausanne and Moral — Neufchatcl 
 —Farel Preaches at Serrierc— Enters Neufchatel— Sermon— 
 The Monks— Farel's Preaching— Popery in Neufchatel— 
 Canons and Monks Unite— Farel at Moral and in the Vully 
 —Reformation of the Bishopric of Bile— Farel again in 
 Neufchatel— Placards— The Hospital Chapel— Ci^-il Power 
 Invoked by the Romanists, 509 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Valangin— Guillemctte de Vergy— Fare! goes to the Val de Ruz 
 — The Mass Intemnrted— Farel Dragged to the River — 
 Farel in Prison — Apostles and Reformers Compared — 
 Farel Preaching at Neufchatel— Installed in the Cathedral— 
 A Whirlwind sweeps over the People— The Idols Destroyed— 
 Interposition of the Governor — Triumph of the Reformed, 512 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Romanists Demand a Ballot— The Bernese in Favour of the 
 Reform — Both Parties come to the Poll— The Prudhommes 
 of Neufchatel— Proposed Delay— The Romanists grasp the 
 Sword— The Voting— Majority for Reform— Protestantism 
 Perpetual — The Image of St. John — A Miracle — Retreat of 
 the Canons— Popery and the Gospel, . . . .515 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Reaction Preparing — Failure of the Plot— Farel in Valangin and 
 near the Lake — De Bely at Fontaine— Farel's Sufferings — 
 Marcourt at Valangin— Disgraceful E.ipedient — Vengeance 
 —The Reform EstJiblished— French Switzerland Character- 
 ized— Gathering Tempest, 518 
 
CONTEXTS. 
 
 BOOK XVI. 
 
 SWITZERLAND — CATASTKOniE — 15281531. 
 
 Page 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Two Great Lessons— Christian Warfare— Zwriigle, Pastor, States- 
 man, and General — His Noble Character — Persecutions — 
 Swiss Catholics seek an Alliance with Austria— Great Dis- 
 satisfaction—Deputation to the Forest Cantons— Zwingle's 
 Proposal— Moderation of Berne— Keyser's Martyrdou— 
 Zwingle and War— Zwingle's Error, 621 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Free Preaching of the Gospel in Switzerland — Zwuigle Supports 
 the Common Bailiwicks — War— Zwingle Joins the Array— 
 The Zurich Army Threatens Zug— The Landamman Aebli — 
 Bernese Interposition — Zwingle's Opposition— Swiss Cor- 
 diality — Order in the Zurich Camp— A Conference— Peace 
 Restored— Austrian Treaty Turn— Zwingle's Hymn— Nuns 
 of Saint Catlierine, 523 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Conquests of Reform in Schaffliausen and Zurzack— Reform in 
 Glaris— To-day the Cowl, To-morrow the Reverse— Italian 
 Bailiwicks— The Monk of Como— Egidio's Hope for Italy — 
 Call of the Monk of Locarno— Hopes of Reforming Italy — 
 The Monks of Wettingen-Ahhey of St. Gall— Kilian Kouffi 
 — Samt Gall Recovers its Liberty— The Reform in Soleure 
 — Miracle of St. Ours— Popery Triumphs— The Grisons 
 Invaded by the Spaniards— Addi-ess of the Ministers to the 
 Romish Cantons — God's Word the Means of Unity — 
 (Ecolampadius for Spiritual Influence — Autonomy of the 
 Church, 527 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Zwingle and the Christian State— Zwingle's Double Part— Zwingle 
 and Luther in Relation to Politics— Philip of Hesse and the 
 Free Cities— Projected Union between Zwingle and Luther 
 ^Zwingle's Political Action — Project of Alliance against 
 the Emperor— Zwingle Advocates Active Resistance — He 
 Destines the Imperial Crown for Philip— FaiUts of the Refor- 
 mation—Embassy to Venice— Giddiness of the Reformation 
 —Projected Alliance with France— Zwingle's Plan of Alliance 
 — Approaching Ruin — Slanders in the Five Cantons- 
 Violence — Mysterious Paper — Berne and Bale Vote for 
 Peace— General Diet at Baden^Evangelical Diet at Zurich 
 — Political Reformation of Switzerland— Activity of Ziu-ich, 5;i2 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Diet of Arau— Helvetic Unity — Berne Proposes to Close the 
 Markets— Opposition of Zurich— Proposition Agreed to and 
 Published— Zwingle's War Sei-mon- Blockade of the Wald- 
 stcttes— No Bread, no Wine, no Salt — Indignation of tlie 
 
 Pace 
 Forest Cantons— Tlie Roads Blockaded— Processions— Cry 
 of Despau-— Fr.ance tries to Conciliate— Diet at Bremgarteu 
 —Hope— The Cantons Inflexible— The Strengtli of Zuricli 
 Broken— Discontent — Zwingle's False Position — Zwingle 
 Demands his Dismission — The Council Remonstrate— He 
 Remains — Zwingle at Bremgarten — Zwingle's Farewell to 
 Bullinger— Ziviugle's Agony— The Forest Cantons Reject 
 all Conciliation— Friglitful Omens— The Comet— Zwingle's 
 Tranquility, 537 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Five Cantons Decide for War— Deceitfid Calm— Fatal In- 
 activity—Zurich Forewarned — Banner of Lucerne Planted— 
 Manifesto— The Bailiwicks PUlaged — The Monastery of 
 Cappel— Letter— Infatuation of Zurich — New Warnings — 
 The War Begins— Tlie Tocsin— A Fearful Night-Tlie War 
 — Banner and Army of Zurich— Zwingle's Departure— 
 Zwingle's Horse— Anna Zwingle, 543 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Tlie Scene of War— The Enemy at Zug— Declaration of War— 
 Coimcil- Ai-niy of the Forest Cantons Appears— Tlie First 
 Gun fired— Zwingle's Gravity and Soitow— Zurich Army 
 ascending the Albis— Halt and Coiuicil at the Beech Tree— 
 They quicken their March- Jauch's Reconnaissance— His 
 Appeal— Ambuscade, 547 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Unforeseen Change — The whole Army Advances — Universal 
 Disorder — The Banneret's De.ath— The Banner in Danger — 
 The Banner Saved— Terrible Slaughter- Slaughter of the 
 Pastors— Zwingle's Last Words— Barbarity of the Victors— 
 The Furnace of Trial— Zmngle's dying Moments- Day after 
 tlie Battle — Homage and Outrage, 550 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Consteni.ation in Zurich— Violence of the Populace— Grief and 
 Distress — Zwingle is Dead! — Funeral Oration — Army of 
 Zurich— Another Reverse on the Goubel — Inactivity of the 
 Bernese — Hopes and Plan of Cliarles V.--End of tlie War 
 —Treaty of Peace, 5 JI 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Restoration of Popery at Bremgarteu and Eapperschvfyl— Priests 
 and Monks everywhere— Sorrow of (Ecolampadius— A 
 Tranquil Scene — Peaceful Death of (Ecolampadius— Henry 
 Bullinger at Zurich— Contrition and Exultation- The Great 
 Lesson- Conclusion, 55G 
 
 BOOK XVII. 
 
 ENGL.VND BEFORE THE REFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Introduction — Work of the Sixteenth Century- Unity and Di- 
 versity— Necessity of considering the entire Religious History 
 of England— Establishment of Christianity in Great Britain 
 — Formation of Ecclesiastical Catholicism in tlie Roman 
 
 Empire-Spii'itual Christianity received by Britain— Slavery 
 and Conversion of Succat— His Mission to Ireland— Anglo- 
 Saxons Re-establish Paganism in England— Columba at lona 
 —Evangelical Teaching— Presbytery and Episcopacy in Great 
 Britain— Continental Missions of the Britons— An Omission, 559 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Popo Gregory tlio Groat— Desires to Rodiico Britain— Policy of 
 Gregory ond Aiigiistine— Arrival of the Mission— Aiiprccla- 
 lion— Britain Superior to Rome— Uiiiotli at Bangor— First 
 ami Scconil Romish Aggressions— Anguish of the Britons- . 
 Priilo of Konio— Rome has Recourse to the Sword— Massacre 
 — Saint Peter Scourges an Archbishop — Oswald — i!is 
 Victory— Cornian— Mission of Oswald and Aidan— Death of 
 Oswald, 0C3 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Character of Oswy— Death of Aidan— Wilfred at Rome— At 
 Oswald's Court— Finan and Colman— Independence of tho 
 Churoh Attacked— Oswy's Conquests and Troubles— Spiodua 
 rharensis—Cedda— Degeneration— The Disputation— Peter, 
 the Gatekeeper- Triumph of Rome— Grief of tho Britons— 
 Popedom Organized in England— Papal Exultation— Arch- 
 bishop Theodore — Cedda Reordained— Discord in the 
 Church- Disgrace and Treachery ol Wilfred— His End- 
 Scotland Attacked— Adamnan—Iona Resists— A King Con- 
 verted by Architects — Tho Monk Egbert at loua— His 
 History- Monkish Visions— Fall of loua, . . . .567 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Clement— Straggle between a Scotchman and an Englishman — 
 Word of God only— Clement's Success— His Condemnation 
 —Virgil and the Antipodes— John Scotiis and PhUosopliical 
 Religion— Alfred and tho Bible— Darkness and Popery- 
 William the Conqueror— Wnlston at Edwanl's Tomb — 
 Struggle between William and Hildebrand — Tho Popo 
 Yields- Cffisaropapia, 573 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Anselm's Firmness— Beckct's Austerity— The King Scourged— 
 John becomes the Pope's Vassal— Collision between Popery 
 and Liberty — Tlie Vassal King Ravages his Kingdom — 
 Religion of the Senses and Superstition, .... 57G 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Reaction— Orostcte— Principles of Reform— Contest with the 
 Pope— Sewal— Progress of the Nation— Opposition to the 
 Papacy— Conversion of Bradwai-dine — Grace is Supreme— 
 Edward III.— Statutes of Proeisora and Pnemunire, . . 578 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Tho tiendicant Friars— Their Disorders and Popular Indignation 
 
 — WicklifTe- His Success— Speeches of the Peers against 
 
 the Papal Tribute— Agreement of Bruges— Coui-tenay and 
 
 Lancaster- Wjckliffo before the Convocation— Altercation 
 
 Pack 
 between Lancaster and Courtenay — Riot — Tlireo Briefs 
 against WicklifTe— Wicklilfo at Lambeth- Mission of tho 
 Poor PriaU— Their Preachings and Persecutions— Wickliflo 
 and the Four Regents, 5SI 
 
 CHAPTER VIll. 
 The Bible-Wickliffe's Ti-anslation- Effects of its Publication- 
 Opposition of the Clergy— Wickliffo's Fourth Phasis— 
 Transubstantiation — Excommnnication — Wicklifle's Firm- 
 ness-Wat Tyler— The Synod— Tlic Condemned Propositions 
 — Wickliffe's Petition — Wickliffo before the Primate at 
 OxfonI— Wickliffo Summoned to Rome— His Answer— The 
 Trialogue— His Death— And Character— His Teaching— His 
 Ecclesiastical Views- A Prophecy, 585 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Tho Wickliflites— Call for Refonn— Richanl II.— Tho First 
 Martyr— Lord Cobham — Appears before Henry V. — Before 
 the Archbishop— His Confession and Death— The Lollards, 590 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Learning at Florence— The Tudors— Erasmus visits England- 
 Sir Thomas More— Dean Colet — Erasmus and young Henry 
 — Prince Arthur .and Catherine— Marriage and Death — 
 Catherine Betrothed to Henry — Accession of Henry VIII. — 
 Enthusiasm of the Learned— Erasmus Recalled to England 
 —Cromwell before the Pope— Catherine proposed to Henry 
 — Their Marriage and Court — Tournaments — Henry's 
 Danger, 591 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 The Pope excites to War— Colet's Sermon at St. Paul's— Tlio 
 Flemish Campaign— Marriage of Louis XII. and Princess 
 Mary — Letter from Anne Bolcyn— Mtirriage of Brandon and 
 Mary— Oxford— Sir Tliomas More at Court— Attack upon 
 the Monasteries— Colet's Household- He Preaches Refonu 
 —The Greeks and Trojans, 597 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 Wolscy— His First Commission— His Complaisance iind Dioceses 
 —Cardinal, Cliaucellor, and Legate— Ostentation and Nec- 
 romancy—His Spies and Enmity— Pretensions of the Clergy, 600 
 
 CHAPTER Xin. 
 Tlie Wolves— Richard Hun— A Murder— Verdict of the Jury- 
 Hun Condemned, and liis Character Vindicated — Tlio 
 Gravesend Passage-boat— A Festival Disturbed— Brown 
 Tortured— Visit from his Wife— A Martyr— Cliaracter of 
 Erasmus— 1516 and 1517— Erasmus goes to Bale, . . 602 
 
 BOOK XVIII. 
 
 TIIK REVIVAL OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 Four Reforming Powers —Wliich Rcfoi-nied Engl.and ?— Papal 
 
 Reform?- Episcopal Refonn f—Pujyal Reform?- What is 
 
 nquired in a legitimate Reform ?— The Share of the Kingly 
 
 Power- The Share of the Episcopal Autbority— High and 
 
 Low CTrarcb— Political Events— The Greek and Latin New 
 Testament— Tlioughts of Erasmus— Enthusiasm and Anger 
 —Desire of Erasmus— Clamours of the Priests— Tlieir 
 Attack at Court— Astonishment of Erasmus— His Labours 
 for this Work— Edward Lee ; his Character— Lee's Tragedy 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 Effects of the New Testament in the Universities — Conversations 
 — A Camhridge Fellow — Bilney buys the New Testament — 
 The First Passage^His Conversion — Protestantism, the 
 Fruit of the Gospel— The Vale of the Severn— William 
 Tjmdale- Evangelization at Oxford— Bilney Teaches at 
 Cambridge — Fryth — Is Conversion Possible?— True Con- 
 secration—The Eeformation has begim, . . . .609 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Alarm of the Qergy— The Two Days— Thomas Man's Preaching 
 — True Real Presence — Persecutions at Coventry — Standish 
 Preaches at St. Paul's — His Petition to the King and Queen 
 ^His Arguments and Defeat— Wolsey's Ambition — First 
 Overtures — Henry and Francis Candidates for the Empire- 
 Conference between Francis I. and Sir T. Boleyn — The Tiara 
 promised to Wolsey — The Cardinal's Intrigues with Cliarles 
 and Francis, 612 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Tyndale— Sodbury Hall— Sir John and Lady Walsh— Table-talk 
 —The Holy Scriptm-es— The Images— The Anchor of Faith 
 —A Roman Camp— Preaching of Faith and Works— Tyndale 
 Accused by the Priests — Tliey Tear up what he has Planted 
 — TjTidale Resolves to Translate the Bible— His First 
 Triumph— The Priests in the Taverns— Tyndale Summoned 
 before the Chancellor of Worcester— Consoled by an Aged 
 Doctor— Attacked by a Schoolman — His Secret becomes 
 known— He leaves Sodbury Hall, 615 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Luther's Works in England — Consultation of the Bishops — The 
 Bull of Leo X. Published in England— Luther's Books Burnt 
 — Letter of Henry VIII.— He undertakes to Write against 
 Luther— Cry of Alarm— Tradition and SacramentaUsm— 
 Prudence of Sir T. More— The Book presented to the Pope 
 — Defender of the Fait/i—Ex\3ltntionoi the King, , .618 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Wolsey's Machinations to obtain the Tiara — He gains Charles V. 
 — Alliance between Henry and Charles — Wolsey offers to 
 Command the Troops— Treaty of Bruges— Henry believes 
 himself King of France— Victories of Francis I.— Death of 
 LeoX., 620 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 The Just Men of Lincolnshu-e- Their Assemblies and Teaching 
 —Agnes and Morden— Itmerant Librai-ies— Polemical Con- 
 versations—Sarcasm—Royal Decree and Terror— Depositions 
 and Condemnations— Four Martyrs— A Conclave— Charles 
 consoles Wolsey, 622 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Character of Tyndale — He Arrives in London — He Preaches — 
 The Cloth and the EU— The Bishop of London gives Audience 
 to Tj-ndale— He is Dismissed— A Christian Merchant of 
 London — Spii'it of Love in the Eeformation — Tyndale in 
 Monmouth's House — Fryth helps him to Translate the New 
 Testament — Importunities of the Bishop of Lincoln — Per- 
 secution in London— Tyndale's Resolution— He Departs— 
 His Indignation against the Prelates— His Hopes, . , ( 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Bilney at Cambridge— Conversions — The University Cross-bearei 
 —A Leicestershire Farmer— A Party of Students — Super- 
 stitious Practices — An Obstmate Papist — The Sophists— 
 Latimer Attacks Stafford— BUney's Resolution— Latimer 
 hears Bihiey's Confession— Confessor Converted— New Life 
 in Latimer — Bihiey Preaches Grace — Nature of the Ministiy 
 — Latimer's Character and Teaching — Works of Charity- 
 Three Classes of Adversai-ies— Clark and Dalaber, . , I 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Wolsey seeks the Tiara— Clement VII. is Elected— Wolsey's 
 Dissimulation — Charles OfTers France to Henry — Pace's 
 Mission on this Subject— Wolsey Refonns the Convents— 
 His Secret Alliances— Treaty between France and England 
 — Taxation and Insurrection — False Charges against the 
 Reformers— Latimer's Defence— Tenterden Steeple, . . i 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Tyndale at Hamburg— First Two Gospels— EmbaiTassment— 
 Tyndale at Wittemberg— At Cologne— The New Testament 
 at Press— Sudden Inten-uption— Cochlffius at Cologne — 
 Rupert's Manuscripts— Discovery of Cochlceus— His Inquiries 
 — His Alarm— Rincke and the Senate's Prohibition— Con- 
 sternation and Decision of Tyndale— Cochlceus Writes to 
 England — Tyndale Ascends the Rhine— Prints Two Editions 
 at Worms — Tyndale's Prayer, ( 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Worms and Cambridge — St. Paul Resuscitated— Latimer's 
 Preaching— Never Man spake like this Man— Joy and 
 Vexation at Cambridge — Sermon by Prior Buckingham — 
 Irony — Latimer's Reply to Buckingham — The Students 
 Threatened— Latimer Preaches before the Bishop — He is 
 forbidden to Preach— The most Zealous of Bishops— Barnes, 
 the Restorer of Letters— Bilney undertakes to Convert him 
 — Barnes offers his Pulpit to Latimer — Fryth's Thirst for 
 God— Christmas Eve, 1525— Storm against Barnes— Ferment 
 in the Colleges — Germany at Cambridge— Meetmgs at 
 Oxford— General Expectation, ( 
 
 BOOK XIX. 
 
 THE ENGLISH NEW TESTAMENT AND THE COURT OF ROME. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Church and State essentially Distmct - Tlieir Fundamental 
 Principles— What restores Life to the Church— Separation 
 fi-om Rome necessarj-- Reform and Liberty— The New 
 Testament Crosses the Sea— Is Hidden in London— Garret's 
 Preaching and Zeal — Dissemination of Scripture— What 
 
 the People find in it— The Effects it Produces— Tyndale's 
 Explanations — Roper, More's Son-in-law— Garret canies 
 Tj-ndale's Testament to Oxford— Henry and his Valet— 
 Tlie Supplication of the Beggars— Two Sorts of Beggars- 
 Evils caused by Priests — More's Supplications of the Souls 
 In Purgatory, 612 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XXI 
 
 Faob 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Two Authorities— Commencement of tlic So.iioh— Garrut nt 
 Oxfunl— Ilia Flight — Uis Return nnd Imprisonment- 
 Escapes and tnkca Rofugowith Dalabor— Garret and Dalalwr 
 ut Prayer— The .Vajiii/icat— Surprise among the Doctors 
 —Clark's Advice — Fraternal Lovo at Oxfonl-Alann of 
 Dalaber— His Arrest and Examination— He is Tortured— 
 Gamst and Twenty Follows Iniprisoncd-Tlie Cellar— Con- 
 demnation and Humiliation, CW 
 
 C'ilAPTEi: III. 
 Persecution at Cambridge— Barnes Arrcsteil— A Grand Search 
 —Barnes at Wolsey's Palace- lutciTogatcd by the Caiilinal 
 — Conversation between Wolsey and Barnes — Barnes 
 Threatened with the Stiikc— His Fall and Public Penance 
 —Richard Bayfield- His Faith and Imprisonment— Visits 
 Cambridge— Joins Tj-ndale- The Confessors in the Cellar 
 »t Oxforxl— Four of them Die— The rest Liberated, . . 619 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Luther's Letter to the King — Henrj's Anger- His Reply- 
 Luther's Resolution- Persecutions— Barnes Escapes — Pro- 
 clamations against the New Testament— W. Roy to Caiaphas 
 —Third Edition of the New Testament— The Triumph of 
 Law and Liberty— Hacket attacks the Printer— Racket's 
 Complaints- A Seizure- The Year 1526 in England, . . 652 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Wolsey desires to be Revenged— The Divorce Suggested— Henrj-'s 
 Sentiments towards the Queen— Wolsey 's First Steps— 
 Longlaud's Proceedings— Refus.al of Margaret of Valois— 
 Objection of the Bishop of Tarbes— Henrj's Uneasiness- 
 Catherine's Alarm— Mission to Spain, . . . .651 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 le Bolej-u appointed Maid of Honour to Catherine— Lord 
 Percy becomes Attached to her— Wolsey Separates them— 
 Anne enters Margaret's Household— Siege of Rome; Crom- 
 well— Wolsey's Intercession for the Popedom— He demands 
 the Hand of Rcnee of France for Henry- Failure— Anne 
 Re-appears at Court— Repels the King's Advances- Henry's 
 Letter— He resolves to accelerate the Divorce— Two Jlotives 
 which Induce Anne to Refuse the Cro«-n — Wolsey's 
 Opposition, 056 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Bilney's Preaching— His Arrest— Arthur's Preaching and Ini- 
 prisoument— Bilney's Exaiuiaation— Contest between the 
 
 Paoe 
 Judge and the Prisoner- Bilney's Weakness and Fall— His 
 Terrors— Two Wants— Arrival of the Fourth Edition of the 
 New Testament— Joy among the Believers, . . . 659 
 
 CHAPTER Vlll. 
 The Papacy intercepts the Gospel— Tlie King consults Sir Tliomas 
 Mor«— Ecclesiastical Conferences about tlio Divorce— Tho 
 Universities— Clark— The Nun of Kent— Wolsey Decides to 
 do the King's Will— Mission to the Pope— Four Documents 
 —Embarrassment of Charles V. — Francis Philip at Madrid 
 —Distress and Resolution of Charles— He tunis away from 
 the Reformation- Conference at the Castle of St. Augelo- 
 Knifiht Arrives in Italy— His Flight— Treaty between the 
 Pope and tho Emperor— Escape of the Pope— Confusion of 
 Henry VIII.— Wolsey's Orders- His Entreaties, . . 602 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The English Envoys at Orvicto— Tlieir Oration to tho Pope 
 —Clement gains Time- Tho Envoys and Cardinal Sanc- 
 torum Quatuor— Stratagem of the Pope — Knight discovers 
 it and Returns— The Transfonnations of Antichrist— Tlie 
 English obtain a new Document— Fresh Stratagem— Demand 
 of a Second Cardinal-Ieg.ite— The Pope's New Expedient- 
 End of tho Campaign, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Disappointment in England— War declared against Cliarlcs V. — 
 Wolsey desires to get him Deposed by tho Pope- A New 
 Scheme- Embassy of Fox and Gardiner— Their Arrival at 
 Orvieto— Their First Interview with Clement— The Pope 
 reads a Treatise by Henry— Gardiner's Tlireats and Clement's 
 Promise— The Modem Fabius- Fresh Interview and Menaces 
 —Tlie Pope has not the A'ey- Gardiner's Proposition- 
 Difficulties and Delays of the Cardinals— Gardiner's Last 
 Blows— Reverses of Charles V. in Italy— The Pope's Terror 
 and Concession— The Commission granted— Wolsey demands 
 the Engagement— K Loophole— The Pope's Distress, . ( 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Fox's Report to Henry and Anno— Wolsey's Impression- Ha 
 demands the Decretal— One of the Cardinal's petty Manaiu- 
 vrcs— He sets his Conscience at Rest— Gardiner Fails at 
 Rome— Wolsey's New Perfuly-Tlio ICing's Anger against 
 the Pope— Sir T. More predicts Religious Liberty— Immo- 
 rality of Ultramontane Socialism— Erasmus Invited— Wol- 
 sey's last Flight— Energetic Efforts at Rome- Clement 
 Grants all — Wolsey Triumphs — Union of Romo .and 
 England, ^H 
 
 BOOK XX. 
 
 THE TWO DIVORCES. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 Progress of the Refoiination— The two Divorces— Entreaties to 
 Anne Boleyn— The Letters in the Vatican— Henry to Anne 
 — Henr7'8 Second Letter— Third— Fourth— Wolsey's Alarm 
 
 —His fruitless Procwdings— He tnms- Tlie Sweating Sick- 
 ness-Henry's Fears- New Letters to Anno— Anne falls 
 Sick ; her Peace— Henry Writes to her— Wolsey's Terror- 
 Campegglo does not Arrive— All Dissemble at Court, . 675 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 Coverdale and Inspiration— He undertakes to Translate the 
 Scriptures — His Joy and Spiritual Songs— Tyball and the 
 Laymen— Coverdale Preaches at Bumpstead — Revival at 
 Colchester— Incomplete Societies and the New Testament — 
 Persecution — Monmouth Ai-rested and Released, . . 679 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Political Changes— Fresh Instructions from the Pope to Cam- 
 peggio— His Delays— He unbosoms himself to Francis— A 
 Prediction— Arrival of Campeggio— Wolsey's Uneasiness — 
 Henry's Satisfaction— The Cardinal's Project — Campeggio's 
 Reception— First Interview with the Queen and with the 
 King — Useless Efforts to make Campeggio part with the 
 Decretal— Tlie Nuncio's Conscience— Public Opinion- Mea- 
 sures taken by the King— His Speech to the Lords and 
 Aldermen — Festivities — Wolsey seeks French Support- 
 Contrariety, 68-2 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Trnc Catholicity— Wolsey— Harman's Matter— West sent to 
 Cologne— Labours of Tyndale and Fr.'th — Rincke at Frank- 
 fort—He makes a Discovery — Tyndale at Marburg— West 
 Returns to England— His Tortures in the Monastery, . 637 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Necessity of the Reformation — Wolsey's Earnestness with Da 
 C'asale— An Audience with Clement VII.— Cruel Position of 
 the Pope— A Judas Kiss — A new Brief — Bryan and Vaunes 
 sent to Rome— Henry and Du Bellay — Wolsey's Reasons 
 against the Brief — Excitement in London — Metamorphosis 
 —Wolsey's Decline-His Auguish, 690 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Pope's Illness— Wolsey's Desire— Conference about the 
 Members of the Conclave — Wolsey's Instructions — The Popo 
 Recovers— Speech of the English Envoys to the Pope— 
 Clement willing to abandon England — The English demand 
 tlie Pope's Denial of the Brief^Wolsey's Alai-ra — Intrigues 
 — Bryan's Clearsightedness — Henry's Threats— Wolsey's 
 new Efforts— He calls for an Appeal to Rome and Retracts 
 —Wolsey and Du Bellay at Richmond- Tlie Ship of the 
 
 tate. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Discnssion between the Evangelicals and the Catholics— Union 
 of Le.aniiiig and Life— The Laity— Tewkesbury — His Ap- 
 pearance before the Bishops' Court — He is Tortured — Two 
 Classes of Opponents— A Theological Duel — Scripture and 
 the Church — Emancipation of the Mind— Mission to the 
 Low Countries — Tyndale's Embarrassment — Tonstall wishes 
 to buy the Books— Packington's Stratagem— Tyndale De- 
 parts for Antwerp— His ShipwTeck— Arrival at Hamburg- 
 Meets Coverdale, ( 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Royal Session— Sitting of the ISth June : the Queen's Pro- 
 test—Sitting of the 21st June — Summons to the King and 
 Queen— Catherine's Speech— She Retires— Impression on 
 the Audience— Tlie King's Declaration— Wolsey's Protest- 
 Quarrel between the Bishops— New Sitting— Apparition to 
 the Maid of Kent— Wolsey chafed by Henry— The Earl of 
 Wiltshire at Wolsey's— Private Conference between Catherine 
 and the two Legates, i 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Tlie Trial Resuin cd— Catherine Summoned— Twelve Articles— 
 The Witnesses' Evidence— Arthur and Catherine really Mar- 
 ried— Campeggio opposes the Argument of Divine Right- 
 Other Arguments— The Legates required to Deliver Judg- 
 ment — Their Tergiversations— Change in Men's Minds — 
 Final Session— General Expectation— Adjournment during 
 Harvest— Campeggio Excuses this Impertmence— The King's 
 Indignation— Suffolli's Violence— Wolsey's Reply — He is 
 Ruined— General Accusations— The Cardinal turns to an 
 Episcopal Life, 701 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Anne Bole3m at Hever- She Reads the Obedience of a Cliristian 
 Man— Is Recalled to Court— Miss Gainsford and George 
 Zouch — Tyndale's Book Converts Zouch — Zouch in tha 
 Chapel-Royal— The Book seized — Anne applies to Henrj-- 
 Tlie King reads the Book — Pretended Inlluence of the Book 
 on Henry— The Court at Woodstock — The Park and its 
 Goblins— Henry's Esteem for Anne, 703 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Embarrassment of the Pope— The Triumphs of Charles decide 
 hiin — He Traverses the Cause to Rome — Wolsey's Dejeotion 
 — Henry's Wrath— His Fears — Wolsey obtains Comfort- 
 Arrival of the two Legates at Grafton— Wolsey's Reception 
 by Henry— Wolsey and Norfolk at Dinner— Henry with 
 Anne— Conference between the King and the Cardinal — 
 Wolsey's Joy and Grief — The Supper at Euston — Cam- 
 peggio's Farewell Audience— Wolsey's Disgrace— Campeggio 
 at Dover— He is Accused by the Courtiers— Leaves England 
 —Wolsey foresees his own Fall an.l that of the Papacy, . 705 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 A Meeting at Waltham— Youth of Thomas Cranmer— His Early 
 Education— Studies Scripture for Three Years — His Fimc- 
 tions as Examiner — The Supper at Waltham — New View of 
 the Divorce — Foxe Communicates it to Henry — Cranmer's 
 Vexation — Conference with the King— Cranmer at the 
 Boleyns, 703 
 
 CHAPTER Xlll. 
 Wolsey in the Court of Cliancery— AccusclI by the Dukes— 
 Refuses to give up the Great Seal — His Despair— He gives 
 up the Seal— Order to Depart — His Inventory — Alarm— 
 The Scene of Dep.arture — Favouraljle Message from the 
 King— Wolsey's Joy— His Fool— Arrival at Esher, . . 711 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Thomas More elected Cliancellor — A Lay Government one of the 
 great Facts of the Reformation— Wolsey Accused of Subor- 
 dinating England to the Pope— He Implores the King's 
 Clemency— His Condemnation — Cromwell at Esher— His 
 Cliaracter- He sets out for London— Sir Christopher Hales 
 Recommends him to the King— Cromwell's Interview with 
 Henry in the Park— A New Theory— Cromwell Elected 
 Member of Parliament— Opened by Sir Tlioiuas More — 
 Attack on Ecclesiastical Abuses- Reforms Pronoimced by 
 the Convocation— Tliree Bills — Rochester Attacks them — 
 Resistance of the House of Commons — Straggles — Henry 
 Sanctions the Three Bills— Alarm of the Clergy, and Dis- 
 turbances, 71 i 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The lAst Hour— Moro's Fanntidsiu— Debates Ui Convocation — 
 Royal Proclamation —The Biahop of Norwich— Suntoncca 
 Coudemnetl— Latimer's Opposition —Tim New Tastaniont 
 Burnt— The Persecution Begius-IIilton- Bayfluld— Tonstall 
 (nd Packington— Baylielil Arrested- The Rector Patmoro— 
 LoUanl's Tower— Tyndolo and Patmoro-A Musician— Freeso 
 the Painter— Placanls and Martynlom of Bonnet—Thomas 
 Uoro and Jolm Petit— Bilucy, 717 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 ulsey's Terror- Impeachment hy the Peers- Cromwell Saves 
 him — The Cardinal's Illness- Ambition returns to him — 
 His Practices in Yorksliire— He is Arrested by Northum- 
 berland—His Departure— Arrival of the Constable of tho 
 Tower — Wolsey at lioicester Abbey — Persecuting Languago 
 —Ho Dies— Tlirco Movements ; Supremacy, Scripture, and 
 Faith. 722 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL. 
 
 PovKBTY— Scene : St George's Square, Eisenach, 1493. 
 
 TnK School— The Scene takes place before the Mansfeld Grammar School, 143*-1497. 
 
 Tu« Bible— Scene: The University Library at Erfurt, 1503. 
 
 Tub C.iLL FKOM God — Scene: The Gate of the University Library, Erfurt, 1505. 
 
 Hl'MlUATlON — Scene: Gate of the Augustine Monastery at Erfurt, Autumn, 1505. 
 
 The I.SDCLGEXIE.-5 ; OB, THE XuNETV-FivE Propositioxs — Scene in front of All Saints' Church, Wittemberg. Slst October, 1517. 
 
 LiTiiER BrR.sixo THE Pope's Bcll — Scene in front of the East Gate of Wittemberg, 10th December, 1520. 
 
 The Diet or Worms— Scene: Hall of the Diet, 13th April, 1521. 
 
 LcTHEB o.v TUE WARTBrRG — 1th May 1521 ; 4th March, 1522. 
 
 TuE M.UIRI.ICE— Scene: Amsdorflf's House at Wittemberg. 
 
 Domestic Life- Scene : A Room in Luther's House at Wittemberg, — on the walla are Portraits of the Reformer's Friends, 153C. 
 
 Victory is Death— Eisleben, the night of the 18th February, 1546. 
 
 ENGRAVINGS 
 
 ON WOOD. 
 
 Hum before the Council, .... 
 
 Huss Preaching, 
 
 Heidelberg, 
 
 Erasmus in his Study, .... 
 
 Cologne, 
 
 Mayence Cathedral 
 
 Banhea of Constantine, Treves, . 
 
 Town Walls, Nuremberg 
 
 Hans Sachs' House, Nuremberg, 
 
 Magdebourg, 
 
 Augustine Convent, Erfurt, 
 
 Wittemberg 
 
 Bologna, 
 
 Rome, 
 
 Arch of Titus, Rome 
 
 Mayence, 
 
 The Aniscl, near Dresden, .... 
 
 Fribourg Cathedral 
 
 The Old Council-House, Leipsic, 
 
 Leo X., (from an original picture by Raffaelle,) 
 
 St Peter's, Rome, 
 
 Kuremberg Cistle, 
 
 Luther's House, Frankfort, 
 
 Cologne Cathedral, 
 
 Dr. Eek, 
 
 The Rhine at Bacharach, 
 
 Melancthon, (from the original by Albert Durer in the 
 
 British Portrait GaUerv,) 
 Wc 
 
 Albert Durcr's Studio, Nuremberg, 
 Cardinal's Hat, 
 VaUey of the MoscUe, 
 Fwderick of Saxony, 
 Bed CoUege, Leipdc, 
 
 Bile, 
 
 Town Hall, Leipsic, 
 
 Palace of the Pleissenburg, Leipsic, . 
 
 St Thomas's Church, Leipsic, .... 
 
 Church of St. Nicholas, Leipsic, 
 
 Peter's Gate, Leipsic, 
 
 Cathedral, St Peter's, Prague, .... 
 Luther's Memorial, Worms, .... 
 Charles V., (from the original by Holbein,) 
 St Mary's Church, Dresden, .... 
 FrancU L, (after the Portrait by Titians,) . 
 
 Church, Auc-laChapelle, 
 
 Church of Apostles, Cologne, .... 
 
 Cathedral, Mentz, 
 
 Luther's Cell, Erfurt, 
 
 Cathedral of Worms 
 
 Eeinhardsbrunn, 
 
 Martin Bucer 
 
 Philip the Magnanimous, Mangrave of Hesse, (from : 
 
 old German print,) 
 
 Frankfort 
 
 Friedberg, 
 
 Eisenach, 
 
 Altenstein, 
 
 The Wartburg, 
 
 TeUs Chapel, 
 
 Zwingle's Birthplace, 
 
 Lausanne Cathedral, 
 
 Gate, St. Paul's, Bile. 
 
 Zwingle, 
 
 QDooLimpadius, 
 
 HohenzoUem, 
 
 Sch\vitz, 
 
 St Gothard's Pass, 
 
 Paci 
 133 
 140 
 141 
 141 
 14S 
 14S 
 152 
 152 
 153 
 155 
 156 
 157 
 157 
 1S4 
 1S4 
 192 
 197 
 200 
 
XXVI 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Duterwaldeu 232 
 
 Lucerne 232 
 
 Baths of Pfeffers, 237 
 
 Cathedral of Zurich 240 
 
 Baden, 240 
 
 Schafifhausen, 241 
 
 Avigaon, 24S 
 
 Appenzel, 232 
 
 Berne Cathedral 2o6 
 
 Friburg Cathedral, 256 
 
 Entrance Hall, Wartburg 261 
 
 La Sorbonne, Paris, 268 
 
 Cathedral, Ulm 2SS 
 
 Palace of Henry v., Heidelberg 291 
 
 St. Gudule, Brussels, 301 
 
 Stuttgard 304 
 
 Hotel de ViUe, Puatisbon, 305 
 
 Eatisbon, 308 
 
 Brienz, 325 
 
 Coblentz 332 
 
 Biile Cathedral, 340 
 
 Lake Zurich, 341 
 
 St. GaU, 353 
 
 Farel, 360 
 
 Cathedral, Tours, 360 
 
 Geneva, 364 
 
 Noyon Cathedra! 365 
 
 Margaret of Valois, 368 
 
 Meaux, 372 
 
 Meaux Cathedral 373 
 
 Mentz, 380 
 
 Lyons, 3So 
 
 Cathedral of Lyons 3S8 
 
 Strasburg, 397 
 
 Cathedral, Nancy, 400 
 
 Pont-a-Mousson, 400 
 
 Ducal Palace, Nancy, 400 
 
 Notre Dame, Paris, 401 
 
 Cathedral, Noyon, 401 
 
 Calvin's House, Noyon 404 
 
 St. Germaine I'Auxerrois, Paris, .... 404 
 
 Fortress, Pont-a-Mousson, 404 
 
 Church of St. Thomas, Strasbur^', .... 405 
 
 The Rhone at Avignon 405 
 
 House, Lyons 407 
 
 Berlin, 420 
 
 Munich 421 
 
 Spires, 424 
 
 Cathedral, Spires, 428 
 
 Spires 429 
 
 Strasburg 432 
 
 Augsburg, 448 
 
 Munich Cathedral, 452 
 
 Lindau 472 
 
 Geneva, 487 
 
 St. Maurice, 489 
 
 Lausanne, 492 
 
 Berne 493 
 
 Arau, 500 
 
 LakeofThun 500 
 
 Interlakeu, 501 
 
 Giesbach 501 
 
 Page 
 
 Bale 501 
 
 Cathedral, St. Gall, 504 
 
 Thun, 504 
 
 Schaffhausen, 584 
 
 Cathedral, Str.isburg, 505 
 
 Crypt, Bale Cathedral, 50S 
 
 Friburg 508 
 
 Vevay, 512 
 
 Pierre-Pertuis, 513 
 
 Velangin, 513 
 
 Locarno, 520 
 
 Zurich, 524 
 
 Como, 528 
 
 Bregentz, 532 
 
 Grutli 544 
 
 Zwingle Leaving Zurich 518 
 
 The Clyde, near Kilpatrick, 5C0 
 
 lona, 564 
 
 Interior, St. Chappelle, Paris, 569 
 
 St. Mary's Abbey, York, 572 
 
 Elizabeth's Tomb, Westminster Abbey, ... 576 
 
 Thomas a Becket's Chapel, 577 
 
 Clause of Magna Charta 577 
 
 Lincoln Cathedral, Ch.apter House, .... 5S0 
 
 Braseuose College, Oxford 500 
 
 Wickliffe, (after the original in the collection of the 
 
 Duke of Dorset,) 581 
 
 Old St. Paul's 584 
 
 Lutterworth Church, 584 
 
 Lambeth Palace, 585 
 
 Pvuins of Savoy Palace 585 
 
 St. Paul's Cross, 5S9 
 
 Burning at Smithfield, 592 
 
 Pontefract Castle 392 
 
 Chantryof Henry v., Westminster Abbey, . . 593 
 
 Sir Thomas More's House 596 
 
 Henry VIII., (after Holbein's picture,) . . . 596 
 
 Wolsey, eOO 
 
 Richmond Palace COl 
 
 The Arrest of John Brown, 004 
 
 The Lollard's Prison COS 
 
 Tyndale, CI 2 
 
 Doorway, King's College, Cambridge, . . . C12 
 
 Latimer, 028 
 
 Cologne Cathedral, C33 
 
 St. John's, Cambridge, G40 
 
 Eltham Palace, 64-1 
 
 Greenwich, C5G 
 
 Hampton Cotirt, C61 
 
 Sir Thomas More, (after Holbein's Picture,) . . 664 
 
 Palm Sunday, 072 
 
 Anne Boleyn, 670 
 
 Anne Boleyn's Box 676 
 
 Waltham Abbey Church, CSO 
 
 ILatfield, CSl 
 
 Great Tom at Oxford 688 
 
 Cranmer, (after the original in tlie coUectiou at Lam- 
 beth Palace,) 712 
 
 Dmh.am House, 712 
 
 Wolsey's Hall, Hampton Coiu't, . . . . 713 
 
 State Prison, Tower, 721 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 
 
 SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 STATF. or MATTERS nEFOKK TIIR REFOR\[ATION. 
 
 ( IIAPTER I. 
 
 CliriillAnlly— Tw-o dUllngiiisliing Principles— Formation of the Papacy— 
 Ftret Encroachments— Influence of Rome — Co-operation of Bishops and 
 Factions— Eitemal Unity of the Chiin-h- Internal Vnity of the Church 
 —Primacy of St Peter— Patriarchates-Co-operation of Princes— Influ- 
 ence of the Barbarians- Rome Invokes the Fmnks— SccuUr Power— 
 Pepin and Charlemagne— Tlie Decretals— Disorders of Rome— Tl;e 
 EmpcMrthe Pope's Liege Lord— Hildebrand— His Character— Celibacy 
 — StrTiggle with the Emperor — Emancipation of the Pope — Hildebrand'H 
 Successois— The Crcsades— Tlie Church— Cormption of Doctrine. 
 
 The cnfcebleil ■\vorlJ was rockin)i on its base •when 
 Chrislianity ai)|icared. National religions wliicli had 
 giiHioed for the fathers, could no longer satisfy the 
 children. The new generation could not be moulded 
 in the ancient forms. The pods of all nation.s, tran.*- 
 ported to Rome, had there lost their oracles, as the 
 nations had there lost their liberty. Brought face to 
 face in the Capitol, they had mutually destroyed eacit 
 other, and their divinity had di.sappeared. A great 
 void had been made in the religion of the world. 
 
 A kind of Deism, destitute of spirit and life, kept 
 floating, fur soute time, over the abyss in which the 
 vigorous superstitions of the ancients were engulfed. 
 IJut. like all negative beliefs, it was unable to build. 
 Nan-ow national distinctions fell with the gods, and 
 the nations melted down into one another. In Europe, 
 Asia, and Africa, there was now only one empire, 
 and the human race began to feel its universality and 
 its unity. 
 
 Then the Word was made flesh. 
 
 God appeared among men, and as a man, " to save 
 that which was lost." lu Jesus of Nazareth " dwelt 
 all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." 
 
 Tills is the greatest event in the annals of the world. 
 Ancient times had prepared it. — new times flow from 
 it. It is their centre, their bond, and their unity. 
 
 Thenceforth all the popular superstitions were with- 
 out me.ining; and tlie slender remains which they had 
 saved from the great shipwreck of infidelity sank be- 
 fore the Majestic Sim of eternal truth. 
 
 The Son of Man lived thirty-three years here below, 
 rnring the sick, instructing sinners, liaving uo place 
 
 where to lay His head, yet displaying, iii the depth of 
 this humiliation, a grandeur, ji holiness, a po\vi-r, and 
 divinity, which the world had never known. lie suf- 
 fered, died, rose again, and ascended to heaven. His 
 disciples, beginning at Jerusalem, tr.ivcrsed the empire 
 and the world, everywhere proclaiming their Master 
 " the Author of eternal salvation." From the heart of 
 a nation which stood aloof from all nations, came forth 
 a mercy which invited and eml>raced all. A great 
 number of Asiatics. Greeks, and Koinaiis. till then led 
 by priests to the feet of dumb idols, lielieved the Word 
 which suddenly illumined the eartli " like a sunbeam," 
 as Eusebius expresses it. A breath of life began to 
 move over this vast field of death. A new people, a 
 holy nation, was formed among men ; and the astonished 
 world beheld, in the di,«ciples of the G.llilean, a purity, 
 a self-denial, a charity, a heroi.'sm. of which it had lost 
 even the idea. 
 
 Two i)rinciples, in particular, distinguished the new 
 religion from all the human systems which it drove 
 before it. The one related to the ministers of worsliip, 
 the other to doctrine. 
 
 The ministers of Paganism were in a manner the 
 gods whom those human religions worshipped. The 
 priests of Egypt, Gaul, Scythi.a, Germany. Britain, 
 and Ilindostan, led the people .so long, at le.ast, as the 
 eyes of the people were unopened. Jesus Christ, no 
 doubt, established a ministry, but He did not found a 
 particular priesthood. lie dethroned the living idols 
 of the nations, dosti-oycd a proud hierarchy, took from 
 man what inau had taken from God, and brought the 
 soul again into immediate contact with the Divine 
 source of truth, proclaiming himself sole Master and 
 sole Mediator. — " One is your M.tsier. even Christ," 
 .said He; "and all ye are brethren," (Matt, x.viii. 8.) 
 
 In regard to doctrine, human religions had taught 
 that salvation was of man. The religions of the earth 
 had framed an earthly religion. They had told man 
 that heaven would be given him as a hire — they had 
 fixed its j)rice; and what a price I The religion of 
 God taught that salvation c.ime from God. was a gift 
 from heaven, the result of an amnesty, of an act of 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 grace by the Sovereign. '• C4od," it is said, " has given 
 eternal life." 
 
 It is true, Christianity cannot be summed up under 
 these two heads, but they seem to rule the subject, 
 especially where history is concerned ; and as we can- 
 not possibly trace the opposition between truth and 
 error in all points, we must select those of them 
 which are most prominent. 
 
 Such, then, were two of the constituent principles 
 of the religion which at that time took possession of 
 the empire, and of the world. With them we are 
 within the true landmarks of Christianity — out of 
 them Christianity disappears. On the preservation 
 or the loss of them depended its gi-eatness or its fall. 
 They are intimately connected ; for it is impossible to 
 exalt the priests of the Church, or the works of be- 
 lievers, without lowering Jesus Christ in His double 
 capacity of Mediator and Redeemer. The one of 
 these principles should rule the history of religion, 
 the other should rule its doctrine. Originally, both 
 were paramount ; let us see how they were lost. We 
 begin with the destinies of the former. 
 
 The Church was at first a society of brethren, under 
 the guidance of brethren. They were all taught of 
 God, and eacli was entitled to come to the Divine 
 fountain of light, and draw for himself, (John vi. 45.) 
 The Epistles, which then decided great questions of 
 doctrine, were not inscribed with the pompous name 
 of a single man — a head. The Holy Scriptures inform 
 us that the words were simply these, '■ The apostles, 
 elders, and brethren, to our brethren," (Acts xv. 23.) 
 
 But even the writings of the apostles intimate, that 
 from the midst of these brethren a power would rise 
 and subvert this simple and primitive order, (2 Thess. 
 ii. 2.) 
 
 Let us contemplate the formation, and follow the 
 development of this power — a power foreign to the 
 Church. 
 
 Paul of Tarsus, one of the greatest apostles of the 
 new religion, had arrived at Rome, the capital of the 
 empire and of the world, preaching the salvation 
 which comes from God. A church was formed be- 
 side the throne of the Ca3sars. Founded by this 
 apostle, it consisted at first of some converted Jews, 
 some Greeks, and some citizens of Rome. For a long 
 time it shone like a pure light on a mountain top. Its 
 faith was everywhere spoken of ; but at length it fell 
 away from its primitive condition. It was by small 
 beginnings that the two Romes paved their way to the 
 usurped dominion of the world. 
 
 The first pastors or bishops of Rome early engaged 
 in the conversion of the villages and towns around the 
 city. The necessity which the bishops aud pastors of 
 the Campagna di Roma felt of recurring, in cases of 
 difficulty, to an enlightened guide, and the gratitude 
 which they owed to the Church of the metropolis, led 
 them to remain in close union with it. AV'hat has 
 always been seen in analogous circumstances was seen 
 here ; this natural union soon degenerated into de- 
 pendence. The superiority which the neighbouring 
 churches had freely yielded, the bishops of Rome re- 
 garded as a right. The encroachments of power form 
 one large part of history, while the resistance of those 
 v/hose rights were invaded forms the other. Eccle- 
 
 siastical power could not escape the into.xication which 
 prompts all those who are raised to aim at rising still 
 higher. It yielded to this law of humanity and nature. 
 
 Nevertheless, the supremacy of the Roman bishop 
 was at this time limited to oversight of the churches 
 within the teri-itory civilly subject to the prefect of 
 Rome. But the rank which this city of the Emperors 
 held in the world, presented to the ambition of its first 
 pastor a larger destiny. The respect paid in the 
 second century to the different bishops of Christen- 
 dom was proportioned to the rank of the' city in which 
 they resided. Now Rome was the greatest,'the richest, 
 and the most powerful city in the world. It was the 
 seat of Empire, — the mother of nations ; '-All the in- 
 habitants of the earth belong to it," says Julian ; and 
 Claudian proclaims it '• the fountain of law." 
 
 If Rome is queen of the cities of the world, why 
 should not its pastor be the king of bishops ? AVhy 
 should not the Roman Church be the mother of 
 Christendom? Why should not the nations be her 
 children, and her authority their sovereign law ? It 
 was easy for the ambitious heart of man to reason in 
 this way. Ambitious Rome did so. 
 
 Thus Pagan Rome, when she fell, sent the proud 
 titles which her invincible sword had conquered from 
 the nations of the earth to the humble minister of the 
 God of peace seated amidst her ruins. 
 
 The bishops in the different quarters of the empire, 
 led away by tlie charm which Rome had for ages 
 exercised over all nations, followed the example of the 
 Campagna di Roma, and lent a hand to this work of 
 usurpation. They took pleasure in paying to the 
 Bishop of Rome somewhat of the honour which be- 
 longed to the Queen city of the world. At first there 
 was no dependence implied in this honour. They 
 treated the Roman pastor as equal does equal ; but 
 usurped powers grow like avalanches. What was at 
 first mere brotherly advice, soon became, in the mouth 
 of the Pontiff, obligatory command. In his eyes a 
 first place among equals was a throne. 
 
 The Western bishops favoured the designs of the 
 pastors of Rome, either from jealousy of the Easterii 
 bishops, or because they preferred the supremacy of a 
 pope to the domination of a temporal power. 
 
 On the other hand, the theological factions which 
 rent the East sought, each in its turn, to gain the 
 favour of Rome, anticipating their triumph from the 
 support of the principal Church of the West. 
 
 Rome carefully registered these requests, these media- 
 tions, aud smiled when she saw the nations throwing 
 themselves into her arms. She let slip no occasion 
 of increasing and extending her power. Praise, flat- 
 tery, extravagant compliments, consultation by other 
 churches, all became, in her eye,?, and in her hands, 
 titles and evidents of her authority. Such is man upon 
 the throne; incense intoxicates him, and his head turns. 
 What he has he regards as a motive to strive for 
 more. 
 
 Tiie doctrine of the Chiu'ch, and of the necessity of 
 her external unity, which began to prevail so early as 
 the third century, favoured the pretensions of Rome. 
 The primary idea of the Church is, that it is the as- 
 sembly of the saints, (1 Cor. i. 2.) the assembly of tiie 
 first-born whose names are written in heaven, (Heb. 
 
UNITY OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 xii. 2.1.) Still, however, the Church of the Lord is 
 not niori'ly iiiteriml uml iiivisihle. It must manifest 
 itself outwardly; and it was with a view to this mani- 
 festation that the Lord instituted the Sacraments of 
 Uaptisin and the Kucharist. The Church, considered 
 n.M external, has characteristics different from those 
 which distinguish her as the Church invisilile. The 
 internal Church, whicli is the body of Christ, is 
 necessarily and perpetually one. The visible Church, 
 doubtless," has part in this unity, but considered in her- 
 self, nndtiplicity is u churactcrislio. attributed to her 
 in the Scriptures of the New Testament. While they 
 speak to ns i.f a Church of God, they mention, when 
 speakin-; of the Church, as externally manifested, 
 •• the Churches of Galatia," "the Churches of Mace- 
 donia," " the Churches of .Indea," "all the Churches 
 of the .Saints." These ditYerent Churches, imques- 
 tjonnbly. may, to a certain extent, cultivate external 
 union; but though this tie be wanting, they lose none 
 of the essential qualities of the Church of Clirist. 
 lu primitive times, the great tic which luiited the 
 members of the Church was the living faith of the 
 heart, by which all held of Christ as their common 
 Head. 
 
 Various circumstances early contributed to originate 
 and develop the idea of the necessity of an external 
 unity. Men accustomed to the ties and political forms 
 of an earthly country, transferred some of their views 
 and customs to the spiritual and eternal kingdom of 
 Jesus Christ. I'ersecutiou, powerless to destroy, or 
 even to shake this new society, (U-cw its attention more 
 upon itself, and caused it to a.ssunic the form of a more 
 compact incorporation. To the error which sprinig 
 up in deistical schools, or among sects, was opposed 
 the one universal truth received from the Ajjostles, 
 and preserved in the Church. This was well, so long 
 as the invisible and spiritual Church w.is one with the 
 visible and external Church. But a serious divorce | 
 soon took place ; the form and the life separated from 
 Ciich other. The semblance of an identical and ex- 
 ternal organization wius gradually substituted for the 
 internal and spiritual unity which forms the essence of 
 genuine religion. The precious perfume of faith was 
 left out, and then men prostrated themselves before 
 the empty vase which h.nd contained it. The faith of 
 the heart no longer uniting the members of the Church, 
 another tie was sought, and they were united by means 
 of bishops, archbishops, popes, mitres, ceremonies, and 
 canons. The living Church having gradually retired 
 into the hidden sanctuary of some solitary souls, the 
 external Church was put in its place, and declared to 
 he, with all its forms, of Divine institution. Salva- 
 tion, no longer welling up from the henceforth hidden 
 Word, it wius maintained that it was transmitted by 
 means of the forms which had been devised, anil that 
 no man could possess it if he did not receive it through 
 this channel. None, it was said, can by his own 
 faith attain to eternal life. Christ communicate<l 
 to the Apostles, and the Apostles communicated 
 to the Bishops, the unction of the Holy Spirit ; 
 and this Spirit exists nowhere but in that order ! 
 Originally, whosoever had the Spirit of Jesus Christ 
 was u member of the Church; but the terms were 
 now reversed, and it was maintained that none but 
 
 members of the Church received the Spirit of Jesus 
 Christ.' 
 
 In proportion as these ideas gained ground, the dis- 
 tinction between clergy an<l i)eople became more 
 marked. The salvation of souls no longer depended 
 solely on faith in Christ, but also, and more especially, 
 on union with the Church. The representatives and 
 heads of the Church obtained a part of the confidence 
 due only to Jesus Christ, and in fact became mediators 
 for the Hock. The idea of the luiiversal j>riesthood of 
 Christians accordingly disapjieared step by step ; the 
 servants of the Church of Christ were likened to the 
 priests under the Old Dispensation ; and those who 
 separated from the bishop were put in the same class 
 with Korah, Dathaii. and Abirani. From an indivi- 
 dual priesthood, such as was then formed in the 
 Church, to a sovereign priesthood, such its Rome now 
 claims, the step wjis easy. 
 
 In fact, as soon as the error as to the necessity of a 
 visible imity of the Church was established, a new 
 error was seen to arise, — viz., that of the necessity of an 
 external representative of this unity. 
 
 Although we nowhere find in the Gospel any traces 
 of a pre-eminence in St. Peter over the other Apostles; 
 although the very idea of primacy is opposed to the 
 fraternal relations which united the disciples, and even I 
 to the spirit of the Gosi)el dispensation, which, on the I 
 contrary, calls upon all the children of the Father to | 
 be servants one to another, recognizing one only | 
 teacher, and one only chief ; and although Jesus Christ 
 sliar|)ly rebuked His disciples, as often as ambitious 
 ideas of pre-eminence arose in theii" carnal hearts, men 
 invented, and by means of passages of Scripture ill 
 understood, supported a primacy in St. Peter; and 
 then in this apostle, and his pretended successors at 
 Rome, saluted the visible representatives of visible 
 unit}- — the heads of the Church ! 
 
 Tlie patriarchal constitution also contributed to the 
 rise of the Roman Papacy. So early as the three first 
 centuries, the churches of metropolitan towns had en- 
 joyed particular respect. The Council of Nice, in its 
 Sixth Canon, singled out three cities, whose churches 
 had, according to it, an ancient authority over those of 
 the surrounding provinces; these were, Alexandria, 
 Rome, and Antioch. The political origin of this dis- 
 tinction is betrayed by the very name which was at 
 first given to the bishop of these cities. He was called 
 Exarch, in the same way as the civil governor. At a 
 later jicriod, the more ecclesiastical name of Patriarch 
 wiis given to him. This name occurs for the first time 
 in the Council of Constantinople, but in a different 
 sense from that which it received at a later period ; for 
 it was only a short time before the Council of Chalce- 
 don, that it was applied exclusively to the great metro- 
 politans. The second ecumenical Council created a 
 new patriarchate, that of Constantinople itself, the new 
 Rome, the second capital of the empire. The Church 
 of Byzantium, so long in obscm-ity, enjoyed the same 
 privileges, and was put by the Council of Chalcedon 
 in the"same rank as the Church of Rome. Rome 
 then shared the patriarchate with these three churches; 
 but when the invasion of Mohammedanuihilated the sees 
 
 1 Where the Chureh, there too the Spirit of Cod. Where the Spirit of 
 Ood, there the Chureh.— iKna-w. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of Alexandria aud Antioch — when the see of Constan- 
 tinople decayed, aud later, even separated from the 
 west, Eome remained alone, and circumstances rallied 
 all aronnd her see, which from that time remained 
 witho\it a rival. 
 
 New accomplices, the most powerful of all accom- 
 plices, came also to her aid. Ignorance and supersti- 
 tion seized upon the Church, and gave her up to Rome 
 with a bandage on her eyes, and chains on her hands. 
 Still this slavery was not completed without opposi- 
 tion. Often did the voice of the churches protest 
 their independence : this bold voice was heard espe- 
 cially in proconsular Africa and the East.' 
 
 But Rome found new allies to stifle the cry of the 
 churches. Princes, whom tempestuous times often 
 caused to totter on the throne, offered her their sup- 
 port if she would in return support them. They 
 offered her spiritual authority, provided she would 
 reinstate them in secular power. They gave her a 
 cheap bargain of souls, in the hope that she would 
 help them to a cheap bargain of their enemies. The 
 hierarchical power, which was rising, and the imperial 
 power, which was declining, thus supported each other, 
 and, by this alliance, hastened their double destiny. 
 
 Here Rome could not be a loser. An edict of Theo- 
 dosius II., and of Valentinian III., proclaimed the 
 Bishop of Rome " Rector of the whole Church." Jus- 
 tinian issued a similar edict. These decrees did not 
 contain all that the popes pretended to see in them; 
 but in those times of ignorance it was easy for them 
 to give prevalence to the interpretation Avhich was 
 most in their favour. The power of the emperors in 
 Italy becoming always more precarious, the Bishojis 
 of Rome failed not to avail themselves of the circiuu- 
 jtance to shake off their dependence. 
 
 But energetic promoters of the Papal power had by 
 this time emerged from the forests of the North. Tlie 
 barbarians, who had invaded the West, and there fixed 
 their abode, after intoxicating themselves with blood 
 aud rapine, behoved to lower their fierce sword before 
 the intellectual power which they encountered. Alto- 
 gether ne^\' to Christianity, ignorant of the spiritual 
 nature of the Church, and requiring in religion a cer- 
 tain external show, they prostrated themselves, half 
 savages, and half Pagans, before the High Priest of 
 Rome. With them the West wa.s at his feet. P^irst, 
 the Vandals, then the Ostrogoths, a little later the 
 Burgundians, afterwards the Visigoths, lastly, the Lom- 
 bards and Anglo-Saxons, came to do obeisance to the 
 Roman Pontiff'. It was the robust shoulders of the 
 sons of the idolatrous North which finished the work 
 of placing a pastor of the banks of the Tiber on the 
 supreme throne of Christendom. 
 
 J Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, says of .St. Stephen, Bishop of Rome :— 
 "You will more and more observe the error of him who is trying to main- 
 tAin the eause of iicretics against Christians $nd against the Church of 
 God . . . who not holding the unity and truth which come by the 
 Divine law. . . . Custom without tmtli is the antiquity of error." 
 . . . Finuilian, Bishop of Csesarea, in Cappadocia, also says after the 
 middle of the third centurj-:— " But they do not in all things observe what 
 was originally delivered, and iu vain pretend the authority of the Apostles. 
 . . . But we (the Bishops of the Churches of Asia, more ancient than 
 those of Rome) to truth join custom also, and to the custom of the Romans 
 oppose custom, but the custom of trutli, holding from the beginning what 
 was delivered by Christ and an apostle." Tliese testimonies are of great 
 weight 
 
 These things took place in the West at the begin- 
 ning of the seventh century, precisely at the same 
 period when the power of Mohammed, ready also to seize 
 on a portion of the globe, was rising in the East. 
 
 From that time the evil ceases not to grow. In the 
 eighth century we see the Bishops of Rome with one 
 hand repulsing the Greek Emperors, their lawful sove- 
 reigns, and seeking to chase them from Italy; while, 
 with the other, they caress the Mayors of France, and 
 ask this new power, which is beginning to rise in the 
 West, for a share iu the wrecks of the empire. Be- 
 tween the East, which she repels, and the West, which 
 she invites, Rome establishes her usurped authority. 
 She rears her throne between two revolts. Frightened 
 at the cry of the Arabs, who, become masters of Spain, 
 vaunt that they will soon arrive in Italy by the passes 
 of the Pyrenees and the Alps, iind proclaim the name 
 of Mohammed on the seven hills — amazed at the auda- 
 cious Astolphus, who, at the head of his Lombards, 
 sends forth his lion-roar, and brandishes his sword 
 Ijefore the gates of the eternal city, threatening mas- 
 sacre to every Roman, — Rome, on the brink of ruin, 
 looks around in terror, and throws herself into the 
 arms of the Franks. The usurper Pepin asks a pre- 
 tended sanction to his new royalty; the Papacy gives 
 it to him, and gets him in return to declare himself 
 the defender of the " Republic of God." Pepin wrests 
 from the Lomb;u-ds what they had -vvi-ested from the 
 emperor; but, instead of restoring it to him, he deposits 
 the keys of the towns which he has conquered on the 
 altar of St. Peter, and, swearing with uplifted hand, 
 declares that it was not for a man he took up arms, 
 but to obtain the forgiveness of his sins from God, and 
 do homage to St. Peter for his conquests. 
 
 Charlemagne appears. The first time, he goes iq) to 
 the Cathedral of St. Peter devoutly kissing the steps. 
 AVhen he presents himself a second time, it is as mas- 
 ter of all the kingdoms which formed the empire of the 
 West, and of Rome herself. 
 
 Leo HI. deems it his duty to give the title to him 
 who already has the power; and, in the year 800, at 
 the feast of Noel, places on the head of the son of 
 Pepin the crown of the Emperor of Rome. From that 
 time the pope belongs to the empire of the Franks, and 
 his relations with tlie East are ended. He detaches 
 himself from a rotten tree, which is about to fall, in 
 order to engraft himself on ii vigorous wild stock. 
 Among the Germanic races, to which he devotes him- 
 self, a destiny awaits him to which he had never ven- 
 tured to aspire. 
 
 Charlemagne bequeathed to his feeble successor.-; 
 only the wrecks of his empire. In the ninth century, 
 civil power being everywhere weakened by disunion, 
 Rome perceived that now was the moment f(5r her to 
 lift her head. When could the C'hiu'ch better make 
 herself independent of the State than at this period of 
 decline, when the crown which Charles wore was 
 broken, and its fragments lay scattered on the soil of 
 his ancient empire ! 
 
 At this time the spurious Decretals of Isidore ap- j 
 pearcd. In this collection of pretended decrees of the < 
 popes, the most ancient bishops, the eontemporai'ies of ' 
 Tacitus and Quintilian, spoke the barbarous Latin of 
 the ninth century. The customs and constitutions of 
 
DISORDERS OF ROME. 
 
 the Franks were gravely attributed to the Komans of 
 the lime of the tinpcrors ; pojica <|iiotc(l the Bible iu 
 the Latin trauslutiou of St. Jeronu-. who lived one, two, 
 or three contnrics after them ; and Vielor. ISislioi) of 
 Konio, in the year 192, wrote lo Tliooi>hihi;<. who was 
 Arelibishop of Alexandria, in oiKi. The inijmstor, 
 who had forged this eolleelion, !<trove to make out that 
 idl the bishops derived their authority from the Bi.sliop 
 of Rome, who derived his immediately from Jesus 
 Christ. Not oidy did he reeord all the successive con- 
 quests of the ]Kintiffs, but he, moreover, earned them 
 back to the remotest ])eriods. The popes were not 
 ashamed to avail themselves of this despicable inven- 
 tion. As early as 8G5, Nicholas I. selected it as his 
 armour to combat princes and bishops. Tiiis shame- 
 less forgery was for ages the arsenal of Rome. 
 
 Nevertheless, the vices and crimes of the ])outiffs 
 were for some time to suspend the effects of the De- 
 cretals. The Papacy celebrates its admission to tlie 
 tabic of kings by shameful libatious: it proceeds lo 
 intoxicate itself, and its head turns amidst the debauch. 
 It is about this time that tradition places upon the 
 Pupal throne n damsel named Josui, who had Hed to 
 Rome with her lover; and, being taken in lalwur, be- 
 trayed her SOX in the middle of a solemn procession. 
 Hut let us not unnecessarily aggravate the disgrace of 
 the Court of the Ronuiu Pontiffs. Abandoned females 
 did reign in Rome at this period. A throne, which 
 pretended to exalt itself above the majesty of kings, 
 grovelled in the n\ire of vice, Theodora and Miu'ozia, 
 at will, iusttdlcd and deposed the pretended blasters of 
 the Church of Christ, and placed upon the throne of 
 Peter their paramours, their sons, and their grand- 
 sons. These scandalous proceedings, which are but 
 loo trne, perhaps, gave rise to the tradition of Poper^s 
 Joiui, 
 
 Rome becomes a vast theatre of disorder, on which 
 the most powerfid families in Italy contend for ascend- 
 ancy — the Counts of Tuscany usually proving victo- 
 rious. In 1033, this house dares to place upon the 
 pontifical throne, under the uame of Benedict the 
 Ninth, a young boy brought up iu debauchery. This 
 child of twelve, when pope, continues his ineffable 
 turpitude, A faction elects Sylvester in his stead, and 
 at length Pope Benedict, with a conscience loaded with 
 adultery, ami a hand dyed with the blood of murders,' 
 sells the jwpedom to an ecclesiastic of Rome. 
 
 The Eni])erors of Gernmny, indignant at >o many 
 disorders, cleansed Rome wilh the sword. The em- 
 pire, exercising its rights of superiority, drew the 
 triple crown out of the mire into which it hail fallen, 
 and saved the degraded po|)edom by gi\ ing it decent 
 men for heads. Henry III., in 1040, deposed three 
 popes; and his linger, adorned with the ring of the 
 Roman Patricians, pointe<l out the bishoj) to whom the 
 keys of the confes.-ion of St. Peter were to be remilted. 
 Four popes, all Gennans, and nominated by the em- 
 peror, succeeded each other. AVIun the pontiff of 
 Rome died, deputies from that Church appeared at the 
 imperial court, like the envoys from fither ilioceses, to 
 retjuest a new bishop. The emperor was even glad 
 to see the pope reforming abuses, strengthening the 
 
 t Boniiu, BUli.ip of Sutri. TbeoplijrUct, (Benedict,) anvr ni.iny adaltcrics, 
 llul nwiiy niuiJiW iKryctritcd by liU own hand. 
 
 Church, holding councils, inducting and deposing pre- 
 lates, in spite of foreign monarchs ; the Papacy, by 
 these pretensions, only exalted the jujwer of the em- 
 ])eror, its liege lord. But tliere was great danger in 
 allowing such games to lie played. The strength 
 which the popes were thus resinning, by degrees, 
 might be turned, all at ouce, against the emperor him- 
 self. When the viper recovered, it might sting the 
 bosom which warmed it. This was what actually 
 happened. 
 
 Here a new epoch in the Papacy begins. It starts 
 up from its humiliation, and soon has the princes of 
 the earth at its feet. To exalt it is to c.xalt the Church, 
 is to aggrandize religion, is to secure to the mind its 
 victory over the flesh, and to God His triumph over 
 the world. These are its maxims, and iu these ambi- 
 tion finds its profit, fanaticism its excuse. 
 
 The whole of this new tendency is personified iu one 
 man. — Hildebraud. 
 
 Ilildebrand, by tiu'iis unduly extolled or unjustly 
 stigmatized, is the personification of the Roman ponti- 
 ficate in its jiower and glory. He is one of those mas- 
 ter spirits of history which contain in them an entire 
 order of new things, similar to those presented in other 
 spheres by Charlemagne, Luther, and Napoleon. 
 
 Leo IX. look up this monk iu passing through 
 Clugny, and carried him to Rome. From that time 
 Ilildebrand was the soul of the popedom, until he be- 
 came the popedom itself. He governed the Church iu 
 the name of several pontiffs before his own reign under 
 that of Gregory Vll. One great idea took jiossession 
 of this great genius. He wichcs to found a visible 
 theocracy, of which the pofjc, as vicar of Jesus Clu-ist, 
 will be head. The remembrance of the ancient univer- 
 sal dominion of Pagan Rome haunts his imagination, 
 and animates his zeal. He wishes to restore to Papal 
 Rome all that the Rome of the Emperors had lost. 
 •• What Marias and Cicsar," said his flatterers, "could 
 not do by torrents of blood, thou performest by a 
 word." 
 
 Gregory VII. was not led by the Spirit of the Lord. 
 To this Spirit of truth, humility, and meekness, he w.is 
 a stranger. He sacrificed what he knew to be true 
 when he judged it necessary to his designs. In parti- 
 cidar, he did so in the aft'air of Berenger. But a spirit 
 far superior to that of the common run of pontiffs, a 
 deep conviction of the justice of his cau^^e, undoubtedly 
 ilid animate him. Bold, ambitious, and inflexible in 
 his designs, he was. at the same time, dexteroas and 
 supple in the employment of means to ensure their 
 
 His first labour was to embody the militia of the 
 Chiu:ch. for he behoved to make himself strong before 
 he att.tcked the empire. A Coiuicil held at Rome cut 
 oft" pastors from their families, and obliged them to be- 
 long entirely lo the hierarchy. The law of celibacy, 
 conceived and executed uiuUr i)opes who were them- 
 selves monks, cluinged the clergy into a kind of monas- 
 tic order. Gregory VII. pretended to have over all the 
 bishops anil priests of Christendom the same power 
 which an abbot of Clugny had over the order over 
 which he presided. The legates of Ilildebrand, com- 
 paring themselves to the proconsuls of ancient Rome, 
 traversed the provinces to deprive pastors of their law- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 fill -wives ; and if need were, the pope himself stirred 
 up the populace against married miuisters.' 
 
 But Gregory's main purpose was to shake Rome 
 free of the empire. This bold design he never would 
 have ventured to conceive, had not the dissensions 
 wliich troubled tlie minority of Henry IV., and tlie 
 revolt of the German princes, favoured its execution. 
 The pope was then like one of the grandees of the 
 empire. Making common cause with the other great 
 vassals, he forms a party in tlie aristocratic interest, 
 and then forbids all ecclesiastics, under pain of excom- 
 munication, to receive iuvestitiu-e to their benefices 
 from the Emperor. He breaks the ancient ties which 
 unite churches and their pastors to the authority of the 
 prince ; but it is to yoke all of them to the pontifical 
 throne. His aim is by a iiowerful hand to enchain 
 priests, kings, and people, and make the pope a univer- 
 sal monarch. It is Rome alone that every priest must 
 fear, iu Rome alone tliat he must hope. The kingdoms 
 and princedoms of the earth are his domain ; and all 
 kings must tremble before tlie thunder of the Jupiter 
 of modern Rome. Woe to liim who resists ! Subjects 
 are loosed from their oath of allegiance, the whole 
 country is smitten with interdict, all worship ceases, 
 the churches are shut, and their bells are mute ; tlie 
 sacraments are no longer administered, and the word 
 of malediction reaches even to the dead, to whom the 
 earth, at the bidding of a haughty jiontiif, refuses the 
 peace of the tomb. 
 
 The pope, who had been subject from the earliest 
 days of his existence, first to the Roman Emperors, 
 then to the Frank Emperors, and, lastly, to the German 
 Emperors, was now emancipated, and walked, for the 
 first time, their equal, if not, indeed, their master. 
 Gregory VIT. was, however, humbled in his turn ; 
 Rome was taken, and Hildebrand obliged to flee. He 
 died at Salerno, saying, " I have loved righteousness 
 and hated iniquity, therefore die I in exile." Words 
 thus uttered at the portals of the grave who will jire- 
 sume to charge with hypocrisy? 
 
 The successors of Gregory, like soldiers who arrive 
 after a great victory, tlu-ew themselves, as conquerors, 
 on the subjugated churches. Spain, rescued from 
 Islamism, Prussia, delivered from idols, fell into the 
 liands of the crowned priest. The crusades, which 
 were undertaken at his bidding, everyivliere widened 
 and increased his authority. Those pious pilgi-ims, 
 who had thought they saw saints and angels guiding 
 their armies, and who, after humbly entering the walls 
 of Jerusalem barefoot, burned the Jews in their syna- 
 gogue, and, with the blood of thousands of Saracens, 
 deluged the spots to which they had come, seeking the 
 sacred footsteps of the Prince of Peace, carried the 
 name of pope into the East, where it had ceased to be 
 known from the time when lie abandoned the supre- 
 macy of the Greeks for that of the Franks. 
 
 On the other hand, what the armies of the Roman 
 republic and of the empire had not been able to do, 
 the power of the Church accomplished. The Germans 
 brought to the feet of a bisliop the tribute which their 
 ancestors had refused to the most powerful generals. 
 
 1 Tliesc, wlicrcver they ajipcnr, are subjected to insulting cries, to pointed 
 lingers, and to blows. Some are mutilated, otliera by long tortures cruelly 
 eUiin.—Marlcne cl Btimhd. 
 
 Their princes, on becoming emperors, thought they had 
 received a crown from the popes ; but the popes had 
 given them a yoke. The kingdoms of Christendom, 
 previously subjected to the spii'itual power of Rome, 
 now became its tributaries and serfs. 
 
 Thus every thing in the Church is changed. 
 . At first it was a community of brethren, and now 
 an absolute monarchy is established in its bosom. All 
 Cliristians were priests of the living God, (1 Peter 
 ii. 9,) with humble pastors for their guides; but a 
 proud head has risen up in the midst of these pastors, 
 a mysterious mouth utters language full of haughtiness, 
 a hand of iron constrains .all men, both small and gi'eat, 
 rich and poor, bond and slave, to take the stamp of its 
 power. The holy and primitive equality of souls before 
 God is lost; and Christendom, at the bidding of a mau, 
 is divided into two unequal camps, — in tlie one, a caste 
 of priests who dare to usurp the name of Church, and 
 pretend to be invested in the eyes of the Lord with 
 high privileges, — in the other, servile herds reduced 
 to blind and passive submission, a people gagged and 
 swaddled, and given over to a proud caste. Every 
 tribe, language, and nation of Christendom, fall under 
 the domination of this spiritual king, who lius received 
 power to conquer. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 t;racc-n, ad Faith-Works-Unity an.l Duality— Pelagianisiil— Salvation 
 at tlic Iianils of Priests— Penances— Flagellations— Indulgences— Works 
 of Supererogation — Purgatory— Taxation — Jubilee— The Papacy and 
 Cliristiauity-Statc of Cliristendom. 
 
 But, along with the principle which should rule the 
 liistory of Christianity, was one which should rule its 
 doctrine. The grand idea of Cliristianity was the idea 
 of grace, pardon, amnesty, and the gift of eternal life. 
 This idea supposed in man an estrangement from God, 
 and an impossibility mi ][\> \y.n-t to re-enter into com- 
 munion with a Bciiiu' "f inliiiito holiness. The oppo.'^i- 
 tion between true iiinl r:il-i' il"iiriiic cannot, it is true, 
 be entirely summed u]) in tlie (juestion of salvation 
 by faith, and salvation by works. Still it is its most 
 prominent feature, or rather, salvation considered as 
 coming from man is the crenting principle of all error 
 and all abuse. The excesses ih^hIuciiI liy this funda- 
 mental error led to the Refonniiiioii. :iiiil the profession 
 of a contrary principle achii'\ cd it. This feature must 
 stand prominently out in an introduction to the history 
 of the Reformation. Salvation by gi-ace, then, is the 
 second characteristic which essentially distinguished 
 the religion of God from all human religions. AMiat 
 had bec'ome of it? Had the Church kept this gi-eat 
 and primordial idea as a ])recious deposit? Let us 
 follow its history. 
 
 The inhabitants of Jerusalem, Asia, Greece, and 
 Rome, in the days of tin- first emperors, heard the glad 
 tidin.L'>. "By ^jr.-xr ;irc ye saved through faith — it is 
 the uill nl ( ;..il.' ( I",|.1m ~. ii. 8.) At this voice of peace 
 ■ — at tlii> i_'o>|nl ai tlii- powerful word — many guilty 
 souls believing were brought near to Him who is the 
 
PELAGIANISM. 
 
 source of pence, nnd numerous Christiiiu churches were 
 fornicil in llie midst of tiio corrupt generation tlicn 
 existing. 
 
 But II grout misii]>iirehi'n>iou soon iirose as to the 
 nature of saving failli. l''aitii. acconling to St. I'anl, 
 is the means l>y ^\ iiich llic « liulo being of the believer 
 — his intellect, his heart, ami his will — enter into |)ob- 
 sessiou of the salvation which the incarnation of the 
 Son of (.lod has purchased for him. Jesus Christ is 
 apprehended by failh, and thenceforth becomes every 
 thing for man, nnd in man. He imparls a divine life 
 til Innnan nature; and man, thus renewed, disengaged 
 from the power of sellishness and sin, has iu"w affec- 
 tions, nnd does new works. Faith (says Theology, in 
 order to ex]n-ess tliese ideius) is the sulijoctivc appro- 
 priation of the objective work of Christ. If faith is 
 not an appropriation of salvation, it is nothing; tlie 
 whole Christian economy is disturbed, the sources of 
 new life are sealed up, and Christianity is overturned 
 ut itd base. 
 
 Such was the actual result. The practical view be- 
 ing gradually forgotten, faith soon became nothing 
 more than what it still is to many, — an act of the under- 
 standing — a simijle submission to superior authority. 
 
 This lirst error ucecss!U"i!y led to a second. Faith 
 V)eing stripped of its practical character, could not 
 possibly be said to save iilone. AVorks no longer com- 
 ing after it, behoved to be jdaced beside it : and the 
 doctrine that man is justified by faith and by works 
 gained a footing in the Church. To the Christian 
 unity, which includes, under the same principle, justi- 
 fication and works, grace and law, doctrine and duty, 
 succeeded the sad duality, which nuikes religion aiid 
 morality to be quite distinct, — a fatal error, which 
 separates things that cannot live unless united, and 
 which, putting the soul on one side, and the body on 
 the other, causes death. The words of the Apostle. 
 echoing through all ages, are, — "Having begun in the 
 Spirit, are ve now made perfect by the flesh?" (Gal. 
 iii. 3.) 
 
 Another great error arose to disturb the doctrine of 
 grace. This was Pelagianisni. Pclagius maintained 
 that human nature is not fallen — that there is no here- 
 ditary corruption— nnd that man, having received the 
 power of doing good, has only to will it in order to 
 perform it.' If goodness consists in certain external 
 nctions, Pelagius is right. But if we look to the 
 motives from which those external actions proceed, we 
 find in every part of man selfishness, forgetfulness of 
 God, pollution, and powerlessness. The Pelagian doc- 
 trine, driven back from the Church by Augustiiu>, 
 >yhen it advanced with open front, soon presented a 
 side ^•iew in the shape of semi-Pelagianism, and under 
 the mask of Augustinian fonunhc. This heresy spread 
 over Christendom with astonishing rapidity. The 
 danger of the system ajipeared, above all. in this — by 
 placing goodness, not within, but without, it caused a 
 great value to be set on extcrniil works, on legal ob- 
 servances, and acts of penance. The more of these 
 men did, the holier they were ; they won heaven by 
 them ; and individu.als were soon seen (a very astonish- 
 ing circumstance, certainly) who went farther in holi- 
 
 l To will and to be I 
 
 fountain of five will— r«tas;ii 
 
 properties or man, because tlicy spring from the 
 
 nes3 than was required. Pelagianisni, at the same 
 time that it corrupted doclrine. strengthened the liier- 
 nrchy ; with the same hand with which it lowered grace 
 it elevated the Church ; for grace is of God, and tho 
 Church is of man. 
 
 The deeper our conviction that the whole world is 
 guilty before God, the more will we cleave to Jesus 
 Christ as the luily source of grace. With such a view, 
 how can we jjlace the Church on a level with Him, 
 since she is nothing but the whole body of persons sub- 
 ject to the same natural misery ? But so soon as we 
 attribute to nuni a holiness of his own, all is changed, 
 and eeclcsiastics and monks become the most natural 
 inediuin of receiving the grace of Ciod. This was what 
 happened after Pelagius. Salvation, taken out of the 
 hands of God. fell into the hands of pria<ts, who put 
 themselves in the Lord's ])lace. Souls thirsting for 
 pardon liehoved no longer to look towards heaven, but 
 towards the Church, :uid, above all, towards its pre- 
 tended head. To blinded minds the Pontiff of Rome 
 was instead of God. Hence the greatness of the popes 
 and indescribable abuses. The evil went farther still. 
 Pelagianisni, in maintaining tliat man may attain per- 
 fect sanctification. pretended, likewise, tluit the nierit^j 
 of saints and martyrs miglit be ajiplied to the Church. 
 A particular virtue was even ascribed to their interces- 
 sion. The}- were addressed in ])raycr, their aid was 
 invoked in all the trials of life, and a real idolatry sup- 
 planted the adoration of the true and living God. 
 
 Pelagianisni. at the same time, multiplied rites and 
 ceremonies. Mim, imagining that he could, and that 
 he ought, by good works, to render himself worthy of 
 grace, saw nothing better fitted to merit it than out- 
 ward worship. The law of ceremonies becoming end- 
 lessly complicated, was soon held equal at least to the 
 moral law; and thus the conscience of Christians was 
 burdened anew with ;i yoke which had been declared 
 intolerable in the times of the apostles. (Acts xv. 10.) 
 
 But what most of all deformed Christianity, was the 
 system of penance which rose out of Pelagianisni. 
 Penance at first consisted in certain public signs of 
 repentance, which the Church required of those whom 
 she had excluded for scandal, and who were desirous 
 of being again received into her bosom. 
 
 By degrees, penance was extended to .ill sins, even 
 the most secret, and was considered as a kind of 
 ch.istisemcnt to which it was necessary to submit, in 
 order to acquire the pardon of God through the abso- 
 lution of prie.«ts. 
 
 Ecclesiastical penance was thus confounded with 
 Christian repentance, without which there cannot be 
 either justification or sanctification. 
 
 Instead of expecting pardon from Christ only by 
 faith, it was expected chiefly from the Church by 
 works of penance. 
 
 Great importance v/as attached to the outward marks 
 of repentance — tears, fastings, and macerations; while 
 the internal renewal of the heart, which alone consti- 
 tutes true conversion, was forgotten. 
 
 As confession and works of penance are easier than 
 the extirpation of sin, and the .abandonment of vice, 
 many ceased to struggle against the lusts of the flesh, 
 deeming it better to supply their place by means of 
 certain macerations. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 "Works of peuauce, substituted in lieu of the salva- 
 tion of Goil, kept multiplying in the C'hureh from the 
 days of Tertulliau, in the third century. The thing 
 now deemed necessary was to fast, go barefoot, and 
 wear no linen, &c., or to quit house and home for dis- 
 tant lands ; or, better stiU, to renounce the world and 
 embrace the monastic state ! 
 
 To all this were added, in the eleventh century, 
 voluntary flagellations. These, at a later period, be- 
 came a real mania in Ital}-, which at that time was 
 violently agitated. Nobles and peasants, young and 
 old, even children of five, go two-aud-two by hundreds, 
 thousands, and tens of thousands, through villages, 
 towns, and cities, with an apron tied round their waist, 
 (their only clothing.) and visit the churches in proces- 
 sion in the dead of winter. Armed with a whip, they 
 flagellate themselves without mercy, and the streets 
 resound with cries and groans, such as to force tears 
 from those who liear them. 
 
 Still, long before the evil had reached this height, 
 men felt the oi^pression of the priests, and sighed for 
 deliverance. The priests themselves had perceived, 
 that if they did not apply a remedy, their usurped 
 power would be lost; and, therefore, they invented the 
 system of barter, so well known under the name of 
 Indulgences. "What they said was this : " You peni- 
 tents arc not able to fulfll the tasks which are enjoined 
 you? "Well, then, we — priests of God, and your 
 pastors — will take the heavy burden on ourselves." 
 "For a fast of seven weeks," saj'S Eegino, Abbot of 
 Prum, " there will be i)aid by a rich man tweutypenco, 
 by one less so tenpence, by the poor tlireepence, and 
 so on in like proportion for other things." Bold voices 
 were raised against this traffic, but in vain. 
 
 The pope soon discovered the advantages which he 
 might draw from these indulgences. In the thirteenth 
 century, Alexander Hales, the irrefragable doctor, in- 
 vented a doctrine well fitted to secm'e this vast re- 
 source to the Papacy, and a bull of Clement VII. 
 declared it an article of faith. Jesus Clu-ist, it was 
 said, did far more than was necessary to reconcile God 
 to men, — for that a single drop of His blood would 
 have sulRced ; but He shed much blood, in order to 
 found a treasury for His Chiu'ch. — a treasury which 
 even eternity should not be able to exhaust. The 
 supererogatory merits of the saints — /. c, the value of 
 the works which they did 1)eyond their obligation — 
 served also to augment this tri-;i>iiry. tlic custody and 
 administration of which have ln'cn ciilni-ird to Christ's 
 vicar upon earth, who applies (■> cnh -iiiiier, for the 
 faults committed after baptism, tliL-e laerits of Jesus 
 Christ and the saints, according to the measure and 
 quantity which his sins render necessary. "Who will 
 venture to attack a practice whose origin is so holy? 
 
 This inconceivable traffic soon extends, and becomes 
 more complex. The philosophers of Alexandria speak 
 of a fire in which souls are to be made pure. This 
 jjhilosophical opinion, which several ancient doctors 
 had adopted, Rome declared to be a doctrine of the 
 Chm-ch. The pope, by a bull, annexed purgatory to 
 his domain. He decreed that man should there ex- 
 piate what he might not be able to expiate here below, 
 but that indulgences could deliver souls from that 
 intermediate state in which their sins must otherwise 
 
 detain them. This dogma is expoimded by Thomas 
 Aquinas in his famous theological Summa. Nothing 
 was spared to fill the mind with terror. The torments 
 which the purifj-ing fire inflicts on those who become 
 its victims were painted in dreadful colours. Even at 
 the present day, in many Catholic countries, we sec 
 pictures exhibited in churches, or in the public streets, 
 in which poor souls in the midst of burning flames are 
 calling in agony for relief. "Who could refuse the re- 
 demption-money which, on falling into the treasury of 
 Rome, was to ransom the soul from such sufferings ? 
 
 In order to give regularity to this traffic, there was 
 shortly after drawn up (probably by John XXII.) 
 the famous and scandalous taxation of indulgences, of 
 which there have been more than forty editions. 
 
 Ears the least delicate would be offended were we to 
 repeat all the horrible tilings contained in it. 
 
 Incest will cost, if it is not known, live groscheu ; 
 if known, six. So much will be paid for murder, so 
 much for infanticide, adultery, perjmy, house-break- 
 ing, &c. "Shame upon Rome!" exclaims Claudius 
 Esperse, a Roman theologian; and we add, Shame 
 upon human nature ! — for we cannot reproach Rome 
 with anything which does not recoil upon man himself. 
 Rome is humanity magnified in some of its evil pro- 
 pensities. "We say this for the sake of truth, and ivc 
 also say it for the sake of justice. 
 
 Boniface "VTII., the boldest and most ambitious cf 
 the popes after Gregory VII., outstripped all his i)ro- 
 decessors. 
 
 In the year 1300 he published a bull, by which he 
 announced to the Church, that every hundred years all 
 persons repairing to Rome would there obtain a plenary 
 indulgence. Crowds flocked from Italy, Sicily, Sar- 
 dinia, Corsica, France, Spain, Germany, Hungary, and 
 all quarters. Old men of sixty and "seventy set out ; 
 and there was counted at Rome in one mouth to tlie 
 number of two hundred thousand pUgrims. All these 
 sti-angers bringing rich offerings, the pope and the 
 Romans saw their treasury filled. 
 
 Roman avarice soon fixed each jubilee at fifty years, 
 next at thirty-three, and at last at twenty-five. Then, 
 for the greater convenience of buyers, and the greater 
 profit of sellers, the jubilee and its indulgences were 
 transported from Rome to all parts of Christendom. 
 There was no occasion to leave home. "What others 
 had gone to seek beyond the Alps, each might purchase 
 at his own door. 
 
 The evil could not go further. 
 
 Then the Reformer arose. 
 
 "We formerly saw what became of the principle which 
 shoidd rule the history of Christianity, and we lun c 
 now seen what became of that which should rule its 
 doctrine — both were lost. 
 
 To establish a mediating caste between man and 
 God, and insist that the salvation which God gives 
 shall be purchased by works, penances, and money, is 
 the Papacy. 
 
 To give to all by Jesus Christ without a human 
 mediator, and without that power, which is called the 
 Church, free access to the great gift of eternal life. 
 which God bestows on man, is Christianity and the 
 Reformation. 
 
 The Papacy is au immense wall raised between man 
 
CHURCH OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 
 
 ami God by the lubuur of m^io.-". A\liosoever would 
 )iiii^s it must lay liis nccouiit ^vitll paying or .sufToring. 
 Aiul yet will it not bo pa«.sod .' 
 
 The Itofornuilion is the |i(i\vit which threw down 
 this wall, rojtcirod Christ to man, and Icvelli-d tlio 
 path by wliicli hi- may conic to liis Creator. 
 
 The I'upacy interposes the Church between God and 
 man. Christianity and the Hefornialion make them 
 nuH't face to face. The Papacy seiiaratcs — the Ciospel 
 unites them. 
 
 llaviii"; thus traced the historj* of the decay and ex- 
 tinction of the two p-eat i>rinciplcs whicii distin^^uish 
 the religion of God from all the religions of man. let 
 us attend to some of the results of this vast alteration. 
 
 First, however, let us i>ay some tribute of res|)ect to 
 this Ciuirch of the middle ages which succeeded that of 
 the AiH)sllcs and FathorB, and preceded that of the 
 Hefonners. The Church, although decayed, and al- 
 ways more and more enslaved, still was the Church, — 
 that is to say, still remained the most ]>owert°ul friend 
 that man possessed. Her hands, though tied, could 
 still bless. During those ages, great servants of Jc-ius 
 Christ — men who, in essential doctrines, were true 
 Protestants — shed a benign light ; and in the most 
 liinnble convent, or the most obscure parish, were found 
 )ioor monks and poor priests to solace deep griefs. 
 The Catholic Church was not the Papacy. The latter 
 acted the part of oppressor — the former, that of the I 
 oppressed. The Reformation, whicli declared war on 
 the one, came to deliver the other. AiuI yet, truth to 
 tell, the Papacy itself was sometimes, in the hands of 
 (iod. who brings good out of c\ il, a ncccssafy countcr- 
 [Htise to the power and ambition of princes. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 niliginn—lUllcs— Easier MerTiiiieiit—Maiiiiors—Ctirniiition— Disorderly 
 IJvis of Priests, Uishops, ami Pii|>es— A Priest's Faiuily— Education - 
 
 Let us now attend to the state of the Church before 
 the Refonnation. 
 
 The people of Christendom no longer cxi)ectiiig the 
 p-atnitous gift of eternal life from the true and living 
 God, it was necessary, in order to obtain it, to have 
 recourse to all the methods whicli a superstitious, 
 timid, and frightened conscience could invent. Heaven 
 is full of saints and mediators who can solicit the 
 favour. Earth is full of pious works, sacrilices, ob- 
 servances, and ceremonies, which can merit it. Such 
 is the picture of the religion of this period, as drawn 
 by one who was long a monk, and afterwiu-ds a fellow- 
 worker with Luther. 
 
 Myconius says, — -The sufferings and merits of 
 Christ were as a vain tale, or as the Fables' of Homer. 
 Xot a word was said of the faith by which the righ- 
 teousness of the Saviour, and the inheritance of eternal 
 life, arc secured. Christ was a severe judge, ready to 
 condemn all who did not recur to the intercession of 
 saints, or the indulgences of popes. Instead of Him, 
 there figured as intercessors, first the Virgin Mary, 
 
 like the Diana of Paganism ; and after her saints, 
 of whom the popes were continually enlarging the 
 catalogue. These mediators gave the benefit of their 
 jirayers only to those who had deserved well of the 
 orders founded by them. For this it was necessary to 
 do not what God commands in His AVord, but a great 
 number of works which monks and priests had devised, 
 and which brought in large sums of money. These 
 were, Avc-^Iarias, i)rayers of St. Ursula and St. 
 Bridget. It was necessary to cliaiit and cry night and 
 day. There were ns many places of j)ilgrimage as 
 there were mountains, forests, or valleys. But these 
 toils might be bought off with money. Money, there- 
 fore, and everything that had any value. — chickens, 
 geese, ducks, eggs, wax, straw, butter, and cheese, 
 — were l)ronglit to the convents and to the priests. 
 Then chants resounded, and bells were rung, per- 
 fumes tilled the sanctuary, and sacrifices were offered ; 
 kitchens were stuffed, glasses rattled, and masses wind- 
 ing up threw a cover over all these pious works. The 
 Itishops did not preach, but they consecrated priests, 
 bells, monks, churches, chapels, images, books, ceme- 
 teries, — all these things yielding large returns. Bones, 
 arms, and feet, were presented in gold and silver 
 boxes. They were given out to be kissed during mass ; 
 and this, too, yielded a large profit." 
 
 ••All these folks maintained, that the pope being in 
 the place of God, (2 Thcss. ii. 1.) could uot be de- 
 ceived ; and they would not hear of anything to the 
 contrary." 
 
 In the church of All Saints, at Wittembcrg, were 
 shown a piece of Noah's Ark — a small ])ortion of 
 soot from the furnace of the Three Young Men — a 
 bit of the manger in which our Saviour was laid — 
 hair from the beard of the great Christopher ; and 
 nineteen thousand other relics of greater or less value. 
 At Schaffhaiisen was shown the breath of St. Joseph, 
 which Nicodcinus had received into his glove. In 
 Wurtemburg, a vender of indulgences was seen selling 
 his wares, and having his head adorned with a large 
 feather, plucked from the wing of the archangel Michael, 
 But there was no occasion to go to a distance in quest 
 of these precious treasures. Persons with hired relics 
 tra\clled the countr)', and hawked them about, as has 
 since been done with the Holy Scriptures. The faith- 
 ful, having them thus brought to their houses, were 
 spared the trouble and expense of i)ilgrimage. Relics 
 were exhibited with great ceremony in the chiuches, 
 while those travelling hawkers paid a fixed sum to the 
 owners, and also gave them so much per centage on 
 their returns. The kingdom of heaven had thus dis- 
 appeared, and men, to supply its place on the earth, 
 had opened a disgraceful traffic. 
 
 In this way a profane spirit had invaded religion, 
 and the most sacred seasons of the Church — those 
 which, most forcibly and powerfully, invited the faith- 
 ful to self-examination and love — were dishonoured 
 by buffoonery and mere heathen blasphemies. The 
 "Easter Drolleries" held an important place in the 
 acts of the Church. As the festival of the resui'rec- 
 tion required to be celebrated with joy, every thing 
 that could excite the laughter of the hearers was 
 sought out, and thrust into sermons. One preacher 
 imitated the note of the cuckoo, while auothcr hissed 
 
10 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 like a goose. One dragged forward to the altar a 
 layman in a cassock, — a second told the most indecent 
 stories, — a third related the adventures of the Apostle 
 Peter; among others, how, in a tavern, he cheated the 
 host by not paying his score. Tlie inferior clergy 
 took advantage of the occasion to turn their superiors 
 into ridicule. The churches were thus turned into 
 stages, and the priests into mountebanks. 
 
 If such was the state of religion, what must that of 
 morals have been ? It is true — and equity requires we 
 should not forget — that, at this time, corruption was 
 not universal. Even when the Reformation took place, 
 much piety, righteousness, and religious vigour, were 
 brought to light. Of this, the mere sovereignty of 
 God was the cause ; but still, how can it be denied, 
 that He had previously deposited the germs of this 
 new life iu the bosom of the Church ? In our own 
 day, were all the immoralities and abominations which 
 are committed in a single country brought together, 
 the mass of corruption would, undoubtedly, fill us with 
 alarm. Still it is true, that, at this period, evil pre- 
 sented itself in a form, and with a universality, which 
 it has never had since. In particular, the abomina- 
 tion of desolation was seen standing in the holy place, 
 to an extent which has not been permitted since the 
 period of the Reformation. 
 
 With faith morality had decayed. The glad tidings 
 of eternal life is the power of God for the regeneration 
 of man. But take away the salvation which God 
 gives, and you take away purity of heart and life. 
 This was proved by the event. 
 
 The doctrine and the sale of indulgences operated 
 on an ignorant people as a powerfid stimulus to evil. 
 It is no doubt true, that (according to the doctrine of 
 the ChiuTli) indulgences were of use only to those who 
 promised to amend, and actually kept their jjromisc. 
 But what was to be expected of a doctrine which had 
 been invented with a view to the profit which it might 
 be made to yield ? The venders of indulgences, the 
 better to dispose of their wares, were naturally dis- 
 posed to present them in the most winning and seduc- 
 tive form. Even the learned were not too well 
 informed on the subject ; while the only thing seen by 
 the multitude was, that indulgences gave them jier- 
 mission to sin. The merchants were in no haste to 
 disabuse them of an error so greatly in favour of the 
 trade. 
 
 In those ages of darkness, what disorders and 
 crimes must have prevailed when impunity could be 
 purchased with money! AVhat ground could there bo 
 for fear, when a trifling contribution to build a church 
 prociu-ed exemption from punishment in the world to 
 come ? What hope of renovation, when all direct 
 communication between men and their God had ceased. 
 — when, estranged from Him, their spirit and life, 
 they moved to and fro, among frivolous ceremonies 
 and crude observances, in an atmosphere of death ? 
 
 The priests were the first to yield to the corrupting 
 influence. In wishing to raise, they had lowered 
 themselves. They had fried to steal from God a ray 
 of His glory, that they might place it in their own 
 bosom ; but, instead of this, had only placed iu it 
 some of the leaven of corruptiou, stolen from the Evil 
 One. The annals of the period teem with scandalous 
 
 stories. In many places people were pleased to see 
 their priest keeping a mistress, in the hope that it 
 might secure their A^-ives from seduction. How hum- 
 bling the scene which the house of such a priest must 
 have presented ! The imhappy man maintained the 
 woman, and the children she might have borne him, 
 out of tithes and alms. His conscience upbraided 
 him : he blushed before his people, his servants, and 
 his God. The woman, feai'ing that, iu the event of 
 the priest's death, she might become destitute, some- 
 times made provision beforehand, and played the thief 
 in her own house. Her honour was gone ; and her 
 children were a living accusation against hei-. Objects 
 of universal contempt, both parties rushed into quar- 
 relling and dissipation. Such was the home of a 
 jn-iest ! ... In these fearful scenes, the people 
 read a lesson of which they were not slow to a^ail 
 themselves. 
 
 The rural districts became the theatre of numerous 
 excesses. The places where priests resided were often 
 the abodes of dissoluteness. Corneille Adrian at Bruges, 
 and Abbot Trinkler at Cappcl, imitated the manners 
 of the East, and had their harems. Priests, associat- 
 ing lA-ith low company, frequented taverns and played 
 at dice ; crowning their oi-gies with quarrels and Ijlas- 
 phemy. The Council of Schaffhauseu issued an order 
 forbidding priests to dance iu public, except at mar- 
 riages ; or to carry more than one kind of weapon. 
 They, moreover, ordered that such priests as were 
 found in houses of bad fauii- sliduld be stript of their 
 cassocks. In the arclibi-lidprir of Mayence they leapt 
 the walls at night, and thiu shouted and revelled in all 
 sorts of debauchery within taverns and inns. Doors 
 and locks were not secure from their attacks. In 
 several places each priest was liable to the bishop in 
 a certain tax for the female he kept, and for every 
 child she bore him. One day, a German bishop, who 
 was attending a great festival, openly declared, that in 
 a single year, the number of priests who had been 
 brought before him for this purpose, amounted to 
 eleven thousand. This account is given by Erasmus. 
 
 Among the higher orders of the priesthood the 
 corruption was equally great. The dignitaries of the 
 Church preferred the tm-moil of camps to chanting at 
 the altar ; and to take lance in hand, and reduce those 
 around them to obedience, was one of the first quali- 
 ties of a bishop. Baldwin of Tours, who was constantly 
 warring with his vassals and neighbom-s, razed their 
 castles, built others of his own, and thought of nothing 
 but enlarging his territory. It is told of a certain 
 bishop of Eichstadt, that when he sat in his court, he 
 had a coat-of-mail wider his gown, and a large sword 
 iu his hand. One of his sayings was, that in fair 
 fight he was not afraid of five Bavarians. The bishoj)* 
 and the inhabitants of the towns where they resided 
 were perpetually at war. The burghers demanded 
 freedom, while the priests insisted on absolute obedi- 
 ence. When the latter proved victorious, they pun- 
 ished revolt, and satiated their vengeance with num- 
 bers of victims ; but the flame of insurrection burst 
 forth at the very moment when they imagined they 
 had sujipressed it. And what a spectacle was pre- 
 sented by the pontifical throne at the period imme- 
 diately preceding the Reformation! To say the 
 
DEBAUCHERY OF POPE ALEXANDER VI. 
 
 n 
 
 truth, even Rome wiis not often witness to such 
 infamy. 
 
 Kodcrig" Borgiii, iifler ho hiul lived with a lady 
 of Komc, continued the wime illegitinnitc interoourBC 
 with her dnuphtcr, Rosa Vanozza, and had live child- 
 ren by her. This man, a cardinal and an archhishop, 
 was livih}; at Rome with Vanozza, and other females 
 besides, fre<|uentiii^ churches and hos]iitals, when the 
 pontilieal chair became vacant by the death of Inno- 
 cent VIII. l{or;;ia secured it by bnyinpf each car- 
 dinal for a rejiular price. Four mules loaded with 
 gold publicly entered the palace of Cardinal Sforza, 
 the most intluential among them. I5iir;:ia became 
 pope umlcr the name of Alexaiulcr ^'I., ami was 
 delighted at having thus reached llie jiinnacle of 
 pleasure. 
 
 On his coronation-day, he appointed his sou Ca-sar. 
 n youth of ferocious temper and dissolute habits, 
 Archbishop of Valencia and Bishop of l'an\peluna. 
 Then, when his daughter Lucretia was married, he 
 celebrated the occasion in the Vatican, with fetes 
 which were attended by his mistress, Julia IJella, and 
 enlivened by comedies and obscene songs. "All the 
 ecclesiastics," says a historian, "had mistresses, and 
 nil the convents of the capital were houses of bad 
 fame." Ca-sar Borgia espoused the faction of the 
 Gnelphs, and when, by their assistance, he had de- 
 stroyed the Ghibelins. he turned round upon the 
 Guelphs, and, in like nmnner, destroyed lluin. But 
 he was unwilling that any should share the spoil with 
 him, and, therefore, after Alexander had. in 1497. 
 made his eldest son Duke of Benevento, tlie duke 
 disappeared. George Schiavoni, a dealer in wood on 
 the banks of the Tiber, one night saw a dead body 
 thrown into the river, but said nothing; such 
 oecnrrences were conunon. The dead body ])roved 
 to be that of the duke, who had been murdered 
 by his brother Casar.' Nor was this enough. 
 Having taken offence at his brother-in-law, he 
 made him be stabbed on the stair of the pontifical 
 palace. The wounded man. covered with blood, was 
 eiuricd to his apartment, where he was constantly 
 watched by his wife and sister, who, dreading Caesar's 
 poison, jirepared his food with their own hands. 
 Alexander placed sentinels at his door, but C'ncsar 
 laughed at their precautions; and as the pope wa* 
 going to sec his son-in-l.iw, Cxsar said to him, 
 "What is not done at dinner will be done at sup- 
 per." In short, he one day forced his way into 
 the room, drove out the wife and sister, and call- 
 ing in his executioner, Michilotto,— the only i)ersou 
 to whonj he shewed any confidence. — looked on while 
 his brother-in-law was strangled. Alexander had 
 a favourite, named Peroto. The pope's partiality 
 for him offended the young duke. He pursued him; 
 and Peroto, taking refuge under the pontifical mantle, 
 clasped the pope in his arms. Ca>sar stabbed him, 
 and the blood of his victim sprung into the pontiffs 
 face. "The pope," adds a contemporary witness to 
 these scenes, "loves his son the diike, and is much 
 afraid of him." Cicsar Wiu the handsomest and most 
 jwwerful man of his age. He fought with six wild 
 
 1 Ho .nssaMinntcd his broflicr, the Duke of Oan.lia, ami made liiin be 
 lUrowu into the Tiber.— .VS. o/Captllo, ^mbattadorat Hont in IMO. 
 
 bidls, and despatched them with ease. Every mor- 
 ning at Rome persons were fouu<l who had been 
 iL«8a.ssinated during the night, while poi.son carried off 
 those whom the sword could not reach. Men dared 
 not to move or breathe in Rome, every one trembling 
 till his own turn should arrive. C'a-sar Borgia was 
 the hero nf crime. The spot of earth where iniipiity 
 attained this dreadful height was the ]iontifical throne. 
 When once man has given hiin.self over to the powers 
 of darkness, the higher the station he pretends to 
 occupy in the sight of God, the deejjcr he sinks into 
 the abysses of hell. The dissolute fetes which were 
 given in the pontifical ])alace by the jiope, his son 
 Cifsar, and his daughter Lucretia, cannot be described, 
 or even thought of, without horror. The impure 
 groves of antitpiity. perhaps, never saw the like. His- 
 torians have accused Alexander and Lucretia of 
 incest, but the proof seems defective. The pope had 
 prepared ))oi.sou for a rich cardinal, in a sm.all box of 
 comfits wliich were to be served after a sumptuous 
 repast. The Cardinal being put on his guard, bribed 
 the steward, ami the poisoned bo.x was placed before 
 Alexander, who ate of it and died. The whole city 
 ran to see the dead viper. an<I could not gel enough of 
 the sight. 
 
 Such was the man who occupied the pontifical see 
 at the beginning of the century in which the Reforma- 
 tion commenced. 
 
 The clergy having thus brought religion and them- 
 selves into disrepute, a jjowerfnl voice might well 
 exclaim, " The ecclesiastical state is opposed to God 
 and to His glory. The people well know this, and 
 but too well do they shew it, by the many songs, 
 ])roverbs. and jests, against priests, which are ciurent 
 among the lower classes, and l^y all those caricatures 
 of monks and priests which we see on all the walls, 
 and even on playing canls. Every man feels disgust 
 when he sees or when he hears of an ecclesiastic." 
 These are Luther's words. 
 
 The evil had spread through all ranks. A spirit of 
 error had been sent to men, corruption of manners 
 kept pace with corruption of faith, and a mystery of 
 iniquity lay like au incubus on the enslaved Church 
 of Jesus Christ. 
 
 There was another conseipience which necessarily 
 resulted from the oblivion into which the funda- 
 ment.tl doctrine of the Gospel had fallen. Ignorance 
 was the companion of corru])tiou. The priests having 
 Ijiken iiitip their own hands the distribution of a 
 sMl\Mtion wliich belongs only to God. deemed this a 
 sutlicient title to the respect of the ]>eople. AVhat 
 occasion had they to study sacred literature.' Their 
 business was not to expound the Scriptures, but to give 
 diplomas of indidgence — a ministry which called not 
 for the laborious acquisition of extensive knowledge. 
 
 In the rural districts, says Wini])heling, the persons 
 selected for preachers were miserable creatures, who 
 had been i)reviotisly raised from beggary, cast-off cooks, 
 nmsicians, huntsmen, grooms, and still worse. 
 
 The higher clergy were often siuik in deep ignor- 
 ance. A Bishop of bunfeld congiatidated himself that 
 he had never learned either Greek or Hebrew; while 
 the monks contended that all heresies sprung out of 
 these languages, and especially out of the Greek. 
 
12 
 
 HI5T0KT OF THE EEFOEMATIOX. 
 
 " The New Testament," said one of them. " is a book 
 full of briers and serpents. The Greek." continued 
 he, '"is a new language recently invented, and of it 
 we ought specially to beware. As to Hebrew, my 
 dear brethren, it is certain that all who leam it. that 
 very instant become Jews." AVe quote from Heres- 
 bach, a friend of Erasmus, and a respectable writer. 
 Thomas Linacer, a learned and celebrated ecclesiastic, 
 had never read the New Testament. In the last days 
 of his life, (in 1524.) he caused a copy of it to be 
 brought, but immediately dashed it from him with an 
 oath, because, on opening it. he had lighted on these 
 words, •• I say unto you. Swear not at all." Now he 
 was a great sivearer. '• Either this is not the Gospel," 
 said he. " or we are not Christians." Even the Theo- 
 logical Faculty of Paris did not hesitate at this time to 
 say, in presence of the Parliament, " It is all over 
 with religion if the study of Greek and Hebrew is 
 allowed." If, among ecclesiastics, there were a scat- 
 tered few who had made some attainments, it was not 
 in sacred literature. The Ciceronians of Italy affected 
 great contempt for the Bible because of its style. 
 Men calling themselves priests of the Church of Jesus 
 Christ, translated the writings of holy men inspired by 
 the Spirit of God into the style of A'irgU and Horace, 
 in order to adapt them to the ears of good society. 
 Cardinal Bembo, instead of the Holy Spirit, wrote the 
 breath of the heavenly zephyr; instead of to forr/ire sins — 
 to bend the manes and the Sorereiyn God ; and instead 
 of Christ the Son of God — Minerea spruii;/ from the 
 forehead of Jupiter. Having one day found the re- 
 spectable Sadolet engaged in translating the Epistle to 
 the Romans, he said to him, "Leave off this child's 
 play; such trifling ill becomes a man of gravity." 
 
 Such are some of the consequences of the system 
 under which Christendom then groaned. Our picture, 
 undoubtedly, proves both the corruption of tlie Church 
 and the necessity of a Reformation ; and it was this 
 we proposed in sketching it. The vita! doctrines of 
 Clu-istjanity had almost entirely disappeared, and with 
 them the light and life which constitute the essence of 
 genuine religion. The strength of the Church had 
 been wasted ; and its body, enfeebled and e.xhausted, 
 lay stretched, almost without life, over the whole ex- 
 tent which the Roman empire had occupied. 
 
 CilAl'TER IV. 
 
 Inii«risliable nature of Chiiatiaiiity— Two Laws of God— Apparent power 
 tif Rome — Hidden Opposition — Ikeay — Tlireefold Opposition— Kings 
 and Sabjecta — The Pope jndged in Italy— Discoveries by Kings and 
 Subjects — Frederick the Wise— His ilodeiation — His Anticiiiation. 
 
 TuE evils which then afflicted Christendom, viz., su- 
 perstition, infidelity, ignorance, vain speculation, and 
 comiption of maimers — all natural fruits of the human 
 heart — were not new upon the earth. Often had they 
 figured in the history of States. In the East, espe- 
 cially, various religions which had had their day of 
 glorj', but had become enervated, had been attacked 
 by them, and, yielding to the assault, had fallen imder 
 
 it, never again to rise. Is Christianity to experience 
 the same fate .- WiU she be destroyed like these an- 
 cient popular religious ? Will the blow which gave 
 them death be strong enough to deprive her of life ? 
 Is there nothing that can save her ! Will those hos- 
 tile powers that now oppress her. and which have 
 j already overthrown so many other forms of worshij). 
 I be able to seat themselves without opposition on tLc 
 ! ruins of the Church of Jesus Clirist 1 
 , No I There is in Christianity what there was u^i 
 I in any of those popular religions. It does not, like 
 I them, present certain abstract ideas, interwoven with 
 traditions and fables, destined to fall, sooner or later, 
 under the attacks of human reason. It contains pture 
 truth, founded on facts capable of standing the scrutiny 
 of every upright and enlightened mind. Christianity 
 does not aim merely at exciting certaiu vague religious 
 sentiments, which, when they have once lost their 
 charm, cannot be again revived. Its end is to satisfy ; 
 and it. in fact, does satisfy all the religions wants of 
 human nature, whatever the degree of refinement to 
 which it may have attained. It is not the work of 
 man. whose labours fade and are effaced; it is the 
 work of God. who sustains what He creates ; and the 
 pledge of its duration is the promise of its divine Head. 
 It is impossible that human nature can ever rise so 
 high as to look dov.-n on CIiri=tianity; or if. for a 
 time, human nature do think herself able to dispense 
 with it, it soon appears with renewed youth and life, 
 as alone fit for curing souls. Degenerate nations thou 
 return with new ardour to those ancient, simi)le. au'l 
 powerful truths, which, in the hour of their infatuation, 
 they had turned from with disdain. 
 
 Christianity, in fact, displayed, in the sixteenth 
 century, the same regenerating power which it had 
 exerted in the first. After fifteen centuries the same 
 truths produced the same re.-iUts. In the days of the 
 Reformation, as in those of Paul and Peter, the Gos- 
 pel, with invincible force, overtlurew the mightic-t 
 obstacles. Its sovereign power was manifested from 
 north to south among nations differing most widely 
 from each other in manners, character, and intellectual 
 development. Then, as in the days of Stephen and 
 James, it liglitcd up the fire of euthu=iasm and devoted- 
 ncss in natious which seemed ahnost extinguished, and 
 exalted them even to the Iiciglit of mart}Tdom. 
 
 How was this revi\al of tlie Chmch and of the 
 world accon>[ilishcd ? 
 
 The obsencr might then have seen the operation of 
 two l.-iws by which God governs the world at all times. 
 First, as He has ages to act in. He begins His pre- 
 parations leisurely, and long before the event which 
 He desigus to accomplish. 
 
 Thenr when the time is come. He produces the 
 greatest results by the smallest means. It is thus He 
 acts in nature and in history. AVhen He wishes an 
 immense tree to grow, He deposits a little grain in thr 
 earth ; and when He wishes to renew His Church, He 
 employs the humblest instnuuent to accomplish what 
 emperors and all the learned and eminent in the Church 
 were imable to perform. By-and-by we will search 
 for and we will discover this little seed which a 
 Divine hand deposited in the earth in the d.iy3 of the 
 Reformation ; but, at present, let us endeavour to as- 
 
APPARENT POWER OF ROME. 
 
 certain the various means by wliicli Gotl prepared this 
 great event. 
 
 At tlie periml when the Reformation was ready to 
 biir.Ht forth, Rome appeared to ho in peace and safety. 
 One would even have said that nothin<; could disturb 
 hi-r triumph after the preat victories which she had 
 i;aincd. General Councils — those rpjier and Lower 
 Houses of Catholicity — had been subdued. The A'uu- 
 dois and the Hussites had been suppressed. No uni- 
 versity, with the exception, |)erlmps, of that of Paris, 
 which sometimes raised its voice when its kin^s {rave 
 the sipinnl, doubted the infallibility of the oracles of 
 Rome. Each neemed to have accepted his allotted 
 nhnro in her |io\\cr. 'l"ho hi.uiher clerjry deemed it 
 better to {jive a distant chief the tenth jmrt of their 
 revenues, and quietly consume the other nine, than to 
 hazard all for an independence which would cost much 
 and yield little. The lower clergy, decoyed by the 
 pcrppectivo of rich benelices, which ambition ninde 
 tlicin fancy and discover in the distance, were willinj;, 
 by a little slavery, to realize the llatterin-^ hopes which 
 they entertained. Resides, they were almost every- 
 where so oppressed by the chiefs of the hierarchy, 
 thai they could sc.irccly struggle uiuler their powerful 
 grasp, far less rise boldly and hold up their heads. 
 'llie people knelt before the Roman altar ; and kings 
 themselves, though they began in secret to despise the 
 Bishop of Rome, durst not venture to attack his 
 power with a hand which the age would have deemed 
 sacrilegious. 
 
 Ilut opposition, if it seemed externally to have 
 slackened, or even ce.nseil, when the Reformation burst 
 fiirlli, had more inward strength. A nearer view of 
 the eililice will disclose to us more than one symptom 
 which i)resaged its downfall. General Councils, though 
 vanquished, had diffused their principles throughout 
 the Church, and carric<l division into the enemy's 
 camp. The defenders of the hierarchy were divided 
 into two parlies, — viz., those who maintained the 
 system of absolute Papal domination, on the prin- 
 ciples of Ilildebrand, and those who were desirous of 
 ft constitutional Papal government, offering guarantees 
 and giving liberty to the churches. 
 
 Nor wa-s this the whole. Faith in the inf.-iUibility 
 of the Roman bishop was greatly shaken among all 
 parties ; and if no voice was raised in opposition to it, 
 it was because every one rather desired anxiously to 
 retain the little faith in it which he still had. The 
 least shock was dreadeil. because it might overturn the 
 edifice. Christendom held in its breath; but it was 
 to prevent a disaster by w hich its own existence might 
 have been endangereil. From the moment when nmn 
 trembles at the thought of abandoning a long vene- 
 rated belief, it has lost its influence over him ; and even 
 the appeanuue of respect which he may be desirous to 
 keep up will not be long maintained. The Reforma- 
 tion had been gradually prepared in three different 
 worlds — the politic.al, the ecclesi.Tstical, and the literary. 
 Political bodies, private Christians, and theologians, the 
 literary ami the learned, all contributed to the revolu- 
 tion of the sixteenth century. Let us take a survey of 
 this triple opposition, concluding with the literarv 
 class; though, at the period immediately preceding the 
 revolution, it was, perhaps, the most powerful of all. 
 
 First, among political bodies, Rome had lost much 
 of its ancient ere<lit. Of this tlic Church herself was 
 the primary cause; for, properly speaking, it was not 
 the errors and superstitions which she had introduced 
 into Christianity that gave the fatal blow. Before 
 Christeuihim could have been able to comlenui her on 
 this account, it must have stood higher than the 
 Church, iu respect of intellectual and religions de- 
 velo|iment. IJut there was a class of things whi<-h the 
 laity well understood, and it was by these they judged 
 the Church. She had become of the "earth, eiirthy." 
 The sacerdotal empire, which tyrannized over the 
 nations, existed solely by the illusions of its subjects; 
 and having a halo for its crown, had forgotten its 
 nature, and left heaven, with his spheres of light and 
 glory, to plunge into the vulgar interests of burghers 
 and princes. Though representing those who are born 
 of the Spirit, the priests had exchanged the Spirit for 
 the flesh. They had abandoned the treasures of know- 
 ledge, and the spiritual power of the Word, for the 
 brute force and tinkling of the age. 
 
 The thing happened naturally enough. At first the 
 Church pretended that her object was to defend spiri- 
 tual order. But in order to protect it from the ojjpo- 
 sition and assaults of the people, she h.id resorted to 
 earthly means, to vulgar weapons, which a false ))rn- 
 dencc had induced her to take up. When the Church 
 had once begun to handle such weapons, her spiri- 
 tuality was at an end. Iler arm could not become 
 temporal without rendering her heart temporal also. 
 The a])pearance presented soon became the reverse of 
 what it had been at the outset. At llrst, she had 
 thought proper to employ the earth in defending 
 heaven ; now she employed heaven to defend the 
 earth. Theocratic forms became in her hands merely 
 a mean of accomplishing worldly interests. The offer- 
 ings which the people laid at the feet of the sovereign 
 pontiff of Christendom were expended in maintaining 
 the luxury of his court, and the soldiers of his armies. 
 His spiritual power served hiin as a ladder on which to 
 climb, and then put the kings and nations of the earth 
 under his feet. The charm broke, and the power of 
 the Church was lost as soon as the men of the world 
 could say, ''.She is become as one of us." 
 
 The great were the first to examine the titles of this 
 imagin.iry power. This examination might, perhaps, 
 have been sullicient to overthrow Rome ; but, happily 
 for her, the education of princes was everpvhere in 
 the hands of her adepts. These inspired their august 
 pupils with sentiments of veneration for the Roman 
 ))oiitiff. The rulers of the people grew up within the 
 sanctuary, and princes of ordinary cap.icity could never 
 entirely ipiit it. .Sover.al even had no other ambition 
 than to be found in it at the hour of death. They 
 preferred to die under a ciissock rather than a crown. 
 
 Italy, that a|i])lc of discord in Europe, perh.ips con- 
 tributed most to open the eyes of kings. Having 
 occasion to communicate with jiopes on matters which 
 concerned the temporal prince of the States of the 
 Church, and not the Bishop of bishops, they were 
 greatly astonished when they saw them ready to sacri- 
 I fice rights which appertained to the pontiff, in order to 
 secure certain advantages to the prince. They dis- 
 I covered that these pretended organs of truth had 
 
14 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 recourse to all the petty wiles of polities, to deceit, dis- 
 simulation, aud perjury. Then, at length, the bandage 
 which education had tied upon the eyes of princes fell 
 off. Then wily Ferdinand of Arragon tried stratagem 
 against stratagem. Then the impetuous Louis XII. 
 caused a medal to he struck with this inscription. 
 '■Perdam Babylonis nomen."^ And honest Maximi- 
 lian of Austria, grieved to the heart on learning the 
 treachery of Leo X., declared openly, — " Henceforth 
 this pope, too, is to me nothing better than a villain ; 
 now I can say, that tliroughout my life not one pope 
 has kept faith with me, or been true to his word. If 
 it please God, I hope that this one will be the last." 
 
 Kings and states began, moreover, to feel impatient 
 imder the heavy burden which the popes imposed on 
 them, and to demand that Rome should free them from 
 contributions and annate, which wasted their resources. 
 Already had France opposed Rome with the pragmatic 
 sanction, and the heads of the empire claimed to share 
 in it. In 1.511 the emperor took part in the Council 
 of Pisa, aud had even at one time an idea of seizing 
 the popedom for himself. But, among the rulers of 
 the people, none were so useful to the Reformation as 
 the prince in whose states it was to commence. 
 
 Of all the Electors of that period, the most power- 
 ful was Frederick of Saxony, surnamed the Wise. 
 Having succeeded, in 1487. to the hereditary states of 
 his family, he had received the electoral dignity from 
 the emperor, and in 1493 undertook a pilgi'image to 
 .lerusalem, where he was dubbed "Kuight of the Holy 
 Sepulchre." His power and influence, his riches and 
 liberality, raised him above all his equals. God chose 
 him to be the tree under whose shelter the seed of 
 truth might be able to push forth its first blade, with- 
 out being uprooted by storms from without.' 
 
 No man was better fitted for this noble service. 
 Frederick possessed the general esteem, and, in parti- 
 cular, had the entire confidence of the emperor, whom 
 he even represented in his absence. His wisdom con- 
 sisted not in the dexterous arts of a wily politician, 
 but in an enlightened aud foreseeing prudence — the 
 first maxim of which was, never to offer violence, from 
 interested motives, to the laws of honour aud religion. 
 
 At the same time, he felt in his heart the power of 
 the word of God. One day when Staupitz, the Vicar- 
 General, was with him. the conversation turned upon 
 those who entertained the people with vain declama- 
 tion. " All discourses," said the Elector, " which arc 
 filled only with subtleties and human traditions, are 
 wondrously cold, nerveless, and feeble. It is impos- 
 sible to advance one subtlety which another subtlety 
 cannot destroy. The Holy Scriptiu-es alone are clothed 
 with such power and majesty, that, destrojnng all 
 our learned logical contrivances, they press us home, 
 and constrain us to exclaim, 'Never man so spake.'" 
 St,aupitz having signified that he was entirely of this 
 opinion, the Elector shook him cordially by the hand, 
 and said, "■ Promise me that you will always think so." 
 
 Frederick was just the prince required at the outset 
 of the Reformation. Too much feebleness on the part 
 of its friends might have allowed it to be strangled ; 
 
 1 I will destroy the Dame of Babylon. 
 
 s He sm-passed many other princes in nutlioiity, weiUtli, power, liberality, 
 and maguiflcence.— CocAIoiij. 
 
 while too much haste might have caused the storm, 
 which at the very first began with hollow murmuring 
 sound to gather against it, to burst too soon. Frede- 
 rick was moderate, but strong. He had that Christian 
 virtue which God always requires in those who would 
 adore His ways — he waited upon God. He put in 
 practice the wise counsel of Gamaliel — "If this coun- 
 sel or this work be of men, it will come to nought ; 
 but if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it," (Acts v. j 
 38, 39.) '-Matters," said this prince to Spengler of 
 Niu-emberg, one of the most enlightened men of his 
 time, — "matters are come to such a point, that there 
 is nothing more which men can do in them ; God 
 alone must act. To His mighty hand, therefore, we 
 commit these great events, which are too ditlicult for 
 us." Providence made an admirable choice in select- 
 ing such a prince to protect His work in its infancy. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 The People— The Empire— Providential Preparations— Impulse of the 
 Refonnatiou — Peace — Middle Classes — National Character— Yoke of 
 the Pope- State of the Empire— Opposition to Rome— The Jjm-ghei-s— 
 Switzerland — Valour — Liberty — SnuiU Cantons — Italy — Obstacles to 
 Refonn — Spain — Obstacles — Portugal — France — Preparations — Hopes 
 Deceived — Netherlands — England — Scotland — The Kortli — Russia- 
 Poland— Bohemia — Hungary. 
 
 The discoveries made by kings had gradually ex- 
 tended to their subjects. The wise began to habituate 
 themselves to the idea that the Bishop of Rome was 
 only a man, and sometimes even a very bad man. 
 They had a suspicion that he was no holier than the 
 bishops, whose reputation was very equivocal. The 
 licentiousness of the popes roused the indignation of 
 Christendom, and hatred of the Roman name rankled 
 in the heart of the nations.^ 
 
 Numerous causes concurred in facilitating the de- 
 liverance of the different countries of the West. Let 
 us glance at these countries. 
 
 The empire was a confederation of different states, 
 with an emperor at their head, — each state having 
 supreme authority within its own territory. The Im- 
 perial Diet, composed of all the princes or sovereign 
 states, legislated for the whole Germanic body. It 
 belonged to the emperor to ratify the laws, decrees, or 
 resolutions of the assembly, and to see them applied 
 and carried into execution ; while the seven most 
 powerful princes, under the title of Electors, had the 
 disposal of the imperial crown. 
 
 Jhe north of Germany, inhabited chiefly by the 
 ancient Sa.xon race, had acquired the greatest degree 
 of freedom. The emperor, incessantly attacked by the 
 Turks in his hereditary possessions, was obliged to 
 court those princes and bold nations whose aid was 
 then necessary to him. Free towns in the north, west, 
 and south of the empire, had, by their trade, their 
 manufactures, and exertions of every description, risen 
 to a high degree of prosperity, and thereby of inde- 
 
 3 Tlie hatred of the Roman name, which rankles in the minds of many 
 nations, is owing, I suspect, to the prevailing rumours respecting the murals 
 of that city.— £rojmMj. 
 
STATE OF GERMANY. 
 
 15 
 
 pcndeiico; hut tlic powerful houso of Auslrin, then 
 iuvcstctl witli the iuiporiiil crown, lieUl tlio {ireiiterimrl 
 of the southern Suites of Clcrniauy uiuler its control, 
 mill closely wiitched their uiovenK-iits. It was prcpar- 
 in" to extend its dominion over the whole empire, and 
 even beyond it, when the Reformation interposed a 
 uiij?hty barrier to its encroachments, ami saved the 
 independence of Europe. 
 
 As Judea, when Christianity arose, was in the centre 
 of the ancient world, so tiermany was in the centre of 
 Christendom, lookiu-: at once toward the Netlierlands, 
 Kn^iand, Fniiice, Switzerland, Italy, Hungary, IJohe- 
 mia, I'olaud, Demnark, and all the North. It was in 
 the heart of Europe that the principle of life was to 
 be developed; and the beatings of this heart were t<j 
 circulate through lUl the arteries of the body the noble 
 bli>oil which was to give animation to all its members. 
 
 The particular constitution wliich the empire had 
 received conformably to the dispensation of Provi- 
 dence, favoured the propagation of new ideas. Had 
 Germany been a monarchy properly so called, like 
 France or England, the arbitrary will of the monarch 
 might have been able long to arrest the progress of the 
 Gospel. But it was a confederation. Truth attacked 
 in one state might be received with favour in another. 
 
 The internal peace which Maximilian had jn^it 
 secured for the empire was not less favourable to the 
 Rcformaliou. For a long time the numerous mem- 
 bers of the Germanic body had taken pleasure in 
 tearing each other. Nought had been seen but trouble 
 and discord, war incessantly renewed, neighbour 
 against neighbour, town against town, and nol)le 
 (igainst noble. Maximilian had given a solid basis 
 to public order, by erecting the Imperial Chamber, 
 witli power to decide in all questions between difTer- 
 cnt states. The inhabitants of Germany, after all 
 their troubles and disquietudes, saw the commence- 
 ment of a new era of security and repose. Neverthe- 
 less, when Luther appeared, Germany still presented 
 to the observing eye that kind of motion which 
 agitates the sea after long protracted storms. The 
 calm was uncertain. More than one example of this 
 will be seen as we proceed. By giving an entirely 
 new impulse to the Germanic nations, the Kcforma- 
 tion put an end for ever to all the former causes of 
 agitation. Destroying the system of barbarism, which 
 had till then been paramount, it put Europe in posses- 
 sion of a new system. 
 
 Christianity had, at the same time, exercised a pecu- 
 liar influence on Germany. The middle classes had 
 made rapid improvement. Throughout the different 
 <piarlers of the empire, and more especially in the free 
 towns, were numerous institutions well fitted to im- 
 prove the great mass of the population. In these arts 
 flourished. The burghers, devoting themselves in se- 
 curity to the calm toils and sweet relations of social 
 life, became more and more accessible to knowledge, 
 and in this way were contiimally ac<[uiring new in- 
 fluence and authority. The foundation of the Refor- 
 mation in Germany was not to be laid by magistrates, 
 who must often shape their conduct according to 
 political exigencies, nor by nobles fired with the love 
 of military glory, nor by a greedy and ambitious 
 clergj-, working religion for profit, aa if it were their 
 
 cxclusi\e property. The task was reserved for the 
 citizens, the commonaltv, the great body of the 
 people. 
 
 The national cluiracter of the Germans was specially 
 fitted to adapt itself to a religious Reformation. No 
 spuriiuis civilization had enervated it. The precious 
 seed, which the fear of God depo.sils in the bosom of 
 a people, had not been thrown to the winds. Ancient 
 nianiiers yet existed, displaying themselves in that 
 integrity and fidelity, that love of labour, that perse- 
 verani'c, that serious temper, which is still to be seen, 
 and gives presage of greater success to the Gospel, 
 than tlie jeering levity or boorish temper of some 
 other European nations. 
 
 The people of CJermany were indebted to Rome for 
 the great instrument of modern civilization, viz., faith, 
 polish, learning, laws, all, save their courage and their 
 arms, had come from the sacerdotal city, and, in 
 consequence, Germany had ever after been in close 
 alliance with the Paj)acy. The one was a kind of 
 spiritual conquest by the other, and we all know to 
 what purposes Rome has invariably applied her 
 conquests. Nations which were in possessiou of faith 
 and civilization before a Roman pontiff existed, always 
 maintained in regard to him a greater measure of 
 independence. Still the more thorough the subjugation 
 of the tiernuiii, tlie more powerful will the reaction be 
 when the ))eriod of awakening shall arrive. "When 
 Germany does open her eyes, she will indignantly 
 break loose from the chains which have so long held 
 her ca])tive. Tiie bondage she has had to endure will 
 make her more sensible of her need of deliverance ; 
 and freedom, and bold champions of the truth, will 
 come forth from this house of hard labour and bondage, 
 in which all her people have, for ages, been confined. 
 
 There was, at that time, in Germany, what the 
 ])oliticians of our days call a "see-saw system." When 
 the emperor was of a resolute character, his power 
 increased ; when, on the contrary, he wixs of a feeble 
 character, the influence and power of the princes and 
 electors were enlarged. Never had these felt them- 
 selves stronger in regard to their chief than in the 
 time of Maximilian, at the period of the Reforma- 
 tion ; and as he took part against it, it is easy to 
 understand how favourable the circumstance of his 
 comparative weakness must have been to the propaga- 
 tion of the Gospel. 
 
 ^Moreover, Germany was tired of what the Romans 
 derisively styled '-tlie patience of the Germans." 
 They had indeed shewn much patience from the days 
 of Louis of Bavaria, when the emperors laid down 
 their arms, and the tiara w.ns placed, without opposi- 
 tion, abo\e the crown of the Ca\sars. 
 
 The contest, however, had done little more than 
 change its place, by descending several steps. The 
 same struggles which the emperors and popes had ex- 
 hibited to tlie world were soon renewed, on a smaller 
 scale, in all the towns of Germany, between the 
 bishops anil the magistrates. The burghers took up 
 the sword which the emperors had allowed to drop, 
 from their hands. As early as 1329. the burghers of 
 Frankfort on the Oder had intrepidly withstood all 
 their ecclesiastical superiors. Excommunicated for 
 having continued faithful to the Margrave Louis, they 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 had been left for twenty-eight years without mass, 
 baptism, marriage, or Christian burial ; and, when the 
 monks and priests made their re-entry, they laughed 
 at it as a comedy or farce, — sad symptoms, doubtless, 
 but symptoms of which the clerg}' were the cause. At 
 the period of the Reformation this opposition between 
 the magistrates and ecclesiastics had increased. The 
 privileges of the former, and the temporal pretensions 
 of the latter, Avere constantly causing jostling and 
 collision between the two bodies. 
 
 But burgomasters, councillors, and secretai-ies of 
 towns, were not the only persons among whom Rome 
 and the clergy found opponents. Wrath was at the 
 same time fermenting among the people, and broke out 
 as early as 1.502, when the peasantry, indignant at the 
 grinding yoke of their ecclesiastical sovereigns, entered 
 into a combination which goes under the name of the 
 Shoe-Alliance. 
 
 Thus everj'where, both in the upper and lower 
 regions of society, a grumbling sound was heard, — a 
 precursor of the thunder which was soon to burst. 
 Germany seemed ripe for the work which the six- 
 teenth century had received as its task. Providence, 
 which moves leisnrelj'^, had every thing prepared, and 
 the very passions which God condemns were to be 
 overruled by His mighty hand for the accomplisluuent 
 of His designs. 
 
 Let us see how other nations were situated. 
 
 Thirteen small republics, placed with their con- 
 federates in the centre of Europe among mountains, 
 forming, as it were, its citadel, contained a brave and 
 simple people. Who would have gone to those obscure 
 valleys in quest of jjersons who, with the sons of 
 Germany, might be the deliverers of the Church? 
 AVho would have thought that petty unknown towns, 
 just emerging from barbarism, hid behind inaccessible 
 mountains, at the extremity of nameless lakes, would, 
 in point of Christianity, take precedence of Jerusalem, 
 Antioch, E|)1k'mi-, Ccriiitli. and IJniue? Nevertheless, 
 it so pleased Ilim who \\ill> ihat nne spot of earth be 
 watered with iKv.. ami that another spot on which the 
 rain has not de^^■ellde(l sludl rcuiain parelied. (Amos.) 
 
 There were other circumstances besides wliicli might 
 have been expected to thrownumerous olistacles in the 
 way of the Reformation among the Helvetic Republics. 
 If, in a monarchy, the impediments of ])ower were to 
 he dreaded, the thing to be feared in a democracy was 
 tlie precipitation of the people. 
 
 But Switzerland had also had its preparations. It 
 was a wild but noble tree, which had been preserved in 
 the bosom of the v.alleys, in order that a valuable fruit 
 might one day be engrafted on it. Providence had 
 diffused among this new people principles of indepen- 
 dence and freedom, destined to display their full power 
 whenever the signal for contest with Rome should be 
 given. The pope had given the Swiss the title of 
 Protectors of the Liberty of the Church; but they 
 seem to have taken the honom-able appellation in a 
 very different sense from the pontiff. If their soldiers 
 guarded the pope in the vicinity of the ancient Capitol, 
 their citizens, in the boBom of the Alps, carefully 
 guarded their religious liberties against the assaults of 
 the pope and the clergy. Ecclesiastics were forljidden 
 to apply to a foreign jurisdiction. The '• Letter of the 
 
 Priests " (Pfaffenbrief, 1370) was an energetic protes- 
 tation of Swiss liberty against the abuses and power 
 of the clergy. Amongst these states, Zurich was dis- 
 tinguished for its courageous opposition to the preten- 
 sions of Rome. Geneva, at the other extremity of 
 Switzerland, was at war with its bishop. These two 
 towns particularly signalized themselves in the great 
 struggle which we have undertaken to describe. 
 
 But if tlte Swiss towns, accessible to every kind of 
 improvement, were among the first to fall in with the 
 movement of reform, it was otherwse with the inhabi- 
 tants of the mountains. The light had not yet travelled 
 so far. These cantons, the founders of Swiss freedom, 
 proud of the part which they had performed in the 
 great struggle for independence, were not readily dis- 
 posed to imitate their younger brethren of the plains. 
 Whj' change the faith with which they had chased 
 Austria, and which had, by its altars, consecrated all 
 the scenes of their triinnph ? Then- priests were the 
 only enlightened guides to whom they could hava 
 recoiu-se. Their worship and their festivals g.ave a 
 turn to the monotony of their tranquil life, and j 
 plciisantly broke the silence of their peaceful retreats. 
 They remained impervious to religions innovation. 
 
 On crossing the Alps, we find ourselves in that Italy 
 which was, in the eyes of the majority, the Holy Land 
 of Christendom. Whence should Europe have ex- 
 pected the good of the Church if not from Italy — if 
 not from Rome ? Might not the power wliieh by turns 
 raised so many different characters to the pontifical 
 chair, one day place in it a pontiff who would become 
 an instrument of blessing to the heritage of the Lord ? 
 Or if pontiffs were to be despaired of, were there not 
 bishops and councils who might reform the Church '? 
 Nothing good comes out of Nazereth ; but out of Jeru- 
 salem — out of Rome I . . . Such might be the 
 thoughts of men, but God thought otherwise. He 
 said, -'Let him who is filthy, be filthy still," (Rev. 
 xxii.,) and abandoned Italy to her iniquities. This 
 land of ancient glory was alternately a prey to intes- 
 tine wars and foreign invasion. The wiles of politics, 
 the violence of faction, the turmoil of war, seemed to 
 h.avc sole sway, and to banish far away both the Gos- 
 pel and its peace. 
 
 Besides, Italy, broken, dismembered, and without 
 unity, seemed little fitted to receive a common im- 
 pulse. Each frontier was a new barrier where truth 
 was aiTested. 
 
 And if the truth was to come from the North, how 
 could the Italians, with a taste so refined, and a society 
 in their eyes so exquisite, condescend to receive any 
 thing at the hands of barbarous Germans? Were 
 men who admired the cadence of a sonnet more than 
 the majesty and simplicity of the Scriptures, a pro- 
 pitious soil for the seed of the divine word ? But be 
 this as it may in regard to Italy, Rome was still to 
 continue Rome. Not only did the temporal power of 
 the popes dispose the different Italian factions to pur- 
 chase their alliance and favour at any jirice ; but, in 
 addition to this, the universal .ascendancy of Rome 
 liresonted various attractions to the avarice and vanity 
 of the ulti'amontane states. The moment tliat the 
 question of emancipating the rest of the world from 
 Rome should be raised, Italy would again become 
 
SPAIN-PORTUGAL-FRANCE. 
 
 17 
 
 Italy, iloniestii! quiurcls would not prevail to the 
 ailvantape of a foreign system. Attacks on the liead 
 of the IV-iiinsular family would at once revive iiffcc- 
 lions and common interests which had long been in 
 uboyiuico. 
 
 The Reformation had, therefore, little cluuice in 
 that quarter. And yet there did exist, beyond the 
 mountains, individuals who had been prepared to re- 
 ceive the Gos[)el light, and Italy was not entirely dis- 
 inherited. 
 
 Spain had what Italy bad not — a grave, noble, and 
 religiously-disposed peojde. At all times has il num- 
 bered men of i)icty and Icaining among its clergy, 
 while it was distant enough from Rome to be able 
 easily to shake off the yoke. There are few nations 
 where one might have more reasonably hoped for a 
 reviviU of that primitive Christianity which Spain, 
 perhaps, received from St. Paul himself. And yet 
 Spain did not raise her head among the nations. She 
 was destined to fulfil the declaration of Divine Wis- 
 dom, — '-The first shall be last." Various circum- 
 stances led to this sad result. 
 
 Spain, in consequence of its isolated position, and 
 its distance from Germany, must have felt only slight 
 shocks of the great earthquake which so \iulently 
 heaved the empire. It was, moreover, engrossed with 
 treasures very different from those which the word of 
 God then offered to the nations. The new world 
 eclipsed the eternal world. A land altogether new, 
 aiid apparently of silver and gold, inflamed all imagi- 
 nations. An ardent desire for riches left no room in 
 a Spanish heart for nobler thoughts. A powerfid 
 clergy, with scaffolds and treasures at its disposal, 
 ruled the Peninsula. The Spaniard willingly yielded 
 a servile obedience to his priests, who, disburdening 
 him of the ])rior claims of spiritual occupation, left 
 him free to follow his passions, and to run the way of 
 riches, discoveries, and new continents. Victorious 
 over the Jloors, Spain had, at the expense of her 
 noblest blood, pulled down the crescent from the walls 
 of Grenada, and many other cities, and, in its place, 
 ])lnnted the cross of Jesus Christ. This great zeal for 
 Christianity, which seemed to give bright hopes, turned 
 against the truth. AVhy should Catholic Spain, which 
 had vanquished infidelity, not o]ipose heresy? IIow 
 should those who had chased Mohammed from their 
 lovely country allow Luther to penetrate into it ? Their 
 kings did even more. They fitted out fieets against 
 the Heformalion. and in their eagerness to vanquish 
 it, went to seek it in Holland and England. But these 
 attacks aggrandized the nations against which they 
 were directed, and their power soon crushed Spain. 
 In this way these Catholic regions lost, through the 
 Reformation, even that temporal prosperity which was 
 the primary cause of their rejection of the spiritual 
 liberty of the Gospel. Nevertheless, it was a brave 
 and generous people that dwelt beyond the Pyrenees. 
 Several of their noble sons with the same ardour, but 
 with more light than those who had shed their blood 
 in Moorish dungeons, came to lay their life, as an 
 offering, on the faggot piles of the Inquisition. 
 
 It was nearly the same with Portugal as with Spain. 
 Emmanuel the Happy gave it an age of gold, which 
 must have imfitted it for the self-denial which the 
 
 Gospel demands. The Portuguese, rushing into the 
 recently discovered routes to the East Indies and 
 Brazil, turned their backs on Europe and the Refor- 
 mation. 
 
 Few nations might have been thought more disposed 
 than France to receive the Gospel. Almost all the 
 intellectual and spiritual life of the middle ages centred 
 in her. One would have said that the paths were 
 already beaten for a gi-eat manifestation of the truth. 
 Men who were the most opposed to each other, and 
 who had the greatest influence on the French peo](le, 
 felt that they had some allinity with the Reformation. 
 St. Bernard had given an example of that heart-felt 
 faith, that inward piety, which is the finest feature of 
 the Reformation ; while Abelard had iiUroduccd into 
 the study of theology that reasoning ])rincii)le, which, 
 incapable of establishing truth, is powerful in destroy- 
 ing falsehood. Numerous heretics, so called, had re- 
 kindled tlie flames of the word of God in the French 
 provinces. The University of Paris hail withstood the 
 Church to the face, and not feared to combat her. At 
 the beginning of the fifteenth century, the Clemangis 
 and the Gersons had spoken out boldly. The prag- 
 matic sanction had been a great act of independence, 
 and promised to prove the palladium of the Gallican 
 liberties. The French nobility, so numerous and so 
 jealous of their precedence, and who, at this period, 
 had just seen their privileges gradually suppressed to 
 the extension of the influence of the crown, )nust have 
 felt favourably disposed towards a religious revolution, 
 the effect of which might be to restore a portion of the 
 independence which they had lost. The people — 
 lively, intelligent, and open to generous emotions — 
 were accessible to the truth in a degree as great, if 
 not greater, than any other people. The Reformation 
 might have promised to be, in this nation, the birth 
 that was to crown the long travail of many ages. 
 But the Church of France, which seemed for so many 
 generations to have been rushing in the same direction, 
 turned suddenly round at the moment of the Reforma- 
 tion, and took quite a contrary direction. Such was 
 the will of Him who guides nations and their rulers. 
 The prince who then sat in the chariot and held the 
 reins, and who, as a lover of letters, might have been 
 thought likely to be the first to second reform, threw 
 his people into another course. The symptoms of 
 several centuries proved fallacious, and the impulse 
 given to France struck and spent itself on the ambi- 
 tion and fanaticism of its kings. The Valois took the 
 place which she ought to have occupied. Perhaps, if 
 she had received the Gospel, she would have become 
 too powerful. God was pleased to take the feeblest 
 nations — nations that as yet were not — to make them 
 the depositaries of His truth. France, after having 
 been almost reformed, ultimately found herself again be- 
 come Roman Catholic. The sword of princes thrown 
 into the scale, made it incline towards Rome. Alas ! 
 another sword, that of the Reformed themselves, com- 
 pleted the ruin of the Reformation. Hands habituated 
 to the sword, unlearned to j^ray. It is by the blood 
 of its confessors, and not by that of its enemies, that 
 the Gospel triumphs. 
 
 At this time the Netherlands was one of the most 
 flourishing countries in Europe. It contained an in- 
 
IS 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 dustrious population, enlightened by the numerous 
 relations -ivhich it maintained with the different quar- 
 ters of the world, full of corn-age, and zealous to 
 excess for its independence, its privileges, and its free- 
 dom. Placed on the threshold of Germany, it must 
 have been one of the first to hear the sound of the 
 Eeformation. Two parties, quite distinct from each 
 other, occupied these provinces. The more southern 
 one was sm-feited with wealth, and submitted. How 
 could all those manufactures, carried to the highest 
 perfection — how could that boundless traffic by land 
 and sea — how could Bruges, the great entrepot of the 
 trade of the north — how could Antwerp, that queen 
 of commercial cities, accommodate themselves to a 
 long and sanguinary struggle for points of faith? On 
 the contrary, the northern provinces, defended by their 
 sands, the sea, and their inland waters ; and still more, 
 by the simplicity of their manners, and their determi- 
 nation to lose all sooner than the Gospel, not only 
 saved their franchises, their privileges, and their faith, 
 but also conquered their independence, and a glorious 
 national character. 
 
 England scarcely seemed to promise what she has 
 since performed. Repulsed from the Continent, where 
 she had so long been obstinately bent on conquering 
 France, she began to throw her eye towards the ocean, 
 as the domain which was to be the true scene of her 
 conquests, and which was reserved for her inheritance. 
 Twice converted to Clu-istianity^-ouce under the an- 
 cient Britons, and the second time under the Anglo- 
 Saxons, — she very devoutly paid to Home the annual 
 tribute of St. Peter. But she was reserved for high 
 destinies. Mistress of the ocean, and present at once 
 in all the different quarters of the globe, she, ivith the 
 nations that were to spring from her, was one day to 
 be the hand of God in shedding the seeds of life over 
 the remotest islands and the largest continents. Al- 
 ready several circumstances gave a presentiment of her 
 destiny. Bright lights had shone in the British Isles, 
 and some glimmerings still remained. A multitude of 
 foreigners, artists, merchants, and mechanics, arriving 
 from the Netherlands, Germany, and other countries, 
 filled their cities and their sea-ports. The new reli- 
 gious ideas must have been conveyed easily and rapidly. 
 In fine, the reigning monarch was an eccentric prince, 
 who, possessed of some knowledge and great courage, 
 was every moment changing his projects and ideas, 
 and turning from side to side, according to the direc- 
 tion in which his violent passions blew. It was pos- 
 sible that one of the inconsistencies of Hemy YIII. 
 might prove favoiu-ablo to the Eeformation. 
 
 Scotland was at this time agitated by factions. A 
 king five years old, a queen regent, ambitious nobles, 
 and an influential clergy, kept this bold nation in con- 
 stant turmoil. It was, nevertheless, one day to hold a 
 first place among those that received the Reformation. 
 
 The three kingdoms of the North — Denmark, Sweden, 
 and Norway — were united under a common sceptre. 
 These rude and wai-like nations seemed to have little 
 in common with the doctrine of love and peace. Ajid 
 yet, by their very energy, they were, perhaps, more 
 disposed than the people of the South to receive the 
 evangelical doctrine in its power. But, the descendants 
 of warriors and pii-ates, thev brought, it would seem, 
 
 too warlike a character to the Protestant cause ; at a 
 later period, their sword defended it Avith heroism. 
 
 Russia, retired at the extremity of Europe, had few 
 relations with other states, and belonged, moreover, to 
 the Greek communion. The Reformation effected in 
 the Western exerted little or no influence on tho 
 Eastern Church. 
 
 Poland seemed well prepared for a reform. The 
 vicinity of the Christians of Bohemia and Moravia had 
 disposed it to receive, while the vicinity of Germany 
 must have rapidly communicated, the evangelical im- 
 pidse. So early as loOO, the nobility of Poland 
 Proper had demanded the cup for the laity, appealing 
 to the usage of the primitive Church. The liberty 
 enjoyed by its towns, and the independence of its 
 nobles, made it a safe asylum for Christians perse- 
 cuted in their own country, and the truth which they 
 brought thither was received with joy by a great 
 number of its inliabitants. In our days, however, it 
 is one of the countries which has the smallest number 
 of confessors. 
 
 The flame of reformation, which had long gleamed 
 in Bohemia, had been almost extinguished in blood. 
 Nevertheless, precious remains, which had escaped the 
 carnage, still survived to see the day of which John 
 Huss had a presentiment. 
 
 Hungary had been torn by intestine wars under the 
 government of princes without character and without 
 experience, and who had at last yoked the fate of their 
 people to Austria, by giving this powerful House' a 
 place among the heirs of the crown. 
 
 Such was the state of Europe at the beginning of 
 the sixteenth century, which was destined to produce 
 so mighty a transformation in Christian society. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 Roman Theology — Remains of Life— Justification by Faith — Witnesses for 
 the Truth— Claude— The Mystics— The Vaudois— Valdo— Wickliffe— 
 Huss — Prediction— Protestantism before the Reformation — Anioldi — 
 Utenheira— Martin— New Witnesses in the Church— Thomas Conecte 
 —The Cardinal of Crayn — Institoris— Savonarola— Justification by 
 Faith — John Vitraire — John Laillier — John of Wessalia — John of Goch 
 — John Wesscl— Protestantism before the Reformation — The Bohemian 
 Brethren — Prophecy of Proles — Prophecy of the Fmnriscan of Isenaoh 
 — Tliird Preparative— Literature. 
 
 Having pointed out the state of nations and princes, 
 we now proceed to the preparation for Reform, as 
 existing in Theology and in the Church. 
 
 The singular system of Theology wliich had been 
 established in the Church must have powerfully con- 
 tributed to open the eyes of the rising generation. 
 Made for an age of darkness, as if such an age had 
 been to exist for ever, it seemed destined to becomo 
 obsolete and defective in all its parts as soon as llu^ 
 age should have improved. . Such was the actual re- 
 sult. The popes had from time to time made various 
 additions to Christian doctrine. They had changed or 
 taken away whatever did not accord with their hier- 
 archy; while anything not contrary to their system was 
 allowed to remain till further orders. This system 
 
JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 
 
 19 
 
 contiiiiu'tl true iloolriues, such us iviKinptioii, imil the 
 iulliieiici) of tlio Holy Spirit; ami (liese iiu iiblo thco- 
 loginn, if niij- such then existed, ini^rht iiiivo employed 
 to eombat niid overthrow all tiie rest. The pure gold, 
 liiiiiftled with the worthless lead in the treasury of the 
 Vntioau, made it easy to detect the imposition. It is 
 true, that when any bold opponent called attention to 
 it, tho fanner of Rome immediately threw ont the pure 
 grain. But these very proceedinj,'s only increased the 
 confusion. 
 
 This confusion was unbounded, and the pretended 
 unity was only a heap of disunion. At Rome there 
 were doctrines of tho Court, and doctrines of the 
 Church. Tho faith of tho metropolis differed from the 
 faith of tho provinces; while in the ju-ovinces. again, 
 tho variation was endless. There was a faith for 
 l)rince9, n faith for the people, and a faith for religions 
 orders. Opinions were classed as belonging to such a 
 convent, such a district, such a doctor, such a monk. 
 
 Truth, in order to pass peacefully through tho time 
 when Rome would have crushed her with an iron 
 sceptre, had done, like the insect which with its threads 
 forms the chrysalis in which it shuts itself up during 
 the cold season. And str.inge enough, the instruments 
 which divine truth had employed for the purpose were 
 tho so much decried schoolmen. These industrious 
 artisans of thought had employed themselves in mi- 
 ravelling all theological ideas, and out of the numerous 
 threads had made a veil under which the ablest of their 
 contemporaries must have found it dithcult to recognize 
 the truth in its original purity. It seems a snd thing, 
 that an insect, full of life, and sometimes glowing with 
 the most brilliant colours, shoidd enclose itself, appa- 
 rently without life, in its dark cocoon; and yet it is the 
 dhroud that saves it. It was the same with truth. 
 Hud the selfish aiul sinister policy of Rome, in the days 
 of her ascendancy, met the truth in naked simplicity, 
 she would have destroyed, or at least tried to destroy 
 it ; but disguised as it was, by the theologians of the 
 time, under subtleties and endless distinctions, the popes 
 either suw it not, or thought that, in such a state, it 
 coidd not do them harm. They accordingly jiatronized 
 both tho workmen and their work. But spring might 
 come, and then forgotten truth might lift her head and 
 throw aside her shroud. In her seeming tomb, having 
 uc<|uired new strength, she might now again prove 
 victorious over Rome and all its eiTors. This spring 
 arrived. At the moment when the absurd trappings 
 of the schoolmen were falling off under the attack of 
 skilful hands, and amid the jeers of the new generation, 
 truth made her escape, and came forth all young and 
 beautiful. 
 
 But not merely did the writings of the schoolmen 
 bear powerful testimony in favour of truth. Christi- 
 anity hud ever_\-where imparted a portion of her own 
 life to the life of the people. The Church of Christ 
 was like a building which had fallen into ruin; in 
 digging among its foundations, a jiortion of the solid 
 rock on which it had been originally founded was 
 discovered. Several institutions, which dated from the 
 pure times of the Church, were still existing, and could 
 not fail to suggest to many minds evangelical ideius 
 utterly at variance with the prevailing superstitions. 
 Moreover, the inspired ^^Tite^3 and ancient doctors of 
 
 the Church, whose writings weru extant in many 
 libraries, occasionally sent forth a solitary voice; and 
 nu\y we not hope that this voice was listened to in 
 silence by more than one attentive ear? Let us not 
 doubt, (and how sweet tho thought!) Christians had 
 many brothers and many sisters in those monasteries, 
 in which we arc too ready to see nothing but hypocrisy 
 and dissoluteness. 
 
 Tho CIiiutIi had fallen in conseipicncc of having lost 
 the grand doctrine of .lustilicatiou by faith in tho 
 Saviour; and hence, before she could rise, it was ne- 
 cessary that this doctrine should be restored. As soon 
 as it was re-established in Christeiuloin, all the errors 
 and observances which had been introduced, all that 
 multitude of saints, pious works, ])enanccs, masses, 
 indulgenci's, iVc, behoved to disappear. As soon as 
 the one ^Mediator and His one sacrifice were recognized, 
 all other mediators and other sacrifices were done away. 
 "This article of justification," says one whom we may 
 regard as divinely illumined on the subject,' " is that 
 wliich creates the Church, nourishes, builds up. pre- 
 serves, and defends her. Is o man can teach well in the 
 Church, or successively resist an adversary, unless he 
 hold fast by this truth. This," adds the writer from 
 whom wo quote, " is tho heel which bruises tlie Ser- 
 pent's head." 
 
 God, who was preparing His work, raised up during 
 the revolution of ages a long series of witnesses to the 
 truth. But the truth to wliicli tliosc noble men bore 
 testimony, they knew not with sullicicnt clearness, or at 
 least were unable to expound with sullieient distinctness. 
 Incapable of accomplishing the work, they were just 
 what they should lia\ e been iii order to prep.irc it. We 
 must add, however, that if they were not ready for the 
 work, the work was not ready for them. The measure 
 was not yet tilled uj). Ages hatl not accomplished their 
 destined course, and the need of a true remedy was not 
 generally felt. 
 
 No sooner had Rome uswped power than a power- 
 ful opposition was formed against her, — an opposition 
 which extended across the middle ages. 
 
 In the ninth century. Archbishop Claude of Turin, 
 and in the twelfth cc-ntury, Peter of Bruges, his disci- 
 ple Henry, and Arnold of Brescia, in France and in 
 Italy, endeavour to establish the worship of God in 
 spirit and in truth. Generally, however, in searching 
 for this worship, they confine it too much to the exclu- 
 sion of images and external observances. 
 
 The Mystics, who have existed in almost all ages, 
 seeking in silence for holiness of heart, purity of life, 
 and tranquil communion with God, cast looks of sad- 
 ness and dismay on the desolation of the Church. 
 Carefully abstaining from the scholastic brawls and 
 useless discussions under which true piety had been 
 buried, they endeavoured to withdraw men from the 
 vain mechanism of external worship, and from the mire 
 and glare of ceremonies, that they might lead them to 
 the internal repose enjoyed by the soul which seeks all 
 its happiness in God. This they could not do without 
 coming at every point into collision with accredited 
 opinions, and without unveiling the sores of the 
 Church. Still they had no clear view of the doctrine 
 of justification by faith. 
 
 1 Lutlicr to Bn^ntius. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 The Vaudois, far superior to the Mystics in purity 
 of doctrine, form a long chain of witnesses to the truth. 
 Men enjoying more freedom than the rest of the 
 Church, appear to have inhabited the lieights of the 
 Alps in Piedmont from ancient times ; and their num- 
 bers were increased, and their doctrine purified, by the 
 followers of Valdo. From their mountain tops the 
 Vaudois, dming a long series of ages, protest against the 
 superstitions of Rome.' " They contend for the living 
 hope which they have in God through Christ, for re- 
 generation, and inward renewal by faith, hope, and 
 charity, for the merits of Jesus Christ, and the all- 
 sufficiency of His righteousness and grace." ° 
 
 .Still, however, this primary truth of a sinner's justi- 
 fication, this capital doctrine, which ought to have risen 
 
 from the midst of their doctrines, like Mont Blanc 
 from the bosom of the Alps, has not due prominence in 
 their system. Its top is not high enough. 
 
 In 1170, Peter Vaud, or Valdo, a rich merchant at 
 Lyons, sells all his goods and gives to the poor. He, 
 as well as his friends, seem to have had it in view 
 practically to realize the perfection of primitive Chris- 
 tianity. He, accordingly, begins in like manner with 
 the branches, and not the root. Nevertheless, his word 
 is powerful, because of his appeal to Scripture, and 
 shakes the Roman hierarchy to its very foundations. 
 
 In 1360, Wickliffe appears in England, and appeals 
 from the pope to the word of God; but the real inter- 
 nal sore of the Church is, in his eyes, only one of the 
 numerous symptoms of disease. 
 
 John IIuss lifts his voice in lioliemia a century l)e- 
 fore Lutlier lifts his in Saxouy. He seems to penetrate 
 farther than his predpop-ifiors into the essence of 
 Christian truth. He :i-k~ ('liri>i to give him grace to 
 glory only in His cross. :iiiil in tin' inestimable weight of 
 His sufferings ; but his attentiuu i> directed less against 
 the errors of the Roman Church, than the scandalous 
 lives of its clergy. He was, however, if we may so 
 speak, the John Baptist of the Reformation. The flames 
 of his martyrdom kindled a fire in the Church, which 
 threw immense light on the surrounding darkness, and 
 the rays of which were not to be so easily extinguished. 
 
 John Huss did more; prophetic words came forth 
 from the depth of his dungeon. He had a presentiment, 
 
 • NoWa Leyson. 
 
 s Treatise of Autichi-ist, of the same age as ttie Nobla LeyQon. 
 
 that the true Reformation of the Cliurch was at hand 
 So early as the period when, chased from Prague, he 
 had been forced to wander in the plains of Bohemia, 
 where his steps were followed by an immense crowd of 
 eager hearers, he had exclaimed, " The wicked have 
 begun to lay perfidious nets for the Bohemian goose ;^ 
 but if even the goose, which is only a domestic fowl, a 
 peaceful bird, and which never takes a lofty flight into 
 the air, has, however, broken their toils, other birds of 
 loftier wing will break them with much greater force. 
 Instead of a feeble goose, the truth will send eagles and 
 falcons, with piercing eye." The Reformers fulfilled 
 this prediction. 
 
 And after the venerable priest had been summoned 
 before the Council of Constance, after he had been 
 
 3 111 Boliemiaii, Huss means "goose." 
 
JOHN HUSS-HTS DREAM. 
 
 21 
 
 thrown into pri.-ton, the cliiipd of Ik'tlik-luMn, where he 
 Imd proi-lninieil the Gi)spol lunl tin- fiitnre triumphs of 
 Jesus Christ, occupied him more timii his defence. 
 One niifiit the holy martyr tiiou^lit lie H!iw, in the 
 depth of his dungeon, tiio fealines of Jesus Christ, 
 which ho had cause to be ])aiutcd on the walls of liis 
 study, cffiiccd by the pope and the bishops. The dream 
 distresses him; but next day he sees several painters 
 employed in restoring the pictures in greater number 
 nnd splendour. Their task finished, the painters, sur- 
 rounded by n {Treat nudtitnde, exclaim, " Now, let 
 popes and bishops come, they ne\cr shall efface them 
 more." John IIuss adds, "Many people in Bethlehem 
 rejoiced, and I amonp; them." "Think of your de- 
 fence, rather than of dream-'." said his faithful friend. 
 Chevalier de Chlum, to wli-iii hr 1i:m1 ciMiiiiiuDicMtril 
 
 the dream. "I am not a dreamer," replied IIuss; 
 "but this I hold for certain — the imap;e of Christ 
 will never be effaceil. They wished to destroy it, but 
 it will bo painted anew in men's hearts by far abler 
 preachers than I. The nation which loves Jesus Christ 
 will rejoice; and I, awaking among the dead, and, 
 so to speak, rising again from the tomb, will tlirill 
 with joy." 
 
 A century elapsed, and tho torch of the Gospel, 
 
 1 rekindled by the Reformers, did, in fact, illumine 
 several nations which rejoiced in its light. 
 
 But in those ages a word of life is heard not only 
 
 I among those whom Rome regards as its adversaries ; 
 Catholicity itself — let us say it for our comfort — con- 
 
 ' tiiiiis in its bosom numerous witnesses to the truth. 
 Tlic uriniilivc cilirico li:is licen consumed; but a noble 
 
 fire is slumbering under its m-Iios, nw\ \w sii' 
 time to time throwing out brilliant sparks. 
 
 It is an error to suppose that, up to the Reformation, 
 Christianity existed only under the Roman Catholic 
 form; and that, at that period only, a part of that 
 church assumed the form of Protestantism. 
 
 Among the doctors who preceded the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, a great number, doubtless, inclined to the system 
 which the Council of Trent proclaimed in 1.5G2; but 
 several also inclined to the doctrines professed at 
 Augsburg, in l.")30, by the Protestants — the majority, 
 perhaps, vibrated between the two. 
 
 Anselm of Canterbury lays down the doctrines of the 
 incarnation and expiation .is of the essence of Chris- 
 tianity. And in a treatise, in which he teaches how to 
 die, he says to the dying person, " Look only to the 
 menu of Jesus Christ." St. Bernard, with powerful 
 voice, proclaims the m3-stery of redemption. " If my 
 
 comes from another," says he, " wliy .-hould n>t 
 my righteousness also be derived ? Certainly, it is far 
 better for me to have it given me, than to have it in- 
 nate." Several schoolmen, and after them Chancellor 
 Gerson, forcibly attack the errors and abuses of the 
 Church. 
 
 But, above all, let us think of the thousands of 
 obscure individuals unknown to the world, who, how- 
 ever, possessed the true life of Christ. 
 
 A monk named Arnoldi, daily in his (juiet cell utters 
 this fervent exclamation, "0 Jesus Christ, my Lord I 
 I believe that thou alone art my redemption and my 
 righteousness." 
 
 Christopher of Utenheim, a pious bishop of Basle, 
 causes his name to be written on a picture painted on 
 glass, and surrounds it with this inscription, that he 
 may have it .always under his eye, "The cross of 
 Christ is my hope ; I seek grace, and not works." 
 
22 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Friar Martin, n poor Carthusian, -wrote a touching 
 confession, in which he says, " O most loving God ! I 
 know there is no other way in wliich I can be saved 
 and satisfy thy justice, than by the merit, the spotless 
 passion, and deat-h of thy well-beloved Son. Kind 
 Jesus ! all my salvation is iu thy hands. Thou canst 
 not turn the arms of thy love away from me, for they 
 created, shaped, and ransomed me. In great mercy, 
 and in an ineffable manner, thou hast engi-ared my 
 name with an iron pen on thy side, thy hands, and thy 
 feet," &c. Then the good Carthusian places his con- 
 fession in a wooden box, and deposits the box iu a 
 hole which he had made in the wall of his cell. 
 
 The piety of Friar Martin would never have been 
 known had not the box been found (21st December, 
 1776) in taking down an old tenement which had 
 formed part of the Carthusian Convent at Biisle. 
 
 But this touching faith these holy men had only for 
 themselves, and knew not how to communicate to 
 others. Living in retreat, they might more or less say, 
 as in the ivriting which Friar Martin put into his box, 
 " Et si ha;c prsedicta confiteri uon possim lingua, cou- 
 fiteor tameu corde et scripto." — "And these things 
 aforesaid, if I cannot confess with the tongue, I, how- 
 ever, confess with the heart and iu \\Titing." Tlic 
 word of truth was in the sanctuary of some pious souls ; 
 but, to use a Scripture expre.ssion, it had not '• free 
 course" in the world. Still, if the doctrine of salvation 
 was not always confessed aloud, there were some in the 
 very bosom of the Chm-ch of Rome who, at least, 
 feared not to declare openly against the abuses which 
 dishonom-ed it. 
 
 Scarcely had the Councils of Constance and Basle, 
 which condemned IIuss and his followers, been held, 
 than the noble series of witnesses against Rome, to 
 which we have been pointing, again appears with 
 greater lustre. Men of a noble spirit, revolting at the 
 abominations of the Papacy, rise up like the prophets 
 under the Old Testament, like them sending forth a 
 voice of thunder, and with a similar fate. Theii* blood 
 reddens the scaffold, aud their ashes arc tlu-own to 
 the wind. 
 
 Thomas Conecte, ,i Carmelite, appears in Flanders, 
 and declares, " that abominations are done at Rome ; 
 that the Church has need of refoinnation ; aud that, in 
 the service of God. one must not fear the excommuni- 
 cations of the pope." Flauders listens with enthusiasm, 
 but Rome burns him in 1432, aud his contemporaries 
 exclaim that God has exalted him to he.aven. 
 
 Andre, Ai-chbishop of Crayu, and a Cardinal, being 
 at Rome as the ambassador of the emperor, is amazed 
 when he sees that the holiness of the pope, in which he 
 had devoutly believed, is only a fable ; and in his sim- 
 plicity he addresses evangelical representations to Sextus 
 IV. He is answered ^vith mockeiy and persecution. 
 Then (1482) he wishes a new Council to be assembled 
 at Basle. '"The whole Church," exclaims he, "is 
 shaken by divisions, heresies, sins, vices, iniquities, 
 errors, and innumerable evils ; so much so, that it is on 
 the eve of being swallowed up by the devouring abyss 
 of condemnation. This is my only reason for propos- 
 ing a General Council for the Reformation of the 
 Catholic faith, and the amendment of manners." The 
 Archbishop of Basle was thrown into the prison of that 
 
 town, and there died. Henry Institoris, the inquisitor, 
 who first moved against him, used these remarkable 
 words : " The whole world is crying out and demanding 
 a Coimcil ; but no human power can reform the Chiu-ch 
 by means of a Council. The Almighty will fiud an- 
 other method, which is now unkuown to us, though it 
 is at the door ; and by this method the Church will be 
 brought back to its primitive condition." This remark- 
 able prophecy, pronounced by an inquisitor at the very 
 period of Luther's bu'th, is the finest apology for the 
 Reformation. 
 
 The Dominican, Jerome Savonai'ola, shortly after 
 he had entered the order at Bologna, in 1475, devotes 
 himself to constant prayer, fasting, and macerations, 
 and exclaims, " O thou who art good, in thy goodness 
 teach me thy righteousness." Translated to Florence 
 in 1489, he preaches with effect ; his voice is thrilling, 
 his featm-es animated, his action beautifully attractive. 
 '• The Chmxh," exclaims he, '• must be renewed." And 
 he professes the grand principle which alone can restore 
 life to it. "God," says he, "forgives man his sin, and 
 justifies him in the way of mercy. For every justified 
 person existing on the earth, there has been au act of 
 compassion in heaven ; for no man is saved by his 
 works. None can glory in themselves ; and if, in the 
 presence of God, the question were put to all the righ- 
 teous, ' Have you been saved by your own strength ? ' 
 they would all with one voice exclaim, ' Not unto us, 
 O Lord, but unto thy name be the glory.' 'Wherefore, 
 O God, I seek thy mercy, and I bring thee not my own 
 righteousness : the moment thou justifiest me by gi-ace, 
 thy righteousness belongs to me ; for gi-ace is the 
 righteousness of God. So long, O man, as thou be- 
 lievest not, thou art, because of sin, deprived of grace. 
 O God ! save me by thy righteousness, that is, by thy 
 Son, who alone was found righteous among men." 
 Thus the great and holy doctrine of justification by 
 faith gladdens the heart of .Savonarola. In vain do 
 the prelates of the Church opi)ose him ; he knew that 
 the oracles of God arc superior to the visible Church, 
 aud that he must preach them with her, without her, 
 or in spite of her. — "Fly far from Babylon," exclaims 
 he. It is Rome he thus designates. Rome soon answers 
 him in her own way. In 1497 the infamous Alexander 
 launches a brief at him, aud iu 1498 torture and faggot 
 do their work on the Reformer. 
 
 A Franciscan, named John Vitraire, of Tournay, 
 whose monastic spirit seems not of a very elevated 
 description, nevertheless declaims forcibly against the 
 corruption of the Church. " It were better for a man," 
 says he, " to cut his child's throat than put it iuto a 
 religion not reformed. If your curate, or any other 
 priest, keep wonieu in his house, you ought to go and 
 di'ag the womeu by force, or in any other way, pell- 
 mell, out of the house. There are some persons who 
 say prayers to the Virgin Mary, in order that, at the 
 hour of" death, they may see the Virgin IVIary. Tiiou 
 shalt see the devil, iind not the Virgin Mary." The 
 monk was ordered to retract, and he did so iu 1498. 
 
 Jolin Laillier, a Doctor of Sorbonne, declares, in 
 1484, against the tyrannical domination of the hier- 
 archy. "All ecclesiastics," says he, "have received 
 ecpial power from Ciirist. The Roman Church is not 
 the head of other churches. You ought to keep the 
 
JOHN OF WESSALIA^OHN WESSEL. 
 
 commandroents of God nnd the Apostles ; and in re- 
 gard to tlic coinmnnd of nil the bishops nnd other lords 
 of the Church, care no more for it thnu you would for 
 n straw; they have destroyed the Church by their 
 tricks. The priests of the Enslern Church sin not in 
 marrying! and, believe me, neither shall wo in the 
 Western Church, if we nuirry. f>ince St. Sylvester 
 the Church of Rome has been, not a church of Christ, 
 but n church of Slato and money. We nro no more 
 bound to believe the legends of the saints than the 
 Chronicles of France." 
 
 John of 'Wessalin, n doctor of theology at Erfurt, a 
 man of great si)irit and intellect, attacks the errors on 
 which the hienirehy rests, and proclaims the holy 
 Scriptures to be the only source of faith. '• It is not 
 religion [that is, the monastic stale] that saves us," 
 says he to some monks, " but the grace of God. God 
 has from all eternity kept n book in which He hns en- 
 tered all His elect. AVhosocver is not entered there, 
 will not through eternity; nnd whosoever is, will 
 never sec his name erased. It is solely by the grace 
 of God that the elect are siivcd. He whom God is 
 pleased to save, by giving him grace, will be saved, 
 though all the priests in the world were to condemn 
 nnd excommunicate him. And he whom God sees 
 meet to condemn, though these should all wish to save 
 him, will be made to feel his condemnation. How 
 audacious in the successors of the apostles to order, 
 not what Christ has prescribed in His holy books, but 
 I what they themselves devised, when carried away, as 
 I they now are, by a thirst for money, or a rage for 
 power. I des])ise the pope, the Church, and the Coun- 
 cils, nnd I extol Jesus Christ." Wessalia, who had 
 gradually arrived at those convictions, boldly annoimces 
 them from the pulpit, and enters into commimication 
 with deputies from the Hussites. Feeble, bent with 
 age, nnd wasted by disease, the courageous old man, 
 with tottering step, appears before the Inquisition, 
 nnd, in 14^2, dies in its dungeons. 
 
 About the same time John de Goch, prior atMalines, 
 extolled Christian liberty as the soul of all the virtues. 
 He charged the received doctrine with Pelagianism, and 
 surnamed Thomas Aquinas the "Prince of Error." 
 *' Canonical Scripture alone," said he, " deserves full 
 faith, and has an irrefragable authority. The writings 
 of the ancient Fathers are of authority only in so far 
 aa they are conformable to canonical truth. There is 
 truth ill the common byword, ' What a monk dares 
 undertake, .Satan would blush to think.' " 
 
 But the most remarkable of the forerunners of the 
 Reformation was undoubtedly John Wessel, surnamed 
 '• The Light of the World." a man full of courage and 
 love for the truth, who taught theology successively at 
 Cologne, Louvain, Paris, Heidelberg, and C^roningen. 
 Luther s.aid of him, '• Had I read his works sooner, it 
 might have been said, Luther has drawn everything 
 from Wessel ; so much do his spirit and mine accord." 
 " St. Paul and St. James," says Wessel, ''say different, 
 but not contrary things. Both hold that the just live 
 by faith, but a faith which works by love. He who. 
 understijnding the Gospel, believes, desires, hopes, con- 
 fides in the good news, and loves Him who justifies and 
 blesses him, gives himself entirely to Him whom he 
 loves, and attributes nothing to himself, knowing that 
 
 in himself ho has nothing. The sheep should distin- 
 guish between the tilings on which they feed, and avoid 
 a hurtful food, though it should be offered by the shep- 
 herd. The people ought to follow their shepherds to 
 the pastures; but when they lend them to what is not 
 pasture, they are no more shepherds ; and because they 
 arc not in their duty, the Hock is no longer bound to 
 obey them. Nothing is more effectual in destroying 
 the Church than a corrupt clerg)'. All Christians, 
 even the meanest and simplest, are bound to resist those 
 who destroy the Church. The commands of prelates 
 and doctors ought to be performed only in the manner 
 prescribed by St. Paul, (1 Thess. v. 21.) namely, in so 
 far as, sitting in the chair of Moses, they speak accord- 
 ing to Moses. We are the servants of God, and not of 
 the pope, according as it is said, 'Thou shalt worshiji 
 the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou sei-ve.' 
 Tlie Holy Sjjirit h.as reserved to himself to foster, 
 (piickcn, preserve, and enlarge the unity of the Church, 
 and not abandoned it to the Roman Pontiff, who often 
 gives himself no concern about the matter. Even sex 
 does not hinder a woman, if she is faithful and prudent, 
 and has love shed abroad in her heart, from feeling, 
 judging, approving, and concluding, by a judgment 
 which God ratifies." 
 
 Thus, as the Reformation approaches, the voices 
 which proclaim the truth are multiplied. One would 
 say the Church is bent on demonstrating that the 
 Reformation had an existence before Luther. Pro- 
 testiintism was born into the Chiu-eh the very day that 
 the germ of the Pap.aey appeared in it, just as in the 
 political world eonser\ative principles began to exist 
 the very moment that the despotism of the great or the 
 disorders of the factious shewed open front. Protes- 
 tantism was even sometimes stronger than the Papacy 
 in the ages preceding the Reformation. What had 
 Rome to oppose to all these witnesses for the truth at 
 the moment when their voice was he:ird through all 
 the earth? 
 
 But this was not all. The Reformation existed not 
 in the teachers only ; it existed also among the people. 
 The doctrines of Wickliffe, proceeding from Oxford, 
 had spread over Christendom, and had preserved ad- 
 herents in l{a\nria, Swabia, Franconia, and Prussia. 
 In Bohemia, from the bosom of discord and war, ulti- 
 mately came forth a ])caceful Christian community, 
 which resembled the primitive Church, and bore lively 
 testimony to the great i)rinciple of Evangelical oppo- 
 sition, viz.. "That Christ himself, not Peter and his 
 successor, is the rock on which the Church is built." 
 Belonging e([ually to the German and Slavonian races, 
 these simple Christians had missionaries among the 
 different nations who spoke their tongues, that they 
 might without noise gain adherents to their opinions. 
 At Rostoch, which had been twice vi.-ited by them, 
 Nicolas Kuss began, in 1511, to preach publicly against 
 the jmpe. 
 
 It is important to attend to this state of things. 
 When wisdom from above will with loud voice deliver 
 her instructions, there will everywhere be intellects and 
 hearts to receive it. When the sower, who has never 
 ceased to walk over the Church, will come forth for a 
 new and extensive sowing, the earth will be ready to 
 receive the grain. When the trumpet, which the Angel 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of the covenant has never ceased to blow, will cause it 
 to sound louder and louder, many will make ready 
 for battle. 
 
 The Church already feels that the hour of battle is 
 approaching. If, during the last centm-y, more than 
 one philosopher gave intimation of the revolution with 
 which it was to close, can we be astonished that, at the 
 end of the fifteenth century, several doctors foresaw 
 the impending Reformation which was to renovate 
 the Church? 
 
 Andre Proles, provincial of the Augustins, who, for 
 more than half a century, presided over this body, and, 
 with unshaken courage, maintained the doctrines of 
 Augustine within his order, when assembled with his 
 friars in the Convent of Himmelspforte, near Werni- 
 gerode, often stopped during the reading of the word of 
 God, and addressing the listening monks, said to them, 
 " Brethren, you hear the testimony of holy Scripture. 
 It declares, that by grace we are what we are — that by 
 it alone we have all that we have. "Whence, then, so 
 much darkness, and so many horrible superstitions? 
 . . . Oh! brethren, Christianity has need of a great 
 and bold reformation, and I already see its approach." 
 Then the monks exclaimed, " Why don't you yourself 
 begin this reformation, and oppose all their errors?" 
 " Yovi see, my brethren," replied the old provincial, "that 
 I am weighed down with years, and feeble in body, and 
 possess not the knowledge, talent, and eloquence, which 
 60 important a matter requires. But God will raise up 
 a hero, who, by his age, his strength, his talents, his 
 knowledge, liis genius, and eloquence, wiU occupy the 
 first rank. He will begin the reformation, he will op- 
 pose error, and God will give him such courage that ho 
 will dare to resist the great." An old monk of Him- 
 melspforte, who had often heard these words, related 
 them to Flacius. In the very order of which Proles 
 was provincial, the Christian hero thus announced by 
 him was to appear. 
 
 In the Franciscan Convent at Isenach, in Thuringia, 
 was a monk named John Hilten. He was a careful 
 student of the Prophet Daniel, and the Apocalypse of 
 St. John ; he even -vvi-ote a Commentary on these Books, 
 and censured the most crying abuses of monastic life. 
 The enraged monks threw him into pi-ison. His 
 advanced age, and the filthiness of his dungeon, bring- 
 ing on a dangerous illness, he asked for the friar 
 superintendent, who had no sooner arrived, than, 
 without listening to the prisoner, he began to give 
 vent to his rage, and to rebuke him harshly for his doc- 
 trine, which (adds the chronicle) was at variance with 
 the monk's kitchen. The Franciscan, forgetting his 
 illness, and fetching a deep sigh, exclaims, " I calmly 
 submit to your injustice for the love of Christ; for 
 I have done nothing to shake the monastic state, and 
 have only censured its most notorious abuses. But," 
 continued he, (this is the account given by Melancthon 
 in his Apology for the Cun/cssion oj Augsburg,) "another 
 will come in the year of the Lord, one thousand Jive hun- 
 dred and sixteen; he will destroy you, and yon will not be 
 able to resist him." John Hilten, who had announced 
 the end of the world in the year 1651, was not so much 
 mistaken in the year in whicli the future Reformer was 
 to appear. He was born not long after at a sliort dis- 
 tance from Hilten's dungeon, commenced his studies in 
 
 the same town where the monk was prisoner, and 
 publicly engaged in the Reformation only a year later 
 than the Franciscan had mentioned. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Letters — Revival — Remeiubranee of Antiquity iu Italy — Influence of the 
 Humanists— Christianity of Dante— Valla— In Qdelity in Italy— Platonic 
 Philosophy — Rise of Literature in Germany — Youth in Schools— Print- 
 ing— Character of German Literature— Literati and Schoolmen— A New 
 World— Reuchlin—Reuchlin in Italy— His Works— His Influence in 
 Germany— Mystics— Straggle with the Dominicans. 
 
 Thus princes and people, the living members of the 
 Church, and the theologians, laboured, each in their 
 sphere, to prepare the work which the sixteenth cen- 
 tury was about to caiTy into effect. But there was 
 another auxiliary which was to lend its aid to the 
 Reformation — I mean Literature. 
 
 The human mind was expanding — a circumstance 
 which must of itself have led to its emancipation. If 
 a small seed fall close to an old wall, as it grows into 
 a tree it will push down the wall. 
 
 The Pontiff of Rome had become tutor to the nations, 
 and his superior intelligence had made the task easy to 
 him. He had long kept them in a state of minority, 
 but resistance now broke forth on all sides. This 
 venerable tutelage, which had been primarily estab- 
 lished by the principles of eternal life, and of civiliza- 
 tion which Rome had imparted to barbarous nations, 
 could no longer be exercised without opposition. A 
 formidable adversary had met her in the face, and was 
 prepared to control her. The natural tendency of the 
 human mind to expand, to investigate, and acquire 
 knowledge, had given birth to this new power. Man 
 opened his eyes, and at every step questioned the pro- 
 ceedings of that long respected guide under whose 
 direction, while blindfolded, he had moved on without 
 saying a word. In regard to the nations of new Europe, 
 the age of infancy had passed away, and that of man- 
 hood had begun. To the childlike simplicity, wliich 
 believed everything, had succeeded a spirit of curiosity, 
 an intellect not to be satisfied without sifting every- 
 thing to the utmost. It was asked for what end God 
 had spoken to the world, and whether men had a right 
 to station themselves as mediators between God and 
 their brethren. 
 
 There was only one thing which could have saved 
 the Church, and this was to raise herself still higher 
 above the people. To keep on a level with them was 
 not enough. But so far from this, she was even found 
 to be far beneath them, having begun to descend at 
 the same time that they began to rise. At the period 
 when mankind began to ascend to the regions of 
 intellect, the priesthood was grovelling below among 
 earthly pursuits and worldly interests. This pheno- 
 menon has repeatedly appeared in liistory. The wings 
 of the eaglet were full fledged, and what hand was 
 higli enough to prevent it from taking its flight ? 
 
 The human mind made its first start iu Italy. 
 
 Scholasticism and romantic poetry had at no time 
 
REVIVAL OF LETTERS. 
 
 25 
 
 rcijnipd unopposed. Italy never entirely lost the re- 
 nK'inl)rnrice of luitiiiuity; and tliis renicnihrance having; 
 been stron^'ly !i\vi(koiied towards tlio end of the middle 
 ages, soon ^avc lliu mind a new impulse. 
 
 Even in the fourteenth century, Dante aiul IVtrarch 
 restored the honour of the ancient lioinan poets, at the 
 same time tluit the former j,'avc the most powerful 
 l>opcs a place in his hell, and the latter boldly protested 
 for the primitive constitution of the Church. At the 
 bcj^nninp; of the lifteentli century, John of Ravenna 
 taught Latin literature with applause at Padua and 
 Florence; while Clnysoloras, at Florence and Pavia, 
 interpreted the beautiful writers of Greece. 
 
 AVhile in Europe light was thus coming forth from 
 the prisons iu which it had been confined, the East 
 was sending new beams to the West. The standard of 
 the Osmanlis, planted in ll.j;j on the walls of Con- 
 stantinople, had put the learned to tliglit. They had, 
 in consequence, transported the literature of Greece 
 into Italy, where the torch of the ancients rekindled 
 minds which had lain smothered for so many ages. 
 George of Trebisond, ArgjTopolos, Bessarion. Lascaris, 
 Chalcondylas, and many others, inspired the West with 
 their love of Greece and its noblest jiroductions. The 
 patriotic feelings of the Italians were tiius stimulated, 
 and a great number of learned men ap()cared in Italy. 
 Of these, the most illustrious were Gasparino, Aretin, 
 Poggio, and Valla, who strove to restore the honour of 
 Roman antiquity, and j)lace it on a footing with that 
 of Greece. In this way a great Hood of light had 
 appeared, and Rome could not but suffer by it. 
 
 The passion for auti(iuity which took possession of 
 the IIiiiiKinisls, had a great effect iu weakening the 
 attachment to the Church in minds of the highest 
 order ; for " no man can serve two masters." At the 
 same time, the studies iu which the learned were 
 engaged put them in possession of a new class of in- 
 struments, which were unknown to the schoolmen, and 
 by means of which they could test and decide upon the 
 lessons of the Church. Finding that beauties which 
 charmed them in classical authors, existed in i)rofusion 
 in the Bible, and not in the works of theologians, the 
 Humanists were quite prepared to give the Bible pre- 
 cedence before the Doctors. By reformuig taste, they 
 prepared a reformation in faith. 
 
 The Literati, it is true, loudly protested that their 
 pursuits were not at variance with the belief of the 
 Church; but yet they had assailed the schoolmen long 
 before the Rsformers began to do it, and )ilayed off 
 their wit on these barbarians — those "Teutons who 
 living, lived not." Some even proclaimed doctrines of 
 the Gospel, and assailed Rome in the objects of her 
 dearest affection. Already Dante, while adhering to 
 many Roman dogmas, had proclaimed the jjower of 
 faith in terms similar to those which the first Re- 
 formers employed. '• It is true faith," he said, " that 
 makes us citizens of heaven. Faith, according to the 
 Gospel doctrine, is the principle of life; it is the feeble 
 spark which, spreading always wider and wider, at 
 length becomes a lining flame, and shines within us like 
 a star in heaven. Without faith, no good works, no 
 honesty of life, can give us aid. How great soever our 
 sins may be, the arms of divine grace are greater still, 
 and wide enough to embrace whatever turns towards 
 
 God. The soid is not lost by the anathema of the 
 l)ontiffs; and eternal love can always reach it, so long 
 as there remains one bloom of hope. From God, from 
 God alone, through faith, our justice comes." And 
 speaking of the Church, Dante ex'-laims, ''O my bark! 
 how ill loaded thou art! O Constantine! what mighty 
 e\il was engendered, I will not say by thy conversion, 
 but by that offering which the rich father then received 
 from thee!" 
 
 At a later period, Laurcntius Valla, applying the 
 study of antiquity to the opinions of the Church, denies 
 the authenticity of the correspondence between Christ 
 and King Abgarus, rejects the tradition as to the origin 
 of the Apostles' Creed, and saps the foimdation of the 
 pretended inheritance which the popes held of Con- 
 stantine. 
 
 Still, however, the great light which the study of 
 antiquity threw out in the fifteenth century, was fitted 
 only to destroy, and not to build up. The honour of 
 saving the Church could not be given either to Homer 
 or Virgil. The revival of letters, sciences, and arts, did 
 not found the Reformation. The Paganism of the 
 poets, on reajjpearing in Italy, rather strengthened the 
 Paganism of the heart. Tlie scepticism of the school 
 of Aristotle, and a contempt of everything not con- 
 nected with philology, took possession of many of the 
 Literati, and engendered an infidelity which, while it 
 affected submission to the Church, in reality attacked 
 the most important truths of religion. Peter Pom- 
 ponatius, the most famous representative of this im- 
 pious tendency, taught at Bologna and Padua, that the 
 immortality of the sold and Providence are only 
 philosophical ])roblcms. John Francis Pica, nephew of 
 Pica de la Mirandola, tells of a pope who did not be- 
 lieve in a God ; and of another who, having confessed 
 to one of his friends, that he did not believe in the 
 inunortality of the soul, appeared one night after his 
 death to the same friend, and said to him, "Ah! the 
 eternal fire that consumes me, makes me but too sen- 
 sible of the inunortality of that soul which, according 
 to the view I held, was to die with the body." This 
 reminds us of the celebrated words which Leo X. is 
 alleged to have said to his Secretary Bembo, " All ages 
 know well enough of what advantage this fable about 
 
 Cliii^l li:is liriii to ns and ours." 
 
 l'ii\Ml.iii- Mi]» rstitions were attacked, but their place 
 wa-^ -u|.]ili.'.l hy infidelitj', with its disdainful sneering 
 huiiili. To laugh at things, however sacred, was 
 fjishionable, and a proof of wit ; and if any v.alue was 
 set on religion, it was merely as a mean of governing 
 the people. " I have a fear," exclaimed Erasmus, iu 
 lolfi, "and it is, that, with the study of ancient liter- 
 ature, ancient Paganism will re-appear." 
 
 It is true that then, as after the sarcasms of the age 
 of Augustus, and as in our own times, after those of 
 the last century, a new Platonic philosophy sprung 
 up and attacked that irrational incredulity, seeking, 
 like the philosophy of the present day, to inspire some 
 respect for Christianity, and restore the religious sen- 
 timent to the heart. The Medici at Florence favoured 
 these efforts of the Platonics. But no philosophical 
 religion will regenerate the Church and the world. 
 Proud, disdaining the preaching of the Cross, and 
 pretending to see nothing in Christian doctrines but 
 
26 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 figures and symbols, which the majority of meu cannot 
 comprehend, it may bewilder itself in a mystical en- 
 thusiasm, but will always prove powerless either to 
 reform or to save. 
 
 "What, then, must have happened had not true 
 Christianity re-appeared in the world, and had not 
 faith filled the hearts of men anew with its power and 
 its holiness? The Eeformation saved religion, and 
 with it society; and, therefore, if the Church of Rome 
 had had the glory of God and the good of the people at 
 heart, it would have welcomed the Eeformation with 
 delight. But what were such things as these to 
 LeoX.? 
 
 However, a torch could not be lighted in Italy with- 
 out sending its beams beyond the Alps. The affairs of 
 the Church established a constant intercourse between 
 the Italian Peninsula and the other parts of Chris- 
 tendom ; and the harharinns being thus soon made to 
 feel the superiority and i)ride of the Italians, began to 
 blush for the imperfection of their language and their 
 style. Some yoinig noblemen, — a Dalberg, a Langen, 
 a Spiegelberg, — inflamed with an eager desire of know- 
 ledge, passed over into Italy; and on their return to 
 Germany, brought back learning, grammar, and the 
 Classics, now so eagerlysought after, and communicated 
 them to their friends.' Shortly after, Rodolph Agricola, 
 a man of distinguished genius, appeared, and was held 
 in as high veneration for his learning and genius 
 as if he had lived in the age of Augustus or Pericles. 
 The ardour of his mind, and the fatigues of the school, 
 wore him out in a few years ; but not till noble dis- 
 ciples had been trained, through intimate intercourse 
 with him, to carry their master's fire all over Germany. 
 Often, when assembled around him, they had together 
 deplored the darkuess of the Church, and asked why 
 Paul so often repeats that meu are justified by faith 
 and not by works. 
 
 Around the feet of these new teachers soon gathered 
 rustic youths, who lived by alms and studied without 
 books, and who, divided iuto sections of priests of 
 Bacchus, arquebusiers, and many more besides, moved 
 in disorderly bands from town to town, and school to 
 school. No matter, these strange bauds were the 
 commencement of a literary public. The masterpieces 
 of antiquity began gradually to issue from the presses 
 of Germany, supplanting the schoolmen; and the art 
 of printing, discovered at Mayence in 1440, multiplied 
 the energetic voices which remonstrated against the 
 corruption of the Church, and those voices, not less 
 energetic, which invited the human mind into new 
 paths. 
 
 The study of ancicut literature had, in Germany, 
 very different effects from those which it had in Italy 
 and France. Her study was combined with faith. In 
 the new literary culture, Germany turned her attention 
 to the advantage which religion might derive from it. 
 What had jiroduced in some a kind of intellectual 
 refinement, i>f a cajilious and sterile nature, penetrated 
 the whole life of others, warmed their hearts, and pre- 
 pared them for a better light. The first restorers of 
 letters in France were characterized by levity, and 
 often even by immorality of conduct. In Germany, 
 their successors, animated by a spirit of gravity, 
 
 1 This first impulse has been orvoncously attributed to Thomas i. Keuiiiis. 
 
 zealously devoted themselves to the investigation of 
 truth. Italy, offering her incense to profane literature 
 and science, saw an infidel opposition arise. Germany, 
 occupied with a profound theology, and turned in- 
 wardly upon herself, saw the rise of an opposition 
 based on faith. The one sapped the foundations of the 
 Church, and the other repaired them. Within the 
 empire was f onued a remarkable union of free, learned, 
 and noble-minded men, among whom princes were 
 conspicuous, who endeavoured to render science useful 
 to religion. Some brought to their studies the humble 
 faith of children, while others brought an enlightened 
 and penetrating intellect, disposed, perhaps, to exceed 
 the bounds of legitimate freedom and criticism; both, 
 however, contributed to clear the pavement of the 
 temple from the obstructions produced by so many 
 suj)erstitions. 
 
 The monkish theologians perceived their danger, 
 and began to clamour against the very studies which 
 they had tolerated in Italy and France, because in 
 those countries thej' had gone hand-in-hand with levity 
 and dissoluteness. They entered into a conspiracy to 
 oppose the study of language and science, because they 
 had caught a glimpse of faith following in their rear. 
 A monk was putting some one on his guard against the 
 heresies of Erasmus. "In what," it was asked, "do 
 they consist?" He confessed that he had not read the 
 work of which he was speaking, but one thing he knew, 
 viz., that Erasmus had written in too good Latin. 
 
 The disciples of literature, and the scholastic theo- 
 logians, soon came to an open rupture. The latter 
 were in dismay when they saw the movement which 
 was taking place in the domain of intellect, and 
 thought that immobility and darkness were the best 
 safeguards of the Church. Their object in contending 
 against the revival of letters, was to save Rome ; but 
 they helped to ruin it. Here Rome had much at stake. 
 Forgetting herself for an instant under the jjontificate 
 of Leo X., she abandoned her old friends, aud clasped 
 her young adversaries in her ai-ms. The papacy and 
 letters formed an intimacy which seemed destined to 
 break up the ancient alliance between monasticism and 
 the hierarchy. At the first glance the popes perceived 
 not that what they had taken for a whip, was a sword 
 capable of inflicting a mortal wound. In the same 
 way, during the last century, princes were seen re- 
 ceiving at their court political and philosophic systems, 
 which, if carried into full effect, would have over- 
 turned their thrones. The alliance was not of long 
 duration. Literature advanced without troubling itself 
 about the injury which it might do to the power of its 
 patron. The monks and schoolmen were aware that 
 to abandon the pope was just to abandon themselves; 
 and the pope, notwithstanding of the passing patronage 
 which he gave to the fine arts, was not the less active 
 when he saw the danger, in adopting measures, how 
 nmcli opposed soever they might be to the spirit of 
 the time. 
 
 The universities defended themselves as they best 
 could against the invasion of new light. Cologne ex- 
 pelled Rhagius; Leipsic, Celtes ; Rostoch, Herman 
 von dem Busch. Still the new doctors, and with them 
 the ancient Cla-ssics, gradually, and often even by the 
 aid of princes, made good their footing in these public 
 
REUCHLIN-IIIS VISIT TO ITALY. 
 
 schools. Societies of gniiiiinarians and pods wore soon 
 established in spite of the schoolmoii, and every tliiiij:, 
 even to tho name of the Literati, behoved to be eon- 
 vorted into Latin and Greek ; for how could the friends 
 of Sophocles and Virp;il have such names as Kraehen- 
 bergcr or Sehwarzerd ? At the same time, u spirit of 
 independence breathed in all the universities. Students 
 were no longer seen, in schoolboy fashion, with their 
 books under their arms, walking sagely and demurely, 
 with downcast eye, behind their masters. The pelii- 
 lancc of ft Martial and an Ovid had passed into the 
 new disci|)les of the Muses. It was transport to them 
 to hear the sarcasms which fell in torrents on the 
 dialectical theologians ; and the heads of the literary 
 movement were sometimes accused of favouring, and 
 even of exciting, the disorderly jjrocecdings of the 
 students. 
 
 Thus n new world, emerging out of iinili|Miiy. was 
 formed in the very heart of the wuild i>{ thi- middle 
 ages. The two parties could not avoid coming fo 
 blows, and the struggle was at hand. It began with 
 the greatest champion of literature, with an old man 
 on the eve of linishing his peaceful career. 
 
 To secure the triumph of truth, the iirst thing 
 necessary was to bring forth the weapons by which 
 she was to conipier. from the arsenals where they bad 
 lain buried for ages. Those weapons were the holy 
 Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments. It was 
 necessary to revive in Christen<lom Ji love and study of 
 sacred Hteratin-e, bf.tb Greek and Hebrew. .Injin 
 Reuchlin was the individual wlmm Divine rni\iden(e 
 selected for this pur[)ose. 
 
 A very fine boy's voice was remarked in the choir 
 of the church of Pforzheim, and attracted the atten- 
 tion of the Margi-ave of Baden. It was that of John 
 Keuchlin, ii young boy of agreeable manners and a 
 lively disposition, son of an honest burgher of the 
 place. The Margrave soon took him entirely xmder 
 his j)rotcction. and in 147.3 made choice of him to 
 accompany his son Frederick to the L^niversity of 
 I'aris. 
 
 The son of the bailiff of Pforzheim arrived with the 
 prince, bis heart exuberant with joy at being admitted 
 to this school, the most celebrated of all the "West. 
 Here he foimd the Spartan Ilermonymos and John 
 WcsscI, surnamcd "The Light of tho VVorld;" and had 
 an ojiportunity of engaging, under skilful masters, in 
 the study of Greek and Hebrew. — which had not then 
 a single i>rofessor in Germany, and of which he was 
 one day to he the restorer in "the country of the Kefor- 
 mation. The poor young German made copies of the 
 poems of Homer, and the speeches of Isocrates, for 
 wealthy students, and in this way gained the means of 
 continuing his studies and buying books. 
 
 But what he hears from the mouth of "Wessel is of 
 n different nature, and makes a deep impression on his 
 mind. "The popes m.iy be mistaken. All human 
 satisfactions are blasphemy against Christ, who has 
 perfectly reconciled and justified the lunuan race. To 
 God alone belongs the power of giving full absolution. 
 There is no necessity for confessing our sins to a priest. 
 There is no purgatory, at least if it be not God him- 
 self who is a ilevouring fire, and purges away every 
 defilement." Reuchlin, when scarcely twenty, teaches 
 
 Philosophy, Greek, and Latin, at iJaslc ; and a Ger- 
 man (a tiling then regarded as a wonder) is heard 
 speaking Greek. 
 
 The partizans of Rome begin to feel uneasy on seeing 
 noble spirits at work among these ancient treasures. 
 "The Romans," .says Reuchlin, "are making mouths 
 and raising an outcry, ))rctending that all these literary 
 labours arc hostile to Roman piety, inasmuch as the 
 Greeks are .schismatics. Oh ! what toils and sufferings 
 must be endured to bring Germany back to wiMlom 
 and knowledge I" 
 
 Shortly afterward, Eberhard of Wurtemberg, in- 
 vited Reuchlin to Tubingen, that he might be the 
 ornament of this rising university, and in 1-183 took 
 him with hhn into Italy. At Florence his comjianions 
 and friends were C'hal<'ondyla.s, Aurispa, and John 
 Pica do Mirandola. At Rome, when Eberhard re- 
 ceived a siilenin audience of the pope, surrounded by 
 his cardinals, Reuchlin delivered an address in such 
 pure and elegant Latin, that the assembly, who ex- 
 pected nothing of the kind from a barbarous German, 
 were filled with the greatest astonishment, while the 
 ]>opc exclaimed, "Assuredly this man deserves to take 
 his place beside the best orators of France and Italy." 
 
 Ten years later Reuchlin was obliged to take refuge 
 in Heidelberg, at the court of the Elector Philip, to 
 escape the vengeance of Ebcrliard's successor. Philip, 
 in concert with John of Dalberg, IJisho]) of Worms, 
 his friend and chancellor, exerted Iiimself to spread 
 the light which was beginning to ])cip t'.ri-ili from all 
 parts of Gcrmanv. Dalberg bad r..nn.lr,| :, library, to 
 which all the learne.l ba.l free ac.-os. ; and Kiuchlin. in 
 this new sphere, made great efforts to remove the 
 barbarism of his countrymen. 
 
 Having been sent to Rome by the elector in 14'.KS, 
 on an important mission, ho availed himself of all the 
 time and all the money he could spare to nnikc new 
 )>rogrcss in Hebrew, under the learned Israelite, Abdias 
 Sphorno, and ])urciiased all the Greek and Hebrew 
 manuscripts which he could lind, with the view of 
 eni|)loying tlicm as so many torches to increase the 
 light which was beginning to dawn in his nativecountry. 
 
 Argyropolos. a di^liiiguisluMl (ireek, was at this time 
 in the melropolis c\|ilaining the ancient marvels of the 
 literature of his country to a numerous audience. The 
 learned aniba-sailor rcjiairs with his suite to tho hall 
 where the teacher was lecturing, and. after bowing 
 to him, deplores the misery of Greece, expiring under 
 the blows of the Otiomaus. The .Tstouished Hellenist 
 asks the, (iermaii. " AVboare j-ou? Do you understand 
 Greek.'" Reuchlin replies, "I am a German, and 
 know something of your tongue." At the request of 
 Argyro]iolos be re.ids and explains a passage of Thucy- 
 dides, which the professor had at the moment before 
 him. Then Argyropolos, filled with astonishment and 
 grief, exclaims, "Al.as! alas I Greece, oppressetl and 
 obliged to flee, has gone and hid herself beyond the 
 Alps 1" 
 
 Thus the sons of rude Germany, and those of ancient 
 learned Greece, met in the palaces of Rome, and the 
 East and AVest shook hands in this rendezvous of the 
 world — the one pouring into the lap of the other those 
 intellectual treasures which had with difHcnlfy been 
 saved from the barb.irism of the (Ottomans. God, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 when His designs require it, employs some great catas- 
 troplie to break down the barrier, and instantly bring 
 together those who seemed to be for ever parted. 
 
 Eeuchlin, on his return to Germany, was able to go 
 back to AVurtemberg, and proceeded, at this time espe- 
 cially, to execute those works which proved so use- 
 ful to Luther and the Reformation. This individual, 
 who, as Count Palatine, held an eminent station in the 
 empire, and who, as a philosopher, contributed to 
 humble Aristotle and exalt Plato — made a Latin Dic- 
 tionary, which supplanted those of the Schoolmen — 
 composed a Greek Grammar, which gi-eatly facilitated 
 
 the study of that language — translated and expounded 
 the penitential Psalms — corrected the Vulgate, and 
 was the first in Germany (this constitutes his highest 
 merit and glory) who published a Hebrew Grammar 
 and Dictionary. By this work Keuchlin opened the 
 long sealed books of the Old Testament, and reared 
 "a monument," as he himself expresses it, "more 
 durable than brass." 
 
 It was not merely by his writings, but also by his 
 life, that Eeuchlin sought to advance the reign of 
 trutii. Tall in stature, of commanding appearance, 
 and affable address, he instantly gained the confidence 
 of all with whom he liad any intercourse. His thirst 
 for knowledge was equalled only by his zeal in com- 
 nuinicating it. He spared neither money nor labour 
 to introduce the editions of the Classics into Germany 
 as they issued from the presses of Italy; and in this 
 way the son of a bailiff did more to enlighten his coun- 
 trymen than rich municipalities or powerful princes. 
 His influence over youth was great; and, in this re- 
 spect, who can calculate how much the Keformatiou 
 
 owes to him ? We wiU give only one example. His 
 cousin, a yoimg man named Schwarzerd, son of an arti- 
 zan, who had acquired celebrity as an armourer, came to 
 lodge with his sister, Elizabeth, in order to study under 
 his direction. Reuchlin, delighted at the genius and 
 application of his yoimg pupil, adopted him. Advice, 
 presents of books, examples, nothing, in short, he spared 
 to make his relative useful to the Church and to his 
 country. He rejoiced to see his work prospering under 
 his eye ; and, thinking the name Schwarzerd too bar- 
 barous, translated it into Greek, and named the young 
 student Melancthon. It was Luther's illustrious friend. 
 But grammatical studies did 
 not satisfy Reuchlin. Like his 
 masters, the Jewish doctors, 
 he began to study the hidden 
 meaning of the Word : " God," 
 said he, " is a Spirit, the Word 
 i- a breath, — man breathes, 
 ( ; od is the Word. The names 
 which He has given himself 
 , I re an echo of eternity." Like 
 cCabalists, hehoped to "pass 
 Irom symbol to symbol, from 
 t'nrm to form, till he arrived 
 ;it the last and purest of all 
 tnrms — that which regulates 
 le power of the Spirit." 
 While Reuchlin was bcwil- 
 .iiiij hiin lit m these quiet 
 I H 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 - ■ 1 ( searches, the 
 iiiiiiu i>t ih, S( hoolmen forced 
 nil -iiilil( iil\. and much against 
 1- ^Mll. into a fierce war, 
 liK li « ,i> one of the preludes 
 
 Ri formation. 
 There was at Cologne a 
 )ti/(d Rabbin, named Pfef- 
 1, who was intimately 
 ted with the inquisitor 
 i.itcn. This man and 
 DiiMunicans solicited and 
 procured from the Emperor, 
 Maximilian, (it may have been with good intentions,) an 
 order, in virtue of which the Jews were to bring all their 
 Hebrew books (the Bible excepted) to the town-house 
 of the place where they resided. There the books 
 were to be burned. The motive alleged was, that they 
 were full of blasphemies against Jesus Christ. It 
 must be confessed that they were, at least, full of 
 absm'dities, and that the Jews themselves would not 
 have lost much by the intended execution. 
 
 The emperor desired Reuchlin to give his opinion 
 of the books. The learned doctor expressly singled j 
 out all the books which were written against Chris- 
 tianity, leaving them to their destined fate, but he tried 
 to save the others. " The best method of converting 
 the Israelites," added he, " would be to establish two 
 Hebrew professors in each university, who might teach 
 tlieologiaus to read the Bible in Hebrew, and thus 
 refute the Jewish doctors." The Jews, in consequence 
 of this advice, obtained restitution of their books. 
 
 The proselytes and the inquisitors, like hungry 
 ravens which see their prey escape, sent forth cries of 
 
fury. Picking out different pii!<sa;;cs from the writings 
 of Reuclilin, iind perverting their meaning, they ile- 
 nounccil the author as a heretic, acenseil liini of a 
 secret inclination to Judaism, and tlirealoneJ him with 
 the fetters of the Intiui^ition. Keuclilin was at first 
 taken by surprise ; but these men, always becoming 
 more and more arrogant, and prescribing dishonoiu-- 
 ablo terms, he, in l;"il.l, published a "Defence against 
 Ilia Detractors of Cologne," in which he painted the 
 whole party in vivid colours. 
 
 The Dominicans vowed vengeance, and hoped, by 
 an net of authority, to re-establish their tottering 
 jwwer. Ilochstraten, at Mayence, drew up a charge 
 ngaiiist Keuchlin, ami the lem-ned works of this learned 
 lunu were condemned to the tiames. The Innovators, 
 the masters and disciples of the new school, feeling 
 that they were all attacked in the person of Keuchlin, 
 rose as one man. Times were changed, — Germany 
 mid literature were very different from Spain and 
 the Inquisition. 
 
 The great literary movement had created a public 
 opinion. Even the dignilied clergy were somewhat 
 inlluenced by it. Reuclilin appeals to Leo X.; and 
 that ))ope, who had no gi-eat liking for ignorant monks 
 and fanatics, remits the whole affair to the IJishop of 
 Spires, who declares lieuchlin innocent, and condcnins 
 the monks in the expenses of the iirocess. The Domi- 
 nicans, those )trops of the papacy, filled with rage. 
 recur to the infallible decision of Rome; and Leo, not 
 knowing how to act between the two hostile powers, 
 issues a mandate superseding the process. 
 
 The union of letters with faith forms one of the 
 characteristic features of the Reformation, and distin- 
 guishes it, both from the introduction of Christianity, 
 ami the religious revival of the present day. The 
 Christians, who were contemporary with the Apostles, 
 had the refinement of their age against them, and, with 
 some few exceptions, it is the same now; but the 
 majority of literary men were with the Reformers. 
 Even public opinion was favourable to them. The 
 work thereby gained in extent, but perhaps it lost in 
 depth. 
 
 Luther, sensilile of all that Reuclilin had done, wrote 
 to him shortly after his victory over the Dominicans, 
 "The I^rd has acted through you, in order that the 
 light of Holy Scripture may again begin to shine in 
 this Germany, where, for many ages, alas I it was not 
 Oiilv sniDtliered. but almost extingiiislied." 
 
 CHAPTEU VI ir. 
 
 Canon— At Paris— Uia Gcniiu— His Repntation — 
 His Influence— Popular Attack — Praise of Folly— Tatters — Church 
 People— Saints— Folly and Uie Popes- Attack on Science— Principle— 
 The Greek New Testament— His Profession of Faith— His Writinjis anil 
 Influence— His Failings— A Rcfotm without Shocks— Was it possible— 
 The Church without Refonn— His timidity- His Indecision— Erasmus 
 loses himself with all Parties. 
 
 Btrr a man had now appeared, who regarded it as the 
 great business of his life to attack the scholasticism of 
 the universities and couvfcnts, and was the great writer 
 
 29 
 
 of the opposition at the commeuccmout of the sixteenth 
 century. 
 
 Reuclilin was not twelve years old when this first 
 genius of the age was born. A man of great vivacity 
 and talent, by name Gerard, a native of Gouda, in the 
 Netherlands, loved a physician's daiiglitor. named Mar- 
 guerite. The principles of Christianity ilid not regu- 
 hite his life, or at least passion silenced them. His 
 parents, and nine brothers, would have constrained 
 him to embrace the monastic state. He Hed, leaving 
 the object of his affection about to become a mother, 
 and repaired to Rome. Frail Marguerite gave birth to 
 a son. Gerard heard nothing of it; and some time 
 after, having received intiination from his parents that 
 the object of his affection was no more, he, in a 
 paroxysm of grief, turned priest, and consecrated him- 
 self for ever to the service of God. On his return to 
 Holland, she was still alive! Marguerite would not 
 marry another, and Gerard, remaining faithful to his 
 sacerdotal vows, their affect ion became concentrated 
 on their little son. His mother had tended him with 
 the greatest care, and his father, after his retiu-n, sent 
 him to school, tlioiigli he was only four years of age. 
 He was not tiiirteen. when his teacher, Sinthemius, of 
 Deveiiter. clasping him rapturously in his arms, ex- 
 claimed, '• This child will reach the highest pinnacles 
 of science." It was Erasmus of Rotterdam.' 
 
 About this time his mother died; and his father, 
 broken-hearted, w.is not long in following her to 
 the grave. 
 
 Young Erasmus, left alone in the world, shewed the 
 greatest aversion to become a monk, — a state of life 
 which his guardians were compelling him to adopt, but 
 to which, from the circumstances of his birth, he may 
 be said to have been always opposed. Ultimately he 
 was prevailed upon to enter a convent of canons 
 rcgidar; but he had no sooner done it than he felt, as 
 it were, borne down by the weight of his vows. 
 Recovering a little liberty, he is soon seen, first at the 
 Court of the Archbishop of Cambray, and afterwards 
 at the I'liiversity of Paris, where he prosecuted his 
 slu.liis in iMr.iiu' |i..\.riy. ImU with the most indefati- 
 
 L'.il'K- ililijrii.T. A- n :i- he coidd procure any 
 
 iimiiry. Ii.- riii|,|,.v,a tlir lir,-l |i;irt of it in the purchase 
 of Givuk b.Hiks. iiiiil the reinuiiuler in the purdiase of 
 clothes. Often did the poor Dutchman make fruitless 
 application to his guardians; and to this probably it 
 was owing, that, in after life, one of his greatest 
 pleasures was to give assistance to poor students. 
 Engaged without iutermission in the pursuit of truth 
 and knowledge, he g.ave a reluctant attendance on 
 scholastic disputes, and revolted from the study of 
 theology, afraid that he might discover some errors in 
 it, and be, in consequence, denounced as a heretic. 
 
 It was at this time Erasmus began to feel his 
 strength. By the study of the ancients, he acquired a 
 perspicuity and an elegance of style, which placed him 
 far above the most distinguished Literati of Paris. 
 His employment as a teacher procured him powerful 
 friends, while the works which he published attracted 
 general admiration and applause. He well knew how 
 
 1 Uis proper name was Gerard, the same as that of his father This Dutch 
 iiaiuo he translated into Latin, Desidcrius, (Desircrd,) and iulo Greek, 
 Epacftos, (Brasmus.) 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 to please the public, and shaking off the last remnants 
 of the school and the cloister, devoted himself entirely 
 to literature, displaying in all his writings those in- 
 genious observations, and that correct, lively, and 
 enlightened spirit, which at once amuse and instruct. 
 
 The laborious habits which he acquired at this 
 period he retained through life. E^en in his journeys, 
 which were usually made on horseback, he was never 
 idle. He composed while he was rambling across the 
 fields, and, on arriving at his inn, committed his 
 thoughts to writing. It was in this way, while 
 travelling from Italy to England, he composed his 
 "Praise of Folly ."^ 
 
 Erasmus, early in life, acquh-ed a high reputation 
 among the learned, but the enraged monks owed him a 
 grudge, and vowed vengeance. He was much courted 
 by princes, and was inexhaustible in iinding excuses to 
 evade their invitations, liking better to gain his liveli- 
 hood in correcting books witli the printer Frobenius, 
 than to live, sm-rouuded by luxiu-y and honour, at the 
 magnificent courts of Cliarles V., Henry VIII., and 
 Francis I., or to encircle his head with the Cardinal's 
 hat, wliich was offered him. 
 
 He taught in Oxford from 1509 to 1516, and then 
 left it for Biisle, where he fixed his residence in 1521. 
 
 What was his influence on the Reformation? 
 
 It has been overrated by some and underrated by 
 others. Erasmus never was, and never could have 
 been, a Reformer; but he paved the way for others. 
 Not only did ho diffuse among his contemporaries a 
 love of science, and a spirit of research and examina- 
 tion, which led others much farther than he went him- 
 self, but he was also able, through the protection of 
 distinguished prelates and mighty princes, to expose 
 the vices of the Church, and lash them with the most 
 cutting satire. 
 
 Erasmus, in fact, attacked monks and abuses in two 
 ways. First, there was his popular attack. That little 
 fair-haired man, whose peering blue eyes keenly ob- 
 served whatever came before him, and on whose lips a 
 somewhat sarciistic smile was always playing, though 
 timid and embarrassed in his step, and apparently so 
 feeble that a breath of air might have thrown hiiu 
 down, was constantly pouring out elegant and biting 
 sarcasms against the theology and superstition of his 
 age. His natural character and the events of his life 
 had made this habitual to him. Even in writings 
 wlicre niitliing of the kind av:is to have been expected, 
 his -in-i-nsiic- liiniumi- i- cmi- l.naking out, and, as with 
 iii'oilli- [Hiiiit^. iiii|i.iliiiu tli.i-r >cluiolnien and ignorant 
 monks ag;iin.-l whuin he liaJ duclared war. There are 
 many features of resemblance between Erasmus and 
 Voltaire. Previous authors had given a popular turn 
 to that element of folly which mingles with all the 
 thoughts and all the actions of human life. Enismus 
 took up the idea, and personifying Folly, introduces 
 her under the name of Moria, daughter of Plutus, born 
 iu the Fortunate Islands, nursed on intoxication and 
 impertinence, and swaying the sceptre of a mighty 
 empire. Giving a description of it, she paints, in suc- 
 cession, all the states of the Avorld which belong to her, 
 dwelling, especially, on church folks, who refuse to own 
 her kindness, although she loads them with her favours. 
 
 1 Seven cuiiious of tliis work were aisi'osecl of in a few months. 
 
 She directs her jibes and jests against the labyrinth of 
 dialectics, in which the theologians wander be\vildered, 
 and the grotesque syllogisms by which they pretend to 
 support the Church. She also vmveils the disorders, 
 the ignorance, the impurity, and absurd conduct of the 
 monks. 
 
 " They are all mine," says she, " those people who 
 have no greater delight than to relate mu-aeles, or hear 
 monstrous lies, and who employ them to dissipate the 
 ennui of others, nnd. at tlio snmo time, to fill their own 
 imr-^c-. (I .■illinl.'. ]):irliciil;irly. tu ]>rir>ts and preachers.) 
 N.:n- llhiii air tlmM'wIn. li:i\.' :i.li .]ited the foolish, yet 
 pliM-iriL:: prrsua~iHii. thai if tluy cast a look at a bit of 
 wood or a pictm-e representing Polyphemus or Chris- 
 topher, they will, at least, outlive that day." — " Alas ! 
 what follies," continues Moria, " follies at which even 
 I myself can scarcely help blushing ! Do we not see 
 each country laying claim to its particular saint/ Eaeli 
 misery has its saint and its candle. This one relieves 
 you in tnnthaclif. thai one i;i\fs a-.sistance at child- 
 birth, a third n -iiii-.- your ~t'>Kii i;n.i(l.s. a fourth saves 
 you in sliiiiwntk, ami a lilth krips watch over your 
 flocks. Some of tiiese are all-]»werfid in many things 
 at once. This is particularly the case with the Virgin, 
 the mother of God, to whom the vulgar attribute 
 almc>"t iniiro than to her Son. In the midst of all 
 tbr-r r. .llii~. if some odious sage arise, and, giving a 
 (•(.lint. in. .I,', .xclaira, (as in truth he may,) 'You will 
 n.it |i(ii-li miserably if you live as Christians. You 
 will r.il.Tin y.iur sins, if to the money which you give 
 y.di a.l.l haiu'd of the sins themselves, tears, vigils, 
 [iray. rs, fa-tings, and a thorough change in your mode 
 of life. Yon saint will befriend you if you imitate his 
 life.' — If some sage, I say, charitably duns such \v( .rds 
 into their ears, oh ! of what felicity does he not de- 
 prive their soids, and into what trouble, what despond- 
 ency, does he not plunge them ! The mind of man is 
 so constituted that imposture has a much stronger 
 hold upon it than truth. If there is any saint more 
 fabulous than another, — for instance, a St. George, a 
 St. Christopher, or a St. Barbara, — you will see them 
 adored with much greater devotion than St. Peter, St. 
 Paul, or Christ himself." 
 
 Folly, however, does not stop here ; she applies her 
 lash to the bishops themselves, " who run more after 
 gold than after souls, and think they have done enough 
 when they make a theatrical display of themselves, as 
 Hdlv Fathers, to whom adoration is due, aud when 
 tli(\ lil.-s (,i- anathematize." The daughter of "the 
 F..1 Illicit. • l~li s" has the hardiiiood even to attack the 
 Court (if Rdiuc, and the pope himself, who, spending 
 his time in diversion, leaves Peter and Paul to perform 
 his duty. "Are there," says she, "more formidtible 
 euemies of the Church than those impious ])ontiffs, 
 who, by their silence, allow Jesus Christ to be des- 
 troyed, who bind Him by their mercenary laws, falsify 
 Him by their forced interpretatious, and strangle Him 
 by their pestilential life !" 
 
 Holbein appended to the "Praise of Folly" most 
 grotesque engravings, among which the pope figures 
 with his triple crown. Never, perliaps, was a work so 
 well adapted to the wants of a jjarticular period. It is 
 impossible to describe the impression which it produced 
 throughout Christendom. Twenty-seven editions were 
 
ERASMUS-HIS WORKS. 
 
 31 
 
 published in the lifetime of Erasiniw , it wiw tmnslntoil 
 into till languages, anil scrvi-d nioio tiiiiii any other to 
 coulirm tlio ago in its antisaoerdotal tiMidem-y. 
 
 But to this attack by jiopular saroasni, Erasmus 
 nddud the attack of scionco and erudition. The stuily 
 of Greek and Latin literature had opened up ft new 
 praspect to the modern genius which began to be 
 awftkened in Kumpe. Erasmus entered with all his 
 heart into the idea of the Italians, that the school of 
 the ancients wivs that in which the sciences ought to 
 be studied; that, abandoning the irnideqinite and absurd 
 books which had hitherto been used, it was necessary 
 to go to Strabo for geography, to Hippocrates for 
 medicine, to Plato for philosophy, to Ovid for mytho- 
 logy, and to I'liny for natural history. lUit he took a 
 farther step, the step of a giant, destined to lead to the 
 discovery of a new world, of more importance to 
 humanity than that which Columbus had just added to 
 the old world. Following out his principle, Erasnnis 
 insisted that men shoidd no longer study theology in 
 Scotus and Thomas Aqniniu', but go luul learn it from 
 the Fathers of the Church, and, above all, from the 
 New Testament. lie shewed that it was not even 
 necessary to keep close to the Vulgate, which swarmed 
 with faults ; and he rendered an innuensc service to 
 truth, by publishing his critical edition of the (Jreek 
 text of the New Testament, — a text as little known in 
 the West as if it never had existed. This edition 
 appeared at IJiisle in 1.')16, the year before the Kcfor- 
 nnition. Enusnuis thus did for the New Testament 
 what Ueuchlin had done for the Old. Theohigians 
 were thenceforth able to rend the word of God iu the 
 origimU tongues, .ind at a later period to recognize the 
 purity of doctrine taught by the Keforniers. 
 
 " I wish," said Erasnnis, on publishing his New 
 Testament, "to bring to its level that frigid, wordy, 
 disputatious thing, termeil Theology. Would to God 
 tlie Christian world nuiy derive advantage from the 
 work, proportioned to the pain and toil which it has 
 cost !" The wish was accomplished. It was in vain 
 for the monks to exclaim. " He is trying to correct the 
 Holy Spirit." The New Testament of Erasmus sent 
 forth a living light. His parajjlirases on the E])istles 
 And Gospels of .St. Matthew and St. John ; his editions 
 of Cyprian and Jerome ; his translations of Origeii, 
 Athanasius, and Chrysostom ; his ''True Theology;" 
 his '• Preacher ;" his Commentaries on several of the 
 Psalms, contributed greatly to spread a taste for the 
 ■word of God and pure theologj'. The effect of his 
 labours even went farther than his intentions. Reiich- 
 lin and Erasmus restored the Bible to the learned ; 
 Luther restored it to the jieople. AVe have not yet 
 described all that Erasnnis did. When he restored 
 the Bible, he called attention to its contents. "The 
 highest aim of the revival of philosophical studies," 
 said he, '• should be to give a knowledge of the pure 
 and simple Christianity of the Bible." An admirable 
 sentiment ! AVould to God the organs of philosophy, 
 in our day, were n.s well acquainted with their calling ! 
 "I am firmly resolved," continued he, 'Mo die study- 
 ing the Scriptures ; it is my joy and my i)cace." " The 
 sum of all Christian philosophy," he elsewhere says, 
 "is reduced to this: To place" all our hope in God, 
 who, through grace, \nthout oiu: merits, gives us everj-- 
 
 thing by Jesus Christ : to know that we arc ronsomed 
 by the death of His Son : to die to worldly lusts, and 
 walk conformably to His doctrine and His example, 
 not only doing no injury to any, but, on the contrary, 
 doing good to all : to bear trials patiently, in the hopo 
 of future recompense: in fine, to claim no credit to 
 om-selves because of our virtues, but give thanks to 
 God for all OIU- faculties, and jdl our works. These 
 are the feelings which ought to j)ervade the whole 
 man, initil they have become a .second nature." 
 
 Then, raising his voice against the great mass of 
 ecclesiasiical injunctions, regarding dress, fasts, feast- 
 days, vows, marriage, and confessions, by which the 
 |)eople were oppressed, and the j)riest was enriched, 
 Erasmus exclaims, "In churches, the interpretation of 
 the Gospel is scarcely thought of. The better part of 
 sermons must meet the wishes of the commissaries of 
 indulgences. The holy doctrine of Christ must bo 
 suppressed, or interpreted contrary to its meaning, and 
 for their profit. Cm-e is now hopeless, unless Christ 
 himself turn the hearts of kings and pontiffs, and 
 awaken them to inquire after true piety." 
 
 The works of Erasmus rapidly succeeded each other. 
 Ho laboured incessantly, and his writings were read 
 just as they came from his pen. That spirit, that 
 native life, that rich, refined, sparkling and bold intel- 
 lect, which, without restraint, poiu-ed out its treasures 
 before his contemporaries, carried away and entranced 
 vast uunjbers of readers, who eagerly devoured the 
 works of the ]>hilosopher of Kotferdam. In this way 
 he soon became the most influential man in Christen- 
 dom, and saw ])ensions and crowns raining down upon 
 him from all quarters. 
 
 When we contemplate the great revolution, which, 
 at a later jjoriod, renewed the Church, it is impo.ssible 
 not to own that Erasmus was used by many as a kind 
 of bridge, over which they passed. Many who would 
 have taken alarm at evangelical truths, if presented in 
 all their force and purity, yielded to the charm of his 
 writings, and ultimately figured among the most zeal- 
 ous promoters of the Reformation. 
 
 But the very circumstance of his being good in prc- 
 j)ariug, prevented him from being good at performing. 
 " Erasmus knows very well how to expose error," says 
 Luther, "but he knows not how to teach the truth." 
 The Gospel was not the fire which warmed and sus- 
 tained his life, the centre around which his activity 
 radiated. He was, first of all, a learned, and, in the 
 second place, only a Christian man. He wa.s too much 
 under the influence of vanity to have a decided influ- 
 ence on his age. He anxiously calculated the effect 
 which every step he took might have on his reputation, 
 and there was nothing he liked so much to talk of as 
 himself and his fame. " The jKipc." wrote he to an 
 intimate friend, with puerile vanity, at the period when 
 he became the declared opponent of Luther, " the popo 
 has sent me a letter full of kindness and expressions of 
 respect. His secretary solemnly vows that the like 
 was never heiu-d of, and that it was written word for 
 word at the pope's own dictation " 
 
 Envsmus and Luther are the representatives of two 
 great ideas on the subject of reform, and of two great 
 j)arties of their own age, and of all ages. The one is 
 composed of men, whose leading characteristic is a 
 
32 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 prudeutial timidity; tlie other of men of corn-age aud 
 resolution. These two parties were, at this period, 
 personified in these two distinguished heads. The men 
 of prudence thought that the cultivation of theological 
 science might lead gradually, and without disruption, 
 to the reformation of the Church. Tlie men of action 
 thought that the diffusion of more correct ideas among 
 the leai-ned would not put a stop to the superstitions of 
 the people, and that the correction of particular abuses 
 was of little avail, unless the whole life of the Chiu-ch 
 were renewed. 
 
 " A disadvantageous peace," said Erasmus, " is far 
 better than the justest war." He thought (and how 
 
 many Erasmuses have been and still are in the world?) 
 that a Reformation which shook the Church might run 
 a risk of overturning it; and he was therefore terrified 
 when, on looking forward, he saw the passions of men 
 excited, saw evil everywhere mingling itself with any 
 little good that could be accomplished, existing insti- 
 tutions destroyed in the absence of others to supply 
 their place, and the vessel of the Church leaking in 
 every part, and at length engulfed amid the storm. 
 " Those who bring the sea into new lagoons," said he, 
 " are often deceived in the result ; the formidable ele- 
 ment, once introduced, does not take the direction which 
 I they -^vished to give it, but rushes where it pleases, and 
 
 causes proat <lc\ astnlK.ii. iU- tins as it may, con- 
 tinued he, " let disturbances be by all means avoided. 
 Better put up witli wicked princes than by innovations 
 enthrone evil." 
 
 But the courageous among his contemporaries were 
 prepared with their answer. History had clearly 
 enough demonstrated, that a frank exposition of the 
 truth, and a mortal struggle with falsehood, could 
 alone secure the victory. Had temporizing and politic 
 artifices been resorted to, the wiles of the papal court 
 would have extinguished the light in its first glimmer- 
 ings. Had not all sorts of mild methods been tried for 
 ages ? Had not Council been held after Council, with 
 
 tlie view or riTonniiiL; tiir (_ lniri'u; Vet all had been 
 useless. Wliy pretend to repeat an experiment that 
 had so often failed? 
 
 No doubt a fundamental reform might be effected 
 without disruption. But when did anything great and 
 good make its appearance among men without causing 
 agitation? This fear of seeing evil mingle -vWth good, 
 if legitimate, would arrest the noblest and holiest 
 enterprises. We must not fear the evil which may be 
 heaved up in the course of great agitation, but be 
 strong in combating and destroying it. 
 
 Besides, is there not an entire difference between the 
 commotion which human passions produces and that 
 
ERAf5MUS AND LUTHER CONTRASTED. 
 
 which /inimtca from iho Spirit of Go<l? Tlie ono 
 shakes i)cicty, tlio other consolidates it. How errone- 
 ous to imagine, like Erasmus, that in tlie state in which 
 Chrislinuiiy then was, with that mixture of opposite 
 clcmcnt-s truth and falsehood, lite and death, violent 
 shocks inijiht still be prevented! As well might you 
 try to shut the crater of Vc:<uvius, when the angry 
 elements are actually at war in its bosom! The mid- 
 dle ages had seen more than one violent commotion in 
 au atmosphere less loaded with storms than at the 
 period of the Ueformation. The thing wanted at such 
 n time is not to arrest and 8u|ipress, but to direct 
 and guide. 
 
 If the Kefonnation had not burst forth, who can tell 
 the fearful ruin by which its place might have been 
 supplied .' S«>ciety, a prey to a thotisand elements 
 of destruction, and destitute of regenerating and coii- 
 sen-alivc elements, would have been dreadfully con- 
 vulsed. Assuredly it would not have been a reform to 
 the tJisto of Erasmus, or such an one as many moderate 
 but timid men in our day dream of. that would then 
 have overtaken society. The people, devoid of that 
 light and piety which the Ueformation ciuried down 
 into the humblest ranks, giving themselves up to the 
 violence of their passions, and to a re--itless spirit of 
 revolt, would have burst forth like a wild beast broken 
 loose from its chain, after having been goaded to 
 madness. 
 
 The Keformation was nothing but an interposition 
 of the Spirit of God among men — a setting of the 
 world ill order by the hand of God. No doubt, it 
 might stir up the fennenting elements which lie hidden 
 in the human heart ; but God was there to overrule 
 them. Evangelical doctrine, heavenly truth, penetrat- 
 ing the masses of the population, destroyed what de- 
 served to perish ; but, at the same time, gave new 
 strength to all that deserved to remain. The Kcfor- 
 nintiou exerted itself iji building up, and it is mere 
 prejudice to allege that it destroyed. "The plough- 
 share, loo," it has been truly said, in speaking of the 
 Ucfonuation, '• might think it hurts the earth, bec.iuse 
 it cuts it asunder, whereas it only makes it ]>roductive." 
 
 The great principle of Erasmus was, '• Give light, 
 and the darkness will disappear of itself." The prin- 
 ciple is good, and Luther acted on it. But when the 
 enemies of the light strive to extinguish it, or to force 
 the flambeau out of the hand which carries it, is it 
 necessary, from a love of jieace, t<j let them do so ? — 
 ought not the wicked to be resisted ? 
 
 Erasmus was dcticient in courage. Now, courage 
 is indispensable, whether it be to effect a Reformation, 
 or to stonu a town. There was much timidity in his 
 character. From a 1)oy the very name of death made 
 him tremble. He was excessively anxious about his 
 health, and would grudge no sacrifice in order to escape 
 from a place where some contagious malady prevailed. 
 His love of the comforts of life was greater even than 
 his vanity, and hence his rejection, on more than one 
 occasion, of the most brilliant offers. 
 
 Accordingly, he made no pretensions to the charac- 
 ter of a Keformer. '"If the corruptions of the Court 
 of Rome demand some great and prompt remedy," 
 said he, '• it is no affair of mine, or of those like me." 
 He had not the strong faith which animated Luther. 
 
 While the latter was always i)rcparcd to yield up his 
 life for the truth, Erasmus candidly declared, " Others 
 may aspire to martyrdom ; as for me, I deem not my- 
 self worthy of the honour. Were some tumult to arise, 
 I fear I would play the part of Peter." 
 
 Erasmus, by his writings and his sayings, had dono 
 more than any other man to prepare the Ri-formation ; 
 but when ho saw the teni])est, which he himself had 
 raised, actually come, he trembled. He would have 
 given anything to bring back the calm of other days, 
 even though accompixnied with its dense fogs. It w.ns 
 no longer lime. Tlie embankment had burst, and it 
 was iiniiossible to arrest the flood which was destined 
 at once to purify and fertilize the world. Erasnms 
 was powerful as an iiislrumcut of God; but when he 
 ceased to be so. he was nothing. 
 
 Ultimately, Erasmus knew not for which parly to 
 declare. He was not pleased with any, and he had 
 his fears of all. '• It is dangerous to speak," said he, 
 '• and it is dangerous to be silent." In all great reli- 
 gious movements we meet with those irr&solute charac- 
 ters, which, though respectable in some points of view, 
 do injury to the truth, and, in wishing not to displease 
 any, displease all. 
 
 What would become of the truth did not God raise 
 up bolder cliamiuons to defend it ? The following is 
 the advice which Erasmus gave to Viglius Zuichem, 
 (afterwards President of the Supreme Court at Brus- 
 sels.) as to the manner in which he ought to conduct 
 himself towards the sectaries — (this was the name by 
 which he had already begun to designate the Re- 
 formers) — " 5Iy friendship for you makes me desirous 
 that you should keep far aloof from the contagion of 
 the scots, and not furnish them with any pretext for 
 saying, ' Zuichem is ours.' If you approve their doc- 
 trine, at least disguise it ; and, above all, do not enter 
 into discussion with them. A law7er should finesse 
 with these people as a dying man once did with the 
 devil. The devil asked him, 'What believest thou?' 
 The dying man, afraid that if he made a confession of 
 his faith, he might be surprised into some heresy, re- 
 plied, 'What the Church believes.' The devil rejoined, 
 ' What does the Church believe ?' The man again 
 replied, ' What I believe.* The de^-il, once more, 
 •And what dost thou believe?' — 'What the Church 
 believes.'" Duke George of Saxony, a mortal enemy 
 of Luther, receiving an equivocal answer from Eras- 
 mus to a question which he had put to him, said, '■ My 
 dear Erasmus, wash the fur for me, and do not 
 merely wet it." Secundus Curio, in one of his works, 
 describes two heavens — the Papistical and the Chris- 
 tian heaven. He does not find Erasmus in cither, but 
 discovers him moving constantly between them in end- 
 less circles. 
 
 Such was Erasmus. He wanted that internal liberty 
 which makes a man truly free. How different he 
 would have been if he had abandoned himself, and 
 sacrificed all for truth ! But after trying to effect 
 some reforms with the approbation of the Church, and 
 for Rome deserting the Reformation when he saw the 
 two to be incompatible, he lost himself with all parties. 
 On the one hand, his p.alinodes could not su])pres3 the 
 rnge of the fanatical partisans of the Papacy. They 
 felt the mischief which he had done them, and they 
 
T=i 
 
HUTTEN AT BRUSSELS. 
 
 35 
 
 buted to tlio soooiitl [uxTt. It is n jiii-tiiro in bold 
 chiimctcrs, — n caricnturo sometimes i-.mrsely painted, 
 but full of truth and vif.inir, — ii Blrikinjr likeness in 
 colours of lire. Tho effect wiis iuinienso. Monks, 
 who arc adversaries of Reuchlin, and tho supposed 
 authors of the litters, discourse on the affairs of the 
 time, and on theological subjects, after their own 
 manner, and in their barbarous Latin. They address 
 to their correspi indent, Ortuiii Gratius, professor at 
 Cologne, and friend of rfefferkoru, the silliest and 
 most useless (piestions. They give the most amusing 
 proof of the excessive ignorance and incredulity, tiieir 
 Buperstition, their low and vulg:ir spirit, their coar-e 
 gluttony in making a god of their belly; and, at the 
 same time, their pride, their fanatical and persecuting 
 real. They inform hiui of several of their tlroll adven- 
 tures, their e.-ica|H.-3, their dissoluteness, and a variety 
 of scandals in the lives of Iloclistratcn. Pfefferkorn, 
 and other leaders of their |)arly. The tone of these 
 letters, sometimes hypocritical and sometimes childish, 
 gives them a very comic effect ; and yet the whole is 
 so natural, that the Dominicans and Franciscans of 
 England received the work with high approbation, 
 believing that it really w.is composed on the principles 
 of their order, and in defence of it. A prior of 15ra- 
 baiit, iu his credulous simplicity, purchased a great 
 number of copies, and presented them to the most 
 distinguished among the Dominicans. The monks, 
 irritated more and more, applied to the pope for a 
 stringent l)ull against all who should d.are to read these 
 epistles; but Leo X. refused to grant it. They were 
 acconlingly obliged to put up with the general laugh, 
 and gidp down their rage. No work gave a stronger 
 blow to these pillars of Papism. But it was not by 
 jesting and satire that the Gospel was to triumph. 
 ILid this course been persisted in — had the Reformers, 
 instead of attacking the Hefomiation with the weaiwiis 
 of Go<l, had recourse to the jeering spirit of the world, 
 the cause had been lost. Luther loudly condemned 
 these satires. A friend having sent him one of them. 
 entitled, '• The Tenor of the Supplication of Pasqnin," 
 he wrote in aiuswer. *• The fiK)lish things you sent mc 
 appear to be written by a mind which is under no 
 control. I submitted them to a meeting of friends, 
 and they have all given the same opinion." And 
 spooking of the same work, he writes to another of his 
 corres|)ondents, "This 'Supplication' appears tome to 
 be by the same hand as the ' Letters of Some Obscure 
 Men.' I ajjpmvc of his wishes, but I approve not of bis 
 work, for he di>es not refrain from injury and insult." 
 This sentence is severe, but it shews what kind of 
 spirit was iu Luther, and how superior he w.as to his 
 contemporaries. It must be added, however, that he 
 was not at all times observant of these wise maxims. 
 
 I'lrich having been obliged to renounce the protec- 
 tion of the Archbishop of M.iyence, applied for that of 
 Ch.trlcs v., who had at this time quarrelled with the 
 pope, and accordingly repaircil to Brnssels, where 
 Charles wa*! holding his court. But so far from 
 obt-iining anything, he learned that the pope had re- 
 quired the emperor to send him to Rome bound hand 
 and foot. The inquisitor, Hochsfraten, Rcuehlin's 
 pcrsocntor, w.os one of those whom Rome had charged 
 to i-ursue him. Ulrich, indignant that such a demand 
 
 should have been made to the emperor, quitted Bra- 
 bant. When a short way from 15rus.sel.s, he met Iloch- 
 straton on the high road. The inquisitor, frightened 
 out of his wits, falls on his knees, and commends his 
 soul to God and the .saints. " No," said tho knight, 
 '' 1 will not soil my sword with such blood as yours !" 
 and giving him several strokes with the fl.it of his 
 sword, allowed him to depart. 
 
 Iliittcn took refuge in the castle of Ebcrnbourg, 
 where Francis de Seckingcn offered an asylum to all 
 who were persecuted by the L'ltraiuontanists. It was 
 here that his ardent zeal for the emancipation of his 
 country dictated the remarkable letters which he ad- 
 dressed to Charles V., Frederick. Elector of Saxony, 
 Albert, Archbishop of Mayence. and the princes and 
 nobles, and which entitle him to a jdace among the 
 most distinguished authors. Here, too, he composed 
 all those works which, being read and comprehended 
 by the people, inspired Germany with a hatred of 
 Rome and a love of freedom. Devoted to the cause 
 of the Reformers, his object was to induce the nobility 
 to take up arms in favour of the Gosjiel, and fall with 
 the sword on that Rome which Luther only wished to 
 destroy by the "Word, and by the invincible force of 
 truth." 
 
 Still, amid all this fondness for war, we are pleased 
 at tinding tenderness and delic:icy of sentiment in 
 Iliittcn. On the death of his parents, though he was 
 the eldest son. he gave up all the family ])ropcrty to 
 his brothers, and prayed them not to write him or send 
 him any money, lest, notwithstanding their innocence, 
 they might be brought into trouble by his enemies, 
 anil fall into the ditch along with him. 
 
 If the truth cannot own Iliitten for one of her 
 children, (for her companions arc ever holiness of life 
 and pnrity of heart.) she will, at le.ist, make honour- 
 able mention of him as one of the most redoubtable 
 adversiiries of error. 
 
 A similar testimony may be borne to Frangois de 
 Seckingcn, his illustrious friend and patron. This 
 noble chevalier, whom several of his contemporaries 
 deemed worthy of the imperial crown, holds a first 
 jjlace among the warriors who were the antagonists of 
 Rome. While delighting in the noise of .inns, he had 
 an ardent love of .science, and a high veneration for 
 its |)rofessors. "\^^len at the head of an army which 
 threatened AVurtcmberg, he g.ive orders, in the event 
 of Stuttgard being taken by assault, to spare the 
 propcrtj- and house of the celebrated scholar, John 
 Rouchlin. lie afterwards invited him to his camp, 
 and. cmbr.tcing him, offered to assist him in his 
 quarrel with the monks of Cologne. Fi>r a long time 
 chivalrv had gloried in despising literature, but this 
 period presents us with a different spectacle. Under 
 the massy cuirass of the Seckingcns and Iliittcns, we 
 perceive the intellectual movement which is beginning 
 to be everywhere felt. Tho first-fruits which the Re- 
 formation gives to the world are warriors enamoured 
 with the arts of peace. 
 
 Iliitten, who, on his return from Brussels, had taken 
 refuge in the cjistle of Seckingen, invited the v.ilorous 
 knights to study the evangelical doctrine, and mako 
 him acquainted with the foundations on which it rests. 
 "And is there any one," exclaimed Seckiugeu iu 
 
36 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 astonishment, "who dares to overturn such an edifice? 
 Who could do it ?" 
 
 Several individuals, who afterwards became cele- 
 brated as Reformers, found an asylum in this castle ; 
 
 COLOGNE 
 
 among others, Martin Bucer, Aquila, Schwebel, and 
 CEcolampadius. so that Iliitton jnstlv stvled Ebern- 
 bourg '-til.- liotrl nf tl,.. jii-l." (i:.M!;nniKi.lins had to 
 
 preach daily in the castle ; but the warriors there as- 
 sembled beijan to weary hearing so much of the meek 
 virtues of Christianity; and the sermons of QT.eolam- 
 padius, though he labom-ed to shorten them, seemed 
 too long. They, indeed, repaired to the 
 ^ - ^ chiu-eh almost every day, but, for the 
 
 ~"^"^^^^^ most part, only to hear the blessing and 
 
 ^ ciffer a short prayer. Hence CEcolam- 
 
 ^e^ jKidius exclaimed, "Alas! the Word is 
 
 ^_S[|M h<^'re sown on stony ground." 
 
 ^fflSl Seckingen, longing to serve the cause 
 
 _»_nppi|J of truth in his own way, declared war 
 
 " 1 on the Archbishop of Treves, " in or- 
 
 der," as he said, '• to open a door for the 
 Gospel." In vain did Luther, who had 
 by this time appeared, endeavour to dis- 
 suade him ; he attacked Treves with five 
 thousand knights and a thousand com- 
 mon soldiers, but the bold archbishop, 
 aided by the Elector Palatine and the 
 Landgrave of Hesse, forced him to re- 
 treat. The following spring, the allied 
 jirinces attacked him in his castle of 
 Landstein. After a bloody assault, Sec- 
 kingen, having been mortally wounded, 
 was forced to surrender. The tliree 
 princes, accordingly, make their way into 
 the fortress, and, after searching through 
 it, at last find the indomitable knight on 
 his death-bed, in a subterraneous vault. 
 He stretches out his hand to the Elector Palatine, 
 without seeming to pay any attention to the other 
 princes, who overwhelm him with questions and re- 
 proaches : "Leave me at rest," said he to them; "I 
 am now preparing to answer a mightier than you ! 
 . . ." When Luther heard of his death he ex- 
 claimed, "The Lord is just, yet wonderful! It is not 
 with the swiird that He means to propagate the Gospel !" 
 
 .y-^' 
 
 m^:-''^^j^l^^''-^M^' 
 
 
 TAN TINE. TREVES, 
 
HARMUT OF CRONBERG. 
 
 37 
 
 8ccn coming forth, who were afterwards to occupy the 
 first stations in the Chiuxli, but even individuals, who 
 continued all their lives to labour in the humblest pro- 
 fessions, contributed powerfully to the great awaken- 
 ing of Christendom. It may be proper to give some 
 tr.iit.^ in the life of one of Ihiiii. 
 
 Such was the sad eud of a warrior, who, as emperor 
 or elector, might, perhaps, have raised Germany to 
 high renown ; but who, coutincd within a limited circle, 
 wasted the great powers with which he was endowed. 
 It was not in the tumultuous spirit of these warriors 
 that Divine truth, which had come down from heaven, 
 was to take up her abode. Theirs were 
 not the weapons by which she was to 
 conquer ; God, in aiuiihilating the mad 
 projects of Seckingcn, gave a new illus- 
 tration of the saying of St. Paul, "The 
 weapons of our warfare are not carnal, 
 but mighty through God." 
 
 Another chevalier, Ilannut of Cron- 
 berg. a friend of Hiittcn and Seckingen. 
 appears to have had more wisdom and '■ 
 more knowledge of the truth. He wrote f 
 with great moderation to Leo X., be- ^ 
 seeching him to give up his temporal 
 power to its rightful jiossessor, — viz.. 
 tho emperor. Addressing his depen- 
 dents like a father, he endeavoured to 
 make them comprehend the doctrine- 
 of the Gospel ; and exhorted them to 
 faith, obedience, and conlidcnce in Jesu> 
 Christ, " who," added he, " is the sove- 
 reign Lord of all." lie resigned a pen- 
 sion of two hundred ducats into the 
 hands of the emperor, "because he was 
 unwilling," as he expressed it, "to continue in the 
 service of one who lent his car to tho enemies of the 
 truth." I have somewhere met with a beautiful say- 
 ing of his. which seems to place him far above Hiitten 
 and Seckingen. "The Holy Spirit, our heavenly 
 Teacher, is able, when He pleases, to teach us more of 
 the faith of Christ in one hour than we could learn 
 in ten ye.nrs at the University of Paris." 
 
 Those who look for the friends of reformation only 
 on the steps of thrones, or in cathedrals and .tcademics, 
 and maintain that no such friends exist among the 
 people, are under a serious mistake. God, while pre- 
 paring tho heart of the wise and powerful, was also 
 preparing, in retirement, many simple and humble- 
 minded men who were one day to become obedient to 
 the \\'o il. The history of the period gives evidence 
 of tl e fermentation which was then going on among 
 the humbler classes. The popular literature, previous 
 to the Keformation, had a tendency directly opposed 
 to the spirit which was prevalent in the Church. In 
 the " Eulenspiegel." a celebrated popular poetical col- 
 lection of the period, the laugh is incessantly kept up 
 at priests, be.ist.^, and gluttons, who keep full-stocked 
 cellars, fine horses, and well-lined pantries. In the 
 " Reynard Rcineke," the households of priests, with 
 their little children, jilay an important part. Another 
 popuhir writer thunders with .all his might against 
 those ministers of Christ who ride splendid horses, but 
 won't fight the iniidels; and .John R<i?enblut, in one of 
 his carnival games, brings the Grand Turk upon the 
 stage, to preach a seasonable sermon to all the states 
 of Christendom. 
 
 It w.as unquestionably in the bowels of the people 
 that the Reformation, which was soon to break out, 
 was fermenting. Not only from this class were youths 
 
 On the 5th No\ ember, 1491, a tailor of Nuremberg, 
 by name Hans Sacln, had a son born to hun. The 
 son, named Hans, (John.) like his father, after having 
 received some scliooling, was apprenticed to a shoe- 
 maker. Young Hans availed himself of the liberty of 
 thought, which this humble profession afforded, to 
 penetrate into the higher world, in which his soul 
 delighted. Songs, after they ceased in the castles of 
 chiv.nli\ seem to ln\c soncrlit ind to ln\o found, an 
 
 HANS SACHS HOUSE, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 asylum among the burgliers of the joyous cities of 
 Germany. A siuging-school was held in the Chiu-ch 
 of Nuremberg. The performances which took place 
 there, and iu -which young Hans was accustomed to 
 join, opened his heart to religious impressions, and 
 helped to awaken a taste for poetry and music. The 
 genius of the youth could not long brook confinement 
 within the walls of his v/orkshop. He wished to see 
 with his own eyes that world of which he had read so 
 much, and been told so many stories by his comrades, 
 and which his imagination peopled with wonders. In 
 1511 he bundles up his eifects, and sets out in the 
 direction of the South. The young traveller, falling 
 in with gay comrades — students roaming the country — 
 and many dangerous temptations, soon feels a serious 
 struggle within. The lusts of the world and his pious 
 resolutions war with each other. Trembling for the 
 result, he takes flight, and, iu 1513, hides himself in 
 the little town of Wels in Austria, where he lives in 
 retirement, devoting himself to the study of the fine 
 arts. The Emperor Maximilian happens to pass 
 through the town with a brilliant suite, and the young 
 poet is quite fascinated with the splendour of the court. 
 The prince receives him into his hunting train, and 
 Hans once more forgets himself, under the noisy vaidts 
 of the palace of luspriich. But his conscience again 
 sounds the alarm, and the young huntsman, imme- 
 diately throwing aside his brilliant uniform, takes 
 his departure, and arrives at Schwatz, near Munich. 
 There, iu 1514, at the age of twenty, he composed his 
 first hymn, "In Honour of God," setting it to a 
 remarkable air. It was received with great ajiplause. 
 In the course of his journeys he was witness to many 
 sad proofs of the abuses under which religion groaned. 
 On his return to Nuremberg, Hans commences 
 business, man-ies, and becomes the father of a family. 
 AVhen the Keformatiou breaks out he turns a listening 
 ear. He cordially welcomes the Holy Scriptm-e, ■ivhich 
 had already endeared itself to him as a poet, and he no 
 longer searches it for images and hjTmns, but for the 
 light of truth. To this truth he consecrates his lyre. 
 From an humble stall iu front of one of the gates of the 
 imperial city of Nuremberg, come forth notes which 
 re-echo over Germany, and everv^vhere excite a deep 
 interest iu the great revolution which is going forward. 
 The spiritual songs of Hans Sachs, and his Bible 
 turned into verse, greatly aided the work. Indeed, it 
 would be difficult to say which of the two did most for 
 it — the elector of Saxony, vicegerent of the emiiirc, or 
 the shoemaker of Nuremberg. 
 
 Thus, then, there was something iu all classes which 
 
 announced a Reformation. On all sides signs appeared, 
 and events pressed forward, threatening to overthrow 
 the work of ages of darkness, and introduce men to a 
 period in which "aU things were to become new." 
 The hierarchical form, which several ages had been 
 employed in stamping upon the world, was on the eve 
 of being effaced. The light v.liich had just been dis- 
 covered had, -i^dth inconceivable rapidity, introduced a 
 number of new ideas into all countries, and all classes 
 of society gave signs of new life. " O age!" exclaims 
 Hiitten, "studies flourish, and minds awake: mere 
 life is joy!" . . . The human intellect, which had 
 been slumbering for so mauy generations, seemed 
 desirous, by its activity, to redeem the time which it 
 had lost. To have left it in idleness, without nom-ish- 
 ment, or to have given it no better food than that 
 which had long maintained its languid existence, would 
 have been to mistake the nature of man. The human 
 mind having at length perceived what it was, and what 
 it ought to be, looked boldly at these two states, and 
 scanned the immense abyss which lay between them. 
 Great princes were on the throne, the ancient colossus 
 of Rome was tottering under its own weight, and the 
 old spirit of chivalry was taken leave of the earth to 
 make way for a new spirit, which breathed at once 
 on the sanctuaries of knowledge and on the dwell- 
 ings of the poor. The printed Word had taken 
 wing, and been carried, as the wind does certain 
 seeds, to the most distant regions. The discovery of 
 
 the two Indies had enlarged the world 
 
 Everything anuoiuiced that a great revolution v.'as 
 at hand. 
 
 But whence will the blow come which is to strike 
 down the ancient edifice, that a new edifice may arise 
 out of its ruins? Nobody could say. Who had more 
 wisdom than Frederick — more science than Reuchlin — 
 more talent than Erasmus — more spirit and versatility 
 than Hiitten — more valoiu- than Seckingeu — more 
 vu-lue than Cronberg? And yet, neither Frederick, 
 nor Reuchlin, nor Erasmus, nor Hiitten, nor Seckingeu, 
 
 nor Cronberg Learned men, princes, 
 
 warriors, the Church herself, had sapped some of the 
 foundations ; but there they had stopped. The power- 
 ful hand which God had designed to employ was 
 nowhere to be seen. 
 
 All, however, felt that it must soon make its 
 appearance, while some even pretended to have seen 
 indications of it in the stars. • One class, seeing the 
 mirerable slate of religion, predicted the near approach 
 of Antichrist. Another class, on the contrai-y, pre- 
 dicted a siieedy Reformation. The world was waiting. 
 . . . Luther appeared. 
 
LUTHER'S DESCENT. 
 
 13 OK II. 
 
 YUUTII, CONVEKSIOX, AND FIKST LAIJULK.S OF LUTIIEn — 1183-1517. 
 
 ( IIAITKR I. 
 
 1 ' M Utrth -ruverly— Tim ratcilial Roiif 
 
 riic Sclnwl of Mngilcbourg— Wretch- 
 
 If— TUe lluuiio ofCotU— Tho .\rlji— 
 
 l; : I SluJics—Treboiiius—'nn) University. 
 
 AxL was ready. God takes ages to prepare His work ; 
 but when the hour is come, acctmiplislies it by the 
 fccble.1t instrumciil---. T« do prrcnt thiiiprs by siuali 
 incaiis, is the hiwof Cm). This iaiv. which appears in 
 every department of nature, is found also in history. 
 God took the Reformers of the Cliurch where He liad 
 taken the A])ostk-!;. lie selected them from that 
 humble class which, without containing the meanest of 
 the people, is scarcely the length of cilizen.ship. Every- 
 thing must manifest to the world that the work is not 
 of man, but of God. The Reformer Zwingle comes 
 fortii from the hut of a shepherd of the Alps, Melanc- 
 thon, the Theologian of the Reformation, from the 
 workshop of an armourer, and Luther from the cottage 
 of a i>oor miner. 
 
 The tirst stage in a man's life — tliat in which he is 
 formed and moulded under the hand of God — is always 
 important, and was so especially in the case of Luther. 
 Tlierc, even nt that period, the whole Reformation 
 existed. The different i)hase3 of that great work 
 succeeded each other in the soul of him who was the 
 instrument of accomplishing it, before it was actually 
 nccomplishcd. The knowledge of the Reformation 
 which took pltice in Luther's heart is the oidy key to 
 the Reformation of the Church. "We must study the 
 particular work, if we would attain to a knowledge of 
 the general work. Those who neglect the one will 
 never know more than the form and exterior of the 
 other. They may acquire a knowledge of certain 
 events .ind certain residts, but the intrinsic nature of 
 the revival they eaiuiot know, because the living 
 principle which formeil the soul of it is hidden from 
 them. Let us, then, study the Reformation in Luther, 
 before studying it in events which changed the face 
 of Christendom. 
 
 In the village of Mora, towanb the forests of 
 Tiiuringia, ami not far from the spot where Boniface, 
 the Apostle of Genuany, began to proclaim the Gospel, 
 there existed, and, undoubtedly, had existed for ages, 
 an ancient and numerous family of the name of 
 Luther. The eldest son, jis usual with the peasantry 
 of Thuringia, always succeeded to the house and the 
 paternal plot, while the 3-otniger members of the family 
 set out in quest of a livelihood. John Luther having 
 married Margaret Lindemann. daughter of an inhabi- 
 tant of Neiistadt. in the bishopric of Wurzburg, the 
 married couple removed from the plains of Eisenach, 
 
 and fixed their residence in the little town of Eislebcn, 
 in .Siixony, in order to gain their bread by the sweat 
 of their brow. 
 
 Scckcudorff relates, on the testimony of Robhan, 
 superintendent of Eisenach in 1001, that Luther's 
 mother, thinking she was still far from her time, had 
 gone to the fair of Eisleben, and there, unexpectedly 
 gave birth to a son. Notwithstauding of the credit 
 due to such a man as Seckendorff, this account appears 
 not to be correct. In fact, none of the older bio- 
 graphers of Luther make any mention of it. Besides, 
 Mora is more than twenty-four leagues distant from 
 Eisleben; and persons in the circumstances in which 
 Luther's mother then was, seldom are disposed to take 
 such long journeys to ijn to the /air. In fine, the 
 iiccount seems quite at variance with Luther's own 
 statement.' 
 
 John Luther was an upright, stiaigbtforward, hard- 
 working man, with a firmness of character bordering 
 on obstinacy. Of a more cultivated mind than usiml 
 with persons of his class, he was a great reader. 
 Books were then rare. But he never let pass any 
 opportunity of procuruig them. They were his relaxa- 
 tion in the intervals of rei)Oso from hard and long- 
 continued labour. Margaret possessed the virtues 
 which adorn honest and pious women. She was 
 remarked, in particular, for her modesty, her fear of 
 God, and her spirit of prayer. The mothers of the 
 place regarded her as a model whom they ought 
 to imitate. 
 
 It is not exactly known how long this couple had 
 been fixed at Eisleben, when, on the lOtli November, 
 an hour before midnight, Margaret gave birtii to a sou. 
 Melancthou often questioned the mother of his friend 
 as to the period of his birth. •• I remember the day 
 and the hour very well," would she reply; '• but for the 
 year, I am not certain of it." Luther's brother, James, 
 an honest and upright man, has stated that, in the 
 opinion of all the family, Martin was born in the year 
 of Christ 1-183, on the ioth November, being St. Mar- 
 tin's eve. The first thought of the pious parents was 
 to take the infant which God had given them, and 
 dedicate it to God in holy baptism. On the following 
 day, which happened to be a Tuesdaj-, the father, 
 with gratitude and joy, carried his son to St. Peter's 
 church, where he received the seal of his dedication to 
 the Lord. He was named Martin, in honour of the 
 day. 
 
 Young Martin was not six months old when his 
 parents quitted Eisleben for Mansfeld. which is only 
 live leagues distant. The mines of Mansfeld were 
 
 1 I was iKim at Eisleben, anJ Inptiied in St. Tcler's tlicre. My parents 
 came tliitlicr ttma near EiscnaciL— Lutli., Ep. i., p. 390. 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 then much famed , and John Luther, a labouring man, 
 feeling that he might perhaps be called to rear_ a 
 numerous family, hoped he might there more easily 
 gain a livelihood. It was in this town that the intel- 
 lect and powers of young Luther received their first 
 development ; here his activity began to be displayed, 
 and his disposition to be manifested by what he said 
 and did. The plains of Mansfeld, the banks of the 
 Wipper, were the scenes of his first sports with his 
 playmates. 
 
 The commencement of their residence at Mansfeld 
 was attended with painful privations to honest John 
 and his wife, for they lived some time in gi-eat poverty. 
 " j\ry parents," says the Reformer, "were vftry poor. 
 
 Mr^ 
 
 '^ 
 
 '.mms^^m^' 
 
 MAGDEBOURG. 
 My father was a poor wood-cutter, and my mother 
 often carried his wood on her back to procure subsist- 
 ence for us children. The toil they endured for us 
 was severe, even to blood." The example of parents 
 whom he respected, and the habits in which they 
 trained him, early accustomed Luther to exertion and 
 frugality. Often, doubtless, he accompanied his mother 
 to the wood, and made u[) his little faggot also. 
 
 Promises are given to the just man's labour, and 
 John Luther experienced the reality of them. Having 
 become somewhat more easy in his circumstances, he 
 established two smelting furnaces at Mansfeld. Around 
 these furnaces young Martin grew up; and the retiu-n 
 which they yielded enabled his father, at a later period, 
 to provide for his studies. '■ The spiritual founder of 
 Christendom," says worthy Mathcsius, " was to come 
 forth from a family of miners, an image of what God 
 purposed, when He emplo3-ed him to cleanse the sons 
 of Levi, and purify them in His furnaces like gold." 
 Univei'sally respected for his integrity, his blameless 
 life, and good sense. .Tolm I,utlipr was made a counsel- 
 lor of Mansfeld, {\u- (':i|iii.-il of tlie county of that 
 name. Too great -wiclrliclm^s might have weighed 
 down the spirit of tlie child. Ixit the easy circumstances 
 
 of the paternal roof expanded his heart, and elevated 
 his character. 
 
 John availed himself of his new situation to culti- 
 vate the society which he preferred. He set great 
 value on educated men, and often invited the clergymen 
 and teachers of the place to his table. His house pre- 
 sented an example of one of those societies of simple 
 citizens which did honour to Germany at the commence- 
 ment of the sixteenth century, and, as a mirror, re- 
 flected the numerous images which succeeded each 
 other on the troubled stage of that time. It was not 
 lost on the child. The sight of men to whom so much 
 respect was shewn in his father's house, must, doubt- 
 less, on more than one occasion, have awakened, in 
 J ouug Martin's heart, an am- 
 bit ions desire one day to be- 
 come a schoolmaster or a man 
 of learning. 
 
 As soon as he was of an age 
 to leceive some instruction, his 
 jnients sought to give him the 
 knowledgeaudinspirehim ^vith 
 the fear of God, and train him 
 m Christian virtues. Their 
 ,^^ utmost care was devoted to 
 
 ^K^ ^^J^^^K- 111'' primary domestic education. 
 «■ SK i^^^SS^M,\ lli]5^ however, was not the 
 solo object of their tender so- 
 licitude. 
 
 His father, desirous of sce- 
 ma him acquire the elements 
 ot knowledge, for which he 
 himself had so much esteem, 
 ni\oked the Divine blessing on 
 his head, and sent him to 
 chool. As Martin was still 
 I ^ery little boy, his father or 
 Nicolas Emlor, a young man 
 of Mansfeld, often earned him 
 in their arms to the house of 
 George Emilius, and went again to fetch him. Einler 
 afterwards married one of Luther's sisters. 
 
 The piety of the parents, their activity and strict 
 virtue, gave a happy impulse to the boy, making liim 
 of a grave and attentive spirit. The system of educa- 
 tion which then prevailed employed fear and punish- 
 ment as its leading stimulants. Margaret, tliough 
 sometimes ajiproving the too strict discipline of her 
 husband, often opened her maternal arms to ISIartin, 
 to console him in his tears. She herself occasionally 
 carried to excess that precept of Divine ^^^(hiin, 
 which says, " He that sparcth the rod hateth his son." 
 The impetuous temper of the child often led to fre- 
 quent reproof and coiTcction. "My parents," says 
 Luther, in after life, " treated me harshly, and made 
 mc very timid. My mother one day chastised me 
 about a filbert till the blood came. They believed 
 with all their heart they were doing right ; but they 
 could not discriminate between dispositions, though 
 this is necessary, in order to know when and how 
 punishments should be inflicted." 
 
 The poor child's treatment at school was not less 
 severe. Hia master, one morning, beat him filtoen 
 times in succession. "It is necessary," said Luther, 
 
LUTHER AT MAGDEBOURG AND EISENACH. 
 
 41 
 
 when meutionins the fact, " it is necessary to chastise 
 children ; but it \i necessary, iit the same time, to love 
 them." With siK-h an cdiinition, Ltiilier early Icarncil 
 to dc.s]>isc the nllnrcincnts of a sensual life. " Ho who 
 is to bccoMio frrcat, nuist bcfiin witli little," justly 
 remarks one of his earliest biographers; "and if 
 children are brought up with loo much delicacy and 
 tenderness, it does them liurni all the rest of their life." 
 
 Martin learned something at scIkmiI. Ho was taught 
 the heads of the Catechism, the Ten Conimandnioiits, 
 U»o Apostles' Cived, the Lord's I'rnyer, hymns, forms 
 of pntycr, ami tho Uouat. This last was a Latin gram- 
 mar, composed in the fourth century by Donatns, St. 
 Jerome's mik-ter ; and having been improved in the 
 eleventh century by u French monk, named Kemigius, 
 was long in high repute as a school-book. He, more- 
 over, conned the " Cisco-Janas" a very singular ahna- 
 Dnc, composc<l in the tenth or eleventh century. In 
 ehorl, he learned idl that was taught in the Latin 
 school of Mansfi-ld. 
 
 Dnt the child seems not to have been brought to 
 God. Tho only religious sentiment ■which could be 
 discovered in him, was that of fear. AVhencver he 
 heard Jesus Christ mentioned he grew pale wiili 
 terror; for the Saviour had been represented to him 
 as an angry Judge. 'IMiis servile fear, so foreign to 
 genuine religion, ])erh»ps predisposed him for the glad 
 tidings of the Gospel, and for the joy which he after- 
 wards experienced when he became acquainted with 
 llim who is meek and Imvly in heart. 
 
 John Luther longed to make his son a learned man. 
 Tlio new light, which began to radiate in all directions, 
 {Msnctrated even the cottage of the miner of Mansfeld, 
 and there awakened ambitious thoughts. The remark- 
 able disposition, and pcn-cvering application of his son, 
 inspired John w itii the most brilliant hopes. Accord- 
 ingly, in 1 ll»7. when Martin had completed his four- 
 teenth year, his father resolved to part with him, and 
 send him to a schonl of the Franciscans at Magdebourg. 
 Margaret behoved, of course, to consent ; and Martin 
 prepared to (|uil the patern.tl roof. 
 
 Magdebourg was like a new world to Jlartin. Amid 
 numerous privations (for he had scarcely the means of 
 subsistence) he re.-jd and attended lectures; Andre' 
 Troles, provincial of the Augustine Order, was then 
 preaching with great fervour on the necessity of re- 
 forming religion and the Church. He, however, was 
 not the person who deposited in the young man's soni 
 tho first genu of those itieas which afterwards ex- 
 panded in it. 
 
 This period w.as a kind of severe apprenticeship to 
 Luther. Launched upon the world at fourteen, with- 
 out friend or patron, he trembled in presence of his 
 masters, ami, during the hours of recreation, i)ainfully 
 begged his food with children as poor as himself. '• I 
 and my comrades," s.iys he, "begged a little food for 
 our subsistence. One day, at the sea-soii when the 
 Church celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ, we were 
 in a hotly scouring the neighbouring villages, going 
 from house to house, and, in four p.irts, singing the 
 ordiuary hymns on the Babe of Bethlehem. Wc 
 stopped before a peasant's cottage, which stood by it- 
 self at the extremity of a village. The pe.isant, hear- 
 ing U3 singing our Cliristmas carols, came out with 
 
 some provisions which he meant to give us, and asked, 
 in n gruff voice and a harsh tone, ' Where are you, 
 boys?' His tones frightened us, and wc took to our 
 heels. We had no cause for fcnr, for the peasant was 
 sincere in his offer of assistance; but our hearts were, 
 no doubt, made timid by the menaces and tyranny 
 with which msusters at this period oppressed their 
 scholars ; hence the sudden fright which seized us. At 
 la.s|, however, the peasant still continuing to call us, 
 we stopped, laid aside our fear, and, running up to 
 him, received tho food which he intended for us." 
 "In the same way," adds Luther, "arc wc wont to 
 tremble and (lee when our conscience is guilty and 
 alarmed. Then we arc afraid even of the assistance 
 which is offered to us, and of those who are friendly to 
 us, and would do us all sorts of kindness." 
 
 A year had scarcely passed, when John and Mar- 
 garet, on being made aware of tho diflicultics which 
 their son had in living in Magdebourg, sent him to 
 Eisenach, where there was a celebrated scliool, and they 
 had a lunnber of relations. They had other children; 
 and though their circumstances had improved, they 
 were unable to maintain their son in a strange town. 
 Tho forges and late hours of John Luther did no more 
 than keep the family at Mansfeld. It was hoped that 
 Martin would find a livelihood more easily at Eisenach; 
 but he was not more successful. His relations in the 
 town did not trouble themselves about him. Perhaps 
 their own poverty made them unable to give him any 
 assistance. 
 
 When the scholar felt the gnawings of hunger he 
 had no resource but to do as at Magdebourg, — to join 
 his fellow-students, and sing with them before the 
 houses for a morsel of bread. This custom of the time 
 of Luther has been preserved, even to our day, in 
 several towns of Gtrniany, where the voices of the 
 boys sometimes produce a most harmonious chant. 
 Instead of bread, poor modest Martin often received 
 only hard words. Then, overcome with sadness, he 
 shed many tears in secret, unable to think of the future 
 without trembling. 
 
 One day, in particular, he had been rejiulsed from 
 three houses, and was preparing, without having broken 
 his fast, to return to his lodging, when, on arriving 
 at St. George's Square, he halted, and, absorbed in 
 gloomy thoughts, stood motionless before the house of 
 an honest burgher. 
 
 Will it be neccssai-y, from want of bread, to give uji 
 study, and go and work with his father in the mines of 
 Mansfeld .' Suddenly a door oi>cns, and a female is 
 seen on the threshold, — it was the wife of Conrad 
 Cott.a, the daughter of the burgomaster of Ilefcld. 
 Her name was L'rsula. The chronicles of Eisenach 
 c.ill her " the pious Shunammite,"' in allusion to her 
 who so earnestly pressed the prophet Elisha to cat 
 bread with her. Previous to this, the Christian 
 Shunannnite had more than once observed j-oung 
 Martin in the assemblies of the faithful, and been 
 touched by the sweetness of his voice, and his devout 
 behaviour. She had just heard the hiirsh language 
 addressed to the poor scholar, and seeing him in sad- 
 ness before her door, she came to his assistance, 
 beckoned him to enter, and set food before him to 
 appease his hunger. 
 
HISTOEY OF THE EEF0E5IATI0X. 
 
 Coarad approved of the benevolence of his -wife, and 
 ■was even so mucli pleased with the societv of young 
 Luther, that some days after he took him home to his 
 house. From this moment his studies were secure. 
 He will not be obliged to return to the mine^ of 3Ians- 
 f eld, and bury the talent with which God has entrusted 
 liim. When he no longer knew what was to become 
 of him, G^od opened to him the heart and the home of 
 a Christian family. This event helped to give him 
 that confidence in Goi which in after life the strongest 
 tempests could not shake. 
 
 In the house of Cotta, Luther was introduced to a 
 mode of life very different from that which he had 
 hitherto known. He there led an easy existence, 
 exempt from want and care. His mind became more 
 
 j serene, his disposition more lively, and his heart more 
 open. His whole being expanded to the mild rays 
 of charity, and began to beat with life, joy, and 
 happiness. His prayers were more ardent, and his 
 thirst for knowledge more intense. He made rapid 
 progress. 
 
 To literature and science he added the ch.-irms of 
 art. Those who are designed hy GK)d to act upon their 
 contemporaries are themselves, in the first instance, 
 seized and carried along by all the tendencies of their 
 age. Luther learned to play on the flute and the lute. 
 The latter instrument he often accompanied with his 
 fine cotmter voice, thtis enlivening his heart in mo- 
 ments of sadness. He took pleasmre also in emploving 
 his notes to testify his gratitude to his adopted mother, 
 who was very fond of music. His own love of it con- 
 tinued to old age ; and both the words and the music 
 of some of the finest anthems which G«rmany possesses 
 are his composition. Some have even been translated 
 into our language. 
 
 Happy time for the yotmg man! Luther always 
 remembered it ■with emotion. Many years after, a son 
 of Conrad halving come to study at Wittemberg. when 
 the poor scholar of Eisenach had become the doctor of 
 his age, he gladly received him at his table, and under 
 Ids roof. He ■n-ished to pay back to the son part of 
 what he had received from the parents. It was while 
 th inki ng of the Christian woman who gave him food, 
 when all besides repulsed him, that he gave utterance 
 to this fine expression. " Earth has nothing gentler 
 than the female heart in which piety dwells.'' 
 
 Luther was never ashamed of the days when, pressed 
 by hunger, he was under the necessity of begging for 
 his studies and his maintenance. So far from this, he, 
 on the contrary, reflected ■with gratitude on the great 
 poverty of his youth. He reg:irded it as one of the 
 means which God had employed to make liim what he 
 afterwards became, and he felt thankful for it. The 
 poor youths who were obliged to foUow the same 
 course touched his hc-irt : " Do not," said he, '• despise 
 the boys who sing before your houses, and ask 'panem 
 propter Deiim,' (bread for the love of God;) I have 
 done it myself. It is true that, at a later period, my 
 father. ■with great love and kindness, kept mc at the 
 University of Erfurt, maintaining me by the sweat of 
 
 I his brow ; still. I once was a poor beggar. And now. 
 by means of my pen. I am come thus far. that I would 
 
 I not change situations with the Grand Turk himself. 
 
 I Nay, more, were all the goods of the world piled up 
 
 one above another, I would not take them in exchange 
 for what I have. And yet. I should not be where 1 
 am. if I had not been at school and learned to ■write." 
 Thus, in these first humble beginnings this great man 
 traced the origin of his fame. He fears not to remind 
 us that that voice, whose accents made the empire 
 and the world to tremble, had once begged a morsel of 
 bread in the streets of a poor city. The Christian 
 takes pleasm^ in such recollections, as reminding him 
 that it is in God he must glory. 
 
 The strength of his intellect, and the liveliness of his 
 imagination, soon enabled him to outstrip all his fellow- 
 students. His progress was particularly rapid in ancient 
 languages, eloquence, and poetry. He TNTOte essays 
 and made verses. Lively, complaisant, and what is 
 called good-hctrted, he was a great favourite ■with his 
 masters and his comrades. 
 
 Among the professors, he attached himself particu- 
 larly to John Trebonius, a learned man, of pleasing 
 m.anners, who shewed youth those attentions which are 
 so well fitted to encourage them. Martin had remarked, 
 that when Trebonius entered the class, he took off his 
 hat, and bowed to the students, — great condescension 
 in those j^>edantic times I This had pleased the yotmg 
 man, and made him feel that he was not a mere cipher. 
 The respect of the master had made the pupil rise in 
 his own estimation. The colleagues of Trebonitts. who 
 had not the same custom of taking off their hats, hav- 
 ing one day expressed their astonishment at his extreme 
 condescension, he replied, (and the reply made no less 
 impression on youug Luther.) "Among these youths 
 are men whom God will one day make burgomasters, 
 chancellors, doctors, and magistrates ; and though you 
 do not yet sc-e them with their badges of office, it is 
 right, however, to shew them respect." Xo doubt the 
 young student listened ■with pleasure to these words, 
 and even then, perhaps, saw himself with a doctor's 
 cap on his head. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Scholasticism and the Classics— Lather's Pietr— DiscoTeir— The Bible— 
 Sickness— Master of Arts— Conscience— Death of Alens— Ihonderstoim 
 — Providence — Adieus— Entrance into a Convent 
 
 LtrrHEE had attained his eighteenth year. He had 
 tasted the ple.tsitres of literature, and biu-ning with 
 e,agemess to learn, he sighed after a university, and 
 longed to repair to one of those fountains of science, 
 at which he might quench his thirst for knowledge. 
 His father ■wished him to study law, and already saw 
 him filling an honourable station among his feUow- 
 citizens, gaining the favour of princes, aud making a 
 figure oil the theatre of the world. It was resolved 
 that the young student should repair to Erfurt, 
 
 Luther arrived at this university in the year 1501. 
 Jadocus, sumamed the Doctor of the Eisenach, was then 
 teaching the scholastic philosophy with much success. 
 Melancthon regrets that the only thing then taught at 
 Erfurt should have been a dialectics bristling with dif- 
 ficulties. He thinks that if Luther had found other 
 professors there, if he had been trained in the milder 
 
LUTHER DISCOVERS? THE BIBLE. 
 
 43 
 
 Rml calmer tlisciplino of true philosophy, it might have 
 inn«lrml<>il lui.l .-.oftcncil tlio vchi-inciico of his uaturc. 
 
 ■' ' ii.ilnr bopin to .-iii<ly the philo.<ophy of the 
 
 ill tlio wriliit^s of <>oc;iiii, ScotUJ, Iloim- 
 1 Tlii>m;i!i Aiiiiimi". At i» liUtT pcrioil he 
 
 ;,>ii.:h ai.«|iiLst for nil this soholiu'ticl-'in. The 
 
 . iimiio of Arislotio, pronoimool in his heiiriii;!, 
 ! him with imlifrimtion ; nnd ho even went the 
 :ih of "nyiiip, ihnt if Ari-ilotlo was not a mair, ho 
 would hiivo iio hcsitiitioii in taking him for the ilcvil. 
 Bat his minil, in its eaj;cnic»s for Iciirning, stoml in 
 need of better noiirishmoiil, nnd he began to study the 
 splendid monuments of antii|uily, the writings of Cicero 
 and Virgil, and the other Classics. He wiu not cou- 
 tentcti. like the common run of student.*, with com- 
 mitting the pHKluctions of these writers to mcmor)-. 
 Ho endca»oun'd, above all, to enter into their thought.^ ; 
 to imbue himself with the spirit which nninuited tlicm ; 
 to appropriate their wisdom ; to comprehend the end 
 of their writings ; and enrich his understanding with 
 their weighty !>ontiment.< and brilliant images. He 
 often put (piotions to his professors, nn<l siK)n out- 
 •tripp4^d his fellow-students. Possessed of a retentive 
 memory and a fertile imagination, whatever he read or 
 lii^iinl remainctl ever after present to his mind, as if he 
 '. actually .seen it. " So i>hoiic Luther in his youth, 
 whole university," says Mclancthon, "adioircd his 
 ins." 
 But even at that period this young man of eighteen 
 did not confine his labours to the cultivation of his 
 intellect, lie had that serious thought, that uplifted 
 heart, which tlod l>cstows on tho.>e whom He destines 
 to be His mnst faithftd servants. Luther felt that he 
 WB9 dependent on God — a simple, yet [lowcrful con- 
 viction, — the source at once of jirofound luunilily and 
 gnait achievements. He fenently invoked the Divine 
 blessing on his labours. K.ach moniing he began the 
 day with pniyer, then he went to church, and on his 
 reliim set to study, hning not a moment during the 
 course of the d.iy. "To pray well," he was wont to 
 •ay, "is more than the half of my study." 
 
 Everj- niiinirnt which the young student coiUd spare 
 from his academical I.-»l)ours. was spent in the librarj- 
 I'f llv i;:ilv. r iiv. Books were still rare, and he felt 
 ■ to be able to .ivail himself of the 
 ill this vast collection. One day (he 
 ■ cars at Erfurt, and wsvs twenty years 
 of .1-. ) li.- ..;.. !M several liooks of the librarj-. one after 
 the other, to sec who their authors were. One of the 
 Tolnmes which he opened in its turn nllracts his 
 attention. He h.is never before seen one like it. He 
 rends the title, . . . it is a Bible I a nire book, at 
 that time unknown. His interest is strongly excited; 
 ho is perfectly astonished to find in this volume any- 
 thing more than those fr.iginent- of gospel? and epistles 
 which the Church has selected to be read publicly in 
 the churches every Sabbath day. Hitherto ho had 
 believed that these fonncd the whole Word of God. 
 But here are so many i^ajres. chapters, and books, of 
 which he had no ideal His he.irt beats as he holds in 
 his h.ond all this divinely-inspired Scripture, nnd he 
 turns over all these divine leaves with feelings which 
 cannot be described. The first page on which he 
 fixes his attention tells him the history of Hannah nnd 
 
 young Samuel. Ho rcails, and his soul is filled with 
 joy to overllowiiig. The cliiM whom his parents lend 
 ti> Jehovah for all the days of his life; the s«ing of 
 Hannah, in which she declares that tho Lord lifts up 
 the |»>or fn>m tho dust, and the needy from the dung- 
 hill, that Ho may set him with princes; young Samuel 
 growing up in tho prcscnco of tlie Ixird; the whole of 
 this history, tho whole of the volume which ho has 
 discovered,' make him feel in a way he has never done 
 before. He returns home, his heart full. "Ohl" 
 thinks he, " would it please God one day to give mo 
 such a b<K>k for my own I" I^iither as yet did not 
 know either Greek or Hebrew; for it is not probable 
 that ho studie<l these languages during the first two or 
 three years of his residence at tho university. The 
 Bible which had so overjoyed him w:is in Latin. Soon 
 returning to his treasure in the libniry, he reads and 
 re-reads, nnd in his n-stonishment and joy returns to 
 read again. The first rays of a new truth were then 
 dawning upon him. 
 
 In this way God luis put him in jiossession of His 
 Word. He ha-s discovered the book of which he is 
 one day to give his countrnnen that admirable trans- 
 lation in which Germany has now for three centuries 
 perused the oniclca of God. It was pcrhajis the first 
 time that any han<l had taken do\m this prccioas 
 volume from the place which it occupied in the library 
 of Erfurt. This book, lying on the unknown shelves 
 of an cdiscure chamber, is to become the book of life 
 to a whole people. The Reformation was hid in that 
 Bible. 
 
 This happened the same ye.-u- that Luther obtained 
 his first academical degree, viz., that of Bachelor. The 
 excessive fatigue which he had undergone in preparing 
 for his trials brought on a dangerous illness. Death 
 seemed to be approaching, and solemn thoughts occu- 
 pied his mind. He boliCTcd that his cirtlily course 
 was about to terminate. There was a general lamen- 
 t.ition for the young man. AVliat a ])ify to sec so many 
 hopes so soon extinguished I Several friends came to 
 visit him in his sickness; among others a priest, a 
 venerable old man, who had with interest followed tho 
 student of JIansfeld in his labours and ac.idcmic life. 
 Luther w:is unable to conceal the thought which 
 agitated him. " Soon," said he, " I will be called away 
 from this world." But the old man kindly reidied, 
 "My dc:ir bachelor, take courage; you will not die of 
 this illness. Our God will yet m.ikc you a man, who, 
 in his tuni, will console many other men. For God 
 lays His cross on him whom He loves, anil those who 
 bear it jiatiently acquire much wisdom." These wonls 
 made a deep iiiii>ression on the sick youth. When so 
 noiir death he hears the lips of a priest reminding him 
 that God, as Saniuors mother had said, lifts up the 
 miserable. The old man h.-us poured sweet consolation 
 into his heart nnd revived his spirits; he will never 
 forget him. "This wa.s the fir*f prediction the Doctor 
 heanl." says M.ithe,<ius, Luther's friend, who relates 
 the fact; "and he often mentioned it." It is easy to 
 undiTstand what JIathesius means by calling it a 
 prediction. 
 
 When Luther recovered, something within him had 
 undergone a change. The Bible, his illness, and the 
 words of the old priest, seemed to have made a new 
 
44 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 appeal to Lira. As yet, however, there was nothing 
 decided in his mind. He continued his studies, and, in 
 1505, took his degi-ee of Master of Arts, or Doctor in 
 Philosophy. The University of Erfurt was then the 
 most celebrated in Germany, — the others, in com- 
 parison Vi'ith it, being only inferior schools. The cere- 
 mony was, as usual, performed with great pomp. A 
 procession with torches came to do homage to Luther. 
 The fete was superb, and all was joy. Luther, 
 encouraged, perhaps, by these honours, was disposed 
 to devote himself entirely to law, agreeably to his 
 father's wish. 
 
 But God willed otherwise. "Wliile Luther was occu- 
 pied with other studies, while ho began to teach the 
 physics and ethics of Aristotle, and other branches of 
 philosophy, liis heart ceased not to cry to him that 
 piety was the one thing needful, and that he ought, 
 above all, to make sure of his salvation. He was aware 
 of the displeasure which God testifies against sin ; ho 
 
 .^ ^^y^^^^^t^ 
 
 NiSE.: 
 
 remembered the punishments which He denounces 
 agaiust the sinner; and he asked himself in fear, 
 whether he was sure of possessing the Divine favour? 
 His conscience answered No! His character was 
 prompt and decided; he resolved to do all that might 
 be necessary to give him a sure hope of immortality. 
 Two events, which liappcned in succession, shook his 
 soul, and precipitated his determination. 
 
 Among his friends at the university, was one named 
 Alexis, with whom he was very intimate. One morn- 
 ing it was rumoiu-ed in Erfurt that Alexis had been 
 assassinated. Deeply moved at the sudden loss of his 
 friend, he puts the question to himself. What would 
 become of me were I called thus suddenly? The 
 question fills liim with the greatest dismay. 
 
 This was in the summer of 1505. Luther, left at 
 liberty by the ordinary recess of the university, resolved 
 on a journey to Mansfeld, to revisit the loved abodes 
 of his infancy, and embrace his parents. Perhaps he 
 
 also wished to open his heart to his father, and soimd 
 him as to the design which was beginning to form in 
 his mind, and obtain a consent to his embracing 
 another calling. He foresaw all the difficulties which 
 awaited him. The indolent habits of the majority of 
 priests displeased the active miner of Mansfeld. Be- 
 sides, ecclesiastics were little esteemed in the world; 
 most of them had but scanty incomes ; and the father, 
 who had made many sacrifices to maintain his son at 
 the university, and who saw him, at twenty, a public 
 teacher in a celebrated school, was not disposed to 
 renounce the hopes which his pride was cherishing. 
 
 "We know not what passed during Luther's visit at 
 
 Mansfeld. Perhaps the decided wish of his father 
 
 made liim afraid to open his heart to him. He again 
 
 quitted the paternal roof to go and take his seat on 
 
 the benches of the university, and had reached within 
 
 a short distance of Erfurt, when he was overtaken by | 
 
 one of those violent storms which are not unfrequent 
 
 among these mountains. The 
 
 thunder bursts, and strikes 
 
 close by his side. Luther 
 
 throws himself on his knees. 
 
 It may be his hour is come, — i 
 
 ' T^^Er^'- death, judgment, and eternity, 
 
 surround him with all their 
 
 1 errors, and speak to him with ' 
 
 a voice which he can no longer 
 
 resist. " AVrapt in agony, and ; 
 
 in the terror of death," as he 
 
 himself describes it, he makes 
 
 a vow, if he is delivered from 
 
 tliis danger, to abandon the 
 
 world, and give himself en- j 
 
 tirelyto God. After he had I 
 
 risen from the ground, still 
 
 ' ontinuing to see that death 
 
 ^^ hich must one day overtake 
 
 him, ho examines himself 
 
 seriously, and asks what he 
 
 ought to do. The thoughts 
 
 which formerly agitated him 
 
 ;- __ _ ■ ' return with full force. He has 
 
 '"- . --— -^i-"'- ^- ■ endeavoured, it is true, to ful- 
 fil all Iiis duties. But in what 
 state is his soul? Can lie appear with a polluted heart ! 
 before the tribunal of a God so greatly to be feared? I 
 He must become holy, and, accordingly, he now thirsts ; 
 for holiness as he had thu-sted for science. But where 
 is it to be found ? How shall lie acquire it ? The 
 university has furnished him with the means of satis- 
 fying his desire of knowledge, ■\^^lo wUl extinguish 
 the agon)-, the flame which is consuming him? To 
 what school of holiness must he bend his steps? He 
 will go into a cloister; the monastic life will save him. 
 How often has he heard tell of its power to transform j 
 a licart. to sanctify a sinner, to make a man perfect ! j 
 He will enter a monastic order. He will then become 
 holy, and in that way secure eternal life. 
 
 Such was the event which changed the calling and 
 all the destinies of Luther. Wo here recognise the 
 finger of God. It was His mighty hand wliicli threw 
 down on the high road this young Master of Arts, this 
 candidate for the bar, this future lawyer, in order to 
 
 
 '^m:^ iie^-"' _'ij^, 
 
LUTHER KNTERS A CONVENT. 
 
 give an entirely new tUrcotion to his life. Rubinniis, 
 one of Lulliur'rt friends, wrote to liini at n later period, 
 — " Divine Providence had a view to what you were 
 one day to become, when, as you wore returning from 
 your parents, the lire of heaven made you fail to the 
 ground like antither Paid, near the town of Erfint. 
 and, carrying yon off from onr society, threw you into 
 the OrtU'r of Ansustinc" Analogous circumstances 
 thus signalized the conversion of Paul and Luther, the 
 two gieatest inslruments which Divine Providence has 
 cniplovcd in the two greatest revolutions which have 
 taken place upon the earth.' 
 
 Luther again enters Krfurt. His resolution is im- 
 nioveahle, and yet it is not without .1 pang he is going 
 to break ties which are dear to him. lie gives no hint 
 to any one of his intentions. But one evening he in- 
 vites his friends in the university to a cheerful and 
 frugal re|Mi3t. Music onco more enlivens their social 
 intercourse. It is Luther's adieu to the world. Hence- 
 forth, instead of those loved companions of pleasure 
 and toil — monks ; instead of those cheerful and intel- 
 lectual conversations — the silence of the cloister; in- 
 stead of that enchanting music — the grave notes of the 
 tranquil chapel, tiod demands it, — all must be sacri- 
 ficed. Yet, for this last time, once more the joys of 
 youth. His friends are full of glee. Luther even 
 leads them on. But at the moment when they are 
 abandoning themselves to mirth and frolic, the young 
 man bceomej unable any longer to restrain the serious 
 thoughts which occupy Ills heart. He speaks. . . . 
 Ho makes known his intention to his astonished friends, 
 who endeavour, but in vain, to combat it. That same 
 night, Luther, afraid perhaps of importunate solicita- 
 tion, c|uits his lodgings, leaving behind him nil his 
 effects and all his books, with the exception of Virgil 
 and Plantus, (as yet he had no Bible.) Virgil and 
 PInutus! — epic and comedy I — singular representation 
 of Luther's mind. In fact, there was in him a whole 
 epic, a beautiful, splendid, and sublime poem ; but be- 
 ing naturally inclined to gaiety, pleasantry, and broad 
 humour, he mingled more than one familiar trait with 
 the solemn and magnilicent groundwork of his life. 
 
 Furnished with these two books he proceeds alone, 
 in the dark, to the convent of the Eremites of St. 
 Augustine, an<l asks to be received. The door opens 
 ami closes, and ho is sepju-ated for ever from his 
 parents, his fellow-students, and the world. This 
 took place on the 17th August. 1505, when Luther's 
 age was twenty-one years and nine months. 
 
 ClIAI'TLU 111 
 
 iiicnU— The Bag nnd tho 
 
 ^ :m — Gcraon— Tlio Bible — 
 
 . — AgoDj* — Luther during 
 
 At length he was with God. His soul was in safety. 
 This holiness, so earnestly longed for, he was now to 
 
 > Some biogni|ihcrs My that Alexis vas killed by Uio thunder-clap which 
 tcTriHeU Luther; but two of hia contemporariea— Jlathesiua, (p. 4,) and 
 Selneccer, (in Onit de Luth.)— distinguish between Uie two ercnU ; and wo 
 might even corroborate their teaUmony by that of Mebncthon, who says, 
 " Ills companion being killed by on accident, I know not what" 
 
 find. At tho sight of this young doctor, the monks 
 were all admiration, and extolled him for his courage 
 and contempt of the world. Luther, meanwhile, did 
 not forget his friends. lie wrote to take leave of 
 them and the world, and the next day despatched these 
 letters, with the clothes he had hitherto worn, and his 
 diploma of Master of Arts, which he ivlurncd to the 
 university, that nothing might in future remind him of 
 the world which he had nbaudoiicd. 
 
 His friends at Erfurt were thunderstruck. Must so 
 distinguished a genius go and hide himself in this 
 monastic life — more properly, a kind of death ? In 
 dec|) sorrow they hastened to the convent, in tho hojjc 
 of inducing Luther to retrace the distressing step which 
 he had taken ; but all was useless. The gates were 
 closed, and a month ])assed before any one was per- 
 mitted to see or speak to the new monk. 
 
 Luther had hastened to acquaint his parents with 
 the great change which had just occurred in his life. 
 His father was thunderstruck. He trembled for his 
 son, — so Luther himself informs us in his book on 
 " Mon.tslic Vows," which he dedicated to his father. 
 His weakness, his youth, the ardour of his passions, 
 everything, in short, made him fear that, .tfter the first 
 moment of enthusiasm, the indolence of the cloister 
 would make the youth fall either into desjjair, or into 
 grievous faults, lie knew that tliis mode of life had 
 lirovcd fatal to many. Besides, tiic councillor-miner 
 of Mansfeld had other views for his son. He was 
 proi>osing a rich and honourable marriage for him — 
 and, lo! all his ambitious imijects are, in one night, 
 overthrown by this imprudent action. 
 
 John wrote his son a very angry letter, in which, as 
 Luther himself tells us, ho Ihoii'd him, whereas he had 
 you'd him e\cr since he had taken his degree of Jlastcr 
 of Arts. He withdrew all his fa\our from him, and 
 declared him disinherited of a father's affection. In 
 vain did the friends of John Luther, and, doubtless, 
 his wife also, endeavour to mollify him ; in vain did 
 they say to him, '' If you are willing to make some 
 sacrifice to God, let it bo the best and dearest thing 
 that you have — ^j-onr sou — your Isaac." The inexor- 
 able councillor of Mansfeld would hear nothing. 
 
 Some time after, (the statement is given by Luther 
 in a sermon which he preached at Wittemberg, 20th 
 January, 1544.) the plague broke out, and deprived 
 John Luther of two of his sons. On the back of these 
 bereavements, while the father's heart was torn with 
 pnnef, some one came and told him, '• The monk of 
 Erfurt also is dead !" , His friends took advantage of 
 the circumstance to bring back the father's heart to 
 the novice. '• If it is a false alarm." said the}-, '• at 
 least sanctify your aflliction by consenting sincerely to 
 j-our son's being a monk." '• \Vell, well !" replied John 
 Luther, his heart broken, and still half rebellious; 
 '• and God grant him .ill success." At a later period, 
 when Luther, who had been reconciled to his father, 
 told him of the event which had led him to rush into 
 monastic orders, — "God grant," replied the honest 
 miner, " that what you took for a sign from heaven 
 may not have been only a phantom of the devil !" 
 
 At this time Luther was not in possession of that 
 which was afterwards to make him the Reformer of 
 the Church. His entrance into the convent proves this. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 It was an action done in the spirit of an age out of 
 which he was soon to be instrumental in raising the 
 Church. Though destined to become the teacher of 
 the workl, he was still its servile imitator. A new 
 stone was placed on the edifice of superstition by the 
 very hand which was soon to overturn it. Luther was 
 seeking salvation in himself, in human practices and 
 observances, not knowing tliat salvation is wholly of 
 God. He was seeking his own righteousness and his 
 own glory, and overlooking the righteousness and glory 
 of the Lord. But what he as yet knew not, he soon 
 afterwards learned. That immense change which sub- 
 stituted God and His wisdom in his heart for the world 
 and its traditions, and whicli prejiared the mighty re- 
 volution of which he was the most illustrious instru- 
 ment, took place in the cloister of Erfm't. 
 
 Martin Luther, on entering the convent, changed his 
 name to that of Augustine. 
 
 The monks had received him with joy. It was no 
 small satisfaction to their self-love to see the university 
 abandoned for a house of their order, and that by one 
 of the most distinguished teachers. Nevertheless, they 
 treated him harshly, and assigned him the meanest 
 tasks. They wished to humble the doctor of philo- 
 sophy, and teach him that his science did not raise Irm 
 above his brethren. They thought, moreover, they 
 would thus prevent him from spending his time in 
 studies from wliicli the convent could not reap any 
 advantage. The ci-devunt Jlaster of Arts behoved to 
 perform the functions of watchman, to open and shut the 
 gates, wind up the clocks, sweep the church, and clean 
 up the rooms. Then, when the poor monk, who was 
 at once porter, sacristan, and household servant to the 
 cloister, had finished his task, " Cum sacco per eivita- 
 tem" — ''To the town with the bag," — exclaimed the 
 friars ; and then, with his bread-bag on his shoidders, 
 he walked up and down over all the streets of Erfurt, 
 begging from house to house, obliged, perhaps, to pre- 
 sent himself at the doors of those who had been his 
 friends or inferiors. On his return, he had either to 
 shut himself up in a low narrow cell, looking out on a 
 plot only a few yards in extent, or to resume his menial 
 ofRces. But he submitted to all. Disposed by tem- 
 perament to give himself entirely to whatever he under- 
 took, when he turned monk he did it with his whole 
 soul. How, moreover, could he think of sparing his 
 body, or of having regard to what might satisfy the 
 flesh ? That was not the way to acquire the humility 
 and Iioliness in quest of which he had come within the 
 walls of the cloister. 
 
 The ijoor monk, worn out with fatigue, was eager to 
 seize any moment which he could steal from his servile 
 occupations, and devote it to the acquisition of know- 
 ledge. Gladly did he retire into a corner, and give 
 himself up to his beloved studies. But the friars soon 
 found him out, gathered around him, grumbled at him, 
 and pushed him away to his labours, saying, " Along ! 
 along ! it is not by studying, but by begging bread, 
 corn, eggs, fish, flesh, and money, that a friar makes 
 himself useful to his convent." Luther submitted, 
 laid aside his books, and again took up his bag. Far 
 from repenting of liaving subjected himself to such a 
 yoke, his wish was to bring it to a successful result. 
 At this period, the inflexible perseverance with which 
 
 he ever after followed out the resolutions which he had 
 once formed, began to be developed. The resistance 
 which he made to rude assaidts gave strong energy to 
 his will. God exercised him in small things, that he 
 might be able to stand firm in great things. Besides, 
 in preparing to deliver his age from the miserable 
 superstitions under which it groaned, it was necessary 
 that he should feel the weight of them. In order to 
 empty the cup, he behoved to drink it to the dregs. 
 
 This severe a])prenticeship, however, did not last so 
 long as Luther might have feared. The prior of the 
 convent, on the intercession of the university of which 
 Luther was a member, relieved him from the mean 
 functions which had been imposed on him, and the 
 young monk resumed his studies with new zeal. The 
 writings of the Fathers, particularly those of Augustine, 
 engaged his attention ; the commentary of this illus- 
 trious doctor on the Psalms, and his treatise " On 
 the Letter and the Spirit," being his special favourites. 
 Nothing struck him more than the sentiments of this 
 Father on the corruption of the human \vill, and on 
 Divine grace. His own experience convincing him of 
 the reality of this corruption, and the necessity of this 
 grace, the words of Augustine found a ready response 
 in his heart; and could he have been of any other 
 school than tliat of Jesus Clu-ist, it had doubtless been 
 the school of the doctor of Hippo. The works of Peter 
 d'Ailly and Gabriel Biel lie almost know by heart, lie 
 was struck with a remark of the former — that had not 
 the Church decided otherwise, it woidd have been 
 much better to admit, that in the Lord's Supper bread 
 and wine are truly received, and not mere accidents. 
 
 He likewise carefully studied the theologians, Occam 
 and Gerson, who both expressed themselves so freely 
 on the authority of tlie popes. To tlys reading he 
 joined other exercises. In public discussions he was 
 heard unravelling the most complicated reasonings, and 
 winding his way through labjTinths where others could 
 find no outlet. All who heard him were filled with 
 admiration. 
 
 But he had entered the cloister, not to acquire the 
 reputation of a great genius, but in quest of tlie food 
 of piety. These labours he accordingly regarded as 
 supernumerary. 
 
 But the thing in which he delighted .above all otiiers 
 was to draw wisdom at the pure fountain of the Word 
 of God. In the convent he found a Bible fastened to 
 a chain, and wa.s ever returning to this chained Bible. 
 He had a very imp( 1 f' rt cnnipreliension of the AVord; 
 but still it was his III -I pi. ,[.:int reading. Sometimes 
 he spent a whole day in mcclitatingou a single passage; 
 at other times he learned passages of the prophets by 
 heart. His great desire was, that the writings of the 
 apostles and prophets might help to give him a know- 
 ledge of the will of God, increase the fear which he 
 had for His name, and nourish his faith by the sure 
 testimony of the Word. 
 
 Apparently at this period he began to study the 
 Scrii)tures in the original tongues, and tliercby lay the 
 foundation of the most perfect anil the most useful of 
 his labours, the translation of the Bible. lie used a 
 Hebrew Lexicon which Eeuchlin had just published. 
 His first guide was probably John Lange, a friar of the 
 convent, versed in Greek and Hebrew, and with whom 
 
LUTHER'S AGONY DURING MASS. 
 
 47 
 
 ho aIw«>-8 inniiituined a close intiinacy. He nlso inmle 
 grciit use of ilio loiiriieil oummeiitiiries of Nicolas Lyra, 
 •who dioil ill lOlO, aii.l homo the »ayiIl^' of I'Hii-r, 
 nfurwanis bishop of Naiiinhourfr, "Hail not Lyra 
 phiyoil the lyro, Luthor had never danced" — ".Si Li/iu 
 tioii li/nissel, Liillienia iion sitluisset." 
 
 The yoinig monk .sliidiod so closely and ardently, 
 that ho often omitted to say his Hours during two or 
 three weeks. Then, becoming alarmed at the thouirht 
 of lianii'i transfjressed the riiks of his order, he shut 
 himself ui> to make amends for his nei^li^'once, ami 
 commenced conscientiously ropeatin;; all the oniilled 
 Hours, without thinking of meat or drink. On one 
 occasion his sleep went from him for seven weeks. 
 
 Earneslly iiilent on aoipiirinp; the holiness in quest 
 of which he had entered the cloister, Luther addicted 
 himself to the ascetic life in its fullest rigour, seeking 
 to crucify the llesh by fastings, macerations, and vigils. 
 Shut up in his cell as in a prison, he struggled without 
 iutcnnission against the evil thoughts and evil propen- 
 Bilics of his heart. A little bread and a herring were 
 oftoi: all his fiHxl. Indeed, he was naturally very tem- 
 pcnitc. Oftoii, when he had no thought of purchasing 
 heaven by abstinence, have his friends seen him con- 
 tent himself with the coarsest provisions, and even 
 remain four days in succession without eating or drink- 
 ing. AVc have this ou the testimony of a very credible 
 witness, Melanclhon ; and we may judge from it what 
 opinion to form of the fables which ignorance and i>rc- 
 judico have circulated concerning Luther's intemper- 
 uuce. At the jieriod of which we treat, there is no 
 siicrilice he wouhl have declined to make, in order to 
 I become holy ami imrchasc heaven. 'When Luther, 
 after he had become reformer, says that heaven is not 
 purchased, he well knew what he meant. '-Truly," 
 wrote he to George. Duke of Saxony, — " truly. I was a 
 pious monk, and followed the rules of my order more 
 strictly than I can tell. If ever monk had got to 
 hcflvcn by monkery, I had been that monk. In this 
 all the monks of my actpiaiiitance will bear me witness. 
 Had the thing continued much longer, I h.td become a 
 martyr unto dcalli, through vigils, pr.iyer, reading, 
 and other labours." 
 
 We are touching on the period which made Luther 
 a new man, and which, revealing to him the immensity 
 of the Divine love, fitted him for proclaiming it to the 
 ■world. 
 
 The peace which Luther had come in search of he 
 found neither in the tranquillity of the cloister nor in 
 monastic |>orfection. He wished to be assured of his 
 salvation ; it was the great want of his soul; juid with- 
 out it he could have no repose. 15ut the fears which 
 had agitated him when in the world, followed him into 
 Ids cell. Nay. they were even increased ; the le.T-st cry 
 of his heart raising a loud echo under the silent vaults 
 of the cU)istcr. God had brought him thither that he 
 might learn to know himself, and to despair of his own 
 slrciiglh and virtue. His conscience, enlightened by 
 the Divine Word, told him what it was to be holy; but 
 he was filled with alarm at not finding, cither in his 
 heart or his life, that iin.age of holiness which he had 
 contemplated with admiration in the Word of God — a 
 ead discovery made by every m.-ui who is in earnest ! 
 No righteousness within — no righteousness without; 
 
 evervwhere omission, sin, defilement. . . . The 
 more ardent Luther's natural disposition was, the more 
 strongly he felt the secret and unceasing resistance 
 which human nature opposes to goodness. This threw 
 him into despair. 
 
 The monks and theologians of the day invited him 
 to do works in order to satisfy the Divine justice. 
 Hut what works, thought he, can proceed from such 
 a heart as mine ! How should 1 be able with works, 
 polluted in their very principle, to stand in presence of 
 my holy Judge? '•! felt myself," says he, "to be a 
 great sinner before God, and deemed it impossible to 
 appease Him by my merits." 
 
 He was agitated, and, at the same time, gloomy, 
 shunning the silly and coarse conversation of the monks, 
 who, unable to comprehend the tempests of his soul, 
 regarded him with astonishment, and reproachetl him 
 for his gloom and taciturnity. It is told by Cochlaus, 
 that one day, when they were saying mass in the 
 chapel, Luther had come with his sighs, and stood 
 amid the friars in sadness and anguish. The priest 
 had already prostr.ated himself, the incense had been 
 placed on the altar, the Glotiti had been chanted, and 
 they Wore reading the Gosiiel, when the poor monk, 
 no longer able to contain his .agou)-. exclaimed, in a 
 piercing tone, while throwing himself on his knees, 
 ■• Not 1 ! not I ! " Every one was in amazement, and 
 the service was for a moment interrupted. Perhaps 
 Luther thought he had heard himself reproached with 
 something of which he knew he was innocent ; perhaps 
 he meant to express his unworthiness to be one of 
 those to whom the death of Christ brought eternal life. 
 Cochlu?us says that they were reading the passage of 
 [Scripture which tells of the dumb man out of whom 
 Christ expelled a demon. If this account is correct, 
 Luther's cry might have a reference to this circum- 
 stance. He might mean to intimate, that though 
 dumb like the man, it was owing to another cause than 
 the iiossession of a demon. In fact, Cochloeus informs 
 us that the friars sometimes attributed the agonies of 
 their brother to occult commerce with the devil, and 
 he himself is of the same opinion. 
 
 A tender conscience led Luther to regard the smallest 
 fault a.s a great sin. No sooner had he discovered it, 
 than he strove to expiate it by the severest mortifica- 
 tions. This, however, h.id no other effect th.an to con- 
 vince him of the utter iueflicacy of all human remedies. 
 " I tormented myself to death," says he, " in order to 
 procure peace with God to my troubled heart ami 
 agitated conscience ; but, surrotinded with fe.irful dark- 
 ness, I nowhere found it." 
 
 The acts of monastic holiness which lulled so many 
 consciences, and to which he himself had recourse in 
 his agony, soon appeared to Luther only the fallacious 
 cures of an empirical and quack religion. "At the 
 time when I was a monk, if I felt some temptation 
 assail me, I am lost! said I to myself; and imme- 
 diately resorted to a thousand methods, iu order to sup- 
 press the cries of my heart. I confessed every day; 
 but that did me no good. Thus oppressed with sad- 
 ness, I w.os tormented by a multiplicity of thoughts. 
 'Look!' exclaimed I, 'there you are still envious, im- 
 patient, passionate ! It is of uo use then, for you, 
 wretch, to have entered this sacred order.' " 
 
43 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEPORMATIOX. 
 
 And yet Luther, imbued with the prejudices of his 
 day, had from his youth up considered the acts, whose 
 impotence he now experienced, as sure remedies for 
 diseased souls. What was he to think of the strange 
 discovery which he had just made in the solitude of 
 the cloister? It is possible, then, to dwell in the 
 sanctuary, and still carry within oneself a man of sin I 
 He has received another garment, but not another 
 heart. His hopes are disappointed. "SMiere is he to 
 stop ? Can it be that all these rules and observances 
 are only human inventions ? Such a supposition ap- 
 pears to him at one time a suggestion of the devil, 
 and at another time an irresistible truth. Struggling 
 alternately with the holy voice which spoke to his 
 heart, and with venerable institutions which had the 
 sanction of ages, Luther's life was a continual combat. 
 The yoimg monk, like a shade, glided through the long 
 passages of the cloister, making them echo with his 
 sad groans. His body pined away, and his strength 
 left him ; on different occasions he remained as if he 
 were dead.' 
 
 Once, overwhelmed with sadness, he shut himself 
 up in his cell, and for several days and nights allowed 
 no one to approach him. Lucas Edemberger, one of 
 his friends, feeling uneasy about the unhappy monk, 
 and having some presentiment of the state in which 
 he actually was, taking with him several boys, who 
 were accustomed to chant in choirs, went and knocked 
 at the door of his cell. No one opens or answers. 
 Good Edemberger, stUl more alarmed, forces the door. 
 Luther is stretched on the floor insensible, and shewing 
 no signs of life. His friend tries in vain to revive 
 him, but he still remains motionless. Tlie young boys 
 begin to chant a soft anthem. Their pure voices act 
 like a charm on the poor monk, who had always the 
 greatest delight in music, and he gradually recovers 
 sensation, consciousness, and life. But if music could 
 for some moments give him a slight degree of serenity, 
 another and more powerful remedy was wanted to cure 
 him effectually — that soft and penetrating sound of the 
 Gospel, which is the voice of God himself. He was 
 weU aware of this, and, accordingly, his sorrows and 
 alarms led him to study the writings of the apostles and 
 prophets with renewed zeal. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 rioos Men in Ooisters— Stanpitz— His Piety— His Visitation— Conversa- 
 tion— Hie Grace of Christ— Rcpenfcince— Power of Sin— Sweetness of 
 Eepentance— Election— Providence— The Bible— The Old Monk— The 
 Remission of Sins — Consecration Dinner— The Fete Dieu — Call to 
 Wittemberg. 
 
 LuTHEP. was not the first monk who had passed through 
 similar struggles. The cloisters often shrouded within 
 the obscurity of their walls abominable vices, at which, 
 if they had been brought to light, every lionest mind 
 would have shuddered ; but they often also concealed 
 
 1 Often, when meditating more attentively on the wrath of God, or striking 
 examples of punishment, he was suddenly shaken with such terror, that he 
 became like one dead.— Jfelaiu^A. Vita Lulh. 
 
 Christian virtues which were there unfolded in silence, 
 and which, if they had been placed before the eyes of 
 the world, wotdd have excited admiration. These vir- 
 tues, possessed by those who lived only with themselves 
 and with God, attracted no attention, and were often 
 even imknown to the modest convent within which 
 they were contained. Leading a life known to God 
 only, these humble solitaries fell occasionally into 
 that mystical theology — sad malady of noblest minds 
 — which formerly constituted the delight of the first 
 monks on the banks of the NUe, and which uselesslv 
 consumes those who fall imder its influence. 
 
 StiU, when one of these men happened to be called 
 to an eminent station, he there displayed virtues whose 
 salutary influence was long and widely felt. The 
 candle being placed on the candlestick gave light to 
 all the house. Several were awakened by this light ; 
 and hence those pious souls, propagated from genera- 
 tion to generation, kept shining like solitary torches at 
 the very time when cloisters were often little better 
 than impm-e receptacles of the deepest darkness. 
 
 A yoimg man had in this way attracted notice in 
 one of the convents of Germany. He was named 
 .John Staupitz, and was of a noble family in IMisnia. 
 From his earliest youth, having a taste for science and 
 a love of virtue, he longed for retirement, in order to 
 devote himself to literature ; but soon finding that 
 philosophy and the study of nature could do little for 
 eternal salvation, he began to study theology, making 
 it his special object to join practice with knowledge. 
 For, says one of his biographers, '• it is vain to deck 
 ourselves with the name of theologian, if we do not 
 prove our title to the honourable name by our life." 
 The study of the Bible, and of the theology of St. 
 Augustine, the knowledge of himself, and the war 
 which he, like Luther, had to wage against the wiles 
 and lusts of his heart, led him to the Redeemer, 
 through faith in whom he found peace to his soul. 
 The doctrine of the election of grace had, in particular, 
 taken a firm hold of his mind. Integi-ity of life, pro- 
 found science and eloquence, combined with a noble 
 appearance and a dignified address, recommended him 
 to his contemporaries. The Elector of Saxony, Frede- 
 rick the Wise, made him his friend, employed him on 
 different embassies, and under his direction foimded 
 the University of Wittemberg. This disciple of St. 
 Paul and St. Augustine was the first Dean of the 
 Faculty of Theology in that school which was one day 
 to send forth light to enlighten the schools and churches 
 of so many nations. He attended the Council of 
 Lateran, as deputy from the Archbishop of Salzboui-g. 
 became prorincial of his order in Thiiringia and 
 Saxony, and ultimately vicar-general of the Augustincs 
 all over Germany. 
 
 Staupitz lamented the corruption of manners and the 
 errors in doctrine which were laying waste the Church. 
 This is proved by his writings on the love of God, ou 
 Christian faith, on resemblance to Clirist in His death, 
 and by the testimony of Luther. But he considered 
 the former of these evils as greatly the worse of the 
 two. Besides, the mildness and indecision of his cha- 
 racter, and his desire not to go beyond the sphere of 
 action which he thought assigned to him, made hira 
 fitter to be the restorer of a convent than the reformer 
 
8TAUPITZ AND LUTHER 
 
 of Iho CIniroh. Ho could liavo wished to confer iin- 
 portmit sintioiis ouly oil distinguished men ; but not 
 fiiuiing liioin, ho was contented to omplov otliers. 
 " We niust ploupli with horses," said he, " if we can 
 find tiiem ; but if WO have no liorscs, wo must plough 
 with oxen." 
 
 Wo have seen the anpiish and inward wrestlings to 
 which Luther was n prey in the convent of Erfurt. At 
 this time a visit from tiio vicar-general wius announced; 
 and Staupitz accordingly arrived to make his ordinary 
 inspc<-tion. The friend of Frederick, the founder of 
 tho University of Wittembcrg, the head of the Augns- 
 tiiies, took a kind interest in iho monks under his 
 authority. It was not long cro one of the friars of tho 
 convent attracted his attention. This wsis a young man 
 of middle stature, whom study, abstinence, and vigils, 
 hud so wasted away, that his bones might have been 
 counto<!. His eyes, which at a later period were com- 
 paretl to those of the falcon, were sunken, his gait was 
 sad, and his lot>ks bespoke a troubled soul, tho victim 
 i of numerous struggles, yet still strong and bent on 
 I resisting. His whole appearance had in it something 
 grave, melancholy, and solemn. Staupitz, whose dis- 
 cernment had been improved by long experience, easily 
 discovered what was passing in the soul of tho young 
 friar, and singled him out from those around him. He 
 felt drawn towards him. had a presentiment of his high 
 destiny, and experienced the interest of a parent for 
 his subaltern. He, too, had struggled like Luther, and 
 could therefore iniilcrstand his situation. Above all, 
 ho could shew him the way of i>eacc, which he himself 
 had found. The information he received of tho cir- 
 cumstances which had brought the young Augustine to 
 tho convent increased his sympathy. Ho requested 
 the prior to treat him with great mildness, and availed 
 himself of the opportunities which his ollice gave him 
 lo gain the young frim-'s confidence. Going kindly up 
 to him, ho took every me.ans to remove his timidity, 
 which wius, moreover, increased by the respect and 
 reverence which the elevated rank of Staupitz naturally 
 inspired. 
 
 Tho heart of Luther, till then closed by harsh treat- 
 meut, opened at last, ami expanded to the mild rays 
 of charity. '"As in water face answereth to face, so 
 tho heart of mau to man." The heart of Staupitz 
 answered to the heart of Luther. The vicar-geueral 
 understoo<l him; and the monk, in his turn, felt a con- 
 fidence in Staupitz which no one had hitherto inspired. 
 Ue revealed to him the cause of his s;idncss, depicted 
 the fearful thoughts which agitated him, and then in 
 the cloister of Erfurt conuucQccd a couvcrsatiou full 
 of wisdom and instniction. 
 
 "In vain," si\id Luihcr dcspondingly to Staupitz, — 
 '• in vain do I make promises to God ; sin has always 
 the mastery." 
 
 "O my friend," replied the vicar-general, thinking 
 Low it had been with himself, '• more than a thousand 
 times have I sworn to our holy God to live piously, 
 and I have never done so. Now I no longer swear ; for 
 1 know I should not perform. L'nle^s God be pleased 
 to be gnicious to me for the love of Christ, and to grant 
 roe a happy departure when I leave this world, I sli.all 
 not be able, with all my vows and all my good works, 
 to stand before Uim. I must perish." 
 
 Tho young monk is terrified at tho thought of tho 
 Divine justice, and lays all his fears before the vicar- 
 general. Tho ineffable holiness of God, and his sove- 
 reign majesty, fill him with alarm. Who will be ablo 
 to support the day of His advent — who to stand when 
 He appeareth ? 
 
 Staupitz resumes. He knows where ho has found 
 ])cace, and his young friend will hear it. '"Why tor- 
 ment thyself," said he to him, " with all these sjiecu- 
 lations luid high thoughts .' Look to the wounds of 
 .Jesus Christ, to the blood which Ho has shed for thee; 
 then thou slialt see tho grace of God. Instead of 
 making a martyr of thyself for thy faults, throw thy- 
 self into the arms of the Redeemer. Confide in Him, 
 in the righteousness of His life, and the expiation of 
 His death. Keep not back; God is not angry with 
 thee ; it is thou who art angry with God. Listen to 
 the Son of God, who became man in order to assure 
 thee of the Divine favour. lie says to thee, 'Thou 
 ar' my sheep; thou hearcst my voice ; none shall pluck 
 thee out of my hand.'" 
 
 But Luther does not here find the repentance which 
 he believes necessary to salvation. He replies, and it 
 is the ordinary reply of agonized and frightened souls, 
 " How dare I believe in the favour of God, while there 
 is nothing in me like true conversion? I must bo 
 changed before He can receive me." 
 
 His venerable guide shews him that there can be 
 no true conversion while God is dreaded as a severe 
 Judge. "What will you .say, then," exclaims Luther, 
 '•of the many consciences to which a thousand unsup- 
 portablo observances are prescribed as a means of 
 gaining heaven?" 
 
 Then he heirs this reply from the vicar-general, or 
 rather his belief is, that it comes not from man, but 
 is a voice soundiug from heaven. " No repentance," 
 s.iys Staupitz, '"is true, save that which begins with 
 the love of God and of righteousness. What others 
 im.agine to be the cud and completion of repentance is, 
 on the contrary, only the commencement of it. To 
 have a thorough love of goodness, thou must, before 
 all, have a thorough love of God. If thou wouldest 
 be converted, dwell not upon all these macerations and 
 tortures : ' Ix)ve Him who first loved thee.' " 
 
 Luther listens and listens again. These consoling 
 words fill him with unknown joy, and give him new 
 light. •• It is Jesus Christ," thiuks he in his heart. 
 '• Yes, it is Jesus Christ himself who consoles me so 
 wonderfully by these sweet and salutary words." 
 
 These words, in fact, penetrated to the inmost heart 
 of the young monk, like the sharp arrow of a mighty 
 man. In order to repent, it is necessary to love God. 
 Illumiucd with this new light, he proceeds to examine 
 the Scriptures, searching out all the passages which 
 speak of repentance and conversion. These words, 
 till now so much dreaded, become, to use his own 
 expressions, " an agreeable sport, and the most delight- 
 ful recreation. All the p.issages of Scripture which 
 frightened him seem now to rise up from all sides, 
 smiling, .and leaping, and sporting with him." 
 
 "Hitherto," exclaims he, "though I carefully dis- 
 guised the state of my heart, and strove to give utter- 
 •ance to a love which was only constrained and fictitious, 
 Scripture did not contain a word which seemed to me 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 more bitter thau that of repentance. Now, however, 
 there is none sweeter and more agreeable. Oh ! how 
 pleasant the precepts of God are, when we read them 
 not only in books, but in the precious wounds of the 
 Saviour ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, Luther, though consoled by the words of 
 Staupitz, was still subject to fits of depression. Sin 
 manifested itself anew to his timorous conscience, and 
 then the joy of salvation was succeeded by his former 
 despair. " my sin ! my sin ! my sin !" one day ex- 
 claimed the young monk in presence of the vicar- 
 general, in accents of the deepest grief. " Ah !" rejilied 
 he, "woidd you only be a sinner on canvass, and also 
 have a Saviour only on canvass?" Then Staupitz 
 gravely added, " Know that Jesus Christ is the Saviour 
 even of those who are great, real sinners, and every 
 way deserving of condemnation." 
 
 What agitated Luther was not merely the sin which 
 he felt in his heart. The u{)braidings of his conscience 
 were confirmed by arguments drawu from reason. If 
 the holy precepts of the Bible frightened him, some of 
 its doctrines likewise increased his terror. Truth, 
 wliich is the great means by which God gives peace to 
 man, must necessai-ily begin by removing the false 
 security which destroys him. Tihe doctrine of election, 
 in particular, disturbed the young man, and threw him 
 into a field which it is difficult to traverse. Must he 
 believe that it was man who, on his part, first chose 
 God? or that it was God who first chose man? The 
 Bible, history, daily experience, .and the writings of 
 Augustine, had shewn him that always, and in every 
 thing, in looking for a first cause, it was necessary to 
 ascend to the sovereign will, by which every thing 
 exists, and ou which every thing deiiends. But his 
 ardent spirit would have gone further. He would have 
 penetrated into the secret counsel of God, unveiled its 
 mysteries, seen the invisible, and comprehended the 
 incomprehensible. Staupitz interfered, telling him not 
 to pretend to fathom the hidden pm-poses of God, but 
 to confine himself to those of them which have been 
 made manifest in Christ. "Look to the wounds of 
 Christ," said he to him, " and there see a bright disjilay 
 of the purposes of God towards man. It is impossible 
 to comprehend God out of Jesus Christ. In Christ 
 you will find what I am, and what I require, saith the 
 Lord. You can find Him nowhere else, either in 
 heaven or on the earth." 
 
 The vicar- general went further. He convinced 
 Luther of the paternal designs of Providence, in per- 
 mitting the various temptations and combats which the 
 soul has to sustain. He exhibited them to him in a 
 light well fitted to revive his courage. By such trials 
 God prepares those whom He destines for some impor- 
 tant work. The ship must be proved before it is 
 launched on the boundless deep. If this education is 
 necessary for every man, it is so particularly for those 
 who are to have an influence on their generation. This 
 Staupitz represented to the monk of Erfurt. "It is 
 not without cause," said he to him, " that God ex- 
 ercises you by so many combats ; be assured He will 
 employ you in great things as His minister." 
 
 These words, which Luther hears with astonishment 
 and humility, fill him with courage, and give him a 
 consciousness of powers, whose existence he had not 
 
 even suspected. The wisdom and prudence of an 
 enlightened friend gradually reveal the strong man to 
 himself. Nor does Staupitz rest here. He gives hira 
 valuable directions as to his studies, exhorting him in 
 future to lay aside the systems of the school, and draw 
 all his theology from the Bible. " Let the study of the 
 Scriptm-es," said he, " be your favourite occupation." 
 Never was good advice better followed. But what, 
 above all, delighted Luther, was the present of a Bible 
 from Staupitz. Perhaps it was the Latin Bible, bound 
 in red leather, which belonged to the convent, and 
 which it was the summit of his desire to possess, that 
 he might be able to carry it about with him wher- 
 ever he went, because all its leaves were familiar 
 to him, and he knew where to look for every passage. 
 At length this treasm-e is his own. From that time he 
 studies the Scriptures, and especially the Epistles of St. 
 Pavil, with always increasing zeal. The only author 
 whom he admits along with the Bible is St. Augustine. 
 Whatever he reads is deeply imprinted on his soul, for 
 his struggles had prepared him for comprehending it. 
 The soil had been ploughed deep, and the incorruptible 
 seed penetrates far into it. When Staujiitz left Erfurt, 
 a new day had dawned upon Luther. 
 
 Nevertheless, the work was not finished. The vicar- 
 general had prepared it, but its completion was re- 
 served for a humbler instrument. The conscience of 
 the young Augustine had not yet found repose, and, 
 owing to his efforts and the stretch on which his soul 
 had been kept, his body at length gave way. He was 
 attacked by an illness which brought him to the gates 
 of death. This was in the second year of his residence 
 in the coirvent. All his agonies and terrors were 
 awakened at the approach of death. His own pollu- 
 tion and the holiness of God anew distracted his soul. 
 One day, when overwhelmed with despair, an old 
 monk entered his cell, and addressed him in consoling 
 terms. Luther opened his heart to him, and made 
 him aware of the fears by which he was agitated. The 
 respectable old man was incapable of following hira 
 into all his doubts, as Staupitz had done ; but he knew 
 his Credo, and having found in it the means of consol- 
 ing his own heai't, he could apply the same remedy to 
 the young friar. Leading him back to the Apostles' 
 Creed, which Luther had learned in infancy at the 
 school of Mansf eld, the old monk good-naturedly re- 
 peated the article, "7 believe in the forgiveness of sins." 
 These simple words, which the pious friar calmly re- 
 jjeated at this decisive moment, poured great consola- 
 tion into the soul of Luther. " I believe," oft repeated 
 he to himself on his sick-bed, — " I believe in the for- 
 giveness of sins." "All!" said the monk, "the thing 
 to be believed is not merely that David's or Peter's 
 sins are forgiven ; this the devils believe : God's com- 
 mand is, to believe that our own sins are forgiven." 
 How delightful this command appeared to poor Luther ! 
 " See what St. Bernard says in his sermon on the 
 Annunciation," added the old friar; "the witness 
 which the Holy Spirit witnesseth with our spirit is, 
 ' Thy sins arc forgiven thee.' " 
 
 From this moment light sprung up in the heart of 
 the young monk of Erfm-t. The gracious word has 
 been pronounced, and he believes it. He renounces 
 the idea of meriting salvation, and puts implicit con- 
 
LUTHER ORDAINED A PRIEST. 
 
 51 
 
 fidence in the grace of God through Jesus Clirist. lie 
 does uot see all the consequences of the jirinciple which 
 he has admitted; he is still sincere in his attachment 
 to the Church, and yet he has no longer need of 
 her. He has received salvation immediately from 
 God himself; and from that moment Roman Catho- 
 licism is virtually destroyed in him. He goes for- 
 ward and searches the writings of the apostles and 
 prophets, for every thing that may strengthen the 
 hope which fills his heart. Each day he invokes help 
 from above, and each day also the light increases in 
 Lis soul. 
 
 The health wliich his spirit had found soon restores 
 health to his body, and he rises from his sick-bed, 
 after having, in a double sense, received a new life. 
 During the feast of Noel, which arrived shortly 
 after, he tasted abundantly of all the consolations 
 of faith. With sweet emotion he took part in the 
 holy solemnities ; and when, in the middle of the 
 gorgeous service of the day, he came to chant these 
 words, — "0 heata culpa, qitw talem meruhti Redeni])- 
 toretn'"^ his whole being said Amen, and thrilled with 
 
 joy- 
 Luther had been two years in the cloister, and must 
 now be consecrated priest. He had received much, 
 aud he looked forward with delight to the prospect 
 which the priesthood presented of enabling him freely 
 to give what he had freely received. Wishing to avail 
 himself of the occasion to be fully reconciled to his 
 father, he invited him to be present, and even asked 
 him to fix the day. John Luther, though not yet 
 entirely appeased, nevertheless accepted the invitation, 
 and named Sabbath, the 2d May, 1507. 
 
 In the list of Luther's friends was the vicar of 
 Eisenach, John Braun, who had been his faithful ad- 
 viser when he resided in that town. Luther wrote 
 him on the 22d April. It is the Reformer's earliest 
 letter, and bears the following address: — "To John 
 Braun, Holy and Venerable Priest of Christ and 
 Mary." It is only in the two first letters of Luther 
 that the name of Mary occurs. 
 
 " God, who is glorious and holy in all His works," 
 says the candidate for the priesthood, " having de- 
 signed to exalt me exceedingly, — me, a miserable aud 
 every way unworthy sinner, and to call me solely out 
 of Ilis abundant mercy, to His sublime ministry, it is 
 my duty, in order to testify my gi-atitude for a good- 
 ness so divine and so magnificent, (as far at least as 
 dust can do it,) to fulfil with my whole heart the offlce 
 which is entrusted to me." 
 
 At length the day arrived. The miner of Mansfeld 
 failed not to be present at the cousccration of his son. 
 . . . . He even gave him an unequivocal mark of 
 his affection aud generosity, by making him a present 
 of twenty florins on the occasion. 
 
 The ceremony took place, Jerome, Bishop of Bran- 
 debourg, officiating. At the moment of conferring on 
 Luther the right to celebrate mass, he put the chalice 
 into his hand, uttering these solemn words, '•'• Accipe 
 potestatem sacriJicaniU pro rivis ct ))mrtuis " — " Receive 
 power to sacrifice for the living and the dead." Luther 
 then listened complacently to these words, which gave 
 him the power of doing the very work appropriated to 
 » "0 blessed fault, to merit sach a Redeemer."— il/a(/i«siiis, p. 5. 
 
 the Son of God ; but they afterwards made him shud- 
 der. "That the earth did not swallow us both," said 
 he, " was more than we deserved, and was owing to 
 the great patience and long-suffering of the Lord." 
 
 The father afterwards dined at the convent with his 
 son, the friends of the young priest, and the monks. 
 The conversation turned on JIartin's entrance into the 
 cloister, the friars loudly extolling it as one of the most 
 meritorious of works. Then the inflexible John, turn- 
 ing towards his sou, said to him, " Hast thou uot read 
 in Scripture to obey thy father aud thy mother?" 
 These words struck Luther ; they gave him quite a 
 different view of the action which had brought him 
 into the convent, and for a long time continued to 
 echo in his heart. 
 
 By the advice of Staupitz, Luther, shortly after his 
 ordination, made short excursions on foot into the 
 neighbom'ing parishes and convents, both for relaxa- 
 tion, to give his body the necessary exercise, and to 
 accustom himself to preaching. 
 
 The Fete Dieu was to be celebrated with splendour 
 at Eisleben, where the vicar-general was to be present. 
 Luther repaired thither. He had still need of Staupitz, 
 and missed no opportunity of meeting with this enlight- 
 ened conductor who was guiding him into the way 
 of life. The procession was numerous aud brilliant. 
 Staupitz himself carried the holy sacrament, and Luther 
 followed in his sacerdotal dress. The thought that it 
 was truly Jesus Christ that the vicar-general was 
 carrying — the idea that Christ was there in person 
 actually before him — suddenly struck Luther's imag- 
 ination, and filled him with such amazement that he 
 could scarcely move forwiuxl. The perspiration fell 
 from him in drops ; he shook, and thought he would 
 have died with agony and terror. At length the pro- 
 cession ceased. This host, which had so awakened the 
 fears of the monk, was solemnly deposited iu the sanc- 
 tuary; and Luther, as soon as he was alone with Stau- 
 pitz, threw himself into his arms, and told him of his 
 consternation. Then the worthy vicar-general, who 
 had long known that Saviour who breaketh not the 
 bruised reed, said to him mildly, " It was not Jesus 
 Christ, my brother. Jesus Christ does not alarm — ^He 
 consoles merely." 
 
 Luther was not to remain hid in an obscure convent. 
 The time had arrived for his being transported to a 
 larger theatre. Staupitz, with whom he was in con- 
 stant correspondence, was well aware that the soul of 
 the young monk was too active to be confined within 
 so narrow a circle. He mentioned him to Frederick 
 of Saxony; and this enlightened prince, in 1508, prob- 
 ably towards the close of the year, invited him to a 
 chair in the University of Wittemberg. Wittemberg 
 was a field on which he was to fight hard battles ; and 
 Luther felt that his vocation was there. Being re- 
 quired to repair promptly to his new post, he answered 
 the appeal without delay; and, in the hurry of his re- 
 moval, had uot even time to write him whom he called 
 his master and beloved father — John Braun, curate of 
 Eisenach. Some months after, he wrote — "My de- 
 parture was so sudden, that those I was living with 
 scarcely knew of it. I am far away, I confess ; but 
 the better part of me is still with you." Luther had 
 been three years iu the cloister of Erfurt. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The University of Wittemlierg— First Employment- BibUcal Lectures- 
 Sensation— Preaching at Wittembers— The Old Chapel— Impression. 
 
 In the year 1502, tbe Elector Frederick had foimded 
 a new university at Wittemberg, declaring, in tlie act 
 by which he confirmed it, that he and his people would 
 turn to it as towards an oracle. He thought not at 
 the time that these words would be so magnificently 
 realized. Two men belonging to the opposition which 
 had been formed against the scholastic system, — viz., 
 Pollich of Mellerstadt, doctor of medicine, law, and phi- 
 losophy, and Staupitz, — had great influence in found- 
 
 WITTEM B E RQ 
 
 iiig this school. The university declaied St. Augus- 
 tine its patron ; and even this choice was a presage of 
 good. In possession of great freedom, and regarded as 
 a tribunal to which, in cases of difficulty, the supreme 
 decision belonged, this new institution, which was in 
 every way fitted to become the cradle of the Eeforma- 
 tion, powerfully contributed to the develojiment of 
 Luther and his woi'k. 
 
 On his arrival at Wittemberg, Luther repaired to the 
 convent of Augustines, where a cell was allotted him ; 
 for though professor, he ceased not to be monk. He 
 was appointed to teach philosophy and dialectics. In 
 assigning him these departments, regard had, no doubt, 
 been had to the studies which he had prosecuted at 
 Erfurt, and to his degree of Master of Arts. Thus 
 Luther, who was hungering and thirsting for the word 
 of life, saw himself obliged to give his almost exclusive 
 attention to the scholastic philosophy of Aristotle. He 
 had need of the bread of life which God gives to the 
 world, and he must occupy himself with human subtle- 
 ties. How galling ! How much he sighed ! " I am 
 
 well, by the grace of God," wrote he to Braun, " were 
 it not that I must study philosophy with all my might. 
 Ever since I arrived at Wittemberg, I have eagerly 
 desired to exchange this study for that of theology; 
 but," added he, lest it should be thought ho meant the 
 theology of the time, " the theology I mean is that 
 which seeks out the kernel of the nut, the heart of the 
 wheat, and the marrow of the bone. Howbeit, God is 
 God," continues he, with that confidence which was the 
 soul of his life ; " man is almost always deceived in his 
 judgment ; but He is our God, and will conduct us by 
 His goodness for ever and ever." The studies in which 
 Luther was at this time obliged to engage, were after- 
 wards of great service to him in combating the errors 
 of the schoolmen. 
 
 Here, however, he could not stop. The desire of his 
 heart must be accomplished. The same 
 power which formerly pushed him from 
 the bar iuto the monastic life, now 
 pushed him from philosophy towards 
 the Bible. He zealously commenced 
 the study of ancient languages, espe- 
 cially Greek and Hebrew, that he might 
 be able to draw science and learning at 
 the fountain-head. He was all his life 
 a n indefatigable student. Some months 
 al'ler his arrival at the university, he 
 :i]iplied for the degree of Bachelor in 
 Divinity, and obtained it in the end of 
 .March, 1509, with a special injunction 
 to devote himself to biblical theology, 
 .nl Biblia. 
 
 Every day at one, Luther had to 
 l> eture on the Bible, — a precious em- 
 I ' lyment both for the professor and 
 i IS pupils — giving them abetter insight 
 to the divine meaning of those oracles 
 Inch had so long been lost both to the 
 1 Lople and the school. 
 
 He began his lectures with an exposi- 
 tion of the Psalms, and shortly after 
 l)ioceeded to the Epistle to the Romans. 
 It w as especially when meditating upon 
 It that the light of truth entered his heart. After 
 retiring to his quiet cell, he spent hours in the study of 
 the Divine Word — the Epistle of St. Paul lying open 
 before him. One day, coming to the seventeenth verse 
 of the first chapter, he read these words of the prophet 
 Habakkuk, " The just shall live hj faith." He is struck 
 with the expression. The just, then, has a different 
 life from other men, and this life is given by faith. 
 These words, which he receives into his heart as if 
 God himself had there deposited them, unveils the 
 mystery of the Christian life to him, and gives him an 
 increase of this life. Long after, in the midst of his 
 numerous labours, he thought he still heard a voice 
 saying to him, "The just shall live by faith." 
 
 Luther's lectures, thus'prepaj-ed, had little resem- 
 blance to those which had hitherto been delivered. It 
 was not a declamatory rhetorician, or a pedantic school- 
 man that spoke ; it was a Christian who had felt the 
 power of revealed truth — truth which he derived from 
 the Bible, and presented to his astonished hearers, 
 all full of life, as it came from the treasury of hia 
 
LUTHER PREACHES AT WITTEMBERG. 
 
 4 
 
 heart. It was not a lesson from man, but a lesson 
 from God. 
 
 This novel exposition of the truth was much talked 
 of. The news spread far and wide, and attracted 
 a great nunilier of foreign students to the recently 
 founded university. Even some of the professors 
 attended the lectures of Luther, among others, Meller- 
 stadt, often snrnamed, " TIic Lii/lit of the World." He 
 ■nras the first rector of the university, and had pre- 
 viously been at Leipsic, where he had vigorously com- 
 bated the ridiculous lessons of the schoolmen, and 
 denying that " the light of the first day of creation 
 could be theolog}'," had maintained that this science 
 ought to be based on the study of literature. " Tliis 
 monk," said ho, "will send all the doctors to the right 
 about. lie will introduce a now doctrine, and reform 
 the whole Church, for he founds upon the Word of 
 God ; and no man in the world 
 can either combat or ovcr- 
 tlirow this AVord, even though 
 he should attack it with all 
 the weapons of philosophy ; 
 the sophists, Scotists, Albert- 
 ists, Thomists, and the whole 
 fraternity." 
 
 Staupitz, who was the in 
 Strument in the hand ot Pi 
 vidence to unfold the gifts m 1 
 treasures hidden in Luthei, 
 invited him to preach in the 
 church of the Augustines rh( 
 young professor recoiled at tin 
 proposal. He wished to c i 
 fine himself to his acidtmi 
 functions, and trembled it tin, 
 thought of adding to them 
 that of preacher. In ^ ■xm did 
 Staupitz urge him. " No, no," 
 replied he, " it is no light mat- 
 ter to speak to men in the place ""^ , 
 of God." Touching humility 
 in this gi-eat Reformer of the 
 Church ! Staupitz insisted ; 
 but the ingenious Luther, says one of his biographers, 
 found fifteen arguments, pretests, and evasions, to 
 excuse himself from this calling. The chief of the 
 Augustines, still continuing his attack, Ltither ex- 
 claimed, " Ah ! doctor, in doing this you deprive me 
 of life. I would not be able to hold out throe months." 
 " Very weU," replied the vicar-gencral, " so be it in 
 Grod's name. For np yonder, also, our Lord has need 
 of able and devoted men." Luther behoved to yield. 
 
 In the middle of the public square of Wittemberg 
 ■was a wooden chapel, thirty feet long by twenty wide, 
 whose sides, propped up in all directions, were falling 
 to decay. An old pulpit made of fir, three feet in 
 height, received the preacher. In this miserable chapel 
 the preaching of the Reformation commenced. God 
 was pleased that that which was to establish His glory 
 should have the humblest origin. The foundation of 
 the church of the Augustines had just been laid, and 
 until it should bo finished this humble church was 
 employed. "This building," adds the contemporary 
 of Luther who relates these circumstances, " may well 
 
 be compared to the stable in which Christ was born. 
 It was in this miserable enclosure that God was pleased, 
 so to speak, to make His beloved Son be born a second 
 time. Among the thousands of cathedrals and parish 
 churches with which the world abounded, there was 
 then one only which God selected for the glorious 
 preaching of eternal life." 
 
 Luther preaches, and every thing is striking in the 
 new preacher. His expressive countenance, his noble 
 air, his clear and sonorous voice, captivate the hearers. 
 
 The greater part of preachers before him had sought 
 rather to amuse their auditory than to convert them. 
 The great seriousness which predominates in Luther's 
 preaching, and the joy with which the knowledge of 
 the Gospel has filled his heart, give to liis eloquence 
 at once an authority, a fervour, and an unction which 
 none of his predecessors had. " Endowed," says one 
 
 of his opponents, "with a keen and acute iutollect, 
 and a retentive memory, and having an admirable 
 facility in the use of his mother tongue, Luther, in 
 point of eloquence, yielded to none of his age. Dis- 
 coursing from the pulpit a.s if he had been agitated by 
 some strong passion, and suiting his action to his words, 
 he produced a wonderful imjiression on the minds of 
 his hearers, and, like a torrent, carried them along 
 whithei-soever he wished. So much force, graceful- 
 ness, and eloquence, are seldom seen in the people of 
 the north." " He had," says Bossuet, " a lively and 
 impetuous eloquence, which hurried people away and 
 entranced them." 
 
 In a short time the little chai)el could not contain 
 the hearers who crowded to it. The Council of Wit- 
 tcmberg then made choice of Luther for their preacher, 
 and appointed him to preach in the town chm-ch. The 
 impression which he produced here was stiU greater. 
 The power of his genius, the eloquence of his diction, 
 and the excellence of the doctrines which he an- 
 nounced, equally astonished his hearers. His reputa- 
 
HISTORY OF THE KEFOEMATION. 
 
 tion spread far aud wide, aud Frederick the "Wise 
 liimsclf ouce came to "Wittemberg to hear him. 
 
 Luther had commenced a new life. Tlie uselessncss 
 of the cloister had been succeeded by great activity. 
 The liberty, the labour, the constant activity to which 
 lie could devote himself at Wittemberg, completely 
 restored his internal harmony and peace. He was now 
 in his place, and the work of God was soon to exhibit 
 its majestic step. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 '' >nvent on the P6— Sickness at Bologna — Reniem- 
 ilnrstitioiis Devotion— Profancness of the Clergy 
 "iilcrs in Rome— Biblical Studies— Pilate's Stair— 
 h ana on the Reformation— The Gate of Paradise 
 
 LuTllER was teaching both in his .academic chair aud 
 in the church, when his labours were interrupted. In 
 1510, or, according to some, not till 1511 or 1512, he 
 was sent to Eome. Seven convents of his order hav- 
 ing differed on certain iioints with the vicai'-general, 
 the activity of Luther's mind, the power of his elo- 
 quence, and his talent for discussion, made him be 
 selected to plead the cause of these seven monasteries 
 before the ])ci]io. This Divine dispensation was neces- 
 sary to Luthur. for it was r^Miuisite that he should 
 know Rome. Full of the prejudices and illusions of 
 the cloister, he had always represented it to himself as 
 the seat of holiness. 
 
 He accordingly set out and crossed the Alps ; but 
 scarcely had he descended into the plains of rich aud 
 voluptuous Italy, than he found at every step subjects 
 of astonishment and scandal. The poor German 
 monk was received in a i-ich comcut of Benedictines, 
 situated upon the P6 in Lombardy. This convent 
 liad thirty-six thousand ducats of revenue. Of these, 
 twelve thousand were devoted to the table, twelve 
 thousand to the buildings, and twelve thousand to the 
 other wants of the monks. The gorgeousuess of the 
 apartments, the beauty of the dresses, and the rarities 
 of the table, all astonished Luther. Marble and silk, 
 and luxury under all its forms ! How now the sight to 
 the humble friar of the poor convent of Wittemberg ! 
 He was astonished and said nothing ; but when Frid.ay 
 came, how surprised was he to see abundance of meat 
 still covering the table of the Benedictines. Then he 
 resolved to speak out. " The Church and the pope," 
 said he to them, "■ forbid such things." The Benedic- 
 tines were indignant at this reprimand from the rude 
 German ; but Luther having insisted, and perhaps 
 threatened to make their disorders known, some of 
 tliein thought that the simplest plan was to get rid of 
 their troublesome guest. The porter of the convent 
 having warned him that he ran a risk in staying longer, 
 he made his escape from this epicurean monastery, and 
 arrived at Bologna, where he fell dangerously sick. 
 Some have seen in this sickness the effects of poison ; 
 but it is simpler to suppose that it was the effect which 
 a change of living produced in the frugal monk of 
 AVittemberg, whose principal food was wont to be 
 
 bread and herrings. This sickness was not to be unto 
 death ; but for the glory of God. Luther's constitu- 
 tional sadness and depression again overpowered him. 
 To die thus far from Germany, under this burning sky 
 in a foreign land, what a fate ! The agonies which he 
 had felt at Erfurt returned with all their force. The 
 conviction of his sins troubled, while the prospect of 
 the judgment-seat of God terrified him. But at the 
 moment when these terrors were at the worst, the 
 passage of St. Paul which had struck him at Wittem- 
 berg, "The just shall live by faith," (Rom. i. 17,) pre- 
 sented itself to his mind, and illumined his soul as 
 with a ray of light from heaven. Revived and com- 
 forted, he soon recovered his health, and resumed his 
 journey to Rome, expecting he should there find quite 
 a different life from fliat of the Lombard convents, and 
 impatient by the sight of Roman holiness to efface the 
 sad impressions which had been left ui)on his mind by 
 his residence on the P6. 
 
 At length, after a 2">ainful journey under the burning 
 sky of Italy in the beginning of summer, he drew near 
 to the city of the seven hills. His heart was moved, 
 and his eyes looked for the queen of the world, and of 
 the Church. As soon as he obtained a distant view of 
 the eternal city, the city of St. Peter and St. Paul, aud 
 the metropolis of Catholicism, he threw himself on the 
 ground, exclaiming, " Holy Rome, I salute thee ! " 
 
 Luther is in Rome ; the professor of Wittemberg is 
 in the midst of the eloquent ruins of the Rome of the 
 consuls and emperors — the Rome of the confessors and 
 martyrs. Here lived that Plautus aud Virgil whose 
 works he had taken with him into the cloister, and all 
 those great men whose exploits had always caused his 
 heart to beat. He perceives their statues, and the 
 wrecks of monuments which attest their glory. But 
 all this glory aud all this power are past, and his foot 
 treads on their dust. At every step he calls to miud 
 the sad forebodings of Scipio shedding tears at the 
 sight of Carthage in ruins, its burned palaces and bro- 
 ken walls, and exclaiming, " Thus, too, will it be 
 with Rome !" " And in fact," says Luther, " the Rome 
 of the Scii)ios aud Cajsars has been changed into a 
 corpse. Such is the quantity of ruins, that the fouu- 
 diitions of the modern houses rest upon the roofs of the 
 old. There," added he, casting a melancholy look on 
 the ruins, "there were the riches and treasures of the 
 world." All this rubbish, which he strikes with his 
 foot, tells Luther, within the walls of Rome herself, 
 that what is strongest in the eyes of men, is easily 
 destroyed by the breath of the Lord. 
 
 But he remembers that with profane ashes holy 
 ashes are mingled. The burial-place of the martyrs 
 is not far from that of the generals and triumphing 
 heroes of Rome; and Christian Rome, with her suffer- 
 ings, has more power over the heart of the Saxon 
 monk than Pagan Rome with her glory. It was here 
 the letter arrived in which Paul wrote, "The just is 
 justified III faith;" and not far off is the Appii Forum 
 and the Three Taverns. There was the house of Nar- 
 cissus — here the palace of Ca3sar, where the Lord 
 delivered the apostle from the mouth of the lion. Oh, 
 what fortitude these recollections give to the heart of 
 the monk of Wittemberg ! 
 
 Rome then presented a very different aspect. The 
 
PROFANITY OF THE CLERGY. 
 
 pontifical chair was occupied by the warlike Julius II., 
 and not by Leo X., as it has been said by some dis- 
 tinguished historians of Germany, no doubt through 
 oversight. Luther often told an anecdote of this pope. 
 When news was brought him of the defeat of his army 
 by the French before Kavcniui, lie was reading his 
 Hours. He dashed the book upon the ground, and 
 said, with a dreadful oath, "Very well, so you have 
 tui'ned Frenchman. Is this the way in which you 
 protect your Church ?" Then, turning in the direction 
 of the country to whose aid he meant to have recoiu-se, 
 lie exclaimed, "Holy Switzer, pray for us !" Ignorance, 
 levity, and dissoluteness, a profane spirit, a contempt 
 of all that is sacred, and a shameful traflic in divine 
 things ; — such was the spectacle which that unhappy 
 city presented ; and yet the pious monk continued for 
 some time in his illusions. 
 
 Having arrived about the feast of St. John, he hears 
 the Romans about him repeating a proverb which was 
 then common among the people : " Happy," said they, 
 " is the mother whose son says a mass on the eve of 
 St. John." " Oh ! how I could like to make my mother 
 happy!" said Luther. The pious son of Margaret 
 accordingly sought to say a mass on that day, but 
 could not ; the press was too great. 
 
 Ardent and simple-hearted, he went up and down, 
 visiting all the churches and chapels, believing all the 
 lies that were told him, and devoutly performing the 
 requisite acts of holiness ; happy in being able to do so 
 many pious works, which were denied to his country- 
 men. " Oh ! how much I regret," said the pious Ger- 
 man to himself, " that my father and mother are still 
 alive ! What delight I should have had in delivering 
 them from the fire of purgatory, by my masses, my 
 prayers, and many other admirable works !" He had 
 found the light, but the darkness was still far from 
 being entirely banished from his understanding. His 
 heart was changed, but his mind was not fully enlight- 
 ened. He possessed faith and love, but not knowledge. 
 It was work of no small difficulty to escape from the 
 dark night which had for so many ages covered the earth. 
 
 Luther repeatedly said mass at Rome, taking care to 
 do it with all the unction and dignity which the service 
 seemed to him to require. But how grieved was the 
 heart of the Saxon monk, at seeing the profane for- 
 mality of the Roman priests in celebrating the sacra- 
 ment of the altar ! The priests, on their part, laughed 
 at his simplicity. One day when he was officiating, he 
 found that at the altar next to him seven masses had 
 been read before he got through a single one. " Get 
 on, get on," cried one of the priests to him ; " make 
 haste, and send Our Lady back her Son," — making an 
 impious allusion to the trausubstantiation of the bread 
 into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. On another 
 occasion, Luther had only got as far as the Gospel, 
 when the priest beside him had finished the whole 
 mass. " On, on !" said his companion ; " make haste, 
 make haste ; are yc ever to have done V 
 
 His astonishment was still greater when, in the 
 dignitaries of the Church, he discovered the same 
 thing that he had found in common priests. He had 
 hoped better of them. 
 
 It was fashionable at the papal court to attack 
 Christianity; and, in order to pass for a complete 
 
 gentleman, absolutely necessary to hold some erroneous 
 or heredcal opinion on the doctrines of the Church. 
 AVlien Erasmus was at Rome, they had attempted to 
 pro\c to him, by passages from Pliny, that there was 
 no difference between the soul of man and that of the 
 brutes; and young courtiers of the ijopc maintained 
 that the orthodox faith was merely the result of crafty 
 inventions by some saints. 
 
 Luther's employment, as envoy of the Augustines of 
 Gciniany, caused him to be invited to several meetings 
 of •li^iinuiii-Iicd ecclesiastics. One day, in particular, 
 111' li:i|i|i.iir(l Id be at table with several prelates, who 
 traiikl)- i\liiliiled themselves to him in their mounte- 
 bank manuors and profane conversation, and did not 
 scruple to commit a thousand follies in his presence, 
 no doubt believing him to be of the same spirit as 
 themselves. Among other things they related, in pre- 
 sence of the monk, laughing and making a boast of it, 
 how, when they were saying mass, instead of the sacra- 
 mental words, which should transform the bread and 
 wine into the Saviour's flesh and blood, they parodied 
 them, and said, "P«h!S es, et pmm manehis ; vinum es, 
 et vinum manehis,'' — " Bread thou art, and bread wilt 
 remain ; wine thou art, and wine wilt remain." Then, 
 continued they, we raise the ostensoriiim, and all the 
 people worship it. Luther could scarcely believe his 
 ears. His spii-it, which was lively, and even gay in the 
 society of his friends, was all gravity when sacred 
 things were in question. He was scandalized at the 
 profane pleasantries of Rome. "I was," said he, "a 
 young monk, grave and pious, and these words dis- 
 tressed me greatly. If they speak thus in Rome at 
 table, freely and publicly, thought I to myself, what 
 will it be if their actions correspond to their words, and 
 if all — pope, cardinals, corn-tiers — say mass in the same 
 style? And I, who have devoutly heard so large a 
 number read, how must I have been deceived!" 
 
 Luther often mingled with the monks and the citizens 
 of Rome. If some extolled the pope and his court, the 
 great majority gave free utterance to their complaints 
 and their sarcasms. What tales they told of the reign- 
 ing pope, of Alexander VI., and of many others ! One 
 day his Roman friends told him how Ccesar Borgia, 
 after having fled from Rome, was apprehended in 
 Spain. When they were going to try him, he pleaded 
 guilty in prison, and requested a confessor. A monk 
 having been sent, he slew him, and, wi-apping himself 
 up in his cloak, made his escape. " I heard that at 
 Rome, and it is quite certain," said Luther. One day 
 passing through a public street which led to St. Peter's, 
 he stopped in amazement before a statue, representing 
 a pope under the form of a woman holding a sceptre, 
 clad in the papal mantle, and carrying an infant in her 
 arms. It is a gii-1 of Mentz, said they to him, whom 
 the cardinals chose for pope, and who had a child at 
 this spot. Hence no pope e^er passes through this 
 street. "I am astonished," said Luther, "how the 
 popes allow the statue to remain." 
 
 Luther had expected to find the edifice of the Church 
 in strength and splendour, but its gates were forced, 
 and its walls consumed with fire. He saw the desola- 
 tions of the sanctuary, and started back in dismay. 
 He had dreamed of nothing but holiness, and he dis- 
 covered nothing but profanation. 
 
5G 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 He was not less struck with tlic disorders outside 
 the chiu-ches. " The Roman police," says he, " is 
 strict and severe. The judge or captain every night 
 makes a round of the town on horseback, with three 
 hundred attendants, and arrests every person he finds 
 in the streets. If he meets any one armed, he hangs 
 him up, or throws him into the Tiber ; and yet the 
 city is full of disorder and murder ; whereas, when the 
 Word of God is purely and rightly taught, peace and 
 order are seen to reign, and there is no need of law 
 aud its severities." " It is almost incredible what sins 
 and infamous actions are committed at Rome," says 
 
 he, on another occasion ; " one would require to see it 
 and hear it in order to believe it. Hence, it is an or- 
 dinary saying, that if there is a hell, Rome is built 
 upon it. It is an abyss from whence all sins proceed." 
 This sight made a strong impression on Luther's 
 mind at the time, and the impression was deepened at 
 a later period. " The nearer wo approach Rome the 
 more bad Christians we find," said he several years 
 after. " There is a common saying, that he who goes 
 to Rome, the first time seeks a rogue, the second time 
 finds him, and the third time brings him away with 
 him in his own person ; but now people are become so 
 
 skilful, that they make all the three journeys in cue." 
 A genius, one of the most unhappily celebrated, but 
 also one of the most profound of Italy, Machiavelli, 
 who was living at Florence when Luther passed 
 through it on his way to Rome, has made the same 
 remark, — "The strongest symptom," says he, "of the 
 approaching ruin of Christianity [he means Roman 
 Catholicism] is, that the nearer you come to the capi- 
 tal of Christendom, the less you find of the Christian 
 spirit. The scandalous examples and crimes of the 
 court of Rome are the cause why Italy has lost every 
 principle of piety and all religious sentiment. We 
 Italians," continues the great historian, " are chiefly 
 indebted to the Church and the priests for our hav- 
 ing become a set of profane scoundrels." At a later 
 period Luther was fully aware how much he had 
 gained by his joiu-ney. "I would not take a hun- 
 
 dred thousand florins," said he, " not to have seen 
 Rome." 
 
 The journey was also of the greatest advantage to 
 him in a literary view. Like Reuchlin, Luther availed 
 himself of his residence in Italy to penetrate further 
 into the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures. He took 
 lessons in Hebrew from a celebrated rabbi, named Elias 
 Levita ; and thus, at Rome, partly acquired the know- 
 ledge of that Divine Word under whose blows Rome 
 was destined to fall. 
 
 But there was another respect in which the journey 
 was of great importance to Luther. Not only was the 
 veil torn away, and the sardonic smile, and mounte- 
 bank infidelity which lurked behind the Roman super- 
 stitions, revealed to the future reformer; but, more- 
 over, the living faith which God had implanted in him 
 was powerfully strengthened. 
 
LUTHER ON PILATE'S STAIK. 
 
 57 
 
 We have seen Low he at first entered devotedly into 
 all the vain observances, to which, as a price, the 
 Church has annexed the expiation of sins. One day, 
 among others, wishing to gain an indulgence which the 
 pope had promised to every one who should on his 
 knees climb up what is called Pilate's Stair, the Saxon 
 monk was humbly crawling up the steps, which ho was 
 told had been miraculously trausportcd to Rome from 
 Jerusalem. But while he was engaged in this meri- 
 torious act, he thought he heard a voice of thunder, 
 •nhich ciied it the bottom of hi-> liciit, is it AViltcni- 
 berg and 15olo<ru \ '• I li in t f/i <// Inc hf faith llic=e 
 word ■\\hi(h li I 1 ill il\ on tno diffeient oecaMons 
 BtrucI lumlil Ih \ 1 t man ilcfGid icouuhl 
 
 loudly and incessantly within him. He rises up in 
 amazement from the steps, along which he was drag- 
 ging his body. Horrified at himself, and .ashamed to 
 see how far superstition has abased him, he flies far 
 from the scene of his folly. 
 
 In regard to this mighty word there is something 
 mysterious in the life of Luther. It proved a creating 
 word both for the Kcformer and for the Reformation. 
 It was by it that God then said, " Let light be, and 
 
 It i'5 often neoe^'iarj that i truth, in order to produce 
 Its due effect on the miiul must be repeatedly presented 
 to It J iithei 1m 1 ( II tull\ =tuli 1 the Epistle to the 
 Pi 11 Ill^ I il I h M 11 11 1 bv faith is there 
 
 lit, he had never seen it 'o clearl} Now he com- 
 prehends the r.gLte.-Jsness ^LicL alo..e ca.. sta..J ... 
 the presence of God ; now he receives from God him- 
 self, by the hand of Christ, that obedience which he 
 freely imputes to the sinner as soon as he humbly turns 
 his eye to the God-Man who was crucified. 'This is 
 the decisive period in the internal life of Luther. The 
 faith which has saved him from the terrors of death, 
 becomes the soul of his theology, his fortress in all 
 dangers, the stamina of his discourse, the stimulant of 
 his love, the foundation of his peace, the spur of his 
 labours, his consolation in life and in death. 
 
 But this great doctrine of a salvation which emanates 
 from God, and not from man, was not only the power 
 of God to save the soul of Luther, it also became the 
 power of God to reform the Church ;— a powerful 
 weapon which the apostles wielded, a weapon too long 
 neglected, but at length brought forth, in its primitive 
 lustre, from the arsenal of the mighty God. At the 
 
 moment when Luther stood up in Rome, all moved and 
 tl.i.ll..^g ■\\^tL the -v^urJs -nL.cL Paal had addressed, 
 fifteen centuries before, to the inhabitants of this 
 metropolis, truth, till then a fettered captive within 
 the Church, rose up also, never again to fall. 
 
 Here we must let Luther speak for himself. " Al- 
 though I was a holy and irreproachable monk, my 
 conscience was full of trouble and anguish. I could 
 not bear the words, ' Justice of God.' I loved not the 
 just and holy God who punishes sinners. I was filled 
 with secret rage against Him and hated Him, because, 
 not satisfied with terrifying us, His miserable creatures, 
 already lost by original sin, with His law and the 
 miseries of life. He still further increased our torment 
 by the Gospel. . . . But when, by the Spirit of 
 God, I comprehended these words ; when I learned 
 how the sinner's justification pi'oceeds from the pure 
 mercy of the Lord by means of faith, then I felt myself 
 revive like a new man, and entered at open doors into 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the very paradise of God. From that time, also, I 
 bclield the precious sacred vohime with new eyes. I 
 wcut over all the Bible, and collected a great number 
 of passages, which taught me what the work of God 
 was. And as I had previously, with all my heart, 
 hated the words, ' Justice of God,' so from that time I 
 began to esteem and love them, as words most sweet 
 and most consoling. In truth, these words were to me 
 the true gate of paradise." 
 
 Accordingly, when called on solemn occasions to 
 confess this doctrine, Luther always manifested his 
 enthusiasm and rude energy. " I see," said he, on a 
 critical occasion, " that the devil is incessantly attack- 
 ing this fundamental article, by the instrumentality of 
 his doctors, and that, in this respect, he cannot rest or 
 take any repose. Very well, I, Doctor Martin Luther, 
 unworthy evangelist of om- Lord Jesus Christ, hold 
 this article — that faith alone, without works, justifies in 
 the siijht of God ; and I declare, that the emperor of the 
 Romans, the empei-or of the Turks, the emperor of the 
 Tartars, the emperor of the Persians, the pope, all the 
 cardinals, bishops, priests, monks, nuns, princes, and 
 nobles, all men and all devils, must let it stand, and 
 allow it to remain for ever. If they will undertake to 
 combat this truth, they will bring down the flames of 
 hell upon their heads. This is the true and holy Gospel, 
 and the declaration of me, Doctor Luther, according 
 
 to the liglit of the Holy Spirit Nobody,"" 
 
 continues he, "has died for our sins but Jesus Christ 
 the Son of God. I repeat it once more ; should the 
 world and all the devils tear each other, and burst 
 with fury, this is, nevertheless, true. And if it be Ho 
 alone who takes away sin, it cannot be ourselves with 
 our works ; but good works follow redemption, as the 
 fruit appears on the tree. This is our doctrine ; and 
 it is the doctrine which the Holy Spirit teaches with 
 all true Christians. We maintain it in the name of 
 God. Amen." 
 
 It was thus Luther found, what all doctors and 
 reformers, even the most distinguished, had, to a certain 
 degree at least, failed to discover. 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 seeking the solution of some difficulties 
 relative to a monastic order, and he carried away in his 
 heart the safety of the Church. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Ectuni— Doctor's Degreo—Carlstadt— Luther's Oatli— Principle of Refonu 
 —Luther's Courage— First Views ot Eefonuatiou— The Schooliueu — 
 Spalatin— Affair of EeucUin. 
 
 LuTiiER quitted Rome and returned to "Wittemberg, his 
 heart full of sadness and indignation. Turning away 
 his eyes in disgust from the pontifical city, he directed 
 them in hope to tlie Holy Scriptures, and to that new 
 light of which the word of God seemed then to give 
 promise to the world. Tliis word gained in his heart 
 all that the Church lost in it. He detached himself 
 
 from the one, and turned towards the other. The 
 whole Reformation was in that movement. It put God 
 where the priest had hitherto been. 
 
 Staupitz and the elector did not lose sight of the 
 monk whom they had called to the university of Wit- 
 temberg. It would seem that the vicar-general had a 
 presentiment of the work that was to be done in the 
 world, and, feeling it too much for himself, wished to 
 m-ge on Luther. There is nothing more remarkable, 
 and perhaps more mysterious, than this personage, who 
 is ever found hurrying on the monk into the path to 
 which God calls him ; and who himself ultimately goes 
 and sadly ends his days in a convent. The preaching 
 of the young professor had made an impression on the 
 prince. He had admired the vigour of his intellect, the 
 nervousness of his eloquence, and the excellence of his 
 expositions. The elector and his friend, wishimj to 
 advance a man who gave such high hopes, resolved to 
 make him take the honourable degree of Doctor of 
 Divinity. Staupitz repairing to the convent, led Luther 
 into the garden, and there alone with him, under a tree 
 which Luther was afterwards fond of shewing to his 
 disciples, the venerable father said to him — " It is now 
 necessary, my friend, that you become a doctor of the 
 Holy Scriptures." Luther recoiled at the idea; the 
 high honour frightened him. " Look out," replied he, 
 " for a more worthy person ; as for me, I cannot con- 
 sent to it." The vicar-general insisted, "The Lord 
 God has much to do in the Church, and has need at 
 present of young and vigorous doctors." These words, 
 adds Melancthon, were perhaps used half in jest, and 
 3'et the event realized them. Many omens ordinarily 
 precede great revolutions. It is not necessary to sup- 
 pose that Melancthon here speaks of miraculous predic- 
 tions. The most incredulous age — that which preceded 
 our own — saw this sentiment verified. There was no 
 miracle ; and yet how many presages announced the 
 revolution with which it closed ? 
 
 "But I am weak and sickly," replied Luther, "and 
 have not long to live. Seek a strong man." "The 
 Lord," replied the vicar-general, " has work in heaven 
 as well as on the earth ; dead or alive, God has need 
 of you in His counsel." 
 
 " None but the Holy Spirit can make a doctor of 
 theology," exclaimed the monk, still more alarmed. 
 "Do what your convent asks," said Staupitz, "and 
 what I, your vicar-general, command. You promise to 
 obey us." "But my poverty," replied the friar. "I 
 have no means of paying the expenses attendant on 
 such promotion." " Give yourself no trouble about 
 them," said his friend. "The prince has been gra- 
 ciously pleased to take all the expenses on himself." 
 Luther, thus urged, saw it his duty to yield. 
 
 This was towards the end of the summer of 1512. 
 Luther set out for Leipsic to receive the money neces- 
 sary for his promotion from the elector's treasures. 
 But according to the usages of courts, the money came 
 not. The friar, getting impatient, would have left, but 
 monastic obedience detained him. At length, on the 
 4th of October, he received lifty florins from Pfeffinger 
 and John Doltzig, and gave them his receipt for it, in 
 which he designates himself merely as a monk. "I, 
 Martin," says he, " friar of the order of Eremites." 
 Luther hastened back to Wittemberg. 
 
LUTHER'S OATH. 
 
 Andrew Boilcnstein was then Dcnn of the Fiiculty 
 of Theology, aud is best known under the name of 
 Carlstadt, being that of liis native town. He was also 
 culled A. IJ. C. It was Melancthoa who iirst gave 
 him this designation, which is taken from the three 
 initial letters of his name. Bodonstein acquired the 
 first elements of litoranu-o in hi-< native jilace. lie was 
 of a grave and gloniny iri;i|Mi-. (Ki-haps inclined to 
 jealousy, and of a rr-il(>~ iniillnt, caiicrly bent, how- 
 ever, on acquiring kn.iu Inlur. aihl ondnucd with great 
 ability. Ho allcmli'd <lil'lVrriit univursilies in order to 
 increase his ai-qiiin'mfius. and sliulird theology even 
 at Rome. On his return I'nmi Italy into Germany he 
 established himself at Wittemberg, and became doctor 
 in divinity. " At this period," says he himself after- 
 ■wiffds, " I had not read the Holy Scriptures." This 
 account gives a very just idea of what the theology of 
 that day was. Carlstadt, besides being a professor, 
 was a canon and archdeacon. This is the person who 
 was, at a later period, to make a rent in the Reforma- 
 tion. In Luther, at that time, he only saw au inferior, 
 but the Augustine soon became au object of jealousy 
 to him. "I am uot willing," said he one day, "to be 
 a smaller man than Luther." When Carlstadt con- 
 ferred the highest university degi-ee on his future 
 rival, he was fsu- from foreseeing the celebrity which 
 the young professor was destined to obtain. 
 
 On the 18th of October, 1512, Luther was admitted 
 a licentiate in theology, and took the following oath: — 
 " I swear to defend evangelical truth by every means 
 in my power." The following day, Bodeustein, in pre- 
 sence of a numerous assembly, formally delivered to 
 him the insignia of doctor of theology. He was made 
 Biblical doctor, not doctor of sentences, and in this way 
 was called to devote himself to the study of the Bible, 
 and not to that of human tradition. The oath, tlien, 
 which he took was, as he relates, to his well-beloved 
 Holy Scripture. He promised to preach it faithfully, 
 to teach it purely, to study it during his whole life, 
 and to defend it by discussion and by writing, as far 
 as God should enable him to do so. 
 
 This solemn oath was Luther's call to be the Re- 
 former. In laying it upon his conscience freely to 
 seek, and boldly to announce Christian truth, this oath 
 raised the new doctor above the narrow limits to which 
 his monastic vow might perhaps have confined him. 
 Called by the university and by his sovereign, in the 
 name of the emperor, and of the See of Rome itself, 
 aud bound before God, by the most solemn oath, he 
 was thenceforth the intrepid herald of the word of 
 life. On this memorable day Luther was dubbed 
 knight of the Bible. 
 
 Accordingly, this oath taken to the Holy Scriptures, 
 may be regarded as one of the causes of the renovation 
 of the Church. The infaUible authority of the Word 
 of God alone was the first aud fundamental principle of 
 the Reformation. All the reformations in detail which 
 took place at a later period — as reformations in doc- 
 trine, in manners, in the goverimient of the Church, 
 and in worship — were only consequences of this pri- 
 mary principle. One is scarcely able at the present 
 time to form an idea of the sensation produced by this 
 elementary principle, which is so simple in itself, but 
 which had been lost sight of for so many ages. Some 
 
 individuiUs of more extensive views than the generality, 
 alone foresaw its immense results. The bold voices of 
 all the Reformers soon proclaimed this i)Owerfnl prin- 
 ciple, at the sound of which Rome is destined to 
 crumble away: — "Christians, receive no other doc- 
 trines than those which arc founded on the express 
 wortls of Jesus Christ, His apostles, and prophets. 
 No nuui, no assembly of doctors, are entitled to pre- 
 scribe now doctrines." 
 
 The situation of Luther was changed. The call 
 which the Reformer had received became to him like 
 one of these extraordinary calls which the Lord ad- 
 dressed to the prophets under the Old Dispensation, 
 and to the apostles under the New. The solemn en- 
 gagement which he undertook made so deep an impres- 
 sion on his mind, that, iu the sequel, the remembrance 
 of this oath was sufhcient to console him amid the 
 greatest dangers and the sharpest conflicts. And when 
 he saw all Europe agitated, and shaken by the word 
 which he had announced ; when it seemed that the 
 accusations of Rome, the reproaches of many pious 
 men, and the doubts and fears of his owu easily 
 agitated heart, would make him hesitate, fear, and give 
 way to despair, he called to mind the oath which he 
 had taken, and remained firm, tranquil, and full of 
 joy. " I have advanced in the name of the Lord," said 
 he, on a critical occasion, " and I have put myself into 
 His hands. His will be done. Who asked Him to 
 make me a doctor ? If He made me, let Him sustain 
 me; or if He repents of having made me, let Him 
 depose me! ... . This tribulation terrifies me 
 not. I seek one thing only, and it is to have the Lord 
 favourable to me in all that He calls me to do." An- 
 other time he said, " He who undertakes any thing 
 without a divine call, seeks his own glory; but I, Doc- 
 tor Martiu Luther, was compelled to become a doctor. 
 Papism sought to stop me in the discharge of my duty, 
 and yon see what has happened to it ; and still worse 
 will happen. They will uot be able to defend them- 
 selves against me. I desire, in the name of the Lord, 
 to tread upon the lions, and trample under foot the 
 dragons and vipers. This will commence diu-ing my 
 life, aud be finished after my death." 
 
 From the hour when he took the oath, Luther sought 
 the truth solely for itself aud for the Chiu-ch. StiU, 
 deeply impressed with recollections of Rome, he saw 
 indistinctly before him a course which he determined 
 to pursue with all the energy of his soul. The spiritual 
 life which had hitherto been manifested wthiu him 
 was now manifested outwardly. This was the third 
 period of his development. His entrance into the 
 convent had turned his thoughts towards God: the 
 knowledge of the forgiveness of sins and of the right- 
 eousness of faith, had emancipated his soul ; and his 
 doctor's oath gave him that baptism of fire by which he 
 became the Reformer of the Church. 
 
 His thoughts were soon directed in a general way to 
 the subject of Reformation. In a discourse which he 
 had written, apparently with a view to its being 
 announced by the Provost of Litzkau, at the Council 
 of Lateran, he affirmed that the corruption of the 
 world was occasioned by the priests, who, instead of 
 preaching the pui-e "W^ord of God, taught so many 
 fables and traditions. According to him, the word of 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 life alone had power to accomplish the spiritual regen- 
 eration of man. Hence, even at this period, he made 
 the salvation of the world dcj^eud on the re-establish- 
 ment of sound doctrine, and not on a mere reformation 
 of manners. Luther was not perfectly consistent with 
 himself ; he entertained contradictory opinions ; but a 
 powerful intellect was displayed in all his ■m-itiugs. 
 He boldly broke the links by which the systems of the 
 schools chained down human thought, passed beyond 
 the limits to which past ages had attained, and formed 
 new paths for himself. God was in him. 
 
 The first opponents whom he attacked were those 
 famous schoolmen whom he had so thoroughly studied, 
 and who then reigned as sovereigns in all universities. 
 He accused them of Pelagianism ; and, forcibly assail- 
 ing Ai-istotle, the father of the school, and Thomas 
 Aquiuas, undertook to tumble both of them from the 
 throne on which they sat, — the one ruling philosophy, 
 and the other theology. "Aristotle, Porphyiy, the 
 theologians of sentences," (the schoolmen,) wrote he to 
 Lange, " are the lost studies of our age. There is 
 nothing I more ardently long for than to expose this 
 player, who has sported with the Church by wrapping 
 himself up in a Greek mask, and to make his disgrace 
 apparent to all." In all public disputations he was 
 heard to say, " The writings of the apostles and pro- 
 phets are more certain and more sublime than all the 
 sophisms and all the theology of the school." Such 
 sayings were new; but people gradually became accus- 
 tomed to them. About a year after, he could trium- 
 phantly write — "God works. Our theology and St. 
 Augustine make wonderful progress, and reign in our 
 university. Ai-istotle is on the decline, and is already 
 tottering to his speedy and eternal overthrow. The 
 lessons on the sentences are admirable for producing a 
 yawn. No man can hope to have an audience if he 
 does not profess Biblical theology." Happy the uni- 
 versity to which such a testimony can be given. 
 
 At the same time that Luther attacked Aristotle, he 
 took the part of Erasmus and Ecuchlin against their 
 enemies. He entered into communication with these 
 great men and others of the learned, such as Pirck- 
 heimer, Mutian, and Hiitton, who belonged more or 
 less to the same party. At this period he formed 
 another friendship also, which was of great importance 
 to him during his whole life. 
 
 There was then at the court of the elector a man 
 distinguished for wisdom and candom-, named George 
 Spalatin. Born at Spalatus, or Spalt, in the bishopric 
 of Eichstadt, he had at first been curate of the village 
 of Hohenkirch, near the forest of Thuriugia, and was 
 afterwards selected by Frederick the "Wise to be his 
 secretary and chaplain, and also tutor to liis nephew, 
 John Frederick, who was one day to wear the electoral 
 crown. Spalatin retained his simplicity in the midst 
 of the court. He appeared timid on the eve of great 
 events, circumspect and prudent, like his master, when 
 contrasted with the impetuous Luther, with whom he 
 v,-as in daily correspondence. Like Staupitz, he was 
 made for peaceful times. Such men are necessary, 
 somewhat resembling those delicate substances in which 
 we -(vrap up gems and trinkets to protect them from 
 injury in travelling. They seem useless, and yet with- 
 out them the precious jewels would have been broken 
 
 and destroyed. Spalatin was not fitted to do great 
 things, but he faithfully and unostentatiously acquitted 
 himself of the task which had been assigned to him. 
 He was at first one of the princijjal assistants of his 
 master in collecting those relics of saints, of which 
 Frederick was long an amateur, but gradually, along 
 with the prince, turned toward the truth. The faith 
 which was then re-appearing in the Church did not 
 take the firm hold of him that it did of Luther. He 
 proceeded at a slower pace. He became Luther's 
 friend at court ; the minister through whom all affairs 
 between the Reformer and the princes were transacted, 
 the mediator between the Chiu-ch and the State. The 
 elector honoured Spalatin with his friendship ; when on 
 a journey they always travelled in the same carriage. 
 In other respects, the air of the court often half 
 suffocated the good chaplain. He took fits of melan- 
 choly, and would have liked to quit all his honours, 
 and be again a simple pastor in the woods of Thur- 
 ingia ; but Luther consoled him, and exhorted him to 
 remain firm at his post. Spalatin acquired general 
 esteem ; the princes and the learned of his time testi- 
 fying the sincerest regard for him. Erasmus said, " I 
 inscribe the name of Spalatin not only among those of 
 my principal friends, but also amongst those of my 
 most venerated patrons ; and this not on paper, but 
 on my heart." 
 
 The affair of Reuchlin and the monks was then 
 making a great noise in Germany. The most pious men 
 were often at a loss as to the party which they ought 
 to embrace ; for the monks wished to destroy Jewish 
 books which contained blasphemies against Christ. 
 The doctor of Wittemberg being now in high repute, 
 the elector ordered his chaplain to consult him on this 
 subject. The following is Luther's reply. It is the 
 first letter which he addressed to the preacher of 
 the court : — 
 
 " What shall I say? These monks pretend to drive 
 out Beelzebub, but not by the finger of God. For this 
 I cease not to lament and gi'oau. We, Christians, 
 begiu to be wise abroad, and we are void of sense at 
 home. On all the places of Jerusalem are blasphemies 
 a huudi-ed times worse than those of the Jews. The 
 world is filled witli spiritual idols. Inspired with a 
 holy zeal, we should put away and destroy these 
 internal enemies, whereas we leave the matter which 
 is most pressing ; the devil himself persuading us to 
 abandon our own business at the same time that he 
 prevents us from amending what belongs to others." 
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 Faitli— ropiilar Declamations— Academical Instraction— Moral Purity of 
 Luther— German Tlieology, or Mysticism— Tlie Monk Spenlein— JustiS- 
 cation by Faith— Lutlier on Erasmus— Faith and Works— Erasmus- 
 Necessity of Works— Practice of Works. 
 
 Luther did not lose himself in this quarrel. Living 
 faith in Christ filled his heart and his life. "In ray 
 heart," said he, " faith in my Lord Jesus Christ reigns 
 sole, and sole ought to reign. He alone is the be- 
 
POPULAR DECLAMATIONS. 
 
 giiifung, the middle, and the end, of all tiic thoughts 
 which occupy my mind night and day." lie was always 
 heard with admiration when he spoico of this faith in 
 Christ, whether in the professor's chair or in the 
 Church. His lessons diffused light, and men were 
 astonished at not having sooner perceived truths which 
 in liis mouth appeared so evident. "The desire of 
 justifying ourselves," said he, "is the source of all 
 anguish of heart ; whereas he who receives Jesus 
 Christ as a Savioiu-, has ])eace, and not only peace, but 
 purity of heart. Sanotitication of the heart is entirely 
 a fruit of faitli; for faith is in us a divine work, 
 which changes us, and gives us a new birth, emanating 
 from God himself. It kills Adam in us by the Holy 
 Spirit, which it communicates to us, giving us a new 
 licart, and making us new men." " It is not by hollow 
 speculation," exclaimed he again, "but by this practi- 
 cal method that we obtain a saving knowledge of 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 At this time Luther preached discourses on the Ten 
 Commandments, which have come down to us under 
 the name of I'opiilar Declnmaliom. Undoubtedly there 
 are errors in them ; for Luther himself was enlightened 
 only by degrees. "The path of the just is like the 
 shining light, which shineth more and more imto the 
 perfect day." But in these discourses what truth ! 
 what simplicity! what eloquence! How easy to con- 
 ceive the effect which the new preacher must have 
 produced upon his audience and his age ! We will 
 quote only one passage taken from the commencement. 
 
 Luther goes up into the pulpit of "Wittemberg, and 
 gives out these words, " Thou shall have no other gods 
 before me." Then, addressing himself to the people 
 who filled the church, he says, "All the sons of Adam 
 are idolaters, and guilty of violating this First Com- 
 mandment." This strange assertion no doubt surprises 
 his hearers. He must, therefore, justify it, and accord- 
 ingly proceeds, — "There are two kinds of idolatry — 
 the one without, the other within. 
 
 " The one without is, when man worships wood and 
 stone, beasts and stars. 
 
 "The one within is, when man, fearing punishment 
 or seeking his ease, does not give worship to the crea- 
 ture, but loves it internally, and confides in it. 
 
 " What religion is this ? Yovi do not bend the knee 
 before riches and honours, but you offer them your 
 heart, the noblest part of you. Ah ! you worship 
 God with the body, and with the spirit you worship 
 the creature. 
 
 " This idolatry reigns in every man imtil he is cured 
 of it freely by the faith which is in Jesus Christ. 
 
 "And how is this cure performed? 
 
 "In this way: Faith in Christ strips you of all con- 
 fidence in your own wisdom, your own righteousness, 
 your own strength. It tells you, that if Christ had not 
 died for you, and so saved you, neither yourself nor 
 any creature coidd have done it. Then you learn to 
 despise all those things which remained useless to 
 you. 
 
 "There now remains to you only Jesus — Jesus 
 alone — Jesus fully sufficient for yom- soul. No longer 
 having any hopes in the creatures, you have now 
 Christ only, in whom you hope all, and whom you love 
 above all. Now Jesus is the sole, the only, the true 
 
 God. When you have Him for God you have no 
 longer other gods." 
 
 It is thus Luther shews how, by the Gospel, the soul 
 is brought back to God, its sovereign good, agreeably 
 to the words of Jesus Ciirist, "I am the way; no man 
 conicth luito the Father but by me." The man who 
 sjjcaks thus to his age is not merely desirous to over- 
 tiirow some abuses ; he is, first of all, desirous to estab- 
 lish true religion. His work is not negative merely — 
 it is primarily positive. 
 
 Lutlicr afterwards directs his discourse against the 
 superstitions with which Christendom then abounded, 
 against signs and mysterious characters, observations 
 of certain days and certain months, familiar demons, 
 ghosts, the influence of the stars and wizards, meta- 
 morphoses, incubuses and succubuses, the patronage of 
 saints, &c., &c. He attacks these idols one after the 
 other, and vigorously casts down these false gods. 
 
 But it was at the university especially, in presence 
 of enlightened youths, eager for truth, that Luther laid 
 open all the treasm-es of the Word of God. "His 
 mode of explaining the Scriptures," says his illustrious 
 friend, Melancthon, "was such, that in the judgment 
 of all pious and enlightened men, it was as if a new 
 light had risen upon doctrine after a long dark night. 
 He pointed out the difference between tlie Law and 
 the Gospel. He refuted the error then prevalent in 
 churches and schools, that men merit the forgiveness 
 of sins by their own works, and are rendered righteous 
 before God by means of external discipline. He thus 
 brought back the hearts of men to the Sou of God. 
 Like John the Baptist, he pointed to the Lamb of God, 
 who had taken away the sins of the world. He ex- 
 plained how sins are pardoned freely for the sake of 
 the Son of God, and liow man receives the blessing 
 through faith. He made no change in ceremonies ; on 
 the contrary, the established discipline had not, in his 
 order, a more faithful observer and defender. But he 
 laboured more aud more to make all comprehend the 
 great and essential doctrines of conversion, of the for- 
 giveness of sins, of faith, and the true consolation 
 which is to be found in the cross. The pious were 
 charmed and penetrated with the sweetness of this 
 doctrine, while the learned received it gladly. One 
 would have said that Christ, the apostles, and prophets, 
 were coming forth from darkness and a loathsome 
 dungeon." 
 
 The firmness with which Luther fortified himself by 
 Scriptm-e gave great authority to his teaching, while 
 other circumstances added to his power. His life cor- 
 responded to his words — his discourses were not merely 
 from the life, they came from the heart, and were 
 exemplified in all his conduct. And when the Refor- 
 mation biu-st forth, many influential men, who were 
 much grieved at seeing the rents that were made in 
 the Clmrcli, won over by the Keformer's pm-ity of con- 
 duct, and his admirable talents, not only did not oppose 
 him, but even embraced the doctrine to which his 
 works bore testimony. The more they loved Cliristian 
 virtue the more they inclined to the Reformer. All 
 honest theologians were in his favour. Such is the 
 testimony of those who knew him, in particular of 
 Melancthon, the wisest man of his age, and Erasmus, 
 Luther's celebrated opponent. Yet prejudice has dared 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 to speak of his debauchery. Wittemberg was changed 
 by this preaching of faith, and became the focus of a 
 light which was soon to illumine Germany, and diffuse 
 itself over aU the Church. 
 
 In 1516, Luther published a treatise by an anony- 
 mous mystic theologian, (probably Ebland, priest at 
 Frankfort.) entitled •■ German Theology," wherein the 
 author shews how man may attain perfection by the 
 three methods of piunlication, iUumination, and com- 
 munion. Luther never plunged into mystical theology, 
 but he received a salutary impression from it. It 
 confirmed him in the disgust which he felt for dry 
 scholastics — in his contempt for the works and observ- 
 ances so much dwelt upon by the C'hm-ch — in his 
 conviction of man's spiritual impotence, and of the 
 necessity of grace — and in his attachment to the Bible. 
 " To the schoolmen," ^Tote he to Staupitz, '- 1 prefer the 
 Mystics and the Bible ;" thus placing the Mystics by 
 the side of the inspired writers. Perhaps the •• German 
 Theology " also assisted him in forming a sounder idea 
 of the sacraments, and especially of the mass. For the 
 author of that work insists that the Eucharist gives 
 Christ to man. but does not offer Christ to God. 
 Luther accompanied this publication with a preface, in 
 which he declared, that nest to the Bible and St. 
 Augustine, there was no book he had ever met with, 
 from which he had learned more respecting God, 
 Christ, man, and all things. Already several doctors 
 had begun to inveigh against the Professors of "SVit- 
 temberg, and to accuse them of innovation. '• One 
 would suppose," continues Luther, '• that there never 
 were men before us who taught as we do ; yea, verily, 
 there were. But the wrath of God, which om- sins 
 have deserved, did not permit us to see them, and to 
 hear them. For a long time the universities kept the 
 Word of God lying in a corner. Let them read this 
 book, and then teU me if our theology is new ; for this 
 book is not new." But if Luther took all the good 
 that was in mystical theology, he took not the bad 
 that was in it. The great error in mysticism is, to 
 overlook a free salvation. "We are going to see a 
 remarkable example of the purity of Luther's faith. 
 
 Luther, possessed of a tender and affectionate heart, 
 was desirous to see those whom he loved in possession 
 of the light which had guided him into the paths of 
 peace ; and availed himself of all the opportunities 
 which he had, as professor, preacher, and monk, as 
 well as of his extensive correspondence, to communi- 
 cate his treasure to others. One of his old brethren of 
 the convent of Erfiurt, the monk George Spenlein, was 
 then in the convent of Memmingen. After having 
 spent some time at Wittemberg, Spenlein had asked 
 the doctor to sell different articles which he had left, — 
 viz., a tunic of Brussels cloth, a work of a doctor of 
 Eisenach, and a monk's frock. Luther carefully exe- 
 cuted this commission. '• I have received," said he to 
 Spenlein, in a letter, (7th April, 1516,) "a florin for 
 the tunic, half a florin for the book, and a florin for 
 the frock, and have remitted the whole to the father- 
 vicar," to whom Spenlein owed three florins. But 
 Luther passes quickly from this account of monastic 
 spoils to a more important subject. 
 
 " I should like much," says he to mar George, " to 
 know how it is with your soul. Is it not weary of its 
 
 own righteousness ? — does it not breathe at length and 
 confide in the righteousness of Christ? In our day 
 pride seduces many, especially those who do their 
 utmost to become righteous. Xot comprehending the 
 righteousness which is freely given us of God in Christ 
 Jesus, they would stand before him by their merits. 
 But that cannot be. "OTien you lived with us you 
 were in this error, as I also was. I am stiU constantly 
 fighting with it ; and have not yet completely triumphed. 
 
 " O my dear brother, learn to know" Christ and 
 Christ crucified. Learn to sing unto Him a new song; 
 to despair of thyself, and say, ' Thou, O I^ord Jesus ! 
 thou art my righteousness, and I am thy sin ! Thou 
 hast taken what is mine, and given me what is thine. 
 What thou wert not thou hast become, in order that 
 what I was not I might become.' Take care, my 
 dear George, not to pretend to such a purity as wiU 
 make you unwilling to acknowledge yourself a siimer ; 
 for Christ dwells in sinners only. He came down from 
 heaven, where he dwelt among the righteous, that He 
 might dwell also among sinners. Meditate carefully 
 on this love of Christ, and thou wilt derive ineffable 
 blessing from it. If our labours and our afliictions 
 could give us peace of conscience, why should Christ 
 have died ? Thou wilt find peace only in Him, by 
 despairing of thyself and of thy works, and learning 
 with what love He opens His arms to thee, takes upon 
 Him all thy sins, and gives thee aU His righteousness." 
 
 Thus the powerful doctrine which had alreadv saved 
 the world in the days of the Apostles, and which was 
 to save it a second time in the days of the Eeformers, 
 was expounded by Luther with force and clearness. 
 Stretching over numerous ages of ignorance and super- 
 stition, he here shook hands vrith St. Paul. 
 
 Spenlein was not the only person whom he sought 
 to instruct in this fundamental doctrine. He felt un- 
 easy at the little truth which he discovered, in this 
 respect, in the ivritings of Erasmus. It was of import- 
 ance to enlighten a man whose authority was so great, 
 and whose genius was so admirable. But how was he 
 to do it ? His friend at court, the elector's chaplain, 
 was respected by Erasmus ; and it is to him Luther 
 addresses himself. ■ • My dear Spalatin. the thing which 
 displeases me in Erasmus, that man of vast erudition, 
 is, that by the righteousness of works or of the law, of 
 which the apostle speaks, he imderstands the fulfilment 
 of the ceremonial law. The justification of the law 
 consists not in ceremonies only, but in all the works 
 of the Decalogue. "\Mien these works are performed 
 ■w-ithout faith in Christ, they may, it is true, make 
 Fabrieiuses, Keguluses, and other men of strict in- 
 tegrity in the eyes of the world; but then they as 
 little deserve to be called righteousness, as the fruit of 
 a medlar to be caDed a fig. For we do not become I 
 righteous, as Aristotle pretends, by doing works of 
 righteousness ; but when we have become righteous we 
 do such works. The man must first be changed, and 
 then the works. Abel was first pleasing to God, and 
 then his sacrifice." Luther continues : " I pray yon, 
 fulfil the duty of a friend and of a Christian, by mak- 
 ing Erasmus acquainted with those things." This 
 letter is dated, "In haste, from the corner of our con- 
 vent, 19th Oct., 1516." It gives a true view of the 
 footing on which Luther stood with Erasmus, and 
 
FAITH AND WORKS. 
 
 C3 
 
 shews the sincere interest which he felt in whatever 
 he thought truly advantageous to this distinguished 
 writer. No doubt, at a later period, the opposition of 
 Erasmus to the truth forced Luther to combat him 
 openly; but it was only after he had sought to enlighten 
 his opponent. 
 
 At length those views on the nature of goodness 
 were propoumli'd which were at once clear and pro- 
 found ; and the great truth wa.s distinctly proclaimed, 
 that the real goodness of a work consists not in its 
 external form, but in the spirit in which it is done. 
 Thus giving a mortal blow to all the superstitious 
 observances which had for ages choked the Church, 
 and prevented Christian virtues from growing and 
 flourishing in it. 
 
 "I read Erasmus," again writes Luther, "but he is 
 every day losing his credit vnth me. I like to see him, 
 with so much skill and firmness, rebuking priests and 
 monks for their loathsome ignorance ; but I fear he 
 will not do great service to the doctrine of Jesus Christ. 
 What is of man has more hold ou his heart than what 
 is of God, We live in dangerous times. A man is 
 not a good and judicious Christian because he under- 
 stands Greek and Hebrew. Jerome, who knew five 
 languages, is inferior to Augustine, who only knew 
 one, though Erasmus thinks differently. I am very 
 careful to conceal my sentiments concerning Erasmus, 
 lest I should give an advantage to his opponents. It 
 may be the Lord will give him understanding in His 
 own time." 
 
 The impotence of man, and the omnipotence of God, 
 were the two truths which Lutiier wished to re-estab- 
 lish. It is a sad religion and a sad philosophy which 
 throws man back upon his natural powers. Ages 
 have made trial of these boasted powers ; and while 
 man has of himself succeeded wonderfully in things 
 which concern his earthly existence, he has never been 
 able to dissipate the darkness which hides the true 
 knowledge of God from his mind, nor to change a 
 single inclination of his heart. The highest degree of 
 wisdom attained by ambitious intellects, or minds in- 
 flamed -n-ith ardent longings after perfection, has only 
 plunged them into despair. The doctrine, therefore, 
 which unveils to us our impotence, in order to acquaint 
 ns with a Divine power, which shall enable us to do 
 all things, is a generous, consoling, and perfectly true 
 doctrine ; and the reformation which exhibits the glory 
 of heaven on the earth, and pleads the rights of Al- 
 mighty God with men, is a great reformation. 
 
 But nobody was better aware than Luther of the 
 intimate and indissoluble tie which unites the gratui- 
 tous salvation of God with the free works of man. 
 Nobody shewed better than he that it is only by 
 receiving all from Christ, that man can give much to 
 his brethren. Ho always presented the two acts — that 
 of God and that of man — in the same picture. Thus, 
 after having explained to friar Spenlein >vherein saving 
 righteousness consists, he adds, '• If you believe these 
 things firmly, as you ought to do, (for cursed is he 
 who believeth not,) receive thy still ignorant and eiTing 
 brethren as Jesus Christ h.as received thee. Bear with 
 them patiently, make their sins thy own ; and if thou 
 hast any thing good, communicate it unto them. Re- 
 ceive one another, saith the apostle, as Christ hath 
 
 received us to the glory of God. It is a sad righteous- 
 ness which will not bear with others, because it finds 
 them wicked, and which thinks only of seeking the 
 solitude of the desert, instead of doing them good by 
 patience, prayer, and example. If thou art tiie lily 
 and tlie rose of Clu-ist, know that thy dwelling is 
 among the tliorns. Only take cai-e that thou do not, 
 by thy impatience, thy rash judgments, and thy hidden 
 pride, become thyself a thorn. Christ reigns in the 
 midst of His enemies. Had He been pleased to live 
 only among the good, and to die only for those wlio 
 loved Him ; for whom, I ask, would He have died, and 
 among wlioni would He have lived?" 
 
 It is touching to see how Lutiier himself carried 
 these precepts of charity into practice. An Augustine, 
 of Erfurt, named George Leiffer, was subjected to 
 severe trials. Luther learned it, and eight days after 
 he had ivTitteu the letter to Spenlein, went up to him 
 kindly, and said, — " I learn that you are agitated by 
 many tempests, and that your spirit is tossed up and 
 down upon the billows. . . . The cross of Christ 
 is portioned out over all the earth, and each one re- 
 ceives his part. Do not you, then, reject that which 
 is fallen to you. Rather receive it as a holy relic, not 
 in a vessel of gold and of silver, but, what is far better, 
 in a heart of gold — a heart full of meekness. If the 
 wood of the cross has been so sanctified by the blood 
 and flesh of Christ, that we consider it to be the most 
 venerable relic, how much more ought we to regard 
 the injuries, persecutions, inflictions, and hatred of men 
 as holy relics, since they have not only been touched 
 by the flesh of Christ, but embraced, kissed, and 
 blessed by His boundless love ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 First Tlieses— The Old Man and Grace— Visit to the Convents— Dresden 
 —Erfurt— Tornator— Peace and tlie Cross— Results of the Journej — 
 Labours— The Plague. 
 
 The instructions of Luther bore fruit. Several of his 
 disciples already felt themselves lu-ged publicly to pro- 
 fess the truths which the lessons of their master had 
 revealed to them. Among his hearers was a learned 
 youth, named Bernard of Feldkirchen, professor of the 
 physics of Aristotle in the university; and who, five 
 years afterwards, was the first of the evangelical eccle- 
 siastics who entered into the bond of matrimony. 
 
 Luther, while he was presiding, desired Feldkirchen 
 to maintain theses in which his principles were ex- 
 pounded. The doctrines professed by Luther thus 
 acquired new publicity. The disputation took place 
 in 1516, and was Luther's first attack on the reign of 
 the sophists and the Papacy. However feeble it was, 
 it gave him considerable uneasiness. "I allow these 
 propositions to be printed," said he, many years after, 
 on publishing them in his works, " principally in order 
 that the greatness of my cause, and the success with 
 which God has crowned it, may not puff me up. For 
 they fully manifest my shame, — that is to say, the in- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 finiiity and igiiorauce, the fear and trembling, with 
 which I commenced this struggle. I was alone, and 
 had imprudently plunged into this affair. Not being 
 able to draw back, I conceded several important points 
 to the pope, and even adored him." 
 
 The following are some of these propositions: — 
 " The old man is vanity of vanities — he is wholly 
 vanity, and renders all other creatures vain, how good 
 soever they be. 
 
 "The old man is called the flesh, not only because he 
 is led by sensual lusts, but also because, even though 
 he were chaste, prudent, and just, he is not bora anew 
 of God by the Spirit. 
 
 "A man who is without the grace of God cannot 
 observe the commands of God, nor prepare himself, in 
 whole or in part, to receive grace, but necessarily 
 remains under sin. 
 
 "The will of man without grace is not free, but 
 enslaved, and that voluntarily. 
 
 " Jesus Christ, our strength and our righteousness, 
 who trieth the hearts and reins, is alouo the Searcher 
 and Judge of our merits. 
 
 " Since everything is possible through Christ to him 
 who believeth, it is superstitious to seek other aid, 
 whether in the will of man or in the saints." 
 
 This disputation made a great noise, and has been 
 considered as the commencement of the Reformation. 
 
 The moment approached when this Eeformation was 
 to burst forth. God was hastening to prepare the in- 
 strument which he meant to employ. The elector 
 having built a new church at Wittemberg, to which 
 he gave the name of " All-Saints," sent Staupitz into 
 the Netherlands to collect the relics with which he was 
 desirous to enrich it. The vicar-general ordered Luther 
 to take his place during his absence, and, in parti- 
 cular, to pay a visit to forty monasteries in Misuia and 
 Thuringia. 
 
 Luther repaired first to Grimma, and thence to 
 Dresden, everywhere labouring to establish the truths 
 which he had ascertained, and to enlighten the mem- 
 bers of his own order. "Don't attach yourself to 
 Aristotle, or to other teachers of a deceitful philo- 
 sophy," said he to the monks ; " but diligently read the 
 Word of God. Seek not your salvation in your own 
 strengtli, aud your own good v/orks, but in the merits 
 of Christ, and in Divine grace." 
 
 An Augustine monk of Dresden had run (iff from 
 
 k -A.. 
 
 his convent, and was living at Mayence, where the 
 prior of the Augustines had received him. Luther 
 wrote to the prior to demand restitution of the lost 
 sheep, and added these words, which are full of truth 
 and charity: "I know that offences must come. It is 
 no wonder that man falls ; but it is a wonder he rises 
 again, and stands erect. Peter fell, in order that he 
 might know that he was a man ; and we still see the 
 cedar of Lebanon fall. Angels even (a thing which 
 surpasses our comprehension) fell in heaven, and Adam 
 fell in paradise. Why, then, be astonished when a 
 reed is shaken by the wind, and the smoking flax 
 is quenched?" From Dresden Luther proceeded to 
 Erfurt, to do the duties of vicar-general in the very 
 convent where, eleven years before, he had wound up 
 the clock, opened the door, and swept the church. He 
 appointed his friend, bachelor John Lange, a learned 
 aud pious, but austere man, prior of the convent, ex- 
 horting him to affability and patience. Shortly after 
 ho wi-ote him : " Shew a spirit of meekness towards 
 the prior of Nurembei'g. This is fitting, inasmuch as 
 the prior has put on a sour and bitter spirit. Bitter is 
 not expelled by bitter, — that is to say, devil by devil ; 
 but sweet expels bitter, — that is to say, the finger of 
 God casts out demons." 
 
 It must, perhaps, be i-egretted, that on different occa- 
 sions Luther did not remember this excellent advice. 
 
 At Neustadt on Orla there was nothing but division. 
 Quarrelling and distm-bancc reigned in the convent. 
 All the monks were at war with the prior, and assailed 
 Luther with their complaints. The prior, Michael 
 Dressel, or Tornator, as Luther calls him, translating 
 his name into Latin, on his part, explained all his 
 grievances to the doctor. "Peace! peace! "said he. 
 " You seek peace," replied Luther, " but you seek the 
 peace of the world, and not that of Christ. Know you 
 not that our God has placed his peace in the midst of 
 war ? He whom nobody troubles has no jjeace. But 
 he who, troubled by all men, and by all the things of 
 life, bears all calmly and joyfully, possesses true peace. 
 Y'ou say, with Israel, Peace, peace ; aud there is no 
 peace. Say rather with Christ, The cross, the cross ; 
 and there will be no cross. For the cross ceases to be 
 a cross as soon as we can sincerely say with joy, 
 blessed cross, there is no wood like thine ! " After his 
 return to Wittemberg, Luther, wishing to put au eud 
 to these divisions, allowed the monks to elect another 
 prior. 
 
 Luther returned to Wittemberg after an absence of 
 six weeks. He was grieved at all that he had seen, 
 but the journey gave him a better acquaintance with 
 the Church and the world ; gave him more confidence 
 ill his intercourse with men, and fm'uished him with 
 Hiimerniis opportunities of founding schools, and urging 
 'lis fuiidniu.iUal truth, th.at "the Holy Scripture alone 
 'iiws us 111!.' way to heaven," and to exhort the 
 l.rclUrcu to live together holily, chastely, aud peace- 
 hiWj. Doubtless, much seed was sown in the different 
 Augustine convents during this journey of the Reformer. 
 The monastic orders, which had long been the stay of 
 Rome, perhaps did more for the Reformation than 
 against it. This is true especially of the order of 
 Augustines. Almost all pious men of a free and exalted 
 spirit, who were ia cloisters, turned to the Gospel; and 
 
LUTHER'S LABOURS-THK PLAGUE. 
 
 C5 
 
 a new and noble blood soon circulated in their orders, 
 which were, in a manner, the arteries of German Catho- 
 licity. The world knew nothing; of the new ideas of 
 the Augustine of "Wittembergr, after they had become 
 the great subject of couvei-sation in chapters and 
 monasteries. In this way more than one cloister was 
 a seminary of reformers. At the moment when the 
 great blow was struck, pious riid brave men came forth 
 from their obscurity, and abandoned the retreat of the 
 monastic life, for the active career of ministers of the 
 Word of God. Even during the inspection of 151G, 
 Luther, by his words, awoke many slumbering spirits ; 
 and hence this year has been called " the morning star 
 of the Gospel day." 
 
 Luther resumed his ordinary avocations. At this 
 
 period he was oppressed with work : it was not enough 
 
 that he was professor, preacher, and confessor; he had, 
 
 moreover, a variety of temporal business connected 
 
 with his order and his convent. " I almost constantly 
 
 require two clerks," wrote he, " for I do little else the 
 
 I whole day than write letters. I am preacher to the 
 
 ! convcut, chaplain at table, pastor and parish minister, 
 
 \ director of studies, vice-prior, (which means prior 
 
 eleven times over,) inspector of the ponds of Litzkan, 
 
 advocate of the inns of Herzberg at Torgau, reader of 
 
 St. Paul, commentator on the Psalms 
 
 I have seldom time to say my Hours and chant, — to 
 say nothing of my combat with flesh and blood, the 
 devil and the world. ..... See how lazy a 
 
 man I am." 
 
 About this time the plague broke out in AVittemberg, 
 and a great part of the students and teachers left the 
 town. Luther remained. " I don't well know," wrote 
 he to his friend at Erfurt, " if the plague will allow me 
 I to finish the Epistle to the Galatians. Prompt and 
 brisk, it makes gi-eat ravages, especially among the 
 young. You advise mo to flee. Whither shall I flee ? 
 I hope the world will not go to wreck though friar 
 Martin fall. If the plague makes progress, I will dis- 
 perse the friars in all directions ; but for myself, I am 
 stationed here, and obedience permits me not to flee, 
 till He who has called me recall me. Not that I do 
 not fear death, (for I am not the Apostle Paul, I am 
 only his commentator ;) but I hope the Lord will de- 
 liver me fiom fear." Such was the firmness of the 
 d.Ktor of Wittemberg. Will he, whom the plague 
 ci luld not force to recoil one step, recoil before Kome 1 
 Will he yield to the jjower of the scaffold ? 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BelsUons of Luther witli the Elector— Luther and the Elector— Counf els 
 to the Chaplain— Duke George— His Character— Luther before tlio 
 Court— Dinner at Court— Emser'a Supper. 
 
 The same courage which Luther displayed in presence 
 of most formidable evils, he displayed in presence of 
 the great. The elector was much pleased with the 
 yicar-geueral, who had made a good collection of relics 
 in the Netherlands. Luther gives an account of it to 
 
 Spalatin. There is something curious in this affair of 
 relics occurring at the moment when the Reformation 
 is about to commence. Assuredly the Reformers had 
 little idea of the point iit which they were to arrive. 
 A bishopric seemed to the elector only a fit recompense 
 to the vicar-general. Luther, to whom Spalatin wrote 
 on the subject, strongly disajjproved of it. "Many 
 things," replied he, "p'c-isc yo-ir pri-icc, which, how- 
 ever, displease (;.( d I denj not his ibility in the 
 affairs of the woild but in i\liit coiueins God and 
 the salvation of jftMj^ _ j.^,- 
 
 souls,Iaccounthim ' "~ " ' 
 
 seven-fold blind i 
 well as his coun 
 sellor Pfeffingi i 
 I say not this be 
 hind their back^ 
 like a slanderei , 
 don't hide it frcm 
 them, for I am 
 ready to say it 
 personally to both 
 Why," continue 
 he, " would y* u 
 environ this man 
 with all the whii 1 
 winds and tern 
 pests of episcop il 
 cares ?" 
 
 The elector d 
 not take Lutlui 
 frankness in ba 1 Ht AMSnl NEAR DREbDE) 
 
 part. "The prince, i\-, Sp lUtiii in i IcttLi t ) hini, 
 " of ten speaks of J ou i 1 1 ^Mtli much ic-pect ' Ficdc- 
 rick sent the monk tuff to imkc i ci sock of ^e^y fine 
 cloth. " It would be too fine," said Luther, " were it 
 not the gift of a prince. 1 am unworthy that any man 
 should think of me, far less that a prince should, and 
 so great a prince. The most useful persons to me are 
 those who think the most ill of me. Return thanks 
 to our prince for his favour ; but know that I desire 
 not to be praised by you, or by any man — all praise of 
 man being vain, and the praise which comcth from 
 God alone being true." 
 
 The excellent chaplain did not wish to confine him- 
 self to his court functions. He desired to render him- 
 self useful to the people ; but, like many of all times, 
 he wished to do it without giving offence. He not only 
 wished not to irritate any one, but, ou the contrary, to 
 conciliate general favour. "Point out," says he to 
 Luther, " some work which I may translate into our 
 mother tongue, — a work which will please generally, 
 and at the same time be useful." " Agreeable and use- 
 ful ! " replies Luther ; " the request is beyond me. The 
 better things are, the less they please. What is more 
 salutary than Jesus Christ ? And yet to most He is a 
 savoiu: of death. You will tell me that you wish to be 
 useful to those who love what is good. In that case, 
 just let the voice of Clu-ist be heard. You mil be 
 agreeable and useful, depend upon it ; but it will be to 
 a very small number ; for the sheep are rare in this j 
 region of wolves." | 
 
 Luther, however, recommended to his friend the 
 sermous of Tattler. "I have never secu," said he, 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 " either iu Latin or our owu tongue, a soiuider theology, 
 or one more agreeable to the Gospel. Taste and see 
 how sweet the Lord is ; but be it after you have tasted 
 and seen how bitter every thing is that is ours." 
 
 It was iu the course of the year 1517 that Luther 
 entered into communication with Duke George of 
 Saxony. The House of Saxony had then two heads. 
 The princes, E?nest and Albert, — carried off in their 
 youth from the castle of Altenbourg by Kunz of Kau- 
 fungen, — had, by the treaty of Leipsic, become the 
 founders of the two houses which stiU bear their name. 
 The Elector Frederick, the son of Ernest, at the period 
 of which we write, was the chief of the Ernestine 
 branch ; while his brother, Duke George, was chief of 
 the Albertine branch. Dresden and Leipsic were in 
 the states of the duke, who had his residence iu the 
 former of these cities. His mother, Sidonia, was 
 daughter of George Podiebrad, King of Bohemia. 
 The long struggle which Bohemia had maintained with 
 Rome, from the days of John Huss, had had some in- 
 fluence on the prince of Saxony, and he had often 
 shewn a desire for a reformation. " He has sucked it 
 from his mother," it was said: "he is by birth an 
 enemy of the clergy." He in various ways annoyed 
 the bishops, abbots, canons, and monks ; insomuch that 
 his cousin, the elector, was more than once obliged to 
 interpose in theii" behalf. It might have been sup- 
 posed that Duke George would be a warm partisan of 
 the Reformation. Devout Frederick, on the contrary, 
 who had once put on the spurs of Gregory in the Holy 
 Sepulchre, girt himself with the great ponderous sword 
 of the conqueror of Jerusalem, and taking an oath to 
 combat for the Clnu-ch, like a bold knight, might have 
 been expected to prove one of the most eager cham- 
 pions of Rome. But when the Gospel is iu question, 
 the anticipations of human wisdom are often at fault. 
 The result was the opposite of what might have been 
 supposed. The duke would have taken pleasure in 
 humbling the Church, and those connected -ivith it, 
 and lowering the bishops, whose princely train far sur- 
 passed his own ; but to receive into his heart the 
 evangelical doctrine which must have humbled it, to 
 acknowledge himself a guilty sinner, incapable of be- 
 ing saved, unless through grace, was quite a different 
 matter. He would wUlingly have reformed others, 
 but he had no desu-e to reform himself. He would, 
 perhaps, have assisted iu obliging the bishop of Mentz 
 to be contented with a single bishopric, and have no 
 more than fourteen horses iu his stable, as he himself 
 repeatedly expressed it ; but when he saw another than 
 himself appear as reformer, — when he saw a mere 
 monk undertake the work, — and the Reformation gain- 
 ing numerous adherents among the humbler classes, — 
 the haughty grandson of the Hussite king became the 
 most violent adversary of the reform of which he had 
 at first promised to be a pai'tisan. 
 
 In Jidy, 1517, Duke George asked Staupitz to send 
 him a learned and eloquent preacher. Staupitz sent 
 Luther, representing him as a man of great learning 
 and irreproachable character. The prince invited him 
 to preach at Dresden, in the chapel of the castle, on the 
 feast of St. James the Elder. 
 
 On the day fixed, the duke and his court proceeded , 
 to the chapel to hear th6 preacher of Wittemberg. | 
 
 Luther gladly seized the occasion to bear testimony 
 to the truth before such an assembly. He took for his 
 text the Gospel of the day: "Then came to him the 
 mother of Zebedee's children with her sons," (Matt. 
 XX. 20-25.) He preached on the wishes and rash 
 prayers of men ; then dwelt strongly on the assurance 
 of salvation, making it rest on this foundation, — viz.. 
 That those who hear the "Word of God with faith are 
 the true disciples, whom Jesus Christ has elected uuto 
 eternal life. He next treated of eternal election, shew- 
 ing that this doctrine, when exhibited in connection 
 with the work of Chi-ist, is well fitted to calm tlio 
 terrors of conscience ; and so, instead of disposing men 
 to flee from God, allm-es them to seek their refuge in 
 Him. In conclusion, he brought forward a parable of 
 three virgins, and drew a very instructive improve- 
 ment from it. 
 
 The word of truth made a deep impression on the 
 hearers. Two, iu particular, appeared to give earnest 
 attention to the discoiu-se of the monk of Wittemberg. 
 The one was a respectable looking lady who sat iu one 
 of the court pews, and whose featiu-es bespoke deep 
 emotion. It was Madame de la Sale, grand mistress to 
 the duchess. The other was Jerome Emser, a licentiate 
 iu canon law, and secretary and counsellor to the duke. 
 Emser was a man of talent and extensive information. 
 A courtier and able politician, his wish would have 
 been to please both parties at once, — to pass at Rome 
 for a defender of the papacy, and at the same time 
 figure in Germany among the learned men of the age. 
 But under this flexible spirit a violent temper lay con- 
 cealed. Thus Luther and Emser, who were afterwards 
 repeatedly to break a lance, met, for the first time, in 
 the chapel of the castle of Dresden. 
 
 The dinner-bell haviug rung for the inmates of the 
 castle, the ducal family, and the persons attached to 
 the com-t, were soon seated at the table. The conver- 
 sation naturally turned on the preacher of the morning. 
 "How did you like the sermon?" said the duke to 
 Madame de la Sale. " Coidd I again hear such another 
 discourse," replied she, " I could die in peace." " And 
 I," replied George, angrily, " woidd give a good sum 
 not to have heard it. Such discourses are good only 
 to make people sin with confidence." 
 
 The master having thus stated his opinion, the cour- 
 tiers proceeded, without restraint, to express their dis- 
 satisfaction. Every one was ready with his remark. 
 Some alleged that, in the parable of the three virgins, 
 Luther had had three ladies of the court iu his eye. 
 On this the "talk was endless. They rallied the three 
 ladies whom they affirmed that Luther had intended. 
 He is an ignorant blockhead, said one. He is a proud 
 monk, said another. Each had his comment on the 
 sermon, making the preacher say whatever he pleased. 
 The truth had fallen into the midst of a court ill pre- 
 pared to receive it. Every one tore it at pleasure. 
 But while the Word of God was to many an occasion 
 of stumbling, to the grand mistress it was a stone 
 " elect and precious." Falling sick about a month after, 
 she confidently embraced the grace of the Saviom", and 
 died rejoicing. 
 
 In regard to the dulte, perhaps the testimony which 
 he had heard given to the truth was not in vain. How- 
 ever much he opposed the Reformation during his life, 
 
EMSER'S SUPPER— THESES. 
 
 C7 
 
 it is known that in his last moments he declared, that 
 his only hope was iu the merits of Jesus Christ. 
 
 It naturally fell to Emser to do the honours to 
 Luther in his master's name. He accordingly invited 
 him to sujjpor. Luther refused ; but Emser insisted, 
 and constrained him to come. Luther only expected 
 to meet a few friends ; but he soon perceived that a 
 trap had been laid for him. A master of arts from 
 Leipsic, and several Dominicans, were with the prince's 
 secretary. The master of arts, who had an overween- 
 ing opinion of himself, and a deep haired of Luther, 
 accosted him with a bland and friendly air ; but he 
 soon broke out, and screamed at full pitch. The battle 
 began. "The discussion," says Luther, "turned on 
 the absurdities of Ai-istotle and St. Thomas." At last, 
 Luther challenged the master of arts, with all the 
 erudition of the Thomists, to define what it was to ful- 
 fil the commandments of God. The master of arts, 
 though embarrassed, put on a good countenance. '• Pay 
 me my fees," says he, stretching out his hand, " da 
 pastiwi." One would have said he was going to give 
 a lesson in form, mistaking the guests for his pupils. 
 "At tills foolish reply," adds the Eeformer, -Mve all 
 burst a-laughiug, aud the party broke up." 
 
 Diu-ing the conversation a Dominican had been 
 listening at the door, and would fain have come in to 
 spit in Luther's face. He refrained, however, though 
 he afterwards made a boast of it. Emser, who had 
 been delighted at seeing his guests battling, while he 
 seemed to hold a due medium, hastened to apologize to 
 Luther for the manner in which the party had gone 
 off. Luther returned to Wittemberg. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Bctora to Wittemberg — Tlieses — Nature of Man— Rationalism — Dcmanil 
 at Erfui-t—Eck— Urban Regius— Lutlier's Modesty. 
 
 LrrnEK zealously resumed his labours. He was pre- 
 jtaring six or seven young theologians, who were forth- 
 with to undergo an examination in order to obtain a 
 license to teach. And what most delighted him was, 
 that their promotion was to be to Aristotle's disgrace. 
 "I should like," said he, "to multiply his enemies as 
 fast as possible." With that view he at this time 
 published Theses, which deserve attention. 
 
 The leading topic which he discussed was liberty. 
 He had already glanced at it in the theses of Feld- 
 kirchen, but now went deeper into it. Ever since 
 Christianity began, there has been a struggle, more or 
 less keen, between the opposite doctrines of the freedom 
 and the slavery of man. Some schoolmen had taught, 
 like Pclagius and others, that man possessed in himself 
 the liberty or power of loving God aud doing good. 
 Luther denied this liberty, not to deprive man of it, 
 but, on the contrary, to make him obtain it. The 
 struggle, then, in this great question, is not, as is 
 usually said, between liberty aud servitude; but be- 
 tween a liberty proceeding from man, and a liberty 
 proceeding from God. Some who call themselves the 
 advocates of liberty, say to man, " You have the power 
 of doing good, and require a greater liberty." Others, 
 
 who have been called advocates of slavery, say to him, 
 on the contrary, "You have no true liberty; but God 
 offers it to you iu the Gospel." The one pai'ty speaks 
 of liberty, but a liberty which must end iu slavery; 
 while the other speaks of slavery, in order to give 
 liberty. Such was the struggle in the time of St. Paul, 
 in the time of Augustine, and in the time of Luther. 
 Those who say, "Change nothing!" are champions of 
 slavery. Those who say, " Let your fetters fall ! " are 
 champions of liberty. 
 
 It would be a mistake, however, to su]ipose that the 
 whole Reformation can be summed up in this particular 
 question. It is one of the many doctrines which the 
 Wittemberg doctor maintained — that is all. It would, 
 above all, be a strange illusion to bold, that the Refor- 
 mation was fatalism, or an opposition to liberty. It 
 was a magnificent emancipation of the human mind. 
 Bm-sting the numerous bauds with which thought had 
 been bound by the hierarchy, aud reviving the ideas of 
 liberty, right, and examination, it delivered its own 
 age, and with it ours also, and the remotest posterity. 
 Aud let it not be said that the Reformation, while it 
 freed mau from human despotism, enslaved him by 
 proclaiming the sovereignty of grace. No doubt, it 
 wished to bring back the human wiU to the Divine, to 
 subordinate the one, and completely merge it in the 
 other ; but what philosopher knows not that cntu-e con- 
 formity to the will of God alone constitutes sovereign, 
 perfect freedom ; and that man will never be truly free, 
 until supreme righteousness and truth have sole domi- 
 nion over him ? 
 
 The following are some of the Ninety-nine Proposi- 
 tions which Luther sent forth into the Church in 
 opposition to the Pelagian rationalism of scholastic 
 theology : — 
 
 "It is true that man, who is become a corrupt tree, 
 can only wiU and do what is evU. 
 
 " It is not true that the wUl, when left to itself, can 
 do good as well as evU ; for it is not free, but captive. 
 
 " It is not in the power of the wiU of man to choose 
 or reject whatever is presented to it. 
 
 " Man cannot naturally wish God to be God. His 
 wish is, that he himself were God, and that God were 
 no God. 
 
 " The excellent, infallible, and sole preparation for 
 grace, is the eternal election and predestination of God. 
 
 " It is false to say, that when man does aU he can, 
 he clears away the obstacles to grace. 
 
 "In one word, nature possesses neither a pm-e 
 reason, nor a good will. 
 
 " On the part of man there is nothing which pre- 
 cedes grace, unless it be impotence and even rebellion. 
 
 " There is no moral virtue without pride or sullen- 
 ness, — that is to say, without sin. 
 
 "From the beginning to the end we are not the 
 masters of our actions, but the slaves of them. 
 
 "We do not become righteous by doing what is 
 righteous ; but having become righteous, we do what is 
 righteous. 
 
 " He who says that a theologian who is not a logician 
 is a heretic and an adventurer, maintains an adven- 
 turous and heretical proposition. 
 
 " There is no form of reasoning (syllogism) which 
 accords with the things of God. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 " If the form of tlie syllogism could be applied to 
 divine things, we should know the article of the Holy 
 Trinity, and should not believe it. 
 
 " In one word, Aristotle is to theology as darkness 
 to light. 
 
 " Man is more hostile to the grace of God than he 
 is to the law itself. 
 
 " He who is without the grace of God sius inces- 
 santly, even though he neither kills, nor steals, nor 
 commits adultery. 
 
 " He sins, for he does not fulfil the law spiritually. 
 
 " Not to kill, and not to commit adultery, externally, 
 and in regard to action, merely, is the righteousness of 
 hypocrites. 
 
 " The law of God and the will of man are two ad- 
 versaries, who, without the grace of God, can never 
 agree. 
 
 " What the law wishes the will never wishes ; only 
 from fear it may make a shew of wishing. 
 
 '• The law is the hangman of the will, and is subject 
 only to the Child who has been born unto us. (Isaiah 
 ix. 6.) 
 
 "The law makes sin abound; for it irritates and 
 repulses the wiU. 
 
 " But the grace of God makes righteousness abound, 
 through Jesus Christ, who makes us love the law. 
 
 " Every work of the law appears good externally, 
 but internally is sin. 
 
 " The will, when it turns toward the law without 
 the grace of God, does so only for its own interest. 
 
 " Cursed are those who do the works of the law. 
 
 "Blessed ai-e all those who do the works of the 
 grace of God. 
 
 " The law, which is good, and in which we have 
 life, is the law of the love of God, shed abroad in our 
 hearts by the Holy Spirit. (Rom. v. 5.) 
 
 " Grace is not given ia order that works may be 
 done more frequently and more easily, but because 
 without grace there cannot be any work of love. 
 
 " To love God is to hate oneself, and know nothing 
 out of God." 
 
 In this way Luther attributes to God all the good 
 that man can do. The thing to be done, is not to 
 repair, or (so to speak) to patch up the will of man ; 
 an entirely new will must be given him. God alone 
 could say this ; for God alone could perform it. This 
 is one of the greatest and most important truths that 
 the will of man can acknowledge. 
 
 But Luther, while proclaiming the impotence of 
 man, did not fall into the opposite extreme. He says 
 in the eighth thesis, " It follows not that the will is 
 naturally bad, — that is to say, that its nature is of the 
 essence of evil, as the Manichees taught." Originally 
 the nature of man was essentially good ; but it turned 
 aside from goodness, — that is, God, — and is inclined to 
 evil. Still its origin remains holy and glorious, and is 
 capable, by the power of God, of regaining its original. 
 The object of Christianity is to restore it. The Gos- 
 pel, it is true, exhibits man iu a state of degradation 
 and impotence, but as placed between two glories and 
 two grandeurs, — a past glory, fi-om which he has been 
 precipitated ; and a future glory, to which he is called. 
 This is the truth, and man knows it to be the truth ; 
 and how little soever he thinks of it, he easily discovers 
 
 that all which is told him of his actual purity, power, 
 and glory, is only a lie, designed to cradle his pride and 
 rock it asleep. 
 
 Luther, in his theses, attacked not only the pretended 
 goodness of man's will, but also the pretended light of 
 his understanding in regard to divine things. In fact, 
 scholasticism had exalted reason as well as the will. 
 This theology, in the hands of some of its teachers, was, 
 at bottom, only a species of rationalism. The propo- 
 sitions which we have enumerated indicate this; for 
 they look as if directed against the rationalism df our 
 own day. In the theses, which were the signal of the 
 Reformation, Luther attacked the Church and the 
 popular superstitions, which to the Gospel had added iu- 
 dulgences, purgatoi-y, and numberless abuses. In those 
 which we have just given, he attacked the school and 
 the rationalism which had robbed the Gospel of the 
 doctrine of the sovereignty of God, His revelation, and 
 His grace. The Reformation attacked rationalism he- 
 fore it attacked superstition. It proclaimed the rights 
 of God, before lopping off the excrescences of man. 
 It was positive before it was negative. This has not 
 been sufficiently attended to ; and yet, without attend- 
 ing to it, it is impossible duly to appreciate the char- 
 acter of this religious revolution. 
 
 Be this as it may, the truths which Luther thus 
 expressed with so much energy were quite new. To 
 maintain these theses at Wittemberg had been an easy 
 matter. There his iufluence was paramount, and it 
 would have been said that he had chosen a field of 
 battle where he knew no combatant could appear. In 
 offering battle iu another university, he gave them a 
 greater publicity; and it was by publicity that the 
 Reformation was effected. He turned his eyes towards 
 Erfurt, where the theologians had shewn themselves 
 so exasperated against him. 
 
 He, accordingly, sent his theses to John Lange, prior 
 of Erfurt, and wrote him as follows : " My anxiety for 
 the decision which you will give as to these theses is 
 great, extreme, too great, perhaps, and keeps me on 
 the rack. I much suspect that your theologians will 
 consider as paradoxical and kakodoxical, what I must 
 henceforth regard as most orthodox. Tell me how it 
 is, and as soon as you possibly can. Have the good- 
 ness to make known to the Faculty of Theology, and 
 to all, that I am ready to come and publicly maintain 
 these propositions either in the university or the monas- 
 tery." It does not seem that Luther's challenge was 
 accepted. The monks of Erfurt contented themselves 
 with intimating that his theses had incurred theu* high 
 displeasure. 
 
 But he was desirous to send them to some other part 
 of Germany; and with that view bethought him of a 
 man who plays an important part iu the history of the 
 Reformation, and with whom the reader must be made 
 acquainted. 
 
 A distinguished professor, named John Meyer, was 
 then teaching iu the university of lugolstadt, in Bavaria. 
 He was a native of Eck, a village in Swabia, and was 
 commonly called Doctor Eck. He was a friend of 
 Luther, who respected his talents and acquirements. 
 Full of intellect, he had read much, and was possessed 
 of a very retentive memory. To erudition he added 
 eloquence. His voice and gesture bespoke the vivacity 
 
DOCTOR EOK— UEBAN REGIUS. 
 
 69 
 
 of his genius. In regard to talent, Eck was in the 
 south of Germany what Luther was in the nortli. 
 They were the two most distinguished theologians of 
 the period, though of very different views. Ingolstadt 
 was almost the rival of Wittemberg. The reputation 
 of these two doctors attracted crowds of eager students 
 from all quarters to the universities in wliich they 
 taught ; their personal qualities, not less than their 
 abilities, endearing them to their pupils. The character 
 of Doctor Eck has been assailed ; but an anecdote in 
 bis history will shew that at this pei-iod, at least, his 
 heart was not closed against generous impressions. 
 
 Among the students whom his fame had attracted 
 to Ingolstadt, was a young man, named Urban Regius, 
 from the banks of an Alpine lake. He had first studied 
 at the university of Fribourg, in Brisgau. On his 
 arrival at Ingolstadt, to which he had been attracted 
 by the fame of Doctor Eck, Urban engaged in his 
 course of philosophy, and gained the favour of liis 
 master. Requiring to provide for his maintenance, he 
 was under the necessity of taking charge of some yonng 
 noblemen, and had not only to superintend their studios 
 and their conduct, but also to purchase, on his own 
 account, whatever books and clothes they required. 
 The youths dressed in style, and kept a good table. 
 Regius becoming embarrassed, prayed the parents to 
 recall their sons. '• Never fear," was the answer. 
 His debts increased, his creditors became pressing, and 
 he was at his wit's end. The emperor was raising 
 an army against the Turks, and a recruiting party hav- 
 ing arrived at Ingolstadt, Urban, in despair, enlisted. 
 Clothed in military attire, he appeared in the ranks at 
 the time when the review took place, previous to their 
 departure. Doctor Eck coming up at that instant, 
 with several of his colleagues, was greatly surprised to 
 discover his student among the recruits. "Urban 
 Regius !" said he, fixing his keen eye on him. " Here," 
 replied the I'ecruit. '• What, pray, is the cause of 
 tills.'" The young man told his s'tory. "I take the 
 matter upon myself," replied Eck ; and setting his hal- 
 berd aside, bought him off from the recruiting party. 
 The parents, threatened by the doctor with the dis- 
 pleasure of the prince, sent the necessary funds to 
 defray the expenses of their children, and Ui'ban 
 Regius was saved to become, at a later period, one of 
 the pillars of the Reformation. 
 
 Doctor Eck occurred to Luther as the proper person 
 to publish his theses on Pelagianism and scholastic 
 rationaUsm in the south of the empire. He did not, 
 however, send them to the professor of Ingolstadt 
 directly; but employed a mutual friend, the excellent 
 Christopher Scheurl, secretary to the town of Nurem- 
 berg, praying him to send them to Eck at Ingolstadt, 
 which is at no great distance from Nuremberg. " I 
 send you," says he, " my paradoxical, and even kakis- 
 todoxical propositions, as many think them. Com- 
 municate them to our dear friend, the very learned 
 and talented Eck, that I may learn and know what he 
 thinks of them." These were the terms in which 
 Luther then spoke of Doctor Eck, — such was the 
 friendship then subsisting between them. It was not 
 Luther who broke it off. 
 
 Ingolstadt, however, was not the field on which the 
 battle was to be fought. The doctrines on which these 
 theses turned were, perhaps, of greater importance 
 than those which, two months after, set the Church in 
 a blaze; and yet, notwithstanding of Luther's chal- 
 lenges, they passed unnoticed. At most, they were 
 read within the circle of the school, and produced no 
 
 FRIBOURG CATHEDRAL. 
 
 sensation beyond it. The reason was, because they 
 were only university propositions, and theological doc- 
 trines ; whereas the subsequent theses related to an evil 
 which had grown up in the midst of the people, and was 
 then causing devastation in all parts of Germany. So 
 long as Luther was contented with reviving forgotten 
 doctrines, all was silence ; but when he attacked abuses 
 which were universally felt, every one turned to listen. 
 Nevertheless, all that Luther proposed in either case, 
 was to produce one of those theological discussions 
 which were then so common in universities. To this 
 circle his views were confined. He was humble, and 
 his humility amounted even to distrust and anxiety. 
 " Considering my ignorance," said he, " all I deserve 
 is to be hid in a corner, without being known by any 
 one under the sun." But a mighty hand drew him out 
 of this corner in which he wished to remain unknown 
 to the world. A circumstance, independent of Luther's 
 will, threw him into the field of battle, and the war 
 commenced. This providential circumstance we are 
 now called upon to relate. 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 THE INDULGENCES AND THESES — 1517, 1518. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Cortege— Tctzel—Tctzel's Discom-sc— Coiifeasion— Four Graces— Sale- 
 Public Penauce — A Letter of Indulgence — Exceptions — Feasting and 
 Debauchery. 
 
 At this period the people of Germany were all in 
 motion. The Chnrch had opened a vast market on 
 tlie earth. From the crowd of cnstomers, and the noise 
 and pleasantry of the sellers, one would have thought 
 it a fair, only a fair held by monks. The merchandise 
 which they were shewing off, aud selling a bargain, 
 was, as they said, the salvation of souls. 
 
 The merchants travelled the country in a fine car- 
 riage, accompanied by three mounted attendants, joiu-- 
 neying in grand style, and living at great expense. 
 One would have said it was some high mightiness with 
 his suite and officers, and not a vulgar dealer or mendi- 
 cant monk. When the cortege approached a town, a 
 messenger was despatched to the magi.strate to say, 
 " The grace of God and of St. Peter is at your gates." 
 Immediately the whole place was in motion. Clergy, 
 priest.s, nuns, the council, schoolmasters and their 
 scholars, the incorporations with their colours, men 
 and women, old and young, went out to meet the mer- 
 chant with lighted tapers in their hands, amid the 
 sound of music and the ringing of bells ; "insomuch," 
 says a historian, "that God liimself could not have 
 been received with greater honour." After the for- 
 malities were over, the whole body proceeded to the 
 church. Tlie Bull of Grace by the pontiff was carried 
 in front, on a velvet cushion or cloth of gold. Next 
 came the chief of the indulgence merchant.?, can-ying 
 a large wooden cross, painted red. The whole pro- 
 cession moved forward, amid hymns, prayers, and the 
 smoke of incense. The merchant monk and liis atten- 
 dants were received at the church by the pealing 
 organ, and thrilling music. The cross was placed iu 
 front of the altar, and over it the pope's arms were 
 suspended. All the time it remained there, the clergy 
 of the place, the penitentiaries, and sub-commissaries, 
 came each day, after vespers or before the salute, to do 
 obeisance to it with white wands in their hands. This 
 grand affair produced a lively sensation in the quiet 
 cities of Germany. 
 
 At these sales one personage, in particular, drew the 
 attention of the spectators. It was he who carried the 
 great red cross, and played the principal chai'acter. 
 He was clothed in the dress of a Dominican, and had 
 an arrogant air. His voice was stentorian, aud though 
 in his sixty-third year, he seemed still in fnll vigour. 
 This man, the son of one Diez, a Jeweller of Leipsic, 
 was called John Diezel, or Tetzel. He had studied in 
 his native town, became bachelor in 1487, and two 
 years after entered the Dominican order. Numerous 
 
 honours had accumulated on his head. Bachelor in 
 theology, prior of the Dominicans, apostolic commis- 
 sary, inquisitor, (limreticai ^Jrauiifliis inquisitor,) he had 
 discharged the office of commissary of indulgences, 
 without intermission, from 1502. The skill which he 
 had acquired as subaltern, soon raised him to the office 
 of commissary-iu-chief. He had eighty florins a-month, 
 aud all his expenses paid, together with a carriage and 
 three horses ; but his perquisites (it is easy to com- 
 prehend what they were) far exceeded his salary. In 
 1507, at Fribourg, he gained two thousand florins in two 
 days. If he discharged the functions, he had also the 
 manners of a quack. Convicted of adultery and shame- 
 ful misconduct at luspruck, his vices had almost cost 
 him his life. The Emperor Maximilian had ordered 
 him to be put into a sack and tin-own into the river ; 
 but the Elector Frederick happening to arrive, obtained 
 his pardon. The lesson which he thus received had not 
 given him more modesty; for he had two of his child- 
 ren along with him. 
 
 Miltitz, the pope's legate, mentions the fact iu one of 
 his letters. It would have been difficult to find, in all 
 the cloisters of Germany, a man better fitted for the 
 traffic with which he was entrusted. To the theology 
 of a monk, to the zeal and temper of an inquisitor, he 
 united the greatest effrontery; but the thing which, 
 above all, made the task easy to him, was his skiU iu 
 inventing extraordinary stories to captivate the minds 
 of the people. To him all means were good that filled 
 his coffers. Raising his voice, and giving free vent to 
 his vulgar eloquence, he offered his indulgences to 
 every comer, and knew better than any dealer at a fair 
 how to set off his merchandise. 
 
 After the cross was erected, and the arms of the 
 pope suspended over it, Tetzel mounted the pulpit, and 
 with a tone of assurance began to extol the value of 
 the indulgences in presence of the crowd who had been 
 attracted to the church by the ceremony. The people 
 listened and stared on hearing the wondrous virtues of 
 which he told them. A Jesuit historian, speaking of 
 the Dominicans, with whom Tetzel was associated, says, 
 " Some of these preachers failed not, as usual, to out- 
 rage the subject which they treated ; and so to exag- 
 gerate the value of the indulgences, as to make people 
 suppose they were certain of their own salvation, and 
 of the deliverance of souls from purgatory as soon as 
 the money was paid." If such were the scholars, we 
 may judge what the master was. Let us listen to one 
 of his harangues after setting up the cross. 
 
 " Indulgences are the most precious and most sub- 
 lime gift of God. 
 
 "This cross (pointing to the red cross) has the very 
 same efficacy as the actual cross of Jesus Christ. 
 
 " Come, and I will give you letters under seal, by 
 
TETZEL'S SERMON ON INDUIjGENCES. 
 
 ^7h^ch even the sins which you may have a desire to 
 commit in future wU all be forgiven. 
 
 " I would not exchange my privileges for that of St. 
 Peter in heaven ; for I liave saved more souls by my 
 indulgences than the apostle by his sermons. 
 
 "There is no sin too great for an indulgence to 
 remit ; and even should any one (the thing, no doubt, 
 is impossible) have done violence to the Holy Virgin 
 Mary, mother of God, let him pay, — let him only pay 
 well, — and it will be forgiven him. 
 
 "Think, then, tliat for each mortal sin you must, 
 after confession and contrition, do penance for seven 
 years, either in this life or in purgatory. Now, how 
 many mortal sins are committed in one day — in one 
 week ? How many in a month — a year — a whole life ? 
 Ah ! these sins are almost innumerable, and innumer- 
 able sufferings must be endured for them in purgatory. 
 And now, by means of these letters of indulgence, you 
 can at once, for life, — in all cases except four, which 
 are reserved to the Apostolic See, — and afterwards at 
 the hour of death, obtain a full remission of all your 
 pains, and all your sins." 
 
 Tetzel even made financial calculations on the subject. 
 
 " Do you not know," said he, " that when a man 
 proposes to go to Rome, or to any other country where 
 travellers are exposed to danger, he sends his money 
 to the bank ; and for every five hundred florins that he 
 means to have, gives five, or six at most, in order that, 
 by means of letters from the bank, he may receive the 
 money safely at Rome or elsewhere. . . . And 
 you, for the fourth of a florin, will not receive these 
 letters of indulgence, by means of which you might 
 introduce into the land of paradise, not worthless 
 money, but a divine and immortal soul, without expos- 
 ing it to the smallest risk." 
 
 Tetzel next passed to another subject. 
 
 "But more than this," said he; "indulgences not 
 only save the li\-ing ; they also save the dead. 
 
 " For this repentance is not even necessarj'. 
 
 "Priest ! — noble ! — merchant ! — wife ! — young girls ! 
 — ^young men ! — hear your departed parents, and your 
 other friends, crying to you from the bottom of the 
 abyss, ' AVe are enduring horrible torments ! A little 
 alms would deliver us ; you can give it, and yet will 
 not!'" 
 
 These words, uttered by the formidable voice of the 
 charlatan monk, made his hearers shudder. 
 
 "At the very instant," continued Tetzel, "when the 
 piece of money chinks on the bottom of the strong box, 
 the soul comes out of purgatory, and, set free, flies up- 
 ward into heaven." 
 
 " imbecile and brutish people, who perceive not 
 the grace which is so richly offered to yo\i ! . . . 
 Now heaven is ever}Tvhere open ! . . . Do you 
 refuse at this hour to enter ? When, then, will you 
 enter ? Now you can ransom so many souls ! Hard- 
 hearted and thoughtless man, with twelve pence you 
 can deliver your father out of purgatory, and you are 
 ungrateful enough not to save him f I will be justified 
 on the day of judgment ; but you, you will be punished 
 so much the more severely, for having neglected so 
 great salvation. I declare to you, that though you had 
 only a single coat, you would be bound to take it off 
 and sell it, in order to obtain this grace 
 
 The Lord our God is no longer God. He has com- 
 mitted all power to the pope." 
 
 Then, trying to avail himself of other weapons still, 
 he added, — " Know you why our most holy Lord is 
 distributing so great a grace ? His object is to raise 
 up the ruined church of St. Peter and St. Paul, so that 
 it may not have its equal in the universe. That church 
 contains the bodies of the holy apostles Peter and Paul, 
 and of a multitude of martyrs. Owing to the actu.al 
 state of the building, these holy bodies are now, alas ! 
 beaten, flooded, soiled, dishonoured, and reduced to 
 
 rottenness, by the rain and the hail Ah ! 
 
 are these sacred ashes to remain longer in mud and 
 disgrace V 
 
 This picture failed not to make an impression on 
 many who felt a burning desire to go to the help of 
 poor Leo X., who had not wherewith to shelter the 
 bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul from the raiu. 
 
 Then the orator opened on the arguers and traitors 
 who opposed his work : " I declare them excommuni- 
 cated," exclaimed he. 
 
 Afterwards, addressing docile souls, and making a 
 profane use of Scripture, — " Happy are the eyes which 
 see what you sec ; for I tell you, that many prophets 
 and many kings have desired to see the things which 
 you see, and have not seen them; and to hear the 
 things which you hear, and have not heard them." 
 And at last, shewing the strong box in which the 
 money was received, he usually concluded his pathetic 
 discourse with this triple appeal to the people : " Bring ! 
 — bring ! — bring ! " " These words," says Luther, " he 
 uttered with such horrible bellowing, that one might 
 have thought it was a mad bull making a rush at 
 people, and striking them with his horns." When his 
 discourse was ended, he came down from the pulpit, 
 ran towards the chest, and, in presence of the people, 
 chucked a piece of money into it, taking care to make 
 it give a very loud tinkle. 
 
 Such were the discom-ses which astonished Germany 
 heard in the days when God was preparing Luther. 
 
 At the termination of the discourse, the indidgence 
 was understood " to have established its throne in the 
 place in due form." Confessionals were set up adorned 
 with the pope's arms. The sub-commissaries, and the 
 confessors whom they selected, were considered to 
 represent the apostolical penitentiaries of Rome at the 
 jubilee ; and on each of these confessionals were posted, 
 in large chai'acters, their names, surnames, and desig- 
 nations. 
 
 Then a crowd pressed forward to the confessor, each 
 coming with a piece of money in his hand. Men, 
 women, and children, the poor, even those who lived 
 on alms, all found means of procuring money. The 
 penitentiaries, after having anew explained the great- 
 ness of the indulgence to each individual, asked, " How 
 much money can you afford to part with, in order to 
 obtain so complete a forgiveness?" "This question," 
 says the Instruction of the Archbishop of Jlentz to the 
 commissaries, — '• this question ought to be put at this 
 moment, that the penitents may thereby be the better 
 disposed to contribute." 
 
 Four valuable graces were promised to those who 
 aided in building the basilisk of St. Peter. " The first 
 grace which we announce to you," said the commissa- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Ties, (according to their Letter of Instruction.) " is the 
 complete pardon of all sins." After this came three 
 other graces,—^)*?, the right of choosing a confessor, 
 who, whenever the hour of death should seem to be at 
 hand, would give absolution from all sins, and even 
 from the greatest crimes reserved for the apostolic 
 see ; second, a participation in all the blessings, works, 
 and merits of the Catholic Church, in prayers, fast- 
 ings, alms, and pilgi-images ; and, third, the redemp- 
 tion of the souls which are in purgatory. 
 
 To obtain the first of these rraces, it was necessary 
 to have contrition of heart, and confession of the lips, 
 
 THE 010 COUNCIL-HOUSE, LEIPSIO. 
 or, at least, the intention of confessing. But for the 
 thi-ee others, they could be obtained without contrition 
 or confession, merely by paying. Previous to this, 
 Chi-istopher Columbus, extolling the value of gold, had 
 said quite gi-avely, - He who possesses it may intro- 
 duce souls into paradise." Such -sras the doctrine 
 taught by the Archbishop-Cardinal of Mentz, and the 
 commissaries of the pope. "As to those," said they, 
 " who would deliver souls from purgatory, and procure 
 for them pardon of all their offences, let them throw 
 money into the chest. It is not necessary for them to 
 have contrition of the heart, or confession of the lips. 
 Let them only hasten ivith their money; for they will 
 thus do a work most useful to the souls of the de- 
 parted, and to the erection cf the church of St. Peter." 
 Greater blessings could not be offered at a cheaper 
 rate. 
 
 When the confession was over (and it did not fake 
 long) the faithful hastened towards the seller. Oue 
 
 only had charge of the sale, and kept his counter near 
 the cross. He carefully eyed those who approached him, 
 — examining their air, bearing, and dress, — and asked 
 a sum proportioned to the appearance which each pre- 
 sented. Kings, queens, princes, archbishops, bishops, 
 were, according to the regulation, to pay twenty-five 
 ducats for an ordinary indulgence. Abbots, counts, 
 and barons, paid ten. Others of the nobDity, rectors, 
 and all who had an income of five hundred florins, paid 
 six. Those who had two hundred florins a-year, paid 
 one ; others, only a half. Moreover, when the tax 
 could not be followed to the letter, full powers were 
 given to the commissary-apostolic, who was to arrange 
 everything in accordance T\-ith the dictates of " sound 
 reason," and the generosity of the donor. For parti- 
 cular sins, Tetzel had a particular tax. Polygamy paid 
 six ducats ; theft in a church, and perjury, nine ducats; 
 murder, eight ducats ; magic, two ducats. Samson, who 
 carried on the same traffic in Switzerland as Tetzel in 
 Germany, had a somewhat different tax. For infanti- 
 cide, he charged four Uvres tournois; for parricide or 
 fratricide, a ducat. 
 
 The apostolic commissaries sometimes encountered 
 difficulties in carrying on their trade. It often hap- 
 pened, both in towns and villages, that husbands were 
 opposed to the whole concern, and prohibited their 
 ■wives from giving anything to these merchants. TThat. 
 then, were devout spouses to do ? " Have you not 
 your dowi-y, or some other property, at your own dis- 
 posal V asked the dealers. " In that case we may dis- 
 pose of part for so sacred a purpose, even against the 
 will of your husbands." 
 
 The hand which had given the indulgence could not 
 receive the money. This was prohibited under the 
 severest penalties ; for there might be good reason to 
 suspect that that hand would not have been faithful. 
 Tlie penitent himself behoved to deposit the price of his 
 pardon in the chest. Angry looks were given to those 
 who were audacious enough not to open their purses. 
 
 If among those who pressed forward to the confes- 
 sionals, there happened to be any one whose crime was 
 publicly known, though of a kind which the civil law 
 could not reach, he behoved, first of all, to do public 
 penance. For this purpose, they first led him to a 
 chapel or sacristy, where they stripped him of his 
 clothes, and took off his shoes, leaving him nothing but 
 his shirt. His arms were crossed upon his breast, a 
 light placed in one hand, and a rod in the other. Then 
 the penitent walked at the head of the procession which 
 proceeded to the red cross. He remained on his knees 
 till the chant and the collect was finished. Then the 
 commissary gave out the Psalm, Miserere mei. The 
 confessors immediately approached the penitent, and 
 led him across the church towai'ds the commissary, 
 who, taking the rod from his hand, and gently striking 
 him thrice on the back with it, said to him, '• The Lord 
 have pity on thee, and forgive thy sin." He then 
 gave out the Ki/rie eleison. The penitent was led back 
 to the front of the cross, and the confessor gave him 
 the apostolic absolution, and declared him restored to 
 the company of the faithful. Sad mummery, concluded 
 with a holy expression, which, at such a moment, 
 was mere profanation ! 
 
 It is worth while to know the contents of one 
 
 t\\ 
 
HUMILIATION- (SCENE: GATE OF THE AUGUSTINE MONASTERY AT ERPURTH) AUTUMN. 1505 
 
LETTER OF INDULGENCE. 
 
 those diplomas of absolution, which led to the Refor- 
 mation of the Churcii. The following is a specimen : 
 — " May our Lord Jesus Christ have pity on thee, 
 N. N., and absolve thee by the merit of Ilis most holy 
 passion. And I, in virtue of the apostolic power 
 entrusted to me, absolve thee from all ecclesiastical 
 censures, judgments, and penalties, which thou mayest 
 have deserved ; moreover, from all the excesses, sins, 
 and crimes, which thou mayest have committed, how 
 great and enormous soever they may have been, and 
 ifor whatever cause, even should they have been re- 
 served to our most holy father the pope, and to the 
 apostolic see. I efface all the marks of disability, and 
 tdl the notes of infamy which thou mayest have incur- 
 red on this occasion. I remit the pains which thou 
 shouldest have to endure in purgatory. I render thee 
 anew a partaker in the sacraments of the Church. I 
 again incorporate thee into the communion of saints, 
 and re-establish thee in the innocence and purity in 
 which thou wert at the hour of thy baptism ; so that, 
 at the moment of thy death, the gate of entrance to the 
 place of pains and torments will be shut to thee ; and, 
 on the contrary, the gate which leads to the heavenly 
 paradise will be opened to thee. If thou art not to 
 die soon, this grace will remain unimpaired till thy last 
 hour arrive. In the name of the Father, and of the 
 I Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 
 
 " Friar John Tetzel, commissary, has signed it with 
 his own hand." 
 
 How dexterously presumptuous and lying words are 
 here intermingled with holy Christian expressions ! 
 All the faithful required to come and confess at the 
 i place where the red cross was erected. The only ex- 
 ceptions were the sick, the aged, and pregnant women. 
 If, however, there happened to be in the neighbour- 
 I hood some noble in his castle, or some great personage 
 in his palace, there was an exemption for him; for he 
 might not care to mingle with the crowd, and his money 
 was worth the going for. 
 
 If there happened to be a convent whose heads were 
 opposed to the traffic of Tetzel, and prohibited their 
 monks from visiting the places where the indulgence 
 had erected its throne, means were still found to re- 
 medy the evil, by sending them confessors, who were 
 commissioned to absolve them against the will of their 
 order, and the will of their heads. There was not a 
 j vein in the mine, however small, which they did not 
 find means of working. 
 
 At length they arrived at the object and end of the 
 whole affair ; the summing up of the cash. For greater 
 security, the strong box had three keys, — one in the 
 hands of Tetzel ; the second in those of the treasurer, 
 appointed by the firm of Fiigger of Augsburg, who had 
 hcen appointed agents in this vast enterprise; while 
 the third was entrusted to the civil authority. When 
 the moment arrived, the counters were opened in the 
 presence of a notary-public, and the whole was duly 
 counted and recorded. Must not Christ arise and 
 drive these profane sellers from the temple ! 
 
 The mission being closed, the dealers relaxed from 
 their labours. It is true the instructions of the com- 
 missary-general forbade them to frequent taverns and 
 suspicious places ; but they cared little for this prohi- 
 bition. Sin must have appeared a very trivial matter 
 
 to people who had such an easy trade in it. "The 
 mendicants," says a Roman Catholic historian, " led a 
 bad life, expending in taverns, gaming-houses, and 
 places of infamy, what the people retrenched from their ; 
 necessities." It is even averred, that in taverns they ! 
 sometimes played at dice for the salvation of souls. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Franciscan Confessor— The Soul in the Burjing-Ground— The Shoe- 
 maker of Hagenaii— Tlie Students— Myconius— Conversation with Tetzel 
 — Stratascm by a Gentleman— Conversation of the Wise and of the 
 People— A Miner of Schneeberg. 
 
 BcT let us look at some of the scenes which then took 
 place in Germany during this sale of the pardon of 
 sins ; for we here meet with anecdotes which, by them- 
 selves alone, give a picture of the times. As we pro- 
 ceed with our narrative, we deem it best to let men 
 speak for themselves. 
 
 At Magdebourg Tetzel refused to absolve a wealthy 
 female, unless she would pay him one hundred florins 
 in advance. She consulted her ordinary confessor, 
 who was a Franciscan. " God," replied he, " gives the 
 remission of sins freely, and does not sell it." How- 
 ever, he begged her not to tell Tetzel what advice he 
 had given her. But the merchant having somehow or 
 other heard of words so injurious to his interest, ex- 
 claimed, " Such an adviser deserves to be banished or 
 burned." 
 
 TetKel rarely found men enlightened enough, and still 
 more rarely men bold enough, to resist him. For the 
 most part he had a good market from the superstitious 
 crowd. He had erected the red cross of indulgences at 
 Zwickau, and the good parishioners had hastened to 
 make the money, which was to deliver them, chink on 
 the bottom of the chest. He was going away with a 
 well-filled purse. The evening before his departure, 
 the chaplains and their attendants applied to him for a 
 farewell entertainment. The request was reasonable ; 
 but how was it possible to comply with it ? — the money 
 was already counted and sealed up. The next morn- 
 ing he orders the large bell to be rung. Crowds 
 hastened to the church, every one thinking that some- 
 thing extraordinary must have happened, as the station 
 was closed. '• I had resolved," said he, " to depart 
 this morning, but last night was awoke by groans. Ou 
 listening, I found they came from the burying-ground. 
 Alas ! it was a poor soul calling and entreating me in- 
 stantly to deliver it from the torment by which it was 
 consumed. I have, therefore, remained one day more, 
 in order to stir up the compassion of Christian hearts 
 in favour of this unhappy soul. I am willing myself 
 to be the first to give, and whosoever does not follow 
 my example will deserve damnation." AVhat heart 
 would not have responded to such an appeal ? "Who 
 knew, moreover, whose soul it was that was crying in 
 the burying-ground ? The people contributed freely, 
 and Tetzel gave the chaplains and their attendants a 
 jovial entertainment, defraying the expense by the 
 
74 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 offerings -wliich he had received iu favour of the soul 
 of Zwickau. 
 
 The indulgence merchants had fixed their station at 
 Hagenau in 1517. A slioemaker's wife, taking advan- 
 tage of the autliority of the instruction of the commis- 
 sary-general, had, contrary to the will of her husband, 
 procured a letter of indulgence, and paid a gold florin 
 for it. She died shortly after. The husband not hav- 
 ing caused mass to be said for the repose of her soul, 
 the curate charged him with contempt of religion, and 
 the judge of Hagenau summoned him to appear. The 
 shoemaker put his wife's indulgence in his pocket, and 
 repaired to the court. "Is your wife dead?" asked 
 the judge. — " Yes," replied he. " What liave you done 
 for her r' — "I have buried her body, and commended 
 her soul to God." " But have you caused a mass to 
 be said for the salvation of her soul 1" — " I have not ; 
 it was unnecessary. She entered heaven the moment 
 of her death." " How do you know that?" — " Here is 
 the proof." So saying, he takes the indulgence out of 
 his pocket, and the judge, in presence of the curate, 
 reads in as many words, that the woman who received 
 it would not enter purgatory, but go straight to heaven. 
 " If the reverend curate maintains that a mass is still 
 necessary, my wife has been cheated by our most holy 
 father the pope. If she was not cheated, then it is the 
 reverend curate who is cheating me." This was un- 
 answerable, and the accused was acquitted. Thus the 
 good sense of the people did justice to these pious 
 frauds. 
 
 One day when Tetzel was preaching at Leipsic, and 
 introducing into his sermons some of those stories of 
 which wo have given a sample, two students, feeling 
 quite indignant, rose uj) and left the church, exclaim- 
 ing, "It is impossible fof us to listen longer to the 
 drolleries and puerilities of this monk." One of them, 
 it is said, was young Camerarius, afterwards the inti- 
 mate friend of Melancthon, and his biographer. 
 
 But of all the young men of the period, he on whom 
 Tetzel made the strongest impression unquestionably 
 was Myconius, afterwards celebrated as a Eeformer, 
 and historian of the Eeformation. He had received a 
 Christian education. His father, a pious man of Fran- 
 conia, was wont to say to him, "My son, pray fre- 
 quently; for all things are freely given to us by God 
 alone. The blood of Christ," added he, " is the only 
 ransom for the sins of the whole world. O my sou ! 
 were there only three men that could be saved by the 
 blood of Christ, believe, and believe vnth confidence, 
 that thou art one of the three. It is an iustilt to the 
 blood of the Saviour to doubt if it saves." Then 
 cautioning his son against the traffic which was begin- 
 ning to be established in Germany, — "The Roman 
 indulgences," said he to hira, " are nets which fish for 
 money, and deceive the simple. The forgiveness of 
 sins, and of eternal life, are not things for sale." 
 
 At the age of thirteen Frederick Myconius was 
 sent to the school of Annabcrg to finish his studies. 
 Shortly aftei-, Tetzel arrived iu the town, and remained 
 in it for two years. Tlie people flocked in crowds to 
 his sermon. " There is no other method," exclaimed 
 Tetzel, iu his voice of thunder, — " there is no other 
 method of obtaining eternal life than the satisfaction 
 of works ; but this satisfaction is impossible for man, 
 
 and, therefore, all he can do is to purchase it from the 
 Roman pontiff." When Tetzel was about to quit Anna- 
 berg, his addresses became more m-gent. " Soon," ex- 
 claimed he, in a threatening tone, — " soon will I take 
 down the cross, shut the gate of heaven, and quench 
 the lustre of that sun of gi-ace which is now shining in 
 your eyes." Then resuming the gentle accent of per- 
 suasion, " Now," said he, " is the accepted time, now 
 is the day of salvation." Then raising his voice anew, 
 the pontifical Stentor, who was addressing the inha- 
 bitants of a rich mineral district, loudly exclaimed, 
 "Bring your money, burghers of Annaberg, contri- 
 bute largely in behalf of the indulgences, and your 
 mines and your mountains will be filled with piu'e 
 silver." In conclusion, he declared that at Pentecost 
 he would distribute his letters to the poor gratuitously, 
 and for the love of God. 
 
 Y''oung Myconius, being among the number of Tetzel's 
 hearei-s, felt an eager desire to avail himself of this 
 offer. Going up to the commissaries, he said to them 
 in Latin, " I am a poor sinner, and need a gratuitous 
 pardon ! " The merchants replied, " Those alone can 
 have part in the merits of Jesus Christ who lend a 
 helping-hand to the Chiu-ch, — iu other words, who 
 give money." "What is the meaning, then," said 
 Myconius, " of those promises of free gift, which are 
 posted up on the walls and doors of the churches?" 
 " Give at least a shilling," said Tetzel's people who had 
 gone to their master, and interceded with him for the 
 young man, but without effect. "I am not able." 
 " Only sixpence." — " I liave not even so much." The 
 Dominicans then began to fear that he wished to en- 
 trap them. "Listen," said they to him, "we will 
 make you a present of the sixpence." The young luan, 
 raising his voice in indignation, answered, "I want no 
 indulgences that are purchased. If I wished to pur- 
 chase, I would only have to sell one of my school- 
 books. I want a free pardon, given purely for the 
 love of God, and you will have to give account to God 
 for having allowed the salvation of a soul to be lost for 
 a sixpence." " Who sent you to entrap us ? " exclaimed 
 the merchants. — " Nothing but the desire of receiving 
 the gi-ace of God could have tempted me to appear 
 before such mighty lords," replied the young man, and 
 withdrew. 
 
 " I was much gi-ieved," said he, " at being sent thus 
 pitilessly away; but I still felt within myself a Com- 
 forter, who told me that there was a God in heaven, 
 who, without money and without price, pardons re- 
 penting sinners for the love of His Son Jesus Christ. 
 As I was taking leave of those people, I melted into 
 tears, and, sobbing, prayed, ' O God ! since these men 
 have refused me the forgiveness of my sins, because I 
 had no money to pay for it, do thou, O Lord! have 
 pity on me, and forgive my sins iu pure mercy!' I 
 went to my lodging, and taking up my crucifix, which 
 was lying on my desk, laid it on my chair, and pros- ! 
 trated myself before it. I cannot describe what I felt, i 
 I asked God to be my Father, and to do with me what- ; 
 soever He pleased. I felt my nature changed, con- 
 verted, and transformed. Wliat formerly delighted me, 
 now excited ray disgust. To live with God, and please 
 Him, was my strongest, my only desire." Thus Tetzel 
 himself contributed to the Reformation. By crying . 
 
OPINIONS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 abuses he paved the way for a purer doctrine, and the 
 indignation which he excited in a generous youth was 
 one day to break forth mightily. We may judge of 
 this by the following anecdote. 
 
 A Saxon gentleman, who had heard Tetzel at Leipsie, 
 felt his indignation aroused by his falsehoods ; and go- 
 ing up to the monk, asked him whether he had power 
 to pardon the sins which were intended to be com- 
 mitted? — "Assuredly," replied Tetzel. "I have full 
 power from the pope to do so." "Well, then," re- 
 sumed the knight, "there is one of my enemies on 
 whom I shoiild like to take a slight revenge without 
 doing him any de.idly injury, and I will give you ten 
 crowns in return for a letter of indulgence, which will 
 completely acquit me." Tetzel made some objections : 
 at last, however, they came to an agreement for thirty 
 crowns. Soon after the monk quits Leipsie. The 
 gentleman, accompanied l)y his servants, waited for 
 him in a wood between Jiiterboch and Treblin, and 
 rushing out upon him, and giving him some blows with 
 a stick, carried off the rich indulgence chest, which the 
 inquisitor had with him. Tetzel cries out robbery, 
 and carries his complaint before the judges ; but the 
 gentleman shews the letter with Tetzel's own signature, 
 exempting him beforehand from all punishment. Duke 
 George, who had at first been very angi-y, on seeing 
 the document ordered the accused to be acquitted. 
 
 This traffic everT^-here occupied men's thoughts, 
 and was everywhere talked of. It was the subject of 
 conversation in castles, in academies, and at the fire- 
 sides of the citizens, as well as in inns and taverns, and 
 all places of public resort. Opinions were divided, — 
 some believing, and others expressing indignation. 
 I The sensible portion of the community rejected the 
 I whole system of indulgences with disgust. It was so 
 I contrary to Scripture and to morality, that all who had 
 any knowledge of the Bible, or any natural light, con- 
 demned it in their hearts, and only waited for a signal 
 to declare their opposition to it. On the other hand, 
 scoffers found ample materials for raillery. The people, 
 who had for many years been irritated by the miscon- 
 duct of the priests, and whom nothing but the fear of 
 punishment induced to keep up a certain shew of respect, 
 gave free vent to their hatred. Complaints and sar- 
 casms were everywhere heard on theavariceof theclergy. 
 Nor did they stop here. They even attacked the 
 power of the keys, and the authority of the sovereign 
 pontiff. " Why," said they, " does not the pope deliver 
 all souls from purgatory at once from a holy charity, 
 and in consideration of the sad misery of these souls, 
 seeing he delivers so great a number for the love of 
 perishable money, and of the cathedral of St. Peter? 
 Wliy do feasts and anniversaries of the dead continue 
 to he celebrated ? AMiy does not the pope restore or 
 allow others to resume the benefices and prebends 
 which have been founded in favour of the dead, since 
 it is now useless, and even reprehensible, to pray for 
 those whom indulgences have for ever delivered ?" 
 "What kind of new holiness in God and the pope is 
 this — from a love of money to enable a wicked profane 
 man to deliver a pious soul beloved of the Lord from 
 purgatory, rather than deliver it themselves gratuitously 
 from love, and because of its great -wretchedness."' 
 
 I Lutliei'3 "Theses on Indulgences," (Th. 82, S3, e( St) 
 
 The gross and immoral conduct of the traffickers in 
 indulgences was much talked of. " In iiaj-ing carriers 
 for transporting them with their goods, the innkeepers 
 with whom they lodge, or any one who does any piece 
 of work for them, they give a letter of indulgence for 
 four, five, or any number of souls, as the case may be." 
 In this w.ay the diplomas of salvation were cuiTcnt in 
 inns and in markets, like bank bills or paper money. 
 " Bring! bring! " said the common people, " is the head, 
 the belly, the tail, and the whole body of the sermon." 
 
 A miner of Schneeberg, meeting a seller of indul- 
 gences, asked, — "Must we indeed give credit to what 
 you have often said of the power of the indulgence, 
 and of the authority of the pope, and believe it pos- 
 sible, by throwing a penny into the box, to ransom a 
 soul from purgatory?" The merchant assured him it 
 was true. " Ah ! " resumed the miner, " what an un- 
 merciful man the pope must be, for a paltry penny to 
 leave a miserable soul so long crying in the flames ! If 
 he has no ready money, let him borrow some hundred 
 thousand crowns, and deliver all these people at once. 
 We poor folks will willingly pay him both the interest 
 and the capital." Thus Germany was weary of the 
 shameful traffic which was going on in the midst of 
 her, and could no longer tolerate the impostures of 
 these master-swindlers of Eome, as Luther calls them. 
 Yet no bishop, no theologian, durst oppose their 
 quackery and their fraud. The minds of men were 
 in suspense, and asked whether God would not raise 
 up some mighty man for the work which required to 
 be done ? This man nowhere appeared. 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
 The pope then on the pontifical throne was not a 
 Borgia, but Leo X., of the illustrious house of Medici. 
 He was able, frank, kind, and gentle. His address 
 was affable, his liberality without bounds, and his 
 morals superior to those of his court. Cardin.al Pal- 
 lavieini, however, acknowledges that they were not 
 altogether irreproachable. To this amiable character 
 he joined several of the qualities of a gi'eat prince, j 
 He shewed himself friendly to science and art. The j 
 first Italian comedies were represented in his presence ; 
 and there are few of his day which he did not see per- 
 formed. He was passionately fond of music. Musical 
 instruments resounded every day in his palace ; and he 
 was often heard humming the airs which had been 
 performed before him. He was fond of magnificence, 
 and spared nothing when fetes, games, theatricals, jire- 
 sents, or rewards, were in question. No court sur- 
 passed that of the sovereign pontiff in splendour and 
 gaiety. Accordingly, when it was learned that Julian 
 Medicis was proposing to reside at Rome with his 
 young bride, — " God be praised," exclaimed Cardinal 
 Bibliena, the most influential counsellor of Loo X., 
 " the only thing we wanted was a female com't." A 
 
HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 female court was necessary to complete tlie court of 
 the pope. To religious sentiment Leo was completely 
 a stranger. " His manners were so pleasing," says 
 Sarpi, " that he would have been perfect if he had had 
 some acquaintance with religious matters, and been 
 somewhat more inclined to piety, which seldom, if ever, 
 gave him any concern." 
 
 Leo was greatly in want of money. He had to pro- 
 vide for his immense expenditure ; supply all his libe- 
 ralities ; fill the purse of gold which he daily threw to 
 the people ; keep up the licentious exhibitions of the 
 Vatican ; satisfy the numerous demands of his relations 
 and voluptuous courtiers ; give a dowry to his sister, 
 who had been married to Prince Cibo, — a natural son 
 of Pope Innocent VIII.; and meet the expenditure 
 occasioned by his taste for literature, arts, and plea- 
 sure. His cousin. Cardinal Pucci, as skilful in the art 
 
 LEO X., 
 
 (From an Original Picture hy Raffaclk.) 
 
 of hoarding as Leo in that of lavishing, advised him 
 to have recourse to indulgences. Accordingly, the 
 pope published a bull, announcing a general indulgence, 
 the proceeds of which were, he said, to be employed 
 in the erection of the church of St. Peter, that monu- 
 ment of sacerdotal magnificence. In a letter, dated at 
 Rome, under the seal of the Fisherman, in November, 
 1517, Leo applies to his commissary of indulgences for 
 one hundred and forty-seven gold ducats, to pay a 
 manuscript of the thirty-third book of Livy. Of all 
 the uses to which he put the money of the Germans, 
 this was, doubtless, the best. Still, it was strange to 
 deliver souls from purgatory, in order to purchase a 
 manuscript history of the wars of the Roman people. 
 
 There was at this time in Germany a young prince 
 who might be regarded as, in many respects, a liv- 
 ing image of Leo X. This was Albert,— a younger 
 brother of the Elector Joachim of Brandenburg. At 
 twenty-four years of age he had been appointed arch- 
 bishop and elector of Mentz and of Magdebourg, and 
 
 two years after made a cardinal. Albert had neither 
 the virtues nor the vices which are often met with in 
 the high dignitaries of the Church. Young, fickle, 
 worldly, but not without some generous feelings, he 
 was perfectly aware of many of the abuses of Catho- 
 licism, and cared little for the fanatical monks by 
 whom he was surrounded. His equity disposed hini, 
 in part at least, to acknowledge the justice of what the 
 friends of the Gospel demanded. In his secret heart 
 he was not much opposed to Luther. Capito, one of 
 the most distinguished Reformers, was long his chap- 
 lain, counsellor, and confidant. Albert regularly at- 
 tended his sermons. " He did not despise the Gospel," 
 says Capito ; " on the contrary', he highly esteemed it, 
 and for a long time would not allow the monks to 
 attack Luther." But he would have liked Luther not 
 to compromise him, and to take good care, while expos- 
 ing the doctrinal errors and vices of the inferior clergy, 
 not to disclose the faults of bishops and princes. In 
 particular, he was most anxious that his name should 
 not be mixed up with the affair. His confidant, 
 Capito, who had imposed upon himself, as men of- 
 ten do in situations similar to his, thus addressed 
 Luther : " Look to the example of Jesus Christ and 
 the apostles ; they rebuked the Pharisees and the in- 
 cestuous men of Corinth, but they never expressly 
 named them. You know not what is passing in the 
 hearts of the bishops ; and, perhaps, there is more 
 good in them than you suppose." But the fickle and 
 profane spirit of Albert, still more than the suscepti- 
 bilities and fears of his self-love, estranged him from 
 the Reformation. Affable, clever, handsome, extrava- 
 gant, and wasteful; deli,Lih(iiiu' in the pleasures of the 
 table, in rich equipages, sjileiidiil buildings, licentious 
 pleasures, and literary society; this young archbishop- 
 elector was in Germany what Leo X. was at Rome. 
 His court was one of the most magnificent in the em- 
 pire, and he was prepared to sacrifice to pleasure and 
 graudcur all the sentiments of truth which, perhaps, 
 might have insinuated themselves into his heart. 
 Nevertheless, his better convictions continued even to 
 the last to exercise some degree of influence over him, 
 and he repeatedly gave indications of moderation and 
 equity. 
 
 Albert, like Leo, was in want of money. The Fug- 
 gers, rich merchants in Augsburg, had made him ad- 
 vances which he behoved to repay; and hence, though 
 he had managed to secure two archbishoprics and a 
 bishopric, he was unable to pay Rome for his Pallium. 
 This ornament of white wool, bespangled with black 
 crosses, and blessed by the pope, who sent it to the 
 archbishops as a token of their dignity, cost them 
 twenty-six, or, some say, thirty thousand florins. In 
 order to obtain money, Albert, naturally enough, be- 
 thought himself of having recourse to the same methods 
 as the pope. He accordingly applied to him for the 
 general farming of the indulgences, or, as they ex- 
 pressed it at Rome, " of the sins of the Germans." 
 
 The popes sometimes kept the indulgences in their 
 own hands, and at other times farmed them out, in 
 the same way as some governments still do gaming- 
 houses. Albert made an offer to Leo to share the pro- 
 fits with him; and Leo, in agreeing to the bargain, 
 stipulated for immediate payment of the Pallium. 
 
FARMING OF INDULGENCES. 
 
 Albert had been countiug oa paying it out of the in- 
 dulgences, and therefore ai)plicd anew to the Fnggcrs, 
 who, thinking the sccnrity good, agreed, on certain 
 conditions, to make the advance required, and were 
 appointed bankers to the concern. They were the 
 bankers of the princes of this period, and were after- 
 wards made counts iu return for the services which 
 they had rendered. 
 The pope and the archbishop having thus, by antici- 
 
 pation, shared in the spoils of the good souls of Ger- 
 many, the next matter was to select the persons who 
 were to carry the affair into effect. It was tirst offered 
 to the Franciscan order, whose guardian was conjoined 
 with Albert. But, as it was already in bad odour 
 with honest people, these monks were not anxious to 
 have anything to do with it. The Augustines, who 
 were more enlightened than the other religious orders, 
 would have been less iucliued to undertake it. The 
 
 - 1: 
 
 "111111!% ■ 
 
 Franciscans, however, being afraid of oifendiug the 
 pope, who had just sent their chief, De Forli, a car- 
 dinal's hat, — a hat which had cost this poor mendicant 
 order thirty thousand florins, — the guardian deemed it 
 more prudent not to refuse openly; but, at the same 
 time, threw all sorts of difficulties in Albert's way. 
 They could never understand each other ; and, accord- 
 ingly, when the proposal was made to the elector to 
 undertake the whole charge, he eagerly closed with it. 
 The Dominicans, on the other hand, longed for a share 
 in the general collection which was about to commence. 
 Tetzel, who was already famous iu the trade, hastened 
 to Mentz to offer his services to the elector. In con- 
 sideration of the talent which he had displayed iu pub- 
 lishing the indulgences for the knights of the Teutonic 
 order of Prussia and Livonia, his proposals were 
 accepted, and in this way the whole traffic passed into 
 the hands of his order. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Tetzel approaches— Luther at the Confessional— Tctzel's Rage — Luther 
 without a Plan— Jealousy amoug the Orders— Luther's Discourse— The 
 Elector's Dream. 
 
 In so far as we know, Luther heard of Tetzel, for the 
 first time, at Grimma, in 1516, wdien he was on the eve 
 of beginning his visit to the churches. While Staupitz 
 was still with Luther, it was told him that an indul- 
 gence merchant was making a great noise at Viirzen. 
 Even some of his extravagant sayings were quoted. 
 Luther's indignation was roused, and he exclaimed, 
 " Please God, I'll make a hole iu his drum." 
 
 Tetzel, on his return from Berlin, where he had met 
 with a most friendly reception from the Elector Joachim, 
 brother of the farmer-geueral, took up his head quar- 
 ters at Juterboch. Staupitz, availing himself of his 
 influence with the Elector Frederick, had often reprc- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Bented to liim tlie abuses of tlie iudulgences, aud the 
 scaudalous proceedings of the mendicants ; aud the 
 princes of Saxony, feeling indignant at the shamcfid 
 traffic, had forbidden the merchant to enter their terri- 
 tory. He was, accordingly, obliged to remain on those 
 of the Archbishop of Magdebourg, but at the same 
 time came as near to Saxony as he could, Juterboch 
 being only four miles from AVittembcrg. " This great 
 thresher of purses," says Luther, " set about threshing 
 the country in grand style, so that the money began to 
 leap, tumble, and tinkle, iu his chest." The people of 
 Wittemberg went iu crov/ds to the indulgence market 
 of Juterboch. 
 
 At this period Luther had the highest respect for the 
 Church aud for the pope. " I was then," said he, " a 
 monk, a most bigoted Papist ; so intoxicated and im- 
 bued with the doctrines of Korae, that if I had been 
 able I would willingly have lent a hand iu killing any 
 one audacious enough to refuse obedience to the pope 
 in the minutest matter. I was a real Saul, as many 
 still are." But, at the same time, his heart was ready 
 to declare iu favour of all that he believed to be truth, 
 aud against all that he believed to be error. " I was a 
 young doctor just off the irons, ardeut and rejoicing iu 
 the word of the Lord." 
 
 One day when Luther had taken his seat in the con- 
 fessional at Wittemberg, several citizens of the town 
 came before him, and oue after another confessed the 
 grossest immoralities. Adultery, libertinism, usury, 
 ill-gotten wealth, were the crimes with which the 
 minister of the Word was entertained by persons of 
 whose souls he was one day to give account. He 
 rebukes, corrects, and instructs them ; but what is his 
 astonishment when these people tell him that they 
 don't choose to abandon their sins? . . . Quite 
 amazed, the pious monk declares, that since they 
 refuse to promise amendment, he cannot give them 
 absolution. The wretched creatures then appealed to 
 their letters of indulgence, exliibitiug them, and extol- 
 ling their virtues. But Luther replied, that he cared 
 little for the paper which they had shewn him, aud 
 added, Unless you repent, you idlL all jjerish. They 
 made an outcry, and expostulated ; but the doctor was 
 immovable : '• they must cease to do evil, aud learn to 
 do well, . . . otherwise no absolution." "Be- 
 ware," added he, " of lending an ear to the harangues 
 of the venders of iudulgences ; you might be better 
 employed than iu buyiug those licences which are sold 
 you for the most paltry sum." 
 
 Much alarmed, these inhabitants of Wittemberg has- 
 tened back to Tetzel to tell him how his letters were 
 disregarded by an Augustine monk. Tetzel, on hear- 
 ing this, became red with fury, crying, aud stamping, 
 and cm'sing iu the pulpit. To strike a deeper terror 
 into the people, he repeatedly kindled a fire iu the 
 market-place, declaring he had received orders from 
 the pope to burn all heretics who should dare to oppose 
 his holy indulgences. 
 
 Such is the circumstance, which was not the cause, 
 but the first occasion of the Reformation. A pastor 
 seeing the sheep of his flock in a path which must lead 
 them to destruction, makes an eilort to deliver them. 
 As yet, he has no thought of reforming the Church aud 
 the world. He has seen Eome and its coiTuptious; 
 
 but he declares not against Rome. He perceives some 
 of the abuses imder which Christianity is groaning; 
 but has no thought of correcting these abuses. He has 
 no desire to become Reformer.^ He has no plan for 
 the reformation of the Church, any more thau he had 
 had one for himself. God intends reform, aud for 
 reform selects Luther. The same remedy which had 
 proved so powerful iu curing his own wi-etchedness, 
 the hand of God will employ by him to cure the mise- 
 ries of Christendom. He remains qviiet in the sphere 
 which is assigned to Idm, walking merely where his 
 Master calls him ; and fulfilling his duties as professor, 
 preacher, and pastor, at Wittemberg. While seated in 
 the church his hearers come and open their hearts to 
 him. EvU makes an assault upon him, and error 
 seeks him out of her own accord. He is interfered 
 with iu the discharge of his duty, aud his conscience, 
 which is bound to the Word of God, resists. Is it not 
 God that calls him '? To resist is a duty; aud beiug a 
 duty, is also a right. He has no alternative but to 
 speak. In this way were events ordered by that God 
 who was pleased, says Mathesius, " to restore Christen- 
 dom by means of the sou of a forge master ; and to 
 purify the impure doctrine of the Church, by making 
 it pass through his furnaces." 
 
 Having given this detail, it must be unnecessary to 
 refute a false imputation invented by some of Luther's 
 enemies, but not till after his death. Jealousy for his 
 order, it has been said, — grief at seeing a shameful and 
 condemned traffic entrusted to the Doniinicans, in pre- 
 ference to the Augustines, who had hitherto enjoyed 
 it, — led the doctor of Wittemberg to attack Tetzel and 
 his doctrines. The well known fact that this traffic 
 was first offered to the Augustines, who refused it, is 
 sufficient to refute this fable, which has been repeated 
 by writers who have copied each other ; even Cardinal 
 Pallavicini states that the Augustines never had dis- 
 charged this office. Besides, we have seen the tra- 
 vail of Luther's soul. His conduct needs no other 
 explanation. It was impossible for him not to make 
 open profession of the doctrine to which he owed his 
 happiness. In Clu-istiauity, every man who finds a 
 blejssing longs to make others partakers in it. In our 
 day it is time to abandon those puerile explanations 
 which are unworthy of the great revolution of the six- 
 teenth century. "To lift a world, a more powerful ^ 
 lever was required. The Reformation existed not in j 
 Luther only; it was the offspring of his age. { 
 
 Luther, impelled equally by obedience to the truth { 
 of God, and by charity towards men, mounted the pul- | 
 pit. He forewarned his hearers ; but, as he himself 
 says, he did it gently. His prince had obtained parti- 
 cular iudulgences from the pope for the church of the 
 castle of Wittemberg, aud it was possible that some of 
 the blows which he was going to level at the indul- 
 geuces iu question might fall on those of the elector. 
 No matter ; he will run the risk. If he sought to please 
 men, he would not be the servant of Christ. 
 
 "No man can prove by Scriptm-e," says the faithful 
 minister of the Word to the people of AVittemberg, 
 " that the justice of God exacts a penalty or satisfac- 
 
 1 Such was the beginning of tins controversy, in wliicli Lutlier was not 
 yet tliinking or dreaming of a future cliange of ritual.— JfctonclA. Vila 
 Lulh. 
 
THE ELECTOR'S DREAM. 
 
 79 
 
 tion from the siuuer ; tho only duty wbicli it imposes 
 upou him is true repentance, siucere couvcrsiou, a reso- 
 lution to bear the cross of Jesus Christ, and to be dili- 
 gent m good works. It is a great error to think we 
 can ourselves satisfy tlic justice of God for our sins. 
 Ho always p;u-dou3 them gratuitously by His inestim- 
 able grace. 
 
 "The Christian Church, it is true, requires some- 
 thing from the sinner, and consequently has the power 
 of remitting what she so requires; but that is all. 
 Even these indulgences of the Church ai-e tolerated, 
 only on account of iudolcnt and imperfect Christians, 
 who will not zealously exercise themselves in good 
 works. For they stimulate none to sanctification, but 
 leave all in iinpcrt'cclion." 
 
 Then adverting to the pretext under which the in- 
 dulgences were published, he continues :—" It would 
 be much better to contribute to the erection of St. 
 Peter's church from love to God, than to purchase in- 
 dulgences in this view. . . . But you ask, Ai-e we 
 then never to purchase them ? I have already said, 
 and I repeat it ; my advice is. Don't purchase. Leave 
 thcra to sleepy Christians ; but do you walk apart in 
 your own path. The faitliful must be diverted from 
 indulgences, and urged to do the works which they 
 neglect." 
 
 At last, glancing at his adversaries, Luther concludes 
 thus : — " If some cry out that I am a heretic, (for the 
 truth which I preach is very hurtful to their strong 
 box.) their clamour gives me little concern. They are 
 dull and sickly brains ; men who never felt the Bible, 
 never read Christian doctrine, never comprehended 
 their own teachers, and who turn to rottenness, wrap- 
 ped up in the tatters of their vain opinions. . . . 
 God grant them and us a sound mind. Amen." 
 After these words the doctor descended from the 
 pulpit, leaving his hearers iu astonishment at his bold 
 language. 
 
 This sermon was printed, and made a deep impres- 
 sion on all who read it. Tetzel answered it, and 
 Luther replied ; but these discussions did not take 
 place till a later period, (1518.) 
 
 The feast of All Saints di-ew near. The chronicles 
 of that day here relate a circumstance which, though 
 not important to the history of the period, may, how- 
 ever, serve to characterize it. It is a dream of the 
 elector, which in substance is unquestionably authentic, 
 though several circumstances may have been added by 
 those who have related it. It is mentioned by Secken- 
 dorf,' who observes, that the fear of giving their ad- 
 versaries ground to say that the doctrine of Luther was 
 founded upon di-eams, has, perhaps, prevented several 
 historians from speaking of it. 
 
 The Elector Frederick of Saxony (say the chronicles 
 of the time) was at his castle of Schweinitz, six leagues 
 from Wittemberg. On the morning of the 31st Octo- 
 ber, — being in company with his brother, Duke John, 
 who was then co-regent, and became sole elector after 
 his death, and with his chancellor, — the elector said to 
 the duke, '• Brother, I must tell you a dream which I 
 
 1 And in a manuscript of the Archives of Weimar, taken down from the 
 t of Spalatin, Our account of tlie di-eam is conformable to this 
 ivliich was rtpublished at the last jubilee of the Reformation, 
 
 had last night, and the meaning of which I should like 
 much to know. It is so deeply impressed on my mind, 
 that I will never forget it, were I to live a thousand 
 years. For I dreamed it thrice, and each time with 
 ucw circiuustances." 
 
 Duke John. — " Is it a good or a bad dream 1" 
 The Elector. — " I know not : God knows." 
 Ditle John. — " Don't be uneasy at it ; but be so good 
 as tell it to me." 
 
 The Elector. — "Having gone tobed last night, fatigued 
 and out of spirits, I fell asleep shortly after my prayer, 
 and slept quietly for about two hours and a-half ; I 
 then awoke, and continued awake till midnight — all 
 sorts of thoughts passing through my mind. Among 
 other things, I thought how I was to observe the feast 
 of All Saints. I prayed for the poor souls iu purga- 
 tory; and supplicated God to guide me, my counsels, 
 and my people, according to truth. I again fell asleep, 
 and then dreamed that Almighty God sent me a monk, 
 who was a true son of the Apostle Paul. All the 
 saints accompanied him by order of God, in order to 
 bear testimony before me, and to declare that he did 
 not come to contrive any plot ; but that all that he did 
 was according to the will of God. They asked me to 
 have the goodness graciously to permit him to write 
 something on the door of the church of the castle of 
 AVittemberg. This I granted through my chancellor. 
 Thereupon the monk went to the cluu'ch, and began to 
 write in such large characters, that I could read the 
 writing at Schweinitz. The pen which he used was 
 so large, that its end reached as far as Rome, where it 
 pierced the ears of a lion that was couching there, and 
 caused the triple crown upon the head of the pope to 
 shake. All the cai-dinals and princes, running hastily 
 up, tried to prevent it from falling. You and I, brother, 
 wished also to assist, and I stretched out my arm ; 
 . . . but at this moment I awoke, with my arm in 
 the air, quite amazed, and very much enraged at the 
 monk for not managing his pen better. I recollected 
 myself a little : it was only a dream. 
 
 " I was still half asleep, and once more closed my 
 eyes. The dream returned. The lion, still annoyed 
 by the pen, began to roar with all his might, so much 
 so that the whole city of Rome, and all the states of 
 the holy empire, ran to see what the matter was. The 
 pope requested them to oppose this monk, and applied 
 particularly to me, on account of his being iu my 
 country. I again awoke, repeated the Lord's Prayer, 
 entreated God to preserve his Holiness, and once more 
 fell asleep. 
 
 '• Then I dreamed that all the princes of the empire, 
 and we among them, hastened to Rome, and strove, 
 one after another, to break the pen ; but the more we 
 tried, the stiffer it became — soundiug as if it had been 
 made of iron. AVe at length desisted. I then asked 
 the monk (for I was sometimes at Rome, and some- 
 times at Wittemberg) where he got this pen, and why 
 it was so strong. ' The pen,' replied he, ' belonged to 
 an old goose of Bohemia — a hundred years old.^ I 
 got it from one of my old schoolmasters. As to its 
 strength, it is owing to the impossibility of depriving 
 
 2 John Hus3. This circumstance may, perhaps, have been afterwards 
 added, in allusion to the saying of John Huss, which we have quoted. See 
 I the First Book. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 it of its pith or marrow ; and I am quite astonished at 
 it myself.' Suddenly I heard a loud noise, — a large 
 numljer of other pens had sprung out of the long pen 
 of the monk. ... I awoke a third time : it was 
 daylight. . . ." 
 
 Dnke John. — " Chancellor, what is your opinion ? 
 "Would we had a Joseph or a Daniel enlightened by 
 God!" 
 
 Chancellor. — "Your highnesses know the common 
 pro\ei'b, that the dreams of young girls, learned men, 
 and great lords, have usually some hidden meaning. 
 The meaning of this dream, however, we will not be 
 able to know for some time, — not till the things to 
 which it relates have taken place. Wherefore, leave 
 the accomplishment to God, and j^laee it wholly in his 
 hand." 
 
 Dnke John. — "I am of your opinion, Chancellor; 'tis 
 not fit for us to annoy ourselves in attempting to dis- 
 cover the meaning ; the God will overrule all for His 
 gl.iry." 
 
 I'Jlirloi: — " May our faithful God do so ; yet I will 
 never forget this dream. I have indeed thought of an 
 interpretation, but I keep it to myself. Time, perhaps, 
 will shew if I have been a good diviner." 
 
 Thus, according to the manuscript of Weimar, the 
 morning of 31st of October was spent at Schweinitz. 
 Let us see how the evening was spent at Wittemberg. 
 We again return to the province of history. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Feast of All Saints— The Theses— Tlieir Force— Moderation— Proviaence— 
 Letter to Albert— Indifference of the Bishops— Dissemination of the 
 
 The words of Luther had produced little effect. Tet- 
 zel, without troubling himself, continued his traffic and 
 his impious harangues. Will Luther submit to these 
 crying abuses, and keep silence °? As a pastor, he has 
 earnestly exhorted those who have had recourse to his 
 ministry ; and, as a preacher, he has lifted his warning 
 voice in the pulpit. It still remains for him to speak 
 as a theologian — to address, not individuals in the con- 
 fessional, not the assembly of the faithful in the church 
 of Wittemberg ; but all who, like himself, are teachers 
 of the Word of God. His resolution is taken. 
 
 He has no thought of attacking the Church, or of 
 putting the pope on his defence. On the contrary, it 
 is his respect for the pope that will not allow him to 
 be any longer silent with regard to claims by which he 
 is injured. He must take the part of the pope against 
 audacious men, who dare to associate his venerable 
 name with their disgraceful trathc. Far from thinking 
 of a revolution which is to destroy the primacy of 
 Eorae, Luther expects to have the pope and Catholi- 
 cism for his allies against impudent monks. 
 
 The feast of All Saints was an important day for 
 Wittemberg, and especially for the church which the 
 elector had there erected and filled with relics. On 
 that day these relics, adorned with silver and gold, 
 
 and precious stones, were brought out and exhibited 
 to the eyes of the people, who were astonished and 
 dazzled by their magnificence. Whoever on that day 
 visited the church, and confessed in it, obtained a valu- 
 able indulgence. Accordingly, on this great occasion, 
 pilgrims came in crowds to Wittemberg. 
 
 On the 31st of October, 1517, Luther, who had 
 already taken his resolution, walks boldly towards the 
 church to which the superstitious crowds of pilgrims 
 were repairing, and puts up on the door of this church 
 ninety-five theses or propositions against the doctrine 
 of indulgences. Neither the elector, nor Staupitz, nor 
 Spalatiu, nor any, even the most intimate of his friends, 
 had been previously informed of this step. In these 
 theses, Luther declares, in a kind of preamble, that he 
 had written them with the express desire of setting the 
 truth in the full light of day. He declares himself 
 ready to defend them on the morrow at the university, 
 against all and sundry. The attention which they 
 excite is great; they are read and repeated. In a 
 short time the pilgrims, the university, the whole town 
 is ringing with them. The following are some of these 
 propositions, written with the pen of the monk, and 
 fixed on the door of the church of Wittemberg : — 
 
 1. "When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ says 
 ' repent,' He means that the whole life of His followers 
 on the earth is a constant and continual repentance. 
 
 2. " This expression caunot be understood of the 
 sacrament of penitence, — that is to say, of confession 
 and satisfaction. — as administered by the priest. 
 
 3. " Still the Lord intends not to speak merely of 
 internal repentance. Internal repentance is null, if it 
 does not manifest itself externally by the mortification 
 of the flesh. 
 
 4. " Repentance and sorrow — that is to say, true 
 penitence — continue so long as a man is displeased with 
 himself ; that is, until he passes from this life into life 
 eternal. 
 
 5. " The pope is not able, and does not wish to 
 remit any other penalty than that which he has imposed 
 of his own good pleasure, or conformably to the canons, 
 — that is to say, the papal ordinances. 
 
 6. " The pope cannot remit any condemnation, but 
 only declare and confirm the remission which God 
 himself has given. At least, he can only do it in cases 
 which belong to him. If he does otherwise, the con- 
 demnation remains exactly as before. 
 
 8. " The laws of ecclesiastical penance ought to be 
 imposed on the living only, and have nothing to do 
 with the dead. 
 
 21. " The commissaries of indulgence are mistaken 
 when they say that the pope's indulgence delivers 
 from all punishment, and saves. 
 
 25. "The same power which the pope has over 
 purgatory throughout the Church, each bishop has in- 
 dividually in his own diocese, and each curate in his 
 own parish. 
 
 27. "It is the preaching of human folly to pretend, 
 that at the very moment when the money tinkles in the 
 strong box, the soul flies off from purgatory. 
 
 28. " This much is certain, as soon as the money 
 tinkles, avarice and the love of gain arrive, increase, 
 and multiply. But the aids aud prayers of the Church 
 depend only on the will and good pleasure of God. 
 
THE THESES OF LUTHER. 
 
 32. " Those who imagine they are sure of salvation 
 by means of indulgences, will go to the devil, with 
 those who teach them so. 
 
 85. " It is an antichristian doctrine to pretend, that, 
 in order to deliver a soul from pm-gatory, or to pur- 
 chase an indulgence, there is no need of either sorrow 
 or repentance. 
 
 36. "Every Christian who truly repents of his sins 
 lias entire forgiveness of the penalty and the fault ; 
 and, so far, has no need of indulgence. 
 
 37. " Every true Christian, dead or alive, partici- 
 pates in all the blessings of Christ and of the Church 
 by the gift of God, and without a letter of indulgence. 
 
 38. '' Still the dispensation and pardon of the pope 
 must not be despised ; for his pardon is a declaration 
 of the pardon of God. 
 
 40. '' Genuine sorrow and repentance seek, and love 
 punishment ; but the mildness of indulgence takes off 
 the fear of punishment, and begets hatred against it. 
 
 42. " Christians must be told that the pope has no 
 wish and no intention that they should, in any respect, 
 compare the act of purchasing indulgences with any 
 work of mercy. 
 
 43. " Christians must be told that he who gives to 
 the poor, or lends to the needy, does better than he who 
 buys an indulgence : 
 
 44. " For the work of charity makes charity increase, 
 and renders a man more pious ; whereas, the indulgence 
 does not make him better, but only gives him more 
 self-confidence, and makes him more secure against 
 punishment. 
 
 45. " Christians must be told that he who sees his 
 neighbour want, and, instead of helping him, purchases 
 an indulgence, purchases not the indulgence of the 
 pope; but incurs the Divine displeasure. 
 
 46. " Christians must be told that if they have no 
 superfluity, they are bound to keep what they have, 
 in order to procm-e necessaries for their families, and 
 not to lavish it on indulgences. 
 
 47. "Christians must be told that to purchase an 
 indulgence is optional, not obligatory. 
 
 48. " Christians must be told that the pope, having 
 more need of prayer offered up in faith than of money, 
 desires the prayer more than the money when he dis- 
 penses indulgences. 
 
 49. " Ciiristians must be told that the indulgence of 
 the pope is good, provided they do not place their con- 
 fidence in it; but that nothing is more hurtful if it 
 diminishes piety. 
 
 50. " Christians must be told that if the pope knew 
 of the extortions of the preachers of indulgences, he 
 would rather that the metropolis of St. Peter were 
 burned and reduced to ashes, than see it built with the 
 skm, flesh, and bones, of his sheep. 
 
 51. " Christians must be told that the pope, as is his 
 duty, would dispense his own money to the poor people 
 whom the preachers of indulgences are now robbing of 
 their last penny, were he, for that purpose, even to sell 
 the metropolis of St. Peter. 
 
 52. "To hope to be saved by indulgences is an 
 empty and lying hope, even should the commissary of 
 indulgences— nay, the pope himself — be pleased to 
 pledge his own s"oul in security of it. 
 
 53. " Those who, on account of the preaching of in- 
 
 dulgences, forbid the preaching of the AVord of God, 
 are enemies of the pope and of Jesus Christ. 
 
 55. "The pope cannot have any other thought than 
 this : If the indulgence, which is the lesser matter, 
 is celebrated with bell, pomp, and ceremony, it is neces- 
 sary, (I fortiori, to honour and celebrate the Gospel, 
 which is the greater matter, with a lunidred beUs, a 
 hundred pomps, and a hundred ceremonies. 
 
 G2. " Tlie true and precious treasure of the Church 
 is the holy Gospel of the glory and gi-ace of God. 
 
 65. "Tlie treasures of the Gospel are nets, which 
 once caught the rich, and those who were at ease in 
 their circumstances : 
 
 G6. "But the treasures of indulgence are nets, in 
 which, now-a-days, they catch not rich people, but the 
 riches of people. 
 
 C7. "It is the duty of bishops and pastors to receive 
 the commissaries of apostolic indidgences with all 
 respect : 
 
 68. " But it is still more their duty to use their eyes 
 and their ears, in order to see that the said commissa- 
 ries do not preach the dreams of their own imagina- 
 tions, instead of the orders of the pope. 
 
 71. " Cursed be he who spoaketh against the indul- 
 gence of the pope. 
 
 72. "But blessed be he who speaks against the 
 foolish and impudent words of the preachers of in- 
 dulgences. 
 
 76. "The indulgence of the pope cannot take away 
 the smallest daily sin, in regard to the fault or delin- 
 quency. 
 
 79. " To say that a cross adorned with the arms of 
 the pope is as powerful as the cross of Christ, is blas- 
 phemy. 
 
 80. " Bishops, pastors, and theologians, who allow 
 such things to be said to the people, will be called to 
 account for it. 
 
 81. "This shameful preaching, these impudent eulo- 
 giums on indulgences, make it difficult for the learned 
 to defend the dignity and honour of the pope against 
 the calumnies of the preachers, and the subtUe and 
 puzzling questions of the common people. 
 
 86. "Why, say they, does not the pope, whose 
 wealth is greater than that of rich Croesus, build the 
 metropolis of St. Peter with his own money, rather 
 than with that of poor Christians ? 
 
 92. " Would, then, that we were discumbered of all 
 the preachers who say to the Church of Christ, Peace ! 
 Peace ! when there is no peace ! 
 
 94. " Christians should be exhorted to diligence in 
 following Christ their head tlu-ough crosses, death, and 
 heU. 
 
 95. " For it is far better to enter the kingdom of 
 heaven through much tribulation, than to acquire a 
 carnal security by the flattery of a false peace." 
 
 Hero, then, was the commencement of the work. 
 The germ of the Reformation was contained in these 
 theses of Luther. The abuses of indulgence were 
 attacked in them, (and this was their most striking 
 feature;) but behind those attacks there was, more- 
 over, a principle which, although it attracted the 
 attention of the multitude far less, was destined one 
 day to overthrow the edifice of the papacy. The 
 evangelical doctrine of a free and gratuitous remission 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of sins was here publicly professed, for tlie first time. 
 Henceforth the work must grow. In fact, it was 
 evident that any man who had faith in tlie remission 
 of sins, as preached by the doctor of Wittemberg, — 
 any one who had this conversion and sanctification, the 
 necessity of which he urged, — would no longer concern 
 himself about human ordinances ; but would escape 
 from the swaddling-bands of Rome, and secure the 
 liberty of the children of God. All errors behoved to 
 give way before this truth. By it light had at first 
 entered Luther's own mind ; and by it, in like manner, 
 light is to be diffused in the Church. What previous 
 reformers wanted was a clear knowledge of this truth ; 
 and hence the unfruitfnlness of their labours. Luther 
 himself was afterwards aware that, in proclaiming 
 justification by faith, he had laid the axe to the root of 
 the tree. " This is the doctrine," said he, " which we 
 attack in the followers of the papacy. Huss and 
 Wickliffe only attacked their lives ; but in attacking 
 their doctrine, we take the goose by the neck. All 
 depends on the Word which the pope took from us and 
 falsified. I have vanquished the pope, because my 
 doctrine is according to God, and his is according to 
 the devil." 
 
 We, too, have, in onr day, forgotten the capital doc- 
 trine of justification by faith, though, in a sense, the 
 reverse of that of our fathers. "In the time of 
 Luther," says one of our contemporaries, " the remis- 
 sion of sins at least cost money; but in our day every 
 one supplies himself gratis." These two extremes are 
 very much alike. Perhaps there is even more forget- 
 fulness of God in our extreme, than in that of the six- 
 teenth century. Tlie principle of justification by the 
 grace of God, w ch brought the Church out of so 
 much darkness at the time of the Eeformation, is also 
 the only principle which can renew our generation, 
 put an end to its doubts and waverings, destroy the 
 canker of egotism, establish the reign of morality and 
 justice, and, in one word, reunite the world to God, 
 from whom it has beeu separated. 
 
 But if the theses of Luther were mighty in virtue of 
 the truth which they proclaimed, they were not less so 
 through the faith of their declared defender. He had 
 boldly unsheathed the sword of the Word, and he had 
 done it trusting to the power of truth. He had felt, 
 that in leaning on the promises of God he could, in 
 the language of the world, afford to risk something. 
 Speaking of this bold attack, he says, " Let him who 
 would begin a good enterprise undertake it, trusting to 
 its own merits, and not (of this let him beware) to the 
 help and countenance of man. Moreover, let not men, 
 nor even the whole world, deter him. For these words 
 will never deceive : ' It is good to trust in the Lord ; 
 and none that trust in Him shall be confounded.' But 
 let him who neither is able nor willing to hazard some- 
 thing through trust in God, beware of undertaking 
 anything." Doubtless, Luther, after putting up his 
 theses on the door of the church of All Saints, retired 
 to his tranquil cell, in full possession of the peace and 
 joy imparted by an action done in the name of the 
 Lord, and for the sake of eternal truth. 
 
 These theses, notwithstanding of their great bold- 
 ness, still bespeak the monk, who refuses to allow a 
 single doubt as to the authority of the See of Rome. 
 
 But in attacking the doctrine of indulgences, Luther 
 had, without perceiving it, assailed several errors, the 
 exposm-e of which could not be agreeable to the pope 
 seeing that they tended, sooner or later, to bring his 
 supremacy in question. Luther, at the time, did not 
 see so far; but he felt all the boldness of the step 
 which he had just taken, and, consequently, thought 
 himself bound to temper it in so far as was consistent 
 with the respect due to truth. He, accordingly, pre- 
 sented his theses only as doubtful propositions, on which 
 he was anxious for the views of the learned ; and, con- 
 formably to the established custom, annexed to them a 
 solemn protestation, declaring that he wished not to 
 say or affirm anything not founded on Holy Scripture, 
 the Fathers of the Church, and the rights and decretals 
 of the See of Rome. 
 
 Often, in the sequel, on contemplating the immense 
 and unlooked-for consequences of this courageous at- 
 tack, Luther was astonished at himself, and could not 
 understand how he had ventured upon it. An invisible 
 hand, mightier than his own, held the leading reins, 
 and pushed him into a path which he knew not, and 
 from the difiiculties of which he would, perhaps, have 
 recoiled, if he had known them, and been advancing 
 alone and of himself. "I engaged in this dispute," 
 says he, " without premeditated purpose, without know- 
 ing it or wishing it; and was taken quite unprepared. 
 For the truth of this I appeal to the Searcher of 
 hearts." 
 
 Luther had become acquainted with the source of 
 these abuses. He had received a little book, orna- 
 mented with the arms of the Archbishop of Mentz 
 and Magdebourg, and containing the regulations to he 
 observed in the sale of indulgences. It was this young 
 prelate, therefore, — this accomplished prince, — who 
 had prescribed, or at least sanctioned, all this quackery. 
 In him Luther only sees a superior, to whom he owes 
 fear and reverence ; and wishing not to beat the air, 
 but to address those entrusted with the government of 
 the Church, he sends him a letter, distinguished at once 
 by its frankness and humility. Luther wrote this let- 
 ter to Albert the same day on which he put up his 
 theses. 
 
 " Pardon me, most reverend Father in Christ, and 
 most illustrious Prince," says he to him, " if I, who am 
 only the dregs of mankind, have the presumption to 
 write your High Mightiness. The Lord Jesus is my 
 witness, that, feeling how small and despicable I am, 
 I have long put off doing it. . . . Will your High- 
 ness, however, be pleased to let fall a look on a grain 
 of dust, and, in accordance with your episcopal meek- 
 ness, graciously receive my petition. 
 
 " There are people who are carrying the papal in- 
 dulgence up and down the country in the name of 
 your Grace. I do not so much blame the declama- 
 tion of the preachers, (I have not heaa-d them.) as the 
 erroneous ideas of unlearned and simple people, who 
 imagine that by buying indulgences they secure their 
 salvation. . . . 
 
 "Good God! — souls entrusted to your care, most 
 venerable Father, are conducted to death, and not to 
 life. The just and strict account which will be re- 
 quired of you grows and augments from day to day. 
 . . . I have not been able to continue longer silent. 
 
INDIFFERENCE OF THE BISHOPS. 
 
 83 
 
 Ah ! man is not saved by works, or by the perform- 
 ances of his bishop. . . . E\en tlie righteous 
 scarcely is saved ; and the way that leadeth unto life 
 is strait. Wliy, then, do the j)reacher3 of indulgences 
 by vain fables inspire the people with a false security? 
 
 "According to them, indulgence alone ought to be 
 proclaimed, ought to be extolled. . . . What! — 
 Is it not the chief and only duty of bishops to instruct 
 the people in the Go.spel and the love of .Jesus Christ? 
 Jesus Christ has nowhere ordered the preacliiiig of in- 
 dulgence ; but has strongly enjoined the preaching of 
 the Gospel. How dreadful, then, and how perilous, 
 for a bishop to allow the Gospel to be passed in silence, 
 nnd nothing but the sound of indulgence to be inces- 
 santly dunned into the ears of his peoi)le. . . . 
 
 "Most worthy Father in God, in the instruction of 
 the commissaries, which has been published in name of 
 your Grace, (doubtless without your knowledge.) it is 
 said that the indulgence is the most precious treasure, 
 — that it reconciles man to God, and enables those who 
 purchase it to dispense with repentance. 
 
 " AVhat, tlien, can I, what ought I to do, most vener- 
 able Bishop, most serene Prince'? Ah! I supplicate 
 your Highness, by the Lord Jesus Christ, to turn upon 
 this business an eye of paternal vigilance, to suppress 
 the pamphlet entirely, and ordain preachers to deliver 
 a different sort of discourses to the people. If you 
 decline to do so, be assured you will one day hear some 
 voice raised in refutation of these preachers, to the 
 great dishonour of your most serene Highness." 
 
 Luther at the same time sent his theses to the arch- 
 bishop, and, in a postscript, asked him to read them, 
 that he might be convinced how little foundation there 
 was for the doctrine of indulgences. 
 
 Thus Luther's whole desire was, that the watchmen 
 of the Church should awake, and exert themselves in 
 putting an end to the evils which were laying it waste. 
 Nothing could be more noble aud more respectful than 
 this letter from a monk to one of flie greatest princes 
 of the Church and the empire. Never was there a 
 better exemplification of the spirit of our Saviotu-'s 
 precept, " Kender unto Caesar the things which are 
 Ciesar's, aud unto God the things which are God's." 
 This is not the course of violent revolutionists, who 
 contemn powers and blame dignities. It is a cry pro- 
 ceeding from the conscience of a Christian and a priest, 
 who gives honour to all ; but, in the first place, fears 
 God. However, all prayers and supplications were 
 useless. Young Albert, engrossed by his pleasures and 
 ambitious designs, made no reply to this solemn appeal. 
 The Bishop of Brandebourg, Luther's ordinary, — a 
 learned and pious man, to whom, also, he sent his 
 theses, — replied, that he was attacking the power of the 
 Church — tiiat he would involve himself in great trouble 
 and vexation — that the thing was beyond his strength — 
 and that his earnest .advice to him was to keep quiet. 
 The princes of the Church sliut their ears against the 
 voice of God, thus energetically and affectiugly declared 
 by the instrumentality of Luther. They would not 
 comprehend the signs of the times ; they were struck 
 ^th that blindness which has been the ruin of so 
 many powers and dignities. "Both thought," says 
 Luther afterwards, " that the pope would be too many 
 for a miserable mendicant like me." 
 
 But Luther was better .able than the bishops to per- 
 ceive the disastrous effects which the indulgences had 
 upon the manners and lives of the people ; for he was 
 in dii'ect correspondence with them. He had constantly 
 a near view of what the bishops learned only by un- 
 faithful reports. If the bishops failed him, God did 
 not fail him. The Head of the Church, who sits in 
 heaven, aud to whom has been given all power upon 
 the earth, had himself prepared the ground, and de- 
 posited the grain in the h.ands of His servant. He 
 gave wings to the seed of truth, and sent it in an in- 
 stant over the whole length and breadth of His Church. 
 
 Nobody appeared at the university next day to at- 
 tack the propositions of Luther. The traffic of Tetzel 
 was too much in discredit, and too disgraceful for any 
 other than himself, or some one of his creatures, to 
 dare to take up the gauntlet. But these theses were 
 destined to be heard in other places than under the roof 
 of an academical hall. Scarcely had they been nailed 
 to the door of the castle church of Wittemberg, than 
 the feeble strokes of the hammer were followed through- 
 out Germany by a blow which reached even to the 
 foundations of proud Rome, threatening sudden ruin to 
 the walls, the gates, aud the pillars of the papacy, 
 stunning aud terrifying its champions, and, at the same 
 time, awakening thousands from the sleep of error. 
 
 These theses spread with the rapidity of lightning. 
 A month had not elapsed before they were at Rome. 
 " In a fortnight," says a contemporary historian,' " they 
 were in every part of Germany, and in four weeks had 
 traversed almost the whole of Christendom ; as if the 
 angels themselves had been the messengers, and carried 
 them before the eyes of all men. Nobody can believe 
 what a noise they made." They were afterwards 
 translated into Dutch and Spanish, and a traveller even 
 sold them at Jerusalem. " Every one," says Luther, 
 " was complaining of the indulgences ; and as all the 
 bishops and doctors had kept silence, and nobody had 
 ventured to bell the cat, poor Luther became a famous ■ 
 doctor, because, as they expressed it, one had at 
 length come who dared to do it. But I liked not this 
 glory; the music seemed to me too lofty for the 
 words." 
 
 Some of the pilgrims who had flocked from different 
 countries to Wittemberg for the feast of All Saints, 
 instead of indulgences, carried home with them the 
 famous theses of the Augustine monk, aud thus helped 
 to circulate them. All read, pondered, and commented 
 on them. They occupied the attention of all convents 
 and all universities. All pious monks who had entered 
 the cloister to save their soul, all upright and honest 
 men, rejoiced in this striking and simple confession of 
 the truth, and ^vished with all their heart that Luther 
 would continue the work which he had begun. At 
 length a monk had had the courage to undertake this 
 perilous contest. It was a reparation made to Chris- 
 tendom, and the public conscience was satisfied. In 
 these theses piety saw a blow given to all kinds of 
 superstition ; tlie new theology hailed in them the de- 
 feat of the scholastic dogmas ; princes and magistrates 
 regarded them as a barrier raised against the encroach- 
 ments of ecclesiastical power ; while the nations were 
 delighted at seeing the decided negative which this 
 1 Myconius, "Hist, of the Ref.," p. 23. 
 
84 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 monk had giveu to the avarice of the Eoman chancery. 
 Erasmus, a man very worthy of credit, and one of the 
 principal rivals of the reformer, says to Duke George 
 of Saxony, — ""Wlien Luther attacked this fable, the 
 whole world concurred in applauding him." " I ob- 
 serve," said he, on another occasion, to Cardinal Cam- 
 peggi, " that those of the purest morals, and an 
 evangelical piety, are the least opposed to Luther. His 
 life is lauded even by those who cannot bear his faith. 
 The world was weary of a doctrine containing so many 
 childish fables, and was thirsting for that living water, 
 pure and hidden, which issues from the springs of the 
 evangelists and the apostles. The genius of Luther 
 was fitted to accomplish these things, and his zeal must 
 have animated him to the noble enterprise," 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Reuclilin— Erasmus— Flek—Bibra— The Emperor— The Pope— Myconius— 
 The Monks — Apprehensions — Adelman — An Old Priest — The Bishop— 
 The Elector— The Inhabitants of Erfui-t— Luther's Reply— Trouble- 
 Luther's Moving Principle. 
 
 "We must follow these propositions wherever they 
 penetrated, — to the studies of the learned, the cells of 
 monks, and the palaces of princes, — in order to form 
 some idea of the various, but wonderful effects which 
 they produced in Germany. 
 
 Keuchlin received them. He was weary of the hard 
 battle which he had been obliged to fight against the 
 monks. The power which the new combatant dis- 
 played in his theses revived the spirit of the old cham- 
 pion of letters, and gave joy to his saddened heart. 
 " Thanks be to God," exclaimed he, after he had read 
 them, " now they have found a man who will give them 
 so much to do, that they will be obliged to let me end 
 my old age in peace." 
 
 The prudent Erasmus was in the Netherlands when 
 the theses reached him. He was inwardly delighted 
 at seeing his secret wishes for the reformation of 
 abuses expressed with so much boldness, and com- 
 mended their author, only exhorting him to more 
 moderation and prudence. Nevertheless, some per- 
 sons in his presence blaming Luther's violence, he said, 
 " God has given men a cure which cuts thus deep into 
 the flesh, because otherwise the disease would be in- 
 curable." And at a later period, when the Elector of 
 
 ; Saxony asked his opinion as to Luther's affair, he 
 replied, with a smile, " I am not at all astonished at 
 his having made so much noise, for he has committed 
 
 I two unpardonable faults, — ^he has attacked the tiara of 
 
 t the pope, and the belly of the monks." 
 
 ! Dr. Flek, prior of the cloister of Steinlausitz, had 
 for some time given up reading mass ; but had not told 
 any one his reason. He one day found the theses of 
 Luther posted up in the refectory of his convent. He 
 went up and began to read them, but had only perused 
 a few, when, unable to contain his joy, he exclaimed, 
 " Well, well, he whom we have been so long looking 
 for is come at last; and this you monks will see." 
 
 Then reading in the future, says Mathesius, and play- 
 ing upon the word Wittemberg, he said, " Everybody 
 will come to seek wisdom at this mountain, and will 
 find it." He wrote to the doctor to persevere courage- 
 ously in his glorious combat. Luther calls him a man 
 full of joy and consolation. 
 
 The ancient and celebiated episcopal see of "Wurz- 
 burg was then held by Lorenzo de Bibra, a man, 
 according to the testimony of his contemporaries, pious, 
 honest, and wise. When a gentleman came to inti- 
 mate to him that he intended his daughter for the 
 cloister, " Give her rather a husband," said he ; and 
 then added, " Are you in want of money for that pur- 
 pose? I will lend you." The emperor and all the 
 princes held him in the highest esteem. He lamented 
 the disorders of the Church, and especially those of 
 convents. The theses having reached his palace also, 
 he read them with great delight, and publicly declared 
 his approbation of Luther. At a later period he wrote 
 to the Elector Frederick, " Don't part with pious Dr. 
 Martin Luther ; for he has been wronged." The elec- 
 tor, delighted at this testimony, -nTote the reformer 
 with his own hand to acquaint him with it. 
 
 The Emperor Maximilian, predecessor of Charles 
 v., also read and admired the theses of the monk of 
 Wittemberg. He perceived his talents, and foresaw 
 that this obscure Augustine might, indeed, become a 
 powerful ally of Germany in her struggle with Rome. 
 Accordingly, he instructed his envoy to say to the 
 Elector of Saxony, " Take good care of the monk 
 Luther, for the time may come when we shall have 
 need of him ;" and shortly after, being at a diet with 
 Pfeffinger, the elector's confidential councillor, he said 
 to him, " Well, what is your Augustine doing ? As- 
 suredly his propositions are not to be despised ; he will 
 give the monks enough to do." 
 
 At Rome even, and in the Vatican, the theses were 
 not so ill received as might have been supposed. Leo 
 X. judged of them as a friend of letters, rather than a 
 pope. The amusement which they gave him made him 
 overlook the severe truths which they contained ; and 
 when Sylvester Prierias, the master of the sacred 
 palace, who had the office of examining new works, 
 urged him to treat Luther as a heretic, he replied, 
 " This friar, Martin Luther, is a great genius ; all 
 that is said against him is mere monkish jealousy." 
 
 There were few on whom the theses of Luther pro- 
 duced a deeper impression than on the scholar of 
 Annaberg, wliom Tetzel had so pitilessly repulsed. 
 Myconius had entered a convent, and the very first 
 evening dreamed he saw an immense field quite covered 
 with ripe corn. " Cut," said the voice of his guide to 
 him ; and when he excused himself for want of skill, 
 his guide shewed him a reaper, who was working with 
 inconceivable rapidity. "Follow, and do like him," 
 said the guide. Myconius, eager for holiness as Luther 
 had been, devoted himself, when in the convent, to 
 vigils, fasts, macerations, and all the works invented 
 by men ; but at length he despaired of ever attaining 
 the objects of his efforts. He abandoned study, and 
 spent liis whole time in manual labour. Sometimes he 
 bound books, sometimes used the turning-lathe, and 
 sometimes did any other kind of work. Still, how- 
 ever, this external labour did not appease his troubled 
 
APPREHENSIONS AND COMMENDATIONS. 
 
 conscience. God hud spoken to him, and he could not 
 fall back into his former slumber. This state of agony 
 lasted for several years. It is sometimes supposed that 
 the paths of the reformers were quite smooth, and that 
 after they rcuouuccd the observances of the Church, 
 their remaining course was easy and pleasant. It is 
 not considered that they arrived at the truth by means 
 of internal struggles, a thousand times more painful 
 than the observances to which servile miuds easily 
 submitted. 
 
 At length the year 1517 arrived. The theses of 
 Luther were published, aud, traversing Christendom, 
 arrived also at the convent where the scholar of Anna- 
 berg was residing. He hid himself in a corner of the 
 cloister, with John Voit, another monk, that they 
 might be able to read them without interruption. 
 They contained the very truth of which his father had 
 told him. His eyes were opened, he felt a voice with- 
 in him responding to that which was then sounding 
 throughout Germany, and great consolation filled his 
 heart. " I see plainly," said he, " that Martin Luther 
 is the reaper whom I saw in my dream, aud who 
 taught me to gather the ears of corn." He imme- 
 diately began to profess the doctrine which Luther 
 had proclaimed. The monks, alarmed when they 
 heard him, argued with him, and declaimed against 
 Luther and against his convent. '-That convent," 
 replied Myconius, " is like our Lord's sepulchre ; they 
 wish to prevent Christ from rising again, but will not 
 succeed." At last his superior, seeing they could not 
 convince him, interdicted him for a year and a-half 
 from all intercourse with the world, not permitting 
 him even to wTitc or to receive letters, and threatening 
 him with perpetual imprisonment. However, for him 
 also the hour of deliverance arrived. Being after- 
 wards appointed pastor at Zwickau, he was the first 
 who declared against the papacy in the churches of 
 Thuringia. '• Tlien," says he, " I could work with my 
 venerable father Luther at the Gospel harvest." Jonas 
 describes him as a man as able as he was willing. 
 
 Doubtless there were others also to whom Luther's 
 theses were the signal of life. They kindled a new 
 light in many cells, cottages, and palaces. "While 
 those who had entered convents in (]uest of good fare 
 and indolence, or rank and honours," says Mathesius, 
 "began to load the name of Luther with reproaches, — 
 the monks who lived in prayer, fasting, and mortifica- 
 tion, thanked God as soon as they heard the cry of the 
 eagle, announced by John Huss a century before." 
 Even the people who did not well understand the theo- 
 logy of the question, and who only knew that Luther 
 was assailing the empire of mendicants and lazy monks, 
 received it with bursts of joy. An immense sensation 
 was produced in Germany by his bold propositions. 
 However, some of the reformer's contemporaries, who 
 foresaw the consequences to which they might lead, 
 and the numerous obstacles which they were destined 
 to encounter, loudly expressed their fears, or, at most, 
 rejoiced with trembling. 
 
 " I am much afraid," wrote the excellent canon of 
 Augsburg, Bernard Adelman, to his friend Pirckeimer, 
 "that the worthy man must yield at last to the avarice 
 and power of the partizans of indulgences. His repre- 
 sentations have had so little effect, that the Bishop of 
 
 Augsburg, our primate aud metropolitan, has just 
 ordered new indulgences, in the name of the pope, for 
 St. Peter's at Rome. Let him hasten to seek the aid 
 of princes. Let him beware of tempting God ; for it 
 were to shew an absolute want of sense to overlook the 
 imminent danger to which he is exposed." Adelman 
 was greatly delighted when it was rumoured that 
 Henry VIII. had invited Luther to England. " There," 
 thought he, "he will be able to teach the truth in 
 peace." Several thus imagined that the doctrine of 
 the Gospel W!is to be supported by the power of princes, 
 not knowing that it advances without this power, and 
 is often trammelled and weakened by the possession 
 of it. 
 
 The celebrated historian, Albert Kranz, was at 
 Hamburg on his deathbed when Luther's theses were 
 brought to him. " You are right, friar Martin," he 
 exclaimed ;" but you ivill not succeed. . . . Poor 
 monk ! Go into your cell and cry, ' Lord, have mercy 
 on me !'" 
 
 An old priest of Hexter in Westphalia, having re- 
 ceived and read the theses in his presbytery, said in 
 low German, shaking his head, "Dear friiir Martin! 
 if you succeed in overthrowing this purgatory and all 
 these paper i^orchauts, assuredly you are a mighty 
 seignior!" Erbenius, a century later, wrote beneath 
 these words the following stanza : — 
 
 Not only did many of Luther's friends entertain fears 
 as to the step which he had taken, but several even 
 testified their disapprobation. 
 
 The Bishop of Brandenbm-g, distressed at seeing his 
 diocese the scene of so important a contest, was anxious 
 to suppress it. He resolved to take the gentle method, 
 and employed the Abbot of Lenin to say to Luther, in 
 his name, " I don't find anything in the theses contra- 
 dictory of Catholic truth. I myself condemn these in- 
 discreet proclamations ; but for the love of peace and 
 deference to your bishop, cease writing on the subject." 
 Luther was confounded at being thus humbly addressed 
 by so great an abbot and so great a bishop, aud, led 
 away by the feelings of the moment, replied, " I con- 
 sent. I would rather obey than work miracles, were 
 it in my power." 
 
 The elector was grieved at the commencement of a 
 contest which was, no doubt, legitimate ; but the end 
 of which it was impossible to foresee. No prince was 
 more desirous than Frederick for the maintenance of 
 public peace. Now, what an immense fire might this 
 small spark not kindle ! What discord, what rending 
 of nations, might this quarrel of monks not produce ! 
 The elector repeatedly made Luther aware how much 
 he was annoyed. 
 
 Even in his own order, aud his own convent of Wit- 
 temberg, Luther met with disapprobation. The prior 
 and sub-prior, terrified at the clamour of Tetzel and 
 his companions, repaired in fear and trembling to the 
 cell of friar Martin, and said, "Do not, we entreat 
 you, bring shame on our order. The other orders, and 
 especially the Dominicans, are overjoyed to think that 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 they are not to be alone in disgrace." Luther wns 
 moved by tliese words, but soon recovering himself, he 
 replied : " Dear fathers, if the thing is not done in the 
 name of God, it will fail ; but if it is, let it proceed." 
 The prior and sub-prior said no more. " The thing 
 proceeds even now," adds Luther, after relating this 
 anecdote, " and, please God, always will proceed better 
 and better, even to the end. Amen." 
 
 Luther had many otlrer attacks to sustain. At 
 Erfurt he was accused of violence and pride in his 
 manner of condemning the opinions of others — the 
 charge usually brought against those who act under 
 the strong conviction which the word of God gives. 
 He was also charged with precipitation and fickleness. 
 
 " They call upon nie for moderation," replied Luthei', 
 "and they themselves, in the judgment which they 
 pass upon me, trample it under foot ! . . . We see 
 the mote iu our brother's eye, and observe not the 
 beam iu our own. . . . Truth will no more gain 
 by my moderation, thau it will lose by my presump- 
 tion. I desire to know," continued he, addressing Lange, 
 " what errors you and your theologians have found iu 
 my theses ? Who knows not that a new idea is seldom 
 advanced without an appearance of arrogance, and an 
 accusation of disputatiousness ? Were humility herself 
 to undertake something new, those of an opposite 
 opinion would charge her with pride. Why were 
 Christ and all the martyrs put to death '? Because they 
 were deemed proud despisers of the wisdom of the 
 time, and advanced new truths without previously 
 taking counsel of the organs of ancient opinion." 
 
 " Let not the wise of the present day, then, expect 
 of me humility, or rather hypocrisy enough, to ask 
 their opinion before publishing what duty calls me to 
 say. What I do will be done, not by the prudence of 
 men, but by the counsel of God. If the work is of 
 God, who can arrest it? If it is not of God, who can 
 advance it ? Not my will, uor theirs, nor ours, but 
 Thy will be done, O Holy Father, who art in heaven !" 
 In these words what courage, what noble enthusiasm, 
 what confidence in God ; and, above all, what truth — 
 truth fitted to all times ! 
 
 StiU, the reproaches and accusations which assailed 
 Luther from all quarters, failed not to make some 
 impression on his mind. His hopes were disappointed. 
 He had expected to see the heads of the Chm-ch, and 
 the most distinguished scholars of the nation, publicly 
 uniting with him ; but it was otherwise. A word of 
 approbation, allowed to escape at the fii'st moment of 
 enthusiasm, was all that the best disposed gave him ; 
 while several of those whom he had till then most 
 highly venerated, were loud iu censuring him. He 
 felt himself alone in the whole Church — alone against 
 Eome — alone at the foot of that ancient and formidable 
 edifice, whose foundations lay deep iu the bowels of 
 the earth, whose battlements reached the clouds, and 
 at which he had just struck a daring blow. He was 
 troubled and depressed. Doubts, which he thought he 
 had surmounted, returned with new force. He trem- 
 bled at the thought of having the authority of the 
 whole Church against him, of withdrawing from that 
 authority, and resisting that voice which nations and 
 ages had humbly obeyed, — of setting himself in oppo- 
 sition to that Church which he had from infancy been 
 
 accustomed to venerate as the mother of the faithful. 
 . . . He, a paltry monk, . . . the effort was 
 too great for man. No step cost him more thau this, 
 and, accordingly, it was the step which decided the 
 Reformation. 
 
 The struggle which took place in his soul cannot be 
 better described thau iu his own words. " I began 
 this affair," says he, " with great fear and trembling. 
 Who was I, a poor, miserable, despicable friar, liker a 
 corpse than a living man, — who was I, to oppose the 
 majesty of the pope, before whom not only the kings 
 of the earth and the whole world, but also (if I may so 
 speak) heaven and hell trembled, compelled to yield 
 obedience to his nod ? Nobody can imagine what ray 
 heart suffered during those two first years, and into 
 what depression — I might say what despair — I was 
 often plunged. No idea of it cau be formed by those 
 proud spirits who afterwards attacked the pope with 
 great boldness, although with all their ability they 
 could not have done him the least harm, had not Jesus 
 Christ, by me, his feeble and unworthy instrument, 
 given him a wound which never will be cured. But 
 while they were contented to look on, and leave me 
 alone in danger, I was not so joyful, so tranquil, or so 
 sure about the business; for at that time I did not 
 know many things which, thank God, I know now. 
 It is true, several pious Christians were much pleased 
 with my propositions, and set a great value upon them, 
 but I could not own and regard them as the organs of 
 the Holy Spirit. I looked only to the pope, the cai-- 
 dinals, bishops, theologians, jurisconsults, monks, and 
 priests. That was the direction from which I expected 
 the Spirit to come. vStill liaving, by means of Scrip- 
 ture, come off victorious o^er all contrary arguments, 
 I have at length, by the grace of Christ, though after 
 much pain, travail, and anguish, surmounted the only 
 argument which arrested me, — viz., that it is necessary 
 to listen to the Church ; for, from the bottom of ray 
 heart, I honoured the church of the pope as the true 
 Church ; and did so with much more sincerity and 
 veneration than those shameless and infamous cor- 
 rupters who are now so very forward in opposing me. 
 Had I despised the pope as much as he is despised in 
 the hearts of those who praise him so loudly with their 
 lips, I would have dreaded that the earth would in- 
 stantly open and swallow me up, as it did Korah and 
 his company!" 
 
 How honourable these misgivings are to Luther I 
 How well they display the sincerity and upriglitness of 
 his soiU ! And how much more worthy of respect do 
 those painful assaults which he had to sustain, both 
 within and without, prove him to be, than mere intre- 
 pidity without any such struggle, could have done! 
 The travail of his soul clearly displays the truth and 
 divinity of his work. We see that their origin and 
 principle were in heaveu. After all the facts which 
 we have stated, who will presume to say that the 
 Reformation was an affair of politics 1 No, assuredly; 
 it was not the effect of human policy, but of the power 
 of God. Had Luther been urged "by human passions 
 only, he would have yielded to his feai's ; his miscalcu- 
 latious and scruples would have smothered the fire 
 which had been kindled in his soul, and he would only 
 have thrown a transient gleam upon the Church, iu the 
 
TETZEL'S ATTACK— LUTHER'S REPLY. 
 
 same way as the many zealous and pious men •whose 
 names luwe come clown to us. But now God's time 
 bad arrived; the work was not to be arrested; the 
 emancipation of the Church was to be accomplished. 
 Luther was destined at least to prepai-c that complete 
 emancipation, and tliose extensive developments which 
 are promised to the kingdom of Christ. Accordingly, 
 he experienced the truth of the magnificent promise : 
 " The strong men shall faint and be weary, and the 
 young men utterly fail ; but they who wait upon the 
 Lord shiill renew their strength ; they shall mount up 
 with wings like eagles." This Divine power which 
 filled the heart of the doctor of AVittembcrg, and 
 which had engaged him in the combat, soon gave him 
 back all his former resolution. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Tetiol'» Attauk— Luther's Reply— Good Works— Lutlier and Spalatin— Study 
 of Scripture-Seheurl and LutUcv— Doubts oa the Theses- Luther tor 
 the People— A New Suit. 
 
 The reproaches, timidity, or silence, of Luther's 
 friends had discouraged him ; the attacks of his enemies 
 had the very opposite effect. This frequently happens. 
 The adversaries of the truth, while thinking by their 
 violence to do their own work, often do that of God 
 himself. The gauntlet which had been thrown down 
 was taken up by Tctzel with a feeble hand. Luther's 
 sermon, which had been to the people what his theses 
 had been to the learned, was the subject of his first 
 reply. He refuted it point by point in his own way, 
 and then announced that he was preparing to combat 
 his adversary at greater length in theses, which he 
 would maintain at the University of Frankfort on the 
 Oder. " Then," said he, adverting to the conclusion 
 of Luther's sermon, — '• then every one will be able to 
 judge who is heresiarch, heretic, schismatic, erroneous, 
 rash, and calumnious. Then will it be manifest to the 
 eyes of all who has a dull brain, who has never felt 
 the Bible, read Christian doctrines, understood his 
 own teachers. ... In maintaining the propositions 
 which I advance, I am ready to suffer all things, 
 prison, cudgel, water, and fire." 
 
 One thing which strikes us in reading this produc- 
 tion of Tetzel, is the difference between his German 
 and that of Luther. One would say that an interval 
 of several ages is between them. A foreigner, 
 especially, sometimes finds it difficult to comprehend 
 Tetzel, whereas the language of Luther is almost the 
 same as that of our day. A comparison of the two is 
 sufficient to shew that Luther is the creator of the 
 German language. No doubt this is one of his least 
 merits, but still'it is one. 
 
 Luther replied without naming Tetzel ; Tetzel had 
 not named him. But there was nobody in Germany 
 who could not have placed at the head of their publica- 
 tions the name which they had judged it expedient to 
 suppress. Tetzel tried to confound the repentance 
 which God demands with the penance which the 
 Chittch imposes, in order to give a higher value to his 
 
 indulgences. Luther made it his business to clear up 
 this ])oiut. 
 
 "To avoid many words," said he, in his graphic 
 style, " I give to the wind (which, besides, has more 
 leisure than I have) his other words, which are only 
 sheets of paper and withered leaves ; and I content 
 myself with examining the foundations of his house of 
 bur-thistle. 
 
 "The penitence which the holy father imposes can- 
 not be that which Jesus Clirist demands ; for whatever 
 the holy father imposes he cau dispense with ; and if 
 those two penitences were one and the same, it would 
 follow that the holy father takes away what Jesus 
 appoints, and thereby makes void the commandment 
 
 of God Ah ! if it so pleases him, let him 
 
 maltreat nie," continues Luther, after quoting other 
 false interpretations of Tetzel ; " let him call me heretic, 
 schismatic, calumniator, or anything he likes ; I wiU 
 not, on that account, be his enemy, but will pray for 
 him as for a friend. But it is not possible to allow 
 him to treat the Holy Scriptures, our consolation, 
 (Rom. XV. 4,) as a sow treats a sack of corn." 
 
 We must accustom ourselves to Luther's occasional 
 use of expressions too harsh and homely for our age, — 
 it was the custom of the time ; and under those words, 
 which in our days would violate the proprieties of 
 language, there is usually a force and justness which dis- 
 poses us to pardon their rankness. He continues thus : 
 " He who buys indulgences, say our adversaries, 
 does better than he who gives alms to a poor man not 
 absolutely in extremity. Now, let them tell us that 
 the Turks are profaning our churches and crosses, we 
 will be able to hear it without a shudder ; for we have 
 amongst ourselves Turks a hundred times worse, who 
 profane and annihilate the only true sanctuary, the 
 "Word of God, which sanctifies all things. . . . Let 
 him who would follow this precept take good care not 
 to give food to the hungry, nor clothing to the naked, 
 before they give up the ghost, and, consequently, have 
 no need of his assistance." 
 
 It is important to contrast the zeal which Luther 
 thus manifests for good works with what he says of 
 justification by faith. Indeed, no man who has any 
 experience, or any knowledge of Christianity, needs 
 this new proof of a truth of which he is fully assured, — 
 viz., that the more we adhere to justification by faith, 
 the more strongly we feel the necessity of works, and 
 the more diligently we practise them; whereas lax 
 views as to the doctrine of faith necessarily lead to 
 laxity of conduct. Luther, as St. Paul before, and 
 Howard after him, are proofs of the former; all men 
 without faith (and with such the world is filled) are 
 proofs of the latter. 
 
 Luther comes next to the insulting language of 
 Tetzel, and pays him back in his own way. "At the 
 sound of these invectives methinks I hear a large ass 
 braying at me. I am delighted at it, and would be 
 very sorry that such people should give me the name 
 of a good Christian." We must give Luther as he is 
 with all his foibles. This turn for pleasantry, coarse 
 pleasantry, was one of them. The Reformer was a 
 great man, undoubtedly a man of God ; but he was a 
 man, not an angel, and not even a perfect man. Who 
 is entitled to call upon him for perfection ? 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 '• For tlie rest," adds he, challenging liis opponents 
 to the combat, "although it is not usual to burn 
 heretics for such points, here, at Wittemberg, am I, 
 Doctor Martin Luther! Is there any inquisitor, who 
 pretends to chew fire, and make rocks leap into the air? 
 I give him to know, that he has a safe-conduct to come 
 here, an open door, and bed and board certain, all by 
 the gracious care of our admirable Duke Frederick, 
 who will never protect heresy." 
 
 We see that Luther was not deficient in courage. 
 He trusted to the "Word of God — a rock which never 
 gives way in the tempest. But God, in faithfulness, 
 gave him still further aid. The bursts of joy with 
 which the multitude had hailed Luther's theses were 
 soon succeeded by a gloomy silence. The learned had 
 timidly drawn back on hearing the calamities and 
 insults of Tetzel and the Dominicans. The bishops, 
 who had previously been loud in condemuatiou of the 
 abuses of indulgences, seeing them at length attacked, 
 had not faUed, with an inconsistency of which there 
 are but too many examples, to find that at that time 
 the attack was inopportune. The greater ])art of the 
 Reformer's friends were frightened. Several of them 
 had fled. But when the first terror was over, the 
 minds of men took an opposite direction. The monk 
 of "Wittemberg soon saw himself again siUTOunded with 
 a great number of friends and admirers. 
 
 There was one who, although timid, remained faith- 
 ful to him throughout this crisis, and whose friendship 
 at once solaced and supported him. This was Spalatin. 
 Their correspondence was not interrupted. "I thank 
 you," says he, when speaking of a particular mark of 
 friendship which he had received from him ; '• but 
 what do I not owe you?" It was on the 11th Novem- 
 ber, just fifteen days after the publication of the 
 theses, and consequently when the minds of men were 
 in a state of the greatest fermentation, that Luther 
 thus delights to unbosom his gratitude to his friend. 
 
 In the same letter to Spalatin, it is interesting to see 
 the strong man, who had just performed a most daring 
 exploit, declaring from what source he derives his 
 strength. " "We can do nothing of ourselves ; we can 
 do everything by the grace of God. By us all igno- 
 rance is invincible, but no ignorance is invincible by 
 the grace of God. The more we endeavour of our- 
 selves to attain to wisdom, the nearer we approach to 
 foUy. It is not true that this invincible ignorance 
 excuses the sinner; were it so, there would be no sin 
 in the world." 
 
 Luther had not sent his propositions either to the 
 prince or to any of his courtiers. The chaplain seems 
 to have expressed some surprise at this, and Luther 
 answers: "I did not wish my theses to reach our 
 illustrious prince or any of his court before those who 
 think themselves specially addressed had received 
 them, lest it should be thought that I had published 
 them by order of the prince, or to gain his favour, or 
 from opposition to the Bishop of Mentz. I hear there 
 are already several who dream such things. But now 
 I can swear in all safety that my theses were published 
 without the knowledge of Duke Frederick." 
 
 If Spalatin solaced his friend, and supported him 
 by his influence, Luther, on his part, was desirous to 
 meet the requests of the modest chaplain. The latter, 
 
 among other questions, asked one which is frequently 
 repeated in our day, — ""What is the best method of 
 studying the Holy Scriptures ?" 
 
 " Till now, my dear Spalatin," replied Luther, " you 
 have asked questions which I could answer. But to 
 direct you in the study of the Scriptures, is more than 
 I am able to do. However, if you would absolutely 
 know my method, I will not hide it from you. 
 
 " It is most certain that we cannot succeed in com- 
 prehending the Scripture either by study or mere 
 intellect. Yom- first duty, then, is to begin with 
 prayer. Entreat the Lord that He will, in His gi-eat 
 mercy, deign to grant you the true knowledge of His 
 "Word. There is no other interpreter of the Word of 
 God than the Author of that "Word, according as it is 
 said, ' They will all be taught of God.' Hope nothing 
 from your works, nothing from your intellect. Trust 
 only iu God, and in the influence of His Spirit. 
 Believe one who is speaking from experience." 
 
 AVe here see how Luther attained possession of the 
 truth of which he was a preacher. It was not, as some 
 pretend, by confiding in a presumptuous reason, nor, 
 as others maintain, by abandoning himself to hateful 
 passions. The source from which he drew it was the 
 pui-est, holiest, and most sublime — God himself con- 
 sulted in humility, confidence, and prayer. Few in 
 our day imitate him, and hence few comprehend him. 
 To a serious mind these words of Luther arc iu them- 
 selves a justification of the Reformation. 
 
 Luther likewise found comfort in the friendship of 
 respectable laymen. Christopher Scheurl, the excel- 
 lent secretary of the imperial city of Nm-emberg, gave 
 him gratifying marks of his friendship. "We know how 
 pleasant expressions of sympathy are to the man who 
 feels himself assailed from all quarters. The secretary 
 of Niu-emberg did more ; he tried to make friends to 
 his friend. He urged him to dedicate one of his works 
 to a then celebrated lawyer of Nuremberg, named 
 Jerome Ebner. " You have a high idea of ray studies," 
 modestly replied Luther ; " but I have the poorest idea 
 of them myself. Nevertheless, I was desirous to meet 
 your wishes. I have searched . . . ; but iu all 
 my store, which I never found so meagre, nothing pre- 
 sented itself which seemed at all worthy of being dedi- 
 cated to so great a man by so little a man." Striking 
 humility ! It is Luther who speaks thus, and the per- 
 son with whom he contrasts himself is Doctor Ebner, 
 who is altogether unknown to us. Posterity has not 
 ratified Luther's judgment. 
 
 Luther, who had done nothing to circulate his theses, 
 had not sent them to Scheurl any more than to the 
 elector and his courtiers. The secretary of Nuremberg 
 expressed his surprise. " I had no intention," replies 
 Luther, " to give my theses so much publicity. I 
 wished only to confer on their contents with some of 
 those who reside with us or near us ; intending, if they 
 condemned, to destroy, and if they approved, to pub- 
 lish them. But now they are printed, reprinted, and 
 spread far and wide, beyond my expectation ; so much 
 so that I repent of their production. Not that I have 
 any fear of the truth being known by the people, (for 
 this was all I sought;) but this is not the way of in- 
 structing them. There are questions in the theses as 
 to which I have still my doubts ; and if I had thought 
 
SCHEURL AND LUTHER. 
 
 89 
 
 that tliey were to produce such a scusatiou, there ai'o 
 things which I would liave omitted, and others wliich I 
 would have aflirmcd with greater confidence." Luther 
 afterwards thought differently. Far from fearing he 
 had said too much, he declared that he ought to have 
 said still more. But the apprehensions which Luther 
 expresses to Scheurl do honour to his sincerity. They 
 shew that he had nothing like a premeditated plan, 
 had no party spirit, no overweening conceit, and sought 
 nothing but. the trutli. "When he had fully discovered 
 the truth, his langu;igc was different. "You will find 
 iu my first writings," said he, many years after, " that 
 I very humbly made many con- 
 cessions to the pope, and ou 
 points of great importance, — 
 concessions which I now de- 
 test, and regard as abominable 
 and blasphemous." 
 
 Scheurl was not the only 
 layman of importance who, at 
 this time, testified his friend- 
 ship for Luther. The cele- 
 brated painter, Albert Durcr. 
 sent him a present, — perhap-> 
 one of his pictures ; and the 
 doctor expressed his sense of 
 the obhgatiou iu the warmc~t 
 terms. 
 
 Thus Luther had practical 
 experience of the truth of that 
 saying of Divine wisdom, — 
 " A friend loveth at all times ; 
 and a brother is born for ad- 
 versity." These words he re- 
 membered for the sake of 
 .iilirrs also, and accordingly 
 |4. ;uk'd the cause of the whole 
 p 'puliition. The elector had 
 just levied a tax, anditwascon- 
 
 rhl.atly alleged that he was going to levy another, prob- 
 :il.ly on the advice of his counsellor Pfeffinger, against 
 whom Luther often throws out cutting sarcasms. The 
 doctor boldly placed himself in the breach. " Let not 
 your Highness," said he, " despise the prayer of a poor 
 raendicaut. In the name of God I entreat you not to 
 order a new tax. My heart is broken, as well as that 
 of several of your most devoted servants, at seeing how 
 much the last has injured your fair fame, and the popu- 
 larity which your highness enjoyed. It is true that 
 (iud has endowed you with profound intellect, so that 
 you see much farther into things than I, or doubtless 
 all your subjects, do. But, perhaps, it is the will of 
 God that a feeble intellect instruct a great one, in order 
 that no one may trust in himself, but only in the Lord 
 our God. May he deign to keep your body in health 
 for our good, aud destine your soul to life eternal. 
 Amen." In this way it is that the Gospel, while it 
 makes us honour kings, makes us also plead the cause 
 of the people. "While it tells them of their duties, it, 
 at the same time, reminds the prince of their rights. 
 The voice of a Christian such as Luther, raised in the 
 cabinet of a sovereign, might often supply the place of 
 a whole assembly of legislators. 
 Iu this letter, in which Luther addresses a harsh 
 
 lesson to the elector, lie fears not to present a request 
 to him, or rather to remind him of a promise, — viz., to 
 give him a new suit. This freedom of Luther, at a 
 moment when he might have feared he had given 
 offence to Frederick, is equally honourable to the 
 prince and to the reformer. " But," adds he, " if it is 
 Pfeffinger who has the charge of it, let him give it in 
 reality, and not in protestations of friendship. He 
 knows very well how to weave a web of good words, 
 but no good cloth ever comes out of it." Luther 
 thought, that by the faithful -counsel which he had 
 given to his prince, he had well deserved his court 
 
 dress. Be this as it may, two years later he had not 
 received it, and renewed his request. This seems to 
 indicate that Frederick was not so much under the 
 influence of Luther as has been said. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 Disputation at Frankfoit— Tetzel's Theses— Menaces— Opposition of Kuip- 
 strow— LuUicr's Tlieses Burnt- The Monks- Luther's Peace— Tetzel's 
 Theses Burnt— Luther's Vexation. 
 
 The minds of men had thus gi-adually recovered from 
 their first alarm. Luther lumself was disposed to de- 
 clare that his words did not mean so much as had been 
 imagined. New circumstances might divert public at- 
 tention, and the blow struck at Roman doctrine might, 
 as had been the case with so many others, spend itself 
 iu the air. The partisans of Rome prevented this re- 
 sult. They fanned the flame instead of smothering it. 
 Tetzel aud the Dominicans replied haughtily to the 
 attack wliich had been made upon them. Burning 
 
90 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 ■with eagerness to crush the audacious monk who had 
 disturbed their traffic, and to gain the favour of the 
 Eoman pontiff, they uttered cries of rage. They main- 
 tained that to attack the indulgence ordered by the 
 pope was to attack the pope himself, and they called 
 in the aid of all the monks and theologians of their 
 school. In fact, Tetzel felt that an opponent like 
 Luther was too much for him single-handed. Quite 
 disconcerted, but more especially enraged at the doc- 
 tor's attack, he quitted the environs of "Wittemberg, and 
 repaired to Frankfort-on-the-Oder, where he arrived 
 as early as November, 1517. The university of that 
 town, like that of Wittemberg, was of recent date. 
 One of the professors was Conrad Wimpina, a man of 
 much eloquence, — an old rival of Pollich of Meller- 
 stadt, — and one of the most distinguished theologians 
 of the time. Wlmpina's envy was excited both by 
 the doctor and by the university of Wittemberg ; for 
 then- rei)utation obscured his. Tetzel applied to him 
 for a reply to Luther's theses, aud TVimpina wrote two 
 series of antitheses, — the former to defend the doctrine 
 of indulgences, and the latter to defend the authority 
 of the pope. 
 
 This disputation, which had been long prepared and 
 loudly advertised, and of which Tetzel entertained the 
 highest hopes, took place on the 20th January, 1518. 
 Tetzel having beaten up for recruits, monks had been 
 sent from all the neighbouring cloisters, and assembled 
 to the number of more than three hundred. Tetzel 
 read his theses, one of which declared, '' that whoso- 
 ever says that the soul does not fly away from purga- 
 tory as soon as the money tinkles on the bottom of the 
 strong box, is in error." 
 
 But, above all, he maintained propositions, accord- 
 ing to which the pope appeared to be truly, as the 
 apostle expresses it, seated as God in the temple of God. 
 It was convenient for this shameless merchant to take 
 refuge imder the pope's mantle, -ftdth aU his disorders 
 and scandals. 
 
 In presence of the numerous assembly in which he 
 stood, he declared himself ready to maintain as follows : 
 
 3. " Christians must be taught that the pope, by the 
 greatness of his power, is above the whole universal 
 Church and all coimcils. His orders ought to be im- 
 plicitly obeyed. 
 
 4. " Christians must be taught that the pope alone 
 is entitled to decide in matters of Christian faith ; that 
 he, and none but he, has the power to explain the 
 meaning of Scripture in his own sense, and to approve 
 or condemn aU words or works of others. 
 
 5. " Christians must be taught that the judgment of 
 the pope in things which concern Christiau faith, and 
 which are necessary to the salvation of the human 
 race, cannot possibly err. 
 
 6. " Christians must be taught that in matters of 
 faith, they ought to lean and rest more upon the opinion 
 of the pope, as manifested by his decisions, than on the 
 opinion of all wise men, as drawn by them out of 
 Scripture. 
 
 8. " Christians must be taught that those who at- 
 tack the honour and dignity of the pope are guilty of 
 the crime of lese-majesty, and deserve malediction. 
 
 17. " Christians must be taught that there are many 
 things which the Church regards as authentic articles 
 
 of universal truth, although they are not found either 
 in the canon of Scripture or in ancient doctors. 
 
 44. " Christians must be taught to regard those as 
 obstinate heretics, who, by their words, their actions, 
 or their -m-itings, declare that they would not retract 
 their heretical propositions were excommunication after 
 excommunication to rain or hail upon them. 
 
 48. '■ Christians must be taught that those who pro- 
 tect heretics in their error, and who, by their authority, 
 prevent them from being brought before the judge who 
 is entitled to try them, are excommunicated ; that if, 
 in the space of a year, they desist not from doing so, 
 they will be declared infamous, and severely pimished 
 with various punishments, in terms of law, and to the 
 terror of all men. 
 
 50. " Christians must be told that those who spoil 
 so many books and so much paper, and who preach or 
 dispute publicly and wickedly on the confession of the 
 mouth, the satisfaction of works, the rich and great 
 indulgences of the Bishop of Rome, and on his power; 
 that those who ally themselves with those so preaching 
 or writing, who take pleasure in their -vxTitings, and 
 circulate them among the people and in the world ; that 
 those, in fine, who secretly speak of those things in a 
 contemptuous and irreverent manner, may well tremble 
 at incmTing the pains which have just been named, 
 and of precipitating themselves and others with them, 
 at the last day, into eternal condemnation, and even 
 here below into great disgrace. For every beast that 
 toucheth the mountain shall be stoned." 
 
 AVe see that Luther was not the only person whom 
 Tetzel attacked. In the forty-eighth theses he had 
 probably the Elector of Saxony in view. These pro- 
 positions savour much of the Dominican. To threaten 
 every contradictor with severe punishment, was an in- 
 quisitor's argument, and scarcely admitted of a reply. 
 The three hundred monks whom Tetzel had brought 
 together gaped and stared in admiration of his dis- 
 course. The theologians of the university were too 
 much afraid of being classed with the abettors of 
 heresy, or were too much attached to the principles of 
 "Wimpina, candidly to adopt the extraordinary theses 
 which had just been read. 
 
 The whole affair, about which so much noise had 
 been made, seemed destined to be only a sham fight; 
 but among the crowd of students, present at the dispu- 
 tation, was a young man of about twenty, named John 
 Knipstrow. He had read the theses of Luther, and 
 found them conformable to the doctrines of Scripture. 
 Indignant at seeing the truth publicly trampled under 
 foot, while no one appeared to defend it, this young 
 man rose up, to the great astonishment of the whole 
 assembly, and attacked the presumptuous Tetzel. The 
 poor Dominican, who had not counted on such opposi- 
 tion, was quite disconcerted. After some efforts, he 
 quitted the field of battle, and gave place to Wimpina, 
 who made a more vigorous resistance ; but Knipstrow 
 pressed him so closely, that, to put an end to a contest 
 which, in his eyes, was so unbecoming, "Wimpina, who 
 presided, declared the discussion closed, and proceeded 
 forthwith to confer the degree of doctor on Tetzel, in 
 recompense of this glorious combat. Wimpina, to dis- 
 encumber himself of the young orator, caused him to 
 be sent to the convent of Pyritz iu Pomerania, with 
 
LUTHER'S THESES BURNT. 
 
 orders that he should be strictly watched. But this 
 dawning light was only removed from the banks of the 
 Oder that it might afterwards shed a bright effulgence 
 in Pomerauia. AV'hen God sees it meet, he employs 
 scholars to confound teachers. 
 
 Tctzcl, wishing to repair the check which he had 
 received, had recourse to the ultima ratio of Rome and 
 the inquisitors, — I mean tiio faggot. On a public walk 
 in one of the suburbs of Frankfort, he caused a pulpit 
 and a scaffold to be erected, and repaired thither 
 in solemn procession with his insiynia of inquisitor. 
 Mounting the pulpit, he let loose all his fury. He 
 darted his thunder, and with his stentorian voice 
 exclaimed, that the heretic Luther ought to be burned 
 alive. Then, jilacing tl\o doctor's theses aiul sermon on 
 the scaffold, he burned them. He was better acquainted 
 with tills kind of work than with the defence of theses. 
 Here he met with no opponents, and his victory 
 was complete. The impudent Dominican returned in 
 triumph to Frankfort. When parties in power are 
 vanquished, they have recourse to certain demonstra- 
 tions which must be conceded to them as a kind of 
 consolation to their disgrace. 
 
 The second theses of Tetzel form an important epoch 
 in the Reformation. They changed the locality of the 
 dispute, transporting it from the indulgence market to 
 the halls of the Vatican, and diverting it from Tetzel 
 to the pope. Instead of the contemptible creature 
 whom Luther had taken in his list, they substituted 
 the sacred person of the head of the Church. Luther 
 was stunned at this. It is probable that he would 
 himself have taken the step at a later period, but his 
 enemies spared him the trouble. Thenceforward the 
 question related not merely to a disreputable trailic, 
 but to Rome ; and the blow by which a bold hand had 
 tried to demolish the shop of Tetzel, shook the very 
 foundations of the pontifical throne. 
 
 Tetzel's theses were only a signal to the Roman 
 troops. A cry against Luther arose among the monks, 
 who were infuriated at the appearance of an adversary 
 more formidable than either Erasmus or Reuchlin had 
 been. Tlie name of Luther resoiraded from the pulpits 
 of the Dominicans, who addressed themselves to the 
 passions of the people, and inveighed against the cour- 
 ageous doctor as a madman, a deceiver, and a demoniac. 
 His doctrine was denounced as the most dreadful heresy. 
 " Wait only for a fortnight, or four weeks at f ui'thest," 
 said they, "and this noted heretic will be burned." 
 Had it depended only on the Dominicans, the fate of 
 the Saxon doctor had soon been that of Huss and 
 Jerome ; but his life wa^ destined to accomplish what 
 the ashes of Huss had begun. Each does the work of 
 God — one by his death, and another by his life. 
 Several now began to cry out that the whole university 
 of Wittemberg was tainted with heresy, and pronounced 
 It infamous. " Let us pursue the villain, and aU his 
 partizans," continued they. In several places these 
 exclamations had the effect of stirring up the passions 
 of the people. Those who shared the opinions of the 
 reformer had the public attention directed towards 
 them; and in every place where the monks were 
 strongest, the friends of the Gospel felt the effects of 
 their hatred. Thus, in regard to the Reformation, the 
 Saviour's prediction began to be accomplished : " They 
 
 will revile you, and persecute you, and say all manner 
 of evil against you falsely, for my sake." This is a 
 recompense which the world at no time fails to bestow 
 on the decided friends of the Gospel. 
 
 When Luther was made acquainted with Tetzel's 
 theses, and with the general attack of which they were 
 the signal, his courage rose. lie felt that it was neces- 
 sary to withstand such adversaries to the face ; and his 
 intrepid zeal liad no ditRculty in resolving so to do. 
 At the same lime their feebleness made him aware of 
 his own strength, and told him what he was. 
 
 lie did not, however, allow himself to give way to 
 those emotions of pride which are so natural to the 
 heart of man. "It gives me more difficulty," he 
 writes to Spalatin, " to refrain from despising my 
 adversaries, and so sinning against Jesus Christ, than 
 it would give me to vanquish them. They are so 
 ignorant iu things human and divine, that one is 
 ashamed at having to fight with them ; and yet it is 
 their very ignorance which gives them their inconceiv- 
 able audacity and face of brass." But the most power- 
 ful support to Luther's heart, in the midst of this 
 universal opposition, was the deep conviction that his 
 cause was the cause of truth. "Let it not surprise 
 you," he writes to Spalatin, at the beginning of the 
 year 1518, "that I am so much insulted. I am de- 
 lighted with these insults. Did they not curse me, I 
 could not believe so firmly that the cause which I have 
 undertaken is God's own cause. Chi-ist has been set 
 up for a sign to be spoken against. I know," added 
 he, " that from the beginning of the world the nature 
 of the W'ord of God has been such, that every one who 
 has preached it to the world, has been obliged — like the 
 apostles — to leave all, and lay his account -with death. 
 Were it otherwise, it would not be the Word of Jesus 
 Christ." This peace in the midst of agitation is a thing 
 unknown to the world's heroes. Men placed at the 
 head of a government, or of a political party, are seen 
 to give way under their labours and their vexations. 
 The Christian, in his struggles, usually acquires new 
 strength, because he has access to a mysterious source 
 of repose and courage, unknown to those whose eyes 
 are closed to the Gospel. 
 
 One thing, however, sometimes distressed Luther, — 
 viz., the thought of the dissensions which his courageous 
 opposition might produce. He knew that a single 
 word might be sufficient to set the world in a flame ; 
 and when he foresaw prince against prince, and per- 
 haps nation against nation, his patriotic heart was 
 saddened, and his Christian charity alarmed. His 
 wish was for peace ; but he behoved to speak out. So 
 God required. " I tremble," said he, " I shudder at 
 the thought of being the cause of discord among such 
 mighty princes." 
 
 He still kept silence in regard to Tetzel's propositions 
 concerning the pope. Had he been carried away by 
 passion, he would, doubtless, have made an impetuous 
 assault on the extraordinary doctrine under which his 
 opponents sought to take shelter. He did not do so ; 
 and there is in this delay, reserve, and silence, some- 
 thing gi-ave and solemn, which sufficiently explains the 
 spirit by which he was animated. He waited, but not 
 through weakness; for when he struck he gave a 
 heavier blow. 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATtON. 
 
 Tetzel, after his auto dafe at Frankfort-ou-the-Oder, 
 had hastened to send his tlieses into Saxony. There, 
 thought he, they will serve as an antidote to those of 
 Luther. A man from Hallo, employed by the inquisi- 
 tor to circulate his propositions, amved at Wittemberg. 
 The students of the university, still indignant at Tetzel 
 for having burned the theses of their master, no sooner 
 heard of the messenger's arrival, than they sought him 
 out, and, gathering round, jostled and frightened him. 
 " HoTV dare you bring such things here ? " demanded 
 they. Some purchasing p;irt of the copies with which 
 he was provided, and others seizing the rest, they got 
 possession of his whole stock, amounting to eight hun- 
 dred copies. Then, imkuown to the elector, the senate, 
 the rector, Luther, and all the other professors, they 
 put up the following notice on the boards of the univer- 
 sity: — "Whoever is desirous to be present at the bm-n- 
 ing and funeral of Tetzel's theses, let him repair at two 
 o'clock to the market-place." 
 
 Crowds assembled at the hour, and committed the 
 propositions of the 
 Dominican to the 
 flames, amid loud 
 acclamations. One 
 copy which escap- 
 1(1, Luther after- 
 wards sent to his 
 friend. Lange of 
 Erfurt. These 
 generous but im- 
 prudent youths fol- 
 lowed the old pre- 
 cept, ^^ Ei/efor eye, 
 mid tooth for tooth," 
 and not that of 
 Jesus Christ; but 
 after the example 
 which doctors and 
 professors had 
 .niven at Frank- 
 fort, can we be 
 astonished that 
 young students 
 followed it at Wit- 
 tembergf The 
 news of this academical execution spread throughout 
 Germany, and made a great noise. Luther was ex- 
 tremely vexed at it. 
 
 "I am astonished," he writes to his old master, 
 Jodocus, at Ei-furt, " how you could think it was I that 
 burned Tetzel's theses. Do you think that I am so 
 devoid of sense ? But what can I do ? When I am 
 the subject of remark, everything seems to be believed. 
 Can I tie up the tongues of the whole world 1 Very 
 well ! Let them say, let them hear, let them see, let 
 them pretend whatever they please ; I will act as long 
 as the Lord gives me strength, and with His help will 
 fear nothing." "What will come out of it," says he 
 to Lange, " I know not, unless it be that my danger is 
 much increased." The act of the students shews how 
 much their hearts already biu-ned for the cause which 
 Luther defended. This was an important symptom ; 
 for a movement among the young of necessity soon 
 extends to the whole nation. 
 
 ^ER■S HOUSE, FRANKFORT. 
 
 The theses of Tetzel and Wimpina, though little 
 esteemed, produced a certain effect. They heightened 
 the dispute, widened the rent which had been made 
 ill the mantle of the Church, and brought questions of 
 the highest interest into tlie field. Accordingly, the 
 heads of the Church began to look more narrowly at 
 the matter, and to declare decidedly against the re- 
 former. " Verily, I know not in whom Luther con- 
 fides," said the Bishop of Brandenburg, "when he 
 dares thus attack the power of bishops." Perceiving 
 that this new circumstance called for new proceedings, 
 the bishop came in person to Wittemberg ; but he found 
 Luther animated with the inward joy which a good 
 conscience imparts, and determined to give battle. 
 The bishop felt that the Augustine rajnk was obeying 
 an authority superior to his, and returned to Branden- 
 burg in a rage. One day, in the winter of 1518, when 
 sitting at his fireside, he tm-ned to those who were 
 about him and said, "I will not Lay down my head in 
 peace till I have thrown Martin into the fire, as I do 
 this brand," throwing one into the grate. The revolu- 
 tion of the sixteenth century was not to be accomplished 
 by the heads of the Church, any more than that of the 
 first century had been by the Sanhedrim and the syna- 
 gogue. In the sixteenth century, the heads of the 
 Church were opposed to Luther, the Reformation, and 
 its ministers ; in the same way as they were opposed 
 to Jesus Christ, the Gospel, and His apostles, and as 
 they too often are at all times to the truth. "The 
 bishops," says Luther, in speaking of the visit which 
 the Bishop of Brandenburg had paid him, " begin to 
 perceive that they ought to have done what I am do- 
 ing, and they are consequently ashamed. They call 
 me proud and audacious, and I deny not that I am so. 
 But they are not the people to know either what God 
 is, or what we arc." 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Piierio— System of Rome— The Dialogue— System of Refonn— Reply to 
 Prierio— The Woiil— The Pope and the Church-Hochstraten— The 
 Monks— Luther replies— Eck— The School— The Obehsks — Luther's i 
 Sentiments- The Asterisks— Rupture. ,' 
 
 A MORE serious resistance than that of Tetzel was i 
 already opposed to Luther. Rome had answered. A I 
 reply had issued from the walls of the sacred palace. J 
 It was not Leo X. who had taken it into his head to 
 speak tlieology. "A quarrel of monks," he had one 
 day said. " The best thing is not to meddle with it." 
 And on another occasion, "It is a drunken German 
 who has written these theses ; when he recovers from 
 his wine he will speak differently." A Dominican of 
 Rome, Sylvester Mazolini de Prierio or Prierias, master 
 of the sacred palace, exercised the functions of censor, 
 and in this character was the first man in Italy who 
 knew of the Saxon monk's theses. 
 
 A Roman censor and the theses of Luther! What 
 a rencounter 1 Liberty of si^eech, liberty of investi- 
 
REPLY TO PRIERIO. 
 
 03 
 
 cation, liberty of fiiitli, come iuto collision iu Rome with 
 that power which pretends to have iu its hands a 
 monopoly of intelligence, and to open and shut the 
 mouth of Cliristondom at its pleasure. The struggle 
 between Christian liberty, which begets children of 
 God, aud pontifical despotism, which begets slaves of 
 Rome, is, as it were, personified during the first days 
 of the Reformation, ia the encounter between Luther 
 aud Prierio. 
 
 The Roman censor, prior-general of the Dominicans, 
 employed to determine what Christendom must say 
 or not say, and know or not know, hastened to reply, 
 and published a tract, which he dedicated to Leo X. 
 He spoke contemptuously of the German monk, and 
 declared, with a self-sufficiency altogether Roman, 
 "that he was anxious to know whether this Martin 
 had a nose of iron, or a head of brass, ^vhich could 
 not be broken." Then, in the form of a dialogue, he 
 attacked the theses of Luther, employing alternately 
 ridicule, insult, and threatening. 
 
 The combat between the Augustine of "Wittemberg 
 and the Dominican of Rome took place on the very 
 question which lies at the foundation of the Reforma- 
 tion, — viz., •' What is the sole infallible authority to 
 Christians? " The following is the system of the 
 Church, as expounded by its most independent organs. 
 The letter of the written "Word is dead without the 
 spirit of interpretation, which alone unfolds its hidden 
 meaning. Now, this spirit is not granted to every 
 Ciiristian, but to the Church ; in other words, to the 
 priests. It is gi-eat presumption to maintain, that He 
 who promised to be with His Church always to the end 
 of thu world, could abandon it to the power of error. 
 It will be said, perhaps, that the doctrine and consti- 
 tution of the Ciiurch are not the same as wc find them 
 in the sacred oracles. This is true ; but the change is 
 only apparent, relating to the form, aud not to the 
 substance. JMoreover, the change is an advance. The 
 living power of the Spirit has given reality to what 
 exists in Scripture only in idea ; it has embodied the 
 sketches of the AVord, put a finishing hand to these 
 sketches, and completed the work of which the Bible 
 had furnished only the first outlines. Scripture ought, 
 therefore, to be understood in the sense determined by 
 the Church, imder the guidance of the Holy Spirit. 
 Here the Catholic doctors are divided. General 
 councils, say some, and Gerson among the number, 
 are the representatives of the Church. The pope, says 
 others, is the depositary of the Spirit of interpretation; 
 and no man is entitled to understand Scripture in a 
 sense differing from that of the Roman pontiff. This 
 was the opinion of Prierio. 
 
 Such was the doctrine which the master of the sacred 
 palace opposed to the rising Reformation. On the 
 power of the pope and the Church he advanced pro- 
 positions at which the most shameless flatterers of the 
 court of Rome would have blushed. The following is 
 one of the points which he maintains at the commence- 
 ment of his tract : — "'Wlioever rests not in the doctrine 
 of the Roman Church, and tiie Roman pontiff, as the 
 infallible rule of faith, from which the Holy Scripture 
 itself derives its force aud authority, is a heretic." 
 Then, iu a dialogue, in which Luther and Sylvester 
 I ai-e the speakers, the latter tries to refute the doctor's 
 
 propositions. The sentiments of the Saxon monk were 
 quite new to a Roman censor. Accordingly, Prierio 
 shews that he understood neither the emotions of his 
 heart, nor the motives of his conduct. To the teacher 
 of truth he applied the little standards of the valets of 
 Rome. " Dear Luther!" says he, " were you to receive 
 a bishopric and a plenary indulgence for the repair of 
 your Church from our lord the pope, you would proceed 
 more gently, and would even prose in favour of the 
 indulgence which you are now pleased to blacken !" 
 The Italian, so proud of the elegance of his manners, 
 sometimes assumes the most scurrilous tone. " If the 
 property of dogs is to bite," says he to Luther, " I fear 
 your father must have been a dog." The Dominican 
 begins at last to be almost astonished at his own 
 condescension in speaking to a rebellious monk; and 
 concludes with shewing his opponent the cruel teeth 
 of an inquisitor. "The Roman Church," says he, 
 " having in the pope the summit of spiritual and 
 temporal power, may, by the secular arm, constrain 
 those who, after receiving the faith, stray from it. She 
 is not bound to employ arguments for the purpose of 
 combating and subduing the rebellious." 
 
 These words, traced by the pen of one of the dig- 
 nitaries of the Roman court, had a very significant 
 meaning. They failed, however, to terrify Luther. 
 He believed, or feigned to believe, that this dialogue 
 was not by Prierio, but by Ulrich von Hutten, or by 
 some other of the authors of "The Letters of some 
 Obscure Men," who (said ho in his sarcastic strain) had, 
 in order to stir up Luther against Prierio, compiled 
 this mass of absurdity. He had no desire to see the 
 court of Rome in arms against him. However, after 
 remaining for some time silent, his doubts, if he had 
 any, having been dispelled, he set to work, and in two 
 days after was prepared with his reply. 
 
 The Bible had produced the Reformer and begun 
 the Reformation. Luther, in believing, had no need 
 of the testimony of the Church. His faith was derived 
 from the Bible itself, — from within, and not from with- 
 out. His thorough conviction that the evangelical 
 doctrine was immovably founded on the Word of God, 
 made him regard all external authority as useless. 
 Luther's experience, in this respect, opened a new 
 prospect to the Church. The living spring which had 
 burst forth before the monk of Wittemberg, was 
 destined to become a stream at which nations would 
 quench their thirst. 
 
 The Church had said that, in order to understand 
 the Word, the Spirit of God must interpret it ; and so 
 far the Church was right. But her error consisted in 
 regarding the Holy Spirit as a monoply conferred on a 
 certain caste, and in thinking that it could be appro- 
 priated exclusively to certain assemblies and colleges, 
 to a city or a conclave. " The wind bloweth where it 
 listeth," were the words of the Son of God, when 
 speaking of the Spirit of God ; and, on another occa- 
 sion, " They will all be taught of God." The cor- 
 ruption of the Church, the ambition of pontiffs, the 
 animosities of councils, the squabbles of the clergy, and 
 the pomp of prelates, had made this Holy Spirit — this 
 breath of humility and peace — eschew the dwelling of 
 the priesthood. He had deserted the assemblies of the 
 proud, and the palaces of the princes of the Church, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 and gone to live in retirement among simple Christians 
 and modest priests. He had shunned a domineering 
 hierarchy, which often forced blood from the jjoor, 
 whom it trampled under foot ; He had shunned a proud 
 and ignorant clergy, whose chiefs were skilled, not in 
 the Bible, but in the sword ; and He was found some- 
 times among despised sects, and sometimes among men 
 of talents and learning. The holy cloud, withdrawing 
 from proud basilisks and gorgeous cathedrals, had 
 descended on the obscure dwellings of the humble, or 
 on chambers where studious men calmly pursued their 
 conscientious labours. The Church, degraded by her 
 love of power and riches, dishonom-ed in the eyes of 
 the people by the venal use which she made of the 
 doctrine of life, — the Chm-ch which sold salvation in 
 order to fill a treasury, for luxmy and debauchery to 
 empty, had lost all respect. Men of sense no longer set 
 any value on her testimony; but, despising an authority 
 so degraded, turned with joy towards the Divine Word, 
 and its infallible authority, as toward the only refuge 
 which remained to them in the general confusion. 
 
 The age, therefore, was prepared. The bold move- 
 ment by which Luther changed the point on which the 
 human heart rested its highest hopes, and with a 
 mighty hand transferred those hopes from the walls of 
 the Vatican to the rock of the Word of God, was 
 hailed with enthusiasm. This was the work which 
 the reformer had in view in his reply to Prierio. 
 
 Putting aside the axioms whicli the Dominican had 
 placed at the head of his work, he says : " After your 
 example, I, too, am going to lay down some axioms." 
 
 " The first is the saying of St. Paul, ' Should we, or 
 an angel from heaven, preach any other Gospel unto 
 you than that which we have preached unto you, let 
 him be accursed.' " 
 
 The second is the following passage of St. Augustine, 
 addi-essed to St. Jerome : '• I have learned to pay to 
 the canonical books alone the honour of believing very 
 firmly that none of them has erred ; as to others, I be- 
 lieve not what they say, for the simple reason, that 
 it is they who say it." 
 
 Luther then vigorously proceeds to lay down the fun- 
 damental principles of the Eeformation, — the Word of 
 God, the v'hole Word of God, and nothing but the Word of 
 God. " If you understand these principles," continues 
 he, " you will also understand that your whole dialogue 
 is completely overturned ; for you have done nothing 
 else than adduce the words and opinions of St. Thomas." 
 Next, attacking the axioms of his opponent, he frankly 
 declares his opinion that popes and councils may err. 
 He complains of the flattery of the Roman courtiers, in 
 attributing to the pope the alleged infallibility of both 
 popes and councils, and declares that the Church exists 
 virtually only in Christ, and representatively only in 
 councils. Coming afterwords to the supposition which 
 Prierio had made, he says: "No doubt you judge me 
 by yourself ; but if I aspired to a bishopric, assuredly 
 I would not use language which sounds so hateful in 
 your ears. Do you imagine I am ignorant how bishop- 
 rics and the popedom are procured at Rome ? Do not 
 the very children in the streets sing the well-known 
 words. — 
 
 This was among the stanzas current in Rome before 
 the election of one of the last popes. Nevertheless, 
 Luther speaks of Leo with respect. "I know," says 
 he, "that in him we have, as it were, a Daniel in 
 Babylon ; his integrity has repeatedly endangered his 
 life." He concludes with a few words in reply to the 
 menaces of Prierio : " In fine, you say that the pope is 
 at once pontiff and emperor, and that he has power to 
 constrain by the secular ai'm. Are you thirsting for 
 murder ? Take my word for it, your rhodomontades 
 and your loud-sounding threats cannot terrify me. 
 Though I be killed, Christ lives — Christ my Lord, and 
 the Lord of all, blessed for ever and ever. Amen." 
 
 Thus Luther, with a strong arm, assails the infidel 
 altar of the papacy, opposing to it the altar of the 
 Word of God, alone holy, alone infallible, before which 
 he would have every knee to bow, and on which he 
 declares himself ready to sacrifice his life. 
 
 Prierio published a reply, and after it a third treatise 
 on " The Irrefrag.able Truth of the Church and of the 
 Roman Pontiff," in which, founding on ecclesiastical 
 law, he says, that though the pope were to send the 
 people and himself to the devil, en masse, he could not 
 for so doing be either judged or deposed. The pope 
 was at length obliged to impose silence on Prierio. 
 
 A new opponent soon entered the list. He, too, 
 was a Dominican. James Hochstraten, inquisitor at 
 Cologne, whom we have already seen assailing Reuch- 
 lin and the friends of letters, was furious when he saw 
 Luther's boldness. It was indeed necessary that dark- 
 ness and monkish fanaticism should engage in close 
 fight with him who was to give them their death-blow. 
 Monkism was formed after primitive truth had begun 
 to decay, and from that period downward, errors and 
 monks had gone hand-iu-hand. The man who was to 
 hasten their ruin had appeared ; but these sturdy cham- 
 pions would not quit the field without a fierce combat. 
 This combat they continued to wage with him through- 
 out his whole life, thougli the proper personification of 
 it is in Hochstraten; Hochstraten and Luther — the one, 
 the free and intrepid Christian, and the other, the 
 blustering slave of monkish superstition. Hochstraten 
 unchains his rage, and, with loud cries, demands the 
 death of the heretic. . . . His wish is to secure 
 the triumph of Rome by means of the flames. "It is 
 high treason against the Church," exclaims he, " to let 
 so execrable a heretic live another single hour. Let a 
 scaffold be instantly erected for him !" This sanguinary 
 counsel was, alas ! but too well foUowed in many coun- 
 tries ; the voice of numerous martyrs, as in the first days 
 of the Church, bore testimony to the truth in the midst 
 of the flames. But in vain were fire and sword in- 
 voked against Luther. The angel of Jehovah con- 
 stantly encamped around him and shielded him. 
 
 Luther replied to Hochstraten briefly, but very ener- 
 getically. " Go," says he to him, when concluding," go, 
 delirious murderer, whose thirst can only be quenched | 
 by the blood of the brethren. My sincere desire is, 
 that you guard against calling me a Christian and a 
 believer ; and tha^ on the contrary, you never cease to 
 denounce me as a heretic. Understand these things 
 well, you bloody man, you enemy of the truth ; and if I 
 your furious rage impel you to devise mischief against 
 me, do it with circumspection, and time your measures 
 
THE OBELISKS AND THE ASTERISKS. 
 
 ■well. God knows what I purpose if He grants me life. 
 My hope and expectation (God willing) will not deceive 
 me." Hochstraten was silent. 
 
 A more painful attack awaited the reformer. Dr. 
 Eck, the celebrated professor of Ingolstadt, who pro- 
 cured the liberty of Urban Regius, Luther's friend, 
 had received the famous theses. Eck was not the man 
 to defend the abuses of indulgences; but he was a 
 doctor of the school, and not of the Bible, being well 
 versant in scholastics, but not in the AVord of God. If 
 Prierio had represented Rome, and Hochstraten had 
 represented the monk.s, Eck represented the school. 
 The school which, for about five centuries, had ruled 
 Christendom, far from yielding to the first blows of 
 the reformer, proudly rose up to crush the man who 
 dared to assail it with floods of contempt. Eck and 
 Luther, the school and the "Word, came to blows on 
 more than one occasion ; but the present was the occa- 
 sion on which the combat commenced. 
 
 Eck must have regarded several of Luther's asser- 
 tions as erroneous; for nothing obliges us to question 
 the sincerity of his convictions. He defended the 
 scholastic opinions with enthusiasm, just as Luther 
 defended the declarations of the AVord of God. AVe 
 may even suppose that he was somewhat pained at 
 seeing himself obliged to oppose his old friend, and yet 
 it would seem, from the mode of attack, that passion 
 and jealousy had some share in his determination. 
 
 He gave the name of " Obelisks" to his remarks on the 
 
 theses of Luther. AA^ishing at first to save appearances, 
 
 he did not publish his work, but contented himself 
 
 with conmiunicating it confidentially to his ordinary, 
 
 the Bishop of Eichstiidt. Soon, however, whether 
 
 I through the indiscretion of the bishop, or of Eck him- 
 
 I self, the '-Obelisks" were circulated in all quarters. A 
 
 i copy having fallen into the hands of a friend of Luther, 
 
 1 Link, preacher at Nuremberg, he lost no time in sending 
 
 I it to the reformer. Eck was a nuich more formidable 
 
 opponent than Tetzel, Prierio, and Hochstraten; his 
 
 I work was the more dangerous the more it surpassed 
 
 I theirs in knowledge and subtlety. He affected pity for 
 
 j his '• feeble opponent," (knowing well that pity injures 
 
 I more effectually than anger.) and insinuated that the 
 
 I propositions of Luther contained Bohemian poison, and 
 
 I savoured of Bohemia. By these malicious insinuations 
 
 I he threw upon Luther the obloquy and hatred which 
 
 I in Germany attached to the name of Huss and the 
 
 ; schismatics of his country. 
 
 ; The malice which shone through this treatise roused 
 
 j Luther's indignation, while the thought that the blow 
 
 I was given by an old friend, was still more distressing. 
 
 I However, he must sacrifice his affections in defending 
 
 the truth. Luther unbosomed his heart and its sadness 
 
 I in a letter to Egranus, pastor at Zwickau: "I am 
 
 ' called in the ' Obelisks' a venomous man, a Bohemian, a 
 
 I heretic, seditious, insolent, and presumptuous. . . . 
 
 j I say nothing of milder epithets, such as sleepy, 
 
 imbecile, ignorant, contemner of the sovereign pontiff, 
 
 I &c. This book is full of the grossest insults; and yet 
 
 1 the author is a distinguished man, alike remarkable for 
 
 learning and talent; and (it is this that grieves me 
 
 most) a man with whom 1 had recently contracted a 
 
 close friendship,— viz., John Eck, doctor in theology, 
 
 and chancellor of Ingolstadt, a celebrated and illustrious 
 
 author. Did I not know the thoughts of Satan, I 
 would bo astonished at the furious manner in which 
 this man has broken off a fi-iendship at once so pleasant 
 and so recent; and this without giving me any warn- 
 ing — without writing or saying a single word." 
 
 But if Luther's heart be wounded, his courage is 
 not destroyed. On the contrary he girds himself for the 
 combat. '• Rejoice, my brother," says he to Egranus, 
 whom a violent enemy had also attacked, — " rejoice, 
 and be not alarmed at all these flying leaves. The 
 more furious my adversaries become, the more I 
 advance. I leave the things which are behind, that 
 they may bark after them, and follow those which are 
 before, that they may, in like manner, bark after them 
 in their turn." 
 
 Eck felt how shameful his conduct had been, and 
 endeavoured to justify it in a letter to Carlstadt, in 
 which he calls Luther " their common friend ; " and 
 throws all the blame on the Bishop of Eichstiidt, at 
 whose instigation he pretended that he had written the 
 work. His intention, he said, was not to publish the 
 " Obelisks ;" but for this he would have had more regard 
 for the friendship subsisting between him and Luther; 
 and he requested that Lutlicr, instead of coming to 
 open rupture with him, would turn his arms against the 
 theologians of Frankfort. The Professor of Ingolstadt, 
 who had not feared to strike the first blow, began to 
 be alarmed at the power of the opponent whom he had 
 imprudently attacked, and would willingly have evaded 
 the contest. It was too late. 
 
 AH these fine words did not persuade Luther, who 
 was, however, disposed to be silent, and said, " I will 
 patiently swallow this morsel, though fit for Cerberus." 
 But his friends were of a different opinion, and urged, 
 or rather constrained him to answer. He, accordingly, 
 replied to the '"Obelisks" by his "Asterisks," opposing 
 (as he says, playing upon the word) to the rust and 
 lividity of obelisks the light and dazzling brightness 
 of the stars of heaven. In this work he treats his new 
 opponent less harshly than those whom he had pre- 
 viously combated; but his indignation is seen peeping 
 through his words. 
 
 He shewed that in the chaos of the " Obelisks " there 
 was nothing from the Holy Scriptures, nothing from 
 the Fathers of the Church, and nothing from the eccle- 
 siastical canons, — that they contained only scholastic 
 glosses, and opinion after opinion, many of them mere 
 dreams ; in a word, contained the very things which 
 Luther had attacked. The "Asterisks" are full of spirit 
 and life. The author's indignation rises at the errors 
 of his friend's book ; but he shews pity to the man. 
 He reiterates the fundamental principle which he had 
 laid down in his reply to Prierio : " The sovereign 
 pontiff is a man, and may be led into error ; but God 
 is truth, and cannot be deceived." Then, employing 
 the art/umciitum ad Iwmincm against the scholastic doc- 
 tor, he says to him, " It is certainly impudent in any 
 one to teach, as the philosophy of Aristotle, any dogma 
 which cannot be proved by his authority. You gi-ant 
 this. AVell, then, it is, a fortiori, the most impudent of 
 all things to affirm in the Church, and among Christians, 
 anything that Jesus Christ himself has not taught. 
 Now, in what part of the Bible is it said that the trea- 
 sure of Christ's merits is in the hands of the pope ? " 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 He adds : "As to the malicious charge of Bohemian 
 heresy, I patiently bear the reproach for the love of 
 Jesus Christ. I live in a celebrated university, a distin- 
 guished town, an important bishopric, and a powerful 
 duchy, where aU are orthodox, and where, doubtless, 
 no toleration would be given to so wicked a heretic." 
 
 Luther did not publish the "Asterisks," he only 
 communicated them to his friends. It was not till a 
 later period that they were given to the public. 
 
 This rupture between the doctor of lugolstadt and 
 the doctor of Wittemberg made a sensation in Ger- 
 many. They had common friends. Scheurl, in parti- 
 cular, by whose instrumentality their friendship appears 
 to have been originally formed, was exceedingly an- 
 noyed. He was one of those who longed to see a 
 reform throughout the whole Germanic Church, pro- 
 duced through the medium of its most distinguished 
 organs. But if in matters of principle the most eminent 
 theologians of the period came to open rupture, and 
 
 ■\\lule Lutliei alvauced m % new path, Eck put hmi- 
 self at the head of those who kept to the old path, ■v\ hat 
 disruption must inevitably ensue ? Would not nume- 
 rous adherents gather around each of the two chiefs, 
 and form two hostile camps in the heart of the 
 empire ? 
 
 Scheurl exerted himself to reconcile Eck and Luther. 
 The latter declared that he was willing to forget every- 
 thing; that he loved the genius, and admired the erudi- 
 tion of Dr. Eck, and that the proceedings of his old 
 friend had caused him more grief than anger. "I am 
 ready," says he, " either for peace or war ; but I prefer 
 peace. Do you then set about it. Grieve with us, 
 that the devil has thro-vvn among us this beginning of 
 strife, and then rejoice that Christ in His mercy hath 
 removed it." About the same time he addi-essed a 
 most friendly letter to Eck, who, however, not only 
 did not answer it, but did not even send him a verbal 
 message. It was too late for reconciliation ; and the 
 breach became wider and wider. The pride of Eck, 
 and his unforgiving temper, soon completely broke any 
 remaining ties of friendship. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ropul.ir Writings— Our Father— Thy Kingdom Come— Thy Will be Done— 
 Our Daily Bread— Sermon on Repentance— Forgiveness through Christ 
 
 Such were the struggles which the champion of the 
 Word of God had to maintain at the outset of his 
 career. But these combats with the leaders of society, 
 these academical disputes, are of small account with 
 the Christian. Human doctors imagine they have 
 gained the noblest of triumphs if they succeed in filling 
 some newspapers and some saloons with the noise of 
 their systems. As it is with them more an affair of 
 self-love, or party spirit, than of good to humanity, 
 this worldly success satisfies them. Accordingly, their 
 labours are only a smoke, which, after blinding us, 
 passes off and leaves no trace behind. Neglecting to 
 introduce their fire among the masses of the popula- 
 tion, they do nothing more than make it skim along 
 the surface of society. 
 
 It is not so with the Cliristian. His object is not 
 success in a coterie, or an academy, but the salvation 
 of souls. He, therefore, willingly avoids the brilliant 
 skumishing which he might carry on at his ease with 
 the champions of the world, and prefers the obscure 
 labours which carry life and light into rural cottages, 
 ind the lanes of cities. Thus did Luther, or rather, 
 according to the precept of his Master, he did the one, 
 uithoutleaviiii/ the other undone. AVliile combating in- 
 quisitors, university chancellors, and masters of the 
 sacied palace, he strove to diffuse sound religious 
 knowledge among the multitude. With that view, he 
 at this time published different popular writings, such 
 IS his " Discourses on the Ten Commandments," de- 
 ivered two years before in the church of Wittemberg, 
 and which we have already noticed ; and his " Exposi- 
 tion of the Lord's Prayer, for simple and ignorant lay- 
 men " Wlio would not like to know how the reformer 
 then addressed the people ? 
 
 We will quote some of the words which he sent, as 
 he says, in the preface to the second of these works, 
 
 to course the country." 
 
 Prayer, that inward act of the heart, will doubtless 
 ever be one of the points with which a reformation in 
 heart and life must commence, and, accordingly, it 
 early engaged the attention of Luther. It is impossible, 
 in a translation, to keep up his energetic style, and the 
 vigour of a language which was formed, so to speak, as 
 it fell from his pen ; however, we wiU try. 
 
 "When you pray," says he, "have few words, but 
 many thoughts and affections, and, above all, let these 
 be profound. The less you speak the better you pray. 
 Few words and many thoughts make the Christian; 
 many words and few thoughts, the pagan. 
 
 " Seeming and bodily prayer is that muttering of 
 the lips, that external babble, which comes forth with- 
 out attention, striking the eyes and ears of men; but 
 prayer in spirit and in truth is the inward desire, the 
 emotions, and sighs which proceed from the depths of 
 the heart. The former is the prayer of hypocrites, and 
 of all who trust in themselves ; the latter is the prayer 
 of the children of God, who walk in His fear." 
 
THE LORD'S PRAYER. 
 
 Then coming to the first words of our Lord's Prayer, 
 "Our Father," he thus expresses himself: — "Among 
 all the names of God there is none whicli inclines more 
 toward him than the name of Father. We should not 
 have so much happiness and consolation in calling him 
 Lord, or God, or Judge. ... By this name of 
 father His bowels of compassion are moved; for there 
 is no voice more lovely or touching than that of a child 
 to its father. 
 
 " U'lio art in heaven. — He who confesses that he has 
 a Father in heaven, owns himself to be, as it were, an 
 orphan on the earth. Hence his heart feels an ardent 
 desire like that of a child living out of its father's 
 country, among strangers, in wretchedness and sorrow. 
 It is as if he said, 'Alas! my Father! thou art in 
 heaven, and I, thy miserable child, am on the earth, 
 far from thee, in all sorts of dangers, necessities, and 
 sorrows.' 
 
 ^^ Hallowed be Thy name'. — He who is passionate and 
 envious, who curses or slanders, dishonours God, in 
 whose name he was baptized. Applying the vessel 
 which God has consecrated to profane uses, he resem- 
 bles a priest who should use the holy cup to give drink 
 to a sow, or to gather manure. 
 
 " Thy Idnr/dom come. — Those who amass wealth, who 
 erect magnificent buildings, who seek after all that the 
 world can give, and with the lips repeat this prayer, 
 are like the large pipes of a church organ, which 
 sounds and cries at full pitch, and without ceasing, but 
 has neither words, nor sense, nor reason." . . . 
 
 Further on, Luther attacks the error of pilgrimages, 
 which was then so general. " One goes to Rome, 
 another to St. James; one builds a chapel, another 
 founds an endowment, in order to reach the kingdom 
 of God; but all neglect the essential point, which is 
 to become themselves His kingdom. Why do you go 
 beyond seas in quest of the kingdom of God ? . . . 
 Your heart is the place in which it ought to rise. 
 
 "It is a dreadful thing," continues he, "to hear us 
 utter this prayer, ' Thy will be done.' Where in the 
 Church do we see this will done ? . . . Bishop rises 
 against bishop, and church against church. Priests, 
 monks, and nuns, quarrel and fight; throughout there 
 is nothing but discord. And yet all parties exclaim 
 that they have a good will and an upright intention ; 
 and so to the honour and glory of God they altogether 
 do the work of the devil. . . . 
 
 "Why do we say. Our bread!" continues he, explain- 
 ing these words, " Give us this day our daily bread." 
 " Because we pray, not for the ordinary bread which 
 pagans eat, and which God gives to all men, but for our 
 bread — bread to us, children of the heavenly Father. 
 
 "And what, then, is this bread of God? — It is 
 Jesus Christ our Lord : ' I am the liviny bread ivhich 
 came down from heaven, and give life to the world.' 
 Wherefore let us not deceive ourselves. Sermons and 
 instructions which do not represent to us, or give us 
 the knowledge of Jesus Christ, cannot be the daily 
 bread and food of our souls. . . . 
 
 " What avails it that such a bread is prepared for us, 
 if it is not served out to us, and we cannot taste it ? 
 • • . It is as if a magnificent feast were prepared, 
 and there were nobody to hand the bread, bring the 
 dishes, and pour out the liquor; so that the guests 
 
 would be left to feed by the eye and the smell. . . 
 This is the reason why it is necessary to preach Christ, 
 and Christ alone. 
 
 " But what, then, you ask, is it to know Jesus Christ, 
 and what profit is gained by it ? Answer : To learn 
 to know Jesus Christ, is to comprehend what the 
 apostle says : ' Christ has of God been made unto vs wis- 
 dom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemp- 
 tion.' Now, you comprehend this when you perceive 
 that your wisdom is culpable folly, your righteousness 
 damnable iniquity, your holiness damnable pollution, 
 your redemption miserable condemnation — ^when you 
 
 feel that, before God and all the creatures, you are 
 truly a fool, a sinner, an impure and condemned man, 
 — and when you shew, not only by your words, but 
 from the bottom of your heart, and by your works, 
 that there remains to you no comfort and no salvation, 
 save Jesus Christ. To believe is nothing else than to 
 eat this bread of heaven." 
 
 Thus Luther faithfully fulfilled his resolution to open 
 the eyes of a people whom priests had blindfolded, and 
 were leading at their pleasure. His writings, which in 
 a short time spread over aU Germany, caused new 
 light to arise, and shed the seeds of truth in abundance 
 on a soil well prepared to receive it. But while think- 
 ing of those at a distance, he did not forget those who 
 were near. 
 
 The Dominicans, from their pulpits, denounced him 
 as an infamous heretic. Luther, the man of the people, 
 and who, had he been so disposed, could with a few 
 sentences have set them in commotion, always dis- 
 dained such triumphs, and made it his sole aim to in- 
 struct his hearers. 
 
 His reputation, which was continually extending, 
 and the courage with which he raised the banner of 
 Christ in the midst of an enslaved Church, made his 
 sermons be followed with increasing interest. Never 
 
93 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 had the confluence been so great. Luther went straight 
 to the point. One clay, having mounted the pulpit of 
 Witteuiberg, he undertook to establish the doctrine of 
 repentance. The discourse pronounced on this occa- 
 sion afterwards became very celebrated, and contains 
 several of the fundamental principles of evangelical 
 doctrine. 
 
 At first he contrasts the pardon of men with the par- 
 don of heaven. " There are," says he, " two remissions 
 — the remission of the penalty, and the remission of 
 the fault. The former reconciles man externally with 
 the Church ; the latter, which is the heavenly indul- 
 gence, reconciles man with God. If a man has not 
 within himself that tranquil conscience, that cheerful 
 heai-t, which God's remission gives, no indulgence can 
 aid him, were he to buy all that ever have been on the 
 earth." 
 
 He afterwards continues thus, — " They wish to do i 
 good works before their sins are pardoned, whereas ' 
 sins must be pardoned before good works can be done. 
 Works do not banish sin ; but banish sin, and you will 
 have works. Good works should be done with a cheer- 
 ful heart and a good conscience toward God ; in other 
 words, with the forgiveness of sins." 
 
 He then comes to the principal object of his sermon 
 — an object which was identified with that of the 
 whole Reformation. The Church had put herself in 
 the place of God and His Word ; he objects to this, 
 and makes everything depend on faith in the Word. 
 
 " The remission of the fault," says he, " is not in the 
 power of the pope, or the bishop, or the priest, or any 
 man whatever ; but rests solely on the Word of Christ, 
 and your own faith. For Christ did not choose to 
 build our comfort or our salvation on a word or work 
 of man ; but only on himself, ou His own work and 
 Word. Your repentance and your works may deceive 
 you, but Christ yom- God will never deceive, will never 
 waver ; and the devil cannot overthrow His words." 
 
 " A pope or a bishop has no more power than the 
 humblest priest, where the remission of the fault is in 
 question. And even where there is no priest, each 
 Christian, were it a woman or a child, can do the same 
 thing. For if a simple Christian says to you, ' God 
 pardons sin in the name of Jesus Clirist,' and you re- 
 ceive tlie saying with firm faith, as if God himself had 
 spoken, you are acquitted. 
 
 " If you believe not that your sins are pardoned, you 
 make your God a liar, and declare that you put greater 
 confidence in your vain thoughts than in God and His 
 Word. 
 
 " Under the Old Testament, neither priest, nor king, 
 nor prophet, had power to proclaim the forgiveness of 
 sins ; but under the New Testament every believer has 
 this power. The Church is quite replete with the 
 remission of sins. If a pious Christian comforts your 
 conscience by the word of the cross, — be it man or 
 woman, young or old, — receive the comfort with a faith 
 so firm, that you would sooner submit to many deaths 
 than doubt that it is ratified in the presence of God. 
 . . . Repent, and do all the works that you can do ; 
 but let the faith which you have in the pardon of Jesus 
 Christ stand in the front rank, and have sole command 
 on the field of battle." 
 
 Thus spoke Luther to his astonished and enraptured 
 
 hearers. All the scaffoldings which impudent priests 
 had, for their own profit, reared between God and the 
 soul of man, were thrown down, and man brought face 
 to face with his Maker. The word of pardon came 
 down pure from on high, without passing through a 
 thousand corrupting channels. It was no longer neces- 
 sary that the testimony of God, in order to be available, 
 should previously be stamped by men with their false 
 seal. The monopoly of the sacerdotal caste was 
 abolished, and the Church emaucipated. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Apprehensions of Luther's Friends — Journey to Heidelberg— Blbra— The 
 Palatine Castle— Eupture— The Paradoxes— Dispute— The llearers— 
 Bueer — Brentz — Snepf^Conversations with Luther — Labours of the 
 Toung Doctors -Effects on Luther— The Old Professor— The True Light 
 
 Meanwhile the fire which had been kindled at Wittem- 
 berg behoved to be kindled elsewhere. Luther, not 
 contented with announcing the truth in the place of 
 his residence, whether to the academic youth or to the 
 people, was desirous to shed the seeds of sound doctrine 
 in other places. The Augustine order were to hold 
 their general chapter at Heidelberg, in the spring of 
 1518. Luther, as one of the most distinguished men 
 of the order, was invited to attend ; but his friends did 
 all they could to dissuade him from undertaking the 
 journey. In fact, the monks had laboured to render 
 the name of Luther odious in all the places through 
 which he had to pass. To insult they had added 
 threatening ; and a small matter might have sufficed to 
 excite a popular tumult, of which he might have been 
 made the victim. " Or even," said his friends, "what 
 they may not dare to do by violence, they will accom- 
 plish by fraud and stratagem." But in the discharge 
 of a duty, Luther did not allow himself to be arrested 
 by the fear of any danger, however imminent. He 
 therefore turned a deaf ear to the timid suggestions of 
 his friends, and directed them to Him in whom his 
 confidence was placed, and under whose protection he 
 desired to undertake tlie perilous journey. After the 
 feast of Easter he quietly set out on foot, on the 13th 
 April, 1518. 
 
 He had with him a guide named Urban, who carried 
 his small bundle, and was to accompany him as far as 
 Wurzburg. How many thoughts must have occupied 
 the heart of the servant of the Lord during this 
 journey! At Weissenfels, the pastor, though not of 
 his acquaintance, instantly recognized him as the doctor 
 of Wittemberg, and gave him a hearty reception. At 
 Ei-furt, he was joined by two other Augustine friars. 
 At Judenbach, the three fell in with Degenhard 
 Pfeffinger, the elector's confidential councillor, who 
 entertained them at the inn. "I have had the plea- 
 sure," wrote Luther to Spalatin, " of making this rich 
 lord some shillings poorer. You know how I like to 
 take every occasion of making a hole in the purses of 
 the rich for the benefit of the poor, especially if the 
 rich are my friends." He arrived at Cobui-g worn out 
 
THE PARADOXES. 
 
 with fatigue. " All goes well by the grace of God," 
 wrote ho; "only, I confess I have sinned in undertaking 
 tiie journey on foot. But for this siu I presume I will 
 liave no need of the remission of indulgences, for my 
 contrition is perfect, and my satisfaction complete. I 
 am knocked up with fatigue, and all the conveyances 
 are full. Is not this enough, or rather, more than 
 enough of penitence, contrition, :uid satisfaction.'" 
 
 The reformer of (Germany, not linding a place in 
 the public conveyances, nor any one who was willing 
 to yield him his" j.lace, was obliged, next morning, 
 notwithstanding ot his fatigue, humbly to resume his 
 journey oil foot. He arrived at Wurzburg on the 
 evening of the second Sabbath after Easter, and sent 
 back his guide. 
 
 Bishop Bibra, who had received the theses with so 
 much delight, lived in this town, and Luther liad a 
 letter for him from the Elector of Saxony. The bishop, 
 overjoyed at the opportunity of becoming personally 
 acquainted with this bold champion of the truth, 
 hastened to invite him to the episcopal palace. He 
 went out to receive him, spoke to him in the kindest 
 terms, and oifered to furnish him with a guide as far 
 as Heidelberg. But at Wiu-zburg Luther had fallen 
 in with his two friends, the vicar-geueral Staupitz, and 
 Lange, the prior of Erfurt, who offered him a place in 
 their carriage. He therefore thanked Bibra for his 
 offer, and next day the three friends set out from 
 Wurzburg. They travelled thus for three days, con- 
 versing together, and on the 21st April arrived at 
 Heidelberg. Luther went to lodge at the Augustine 
 convent. 
 
 The Elector of Saxony had given him a letter to 
 Count Palatine Wolfgang, duke of Bavaria. Luther 
 repaired to his magnificent castle, the site of which is 
 still the admiration of strangers. The monk of tlie 
 ])lains of Saxony had a heart to admire the position of 
 Heidelberg, where the two lovely valleys of the Rhine 
 and the Necker unite. He delivered his letter to James 
 Simler, steward of the court. Simler having read it. 
 said, '"Truly you have here a valuable letter of credit." 
 The count-palatine received him with much kindness, 
 and often invited him, as well as Lange and Staupitz, 
 to his table. This friendly reception added greatly to 
 Luther's comfort. "We relax and amuse ourselves 
 with an agreeable and pleasant chit-chat," says he, 
 " eating and drinking, and surveying all the magnifi- 
 cence of the palatine palace, admiring its ornaments, 
 its armoury, and cuirasses ; in short, everything re- 
 markable in this distinguished and truly royal castle." 
 
 However, Luther had other work to do. He be- 
 hoved to work while it was day. Transported to an 
 university which exercised great influence on the west 
 and south of German}', he was there to strike a blow 
 which should shake the churclies of those countries. 
 He, accordingly, began to WTite theses which he pro- 
 posed to maintain in a public discussion. Such dis- 
 cussions were of ordinary occurrence ; but Luther felt, 
 that in order to make his useful, it was necessary to 
 give it a peculiar interest. His disposition, moreover, 
 inclined him to present the truth under a paradoxical 
 form. The professors of the university would not 
 allow the discussion to take place in their public hall, 
 and it became necessary to hold it in a hall of the 
 
 Augustine convent. The 2Gth of April was the day 
 on which it was to take place. 
 
 Heidelberg, at a later period, received the Gospel ; 
 and even at this discussion in the convent, an observer 
 might have augured that good would result from it. 
 
 The reputation of Luther attracted a large concourse 
 of hearers ; professors, courtiers, citizens, and students, 
 crowded to it. The doctor gave the name of '• Para- 
 doxes" to his theses ; and it is, perhaps, the name which 
 might still be applied to them in the present day. It 
 would be easy, however, to translate them into evident 
 I)roposition3. The following are some of the Para- 
 doxes : — 
 
 1. "The law of God is a salutary rule of life. 
 Nevertheless, it cannot aid man in his search after 
 righteousness ; ou the contrary, it impedes him. 
 
 3. " Works of man, how fair and good soever they 
 may be, are, to all appearance, only mortal sins. 
 
 4. " Works of God, how deformed and bad soever 
 they may appear, have always an immortal merit. 
 
 7. "The works of the just themselves would be 
 mortal sins, did they not, through holy reverence for 
 the Lord, fear that their works woiUd in fact be mor- 
 tal sins. 
 
 9. " To maintain that works done without Christ are 
 dead, but not mortal, is dangerous forgetfulness of the 
 fear of God. 
 
 13. " Since tlie fall of man, free will exists only in 
 name, and when man does all that is possible for him 
 to do, he sins mortally. 
 
 16. "A man who expects to attain to grace by do- 
 ing all that it is possible for him to do, adds sin to 
 sin, and doubles his guilt. 
 
 18. " It is certain that man, to become capable of 
 receiving the grace of Christ, must entirely despair of 
 himself. 
 
 21. "An honorary theologian calls evil good, and 
 good evil ; but a theologian of the cross speaks accord- 
 ing to truth. 
 
 22. " T''e wisdom which teaches man to know the 
 invisible perfections of God in His works, inflates, 
 blinds, and hardens him. 
 
 23. " The law excites the wrath of God, kills, curses, 
 accuses, judges, and condemns, whatever is not in 
 Christ. 
 
 24. " Still this wisdom (§ 22) is not bad ; and the 
 law (§ 23) is not to be rejected ; but the man who does 
 not study the knowledge of God imder the cross, 
 changes its good into evil. 
 
 25. " He is not justified who does many works'; but 
 he who, -without works, believes much in Jesus Christ. 
 
 2G. "The law says, Do this! And what it com- 
 mands is never done. Grace says. Believe in Him ! 
 and, lo! all things are accomplished. 
 
 28. "The love of God finds nothing in man, but 
 creates in liim what it loves. The love of man pro- 
 ceeds from self-love." 
 
 Five doctors of theology attacked these theses. They 
 had read them with the astonishment which novelty 
 excites. The theology seemed to them very strange. 
 Yet, according to Luther's own testimony, they dis- 
 cussed them with a courtesy which he could not but 
 esteem ; and, at the same time, with foi'ce and discern- 
 ment. 
 
100 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Luther, on his part, displayed an admirable mild- 
 ness in his replies, incomparable patience in listening 
 to the objections of his opponents, and all the liveliness 
 of St. Paul in solving the difficulties which were started. 
 Ilis answers, which were short, but replete with the 
 AVord of God, filled all the hearers with admiration. 
 " He very much resembles Erasmus," said several ; 
 "but in one thing he surpasses him, — he professes 
 openly what Erasmus is contented only to insinuate." 
 
 The discussion was drawing to a close. Luther's 
 opponents had retired with honour from the field of 
 battle; the youngest of them. Doctor George Niger, 
 alone continuing the struggle with the mighty com- 
 batant. Amazed at the bold propositions of the 
 Augustine monk, and feeling utterly at a loss for 
 arguments to refute them, he exclaimed, in an agitated 
 tone, — "Were our peasants to hear such things, they 
 would stone you to death." At these words there was 
 a general Inuah throughout the audience. 
 
 theological disputation. The first words of the re- 
 former had awakened men's minds ; and questions 
 which shortly before had met with indifference, were 
 now full of interest. Several countenances gave visible 
 expression to tlie new ideas which the bold assertions 
 of the Saxon doctor had suggested to their minds. 
 
 Three youths in jiarticular were strongly moved. 
 One of them, named Martin Bucer, was a Dominican, 
 of about twenty-seven years of age, who, notwitli- 
 standing of the prejudices of his order, seemed unwill- 
 ing to lose a single word which fell from the doctor. 
 Born in a little town of Alsace, he had entered a con- 
 vent at sixteen, and soon displayed such talents that 
 the monks entertained the highest hopes of him. " He 
 will one day be an ornament to our order," said they. 
 His superiors had sent him to Heidelberg, that he 
 might devote himself to the study of philosophy, theo- 
 logy, Greek, and Hebrew. At this period, Erasmus 
 having published several of his works, Bucer read 
 them with avidity. 
 
 Shortly after, the first works of Luther appeared, 
 and the Alsatian student hastened to compare the 
 
 reformer's doctrine with the Holy Scriptures. Some 
 doubt as to the truth of the popish religion arose iu 
 his mind. This was the way in which light was 
 diffused in those days. The elector-palatine took 
 notice of the young man. His strong and sonorous 
 voice, his pleasing address, liis eloquence, and the 
 freedom with which he attacked prevailing vices, made 
 him a distinguished preacher. He was appointed 
 chaplain to the court, and was acting in this capacity 
 when Luther's journey to Heidelberg was announced. 
 Bucer was greatly delighted ; nobody repaired with 
 greater eagerness to the hall of the Augustine convent. 
 He had pro\'ided himself with paper, pens, and ink, 
 wishing to write down whatever the doctor should say. 
 But while his hand was rapidly tracing the words of 
 Luther, the hand of God was writing the great truths 
 which he heard in more ineffaceable characters on his 
 heart. The rays of the doctrine of grace beamed upon 
 his soul on this memorable occasion. The Dominican 
 WHS unincil over to Clirist. 
 
 Not far from Bucer sat John 
 Brentz or Brentius, then about nine- 
 teen years of age. Brentz, who was 
 the son of a magistrate of a town in 
 Swabia, had, at thirteen, been en- 
 rolled among the students of Heidel- 
 berg. None of them shewed such 
 application. As soon as the hour of 
 midnight struck, Brentz rose and 
 commenced his labours. This prac- 
 tice became so habitual to him, that, 
 during the rest of his life, he could 
 never sleep beyond that hour. At a 
 later period he devoted these still 
 moments to meditation on the Scrip- 
 tures. Brentz was one of the first 
 to perceive the new light which then 
 rose on Germany, and he received it 
 into his soul in the full love of it. 
 He read the writings of Luther with 
 avidity, and must have been overjoy- 
 ed at the prospect of hearing him per- 
 sonally at Heidelberg. Young Brentz was particularly 
 struck with one of the doctor's propositions, viz., " Not 
 he who does many works is justified before God, but 
 he who, without works, believes much in Jesus Christ." 
 A pious woman of Heilbronn, on the Necker, wife 
 of a councillor of that town, named Snepf, had, after 
 the example of Hannah, dedicated her first-born to the 
 Lord, earnestly desiring to see him devote himself to 
 theology. The young man, who was born in 1495, 
 made rapid progress in literature; but whether from 
 taste or ambition, or comj)liance with his father's 
 wishes, he devoted himself to the study of law. The 
 pious mother was grieved when she saw her son 
 Ehrhard following another course than that to which 
 she had dedicated him. She warned and urged him, 
 and always concluded by reminding him of the vow 
 which she had made at his birth. At length, over- 
 come by his mother's perseverance, Ehrhard Snepf 
 yielded, and soon felt such delight in his new studies, 
 that nothing in the world could have diverted him 
 from them. 
 
 He was in terms of intimacy with Bucer and Brentz, 
 
LABOURS OF THE YOUNG DOCTORS. 
 
 and they remained friends all their lives ; " for," says 
 I one of their biogi'aphers, " friendships founded on the 
 I lote of literature and virtue are never extinguished." 
 I He was present with his two friends at the Heidelberg 
 I discussion. The Paradoxes and tlie bold struggle of 
 I the Wittemberg doctor gave Sncpf a new impulse. 
 I Rejecting the vain dogma of human merit, he em- 
 I braced the doctrine of free justification. 
 I The next day Buccr paid a visit to Luther. " I con- 
 versed with him," says he, " and without witnesses, 
 I and had a most exquisite repast, not from the viands, 
 I but from the truths which were set before me. AVhat- 
 : ever objections I stated, were readily answered by the 
 doctor, who explained everything with the utmost 
 clearness. Oh ! that I had time to write you more 
 ' about it." Luther himself was touched with the senti- 
 ' raents of Bucer. " He is the only friar of his order," 
 I wrote he to Spalatin, " who is in good faith. He is a 
 young man of great promise ; he received me with sim- 
 plicity, and conversed with me with earnestness ; he is 
 1 deserving of our confidence and our love." 
 ' Brentz, Snepf, and others also, urged by the new 
 ' truths which began to dawn upon their minds, in like 
 ' manner visited Luther, speaking and conferring with 
 him, and asking explanations of anything which they 
 might not have comprehended. The reformer, in his 
 ' answers, founded upon the Bible. At every word that 
 fell from him fresh light arose, and his visitors saw a 
 new world opening before them. 
 
 After Luther's departure these noble-minded men 
 
 began to teach at Heidelberg. It was necessary to 
 
 follow out what the man of God had begun, and not 
 
 allow the torch which he had kindled to be extinguished. 
 
 The scholars will speak should the masters be silent. 
 
 Brentz, although he was still so youthfid, explained St. 
 
 Matthew, at first in his own room, and afterwards. 
 
 1 when it could not contain his hearers, in the hall of 
 
 ! philosophy. The theologians, filled with envy at see- 
 
 I ing the great concourse which he drew together, were 
 
 I much offended. 
 
 i Brentz next took orders, and transferred his lectures 
 I to the college of the Canons of the Holy Spirit. In 
 , this way the fire which had already been kindled in 
 ' Saxony was kindled also in Heidelberg. The light 
 I radiated from numerous foci. This period has been 
 I designated the seed-time of the Palatinate. 
 I But the fruits of the Heidelberg discussion were not 
 confined to the Palatinate. These bold friends of the 
 truth soon became luminaries in the Church. They 
 all occupied eminent stations, and took part in the 
 I numerous discussions to which the Reformation gave 
 j rise. Strasburg, and at a later period England, were 
 I indebted to the labours of Bucer for a purer knowledge 
 ! of the truth. Snepf taught first at Marburg, then at 
 jj Stuttgard, Tubingen, and Jena. Brentz, after teach- 
 jl ing at Heidelberg, long continued to labour at Halle, 
 I, in Swabia, and at Tubingen. These three individuals 
 jl will again come before us. 
 
 1 This discussion caused Luther himself to advance. 
 j He grew daily in the knowledge of the truth. " I am 
 i one of those," said he, " who have made progress by 
 ,j writing and by instructing others ; and not one of those 
 j who, from nothing, become all at once great and learned 
 ! doctors." 
 
 He was delighted at seeing the avidity with which 
 youth in schools received the growing truth ; and this 
 consoled him when he saw how deeply the old doctors 
 were rooted in their opinions. '• I have the glorious 
 hope," said he, " that, in like manner as Christ, when 
 rejected by the Jews, went to the Gentiles, we will 
 now see true theology, though rejected by these old 
 men of vain and fantastical opinions, welcomed by the 
 rising generation." 
 
 The chapter being closed, Luther thought of return- 
 ing to AVittembcrg. The count-palatine gave him a 
 letter to the elector, in which he said that " Luther had 
 displayed so much ability in the discussion as to reflect 
 great glory on the university of Wittemberg." He was 
 not permitted to return on foot. The Augustines of 
 Nuremberg conducted him as far as Wurzburg, aud 
 from thence he proceeded to Erfurt with the friars be- 
 longing to it. As soon as he arrived, he called on his 
 old master, Jodocus. The venerable professor, who 
 had been much concerned and shocked at the career 
 which his pupil had followed, was accustomed to put a 
 theta (0) before all Luther's sentences, — that being the 
 letter which the Greeks used to express condemnation. 
 He had written to the young doctor, censuring his con- 
 duct, and he was anxious to answer by word of mouth. 
 Not having been received, he wrote Jodocus : " The 
 whole university, with the exception of a single licen- 
 tiate, thinks as I do. Nay, more, the prince, the 
 bishop, several other prelates, and all our enlightened 
 citizens, declare, with one voice, that hitherto they have 
 neither known nor understood Jesus Christ and His 
 Gospel. I am ready to receive your correction ; aud 
 though it should be harsh, I will think it pleasant. Un- 
 bosom yom- heart, then, without fear, disburden your- 
 self of your anger. I have no wish, I am not able to be 
 angry with you. God and my conscience bear witness." 
 
 The aged doctor was touched by the sentiments of 
 his old pupil, and wished to see if there was no means 
 of removing the condemnatory theta. They had an 
 explanation ; but nothing resulted from it. '• I have at 
 least," said Luther, " made him understand, that all 
 their sentences are like the beast which is said to eat 
 itself. But it is vain to speak to the deaf. The doc- 
 tors cling obstinately to their petty distinctions, although 
 they confess that they have nothing to support them 
 but what they term the light of natural reason — a dark 
 chaos to us who proclaim no other light than Jesus 
 Christ, the only true light." 
 
 Luther quitted Erfurt in the carriage of the convent. 
 He was thus brought to Eisleben, and from thence the 
 Augustines of the place, proud of a doctor who threw 
 so much lustre on their order and on their town which 
 had given him birth, caused him to be conveyed to 
 Wittemberg with their own horses, and at their own 
 expense. All were desirous to testify affection and 
 esteem for the extraordinary man who was rising at 
 every step. 
 
 He arrived on Saturday after the Ascension. The 
 journey had done him good. His friends found him 
 stronger and healthier looking than before his depar- 
 tiu-e, and were delighted with all he told them. Luther 
 reposed for some time from the fatigues of his campaign 
 and the discussion at Heidelberg ; but this repose 
 was only a preparation for more severe exertions. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 LUTHEK BEFORE THE LEGATE — MAY TO DECEMBER, 1518. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Repentance— The Pope— Leo X. — Luther to his Bishop— Luther to the Pope 
 —Luther to the Vicar-General— Rovere to the Elector— Discoui'se on 
 Excommunication— Influence and Power of Luther. 
 
 Truth had at length raised her head in the bosom of 
 Christendom. Victorious over the inferior organs of 
 the papacy, she behoved to have a struggle with its 
 chief. We are going to see Luther at close quarters 
 with Rome. 
 
 This step was taken on his return from Heidelberg. 
 His first theses on indulgences had been misunderstood, 
 and he determined to explain their meaning with 
 greater clearness. The outcry raised by the blind 
 hatred of his enemies had convinced him how impor- 
 tant it was to gain the most enlightened part of the 
 nation in favour of truth, and he resolved to appeal to 
 its judgment by calling attention to the foundation on 
 which his convictions rested. It was, indeed, neces- 
 sary for once to appeal to the decision of Rome ; and 
 he hesitates not to send all his explanations. Present- 
 ing them with one hand to the enlightened and impar- 
 tial among his coimtrymen, he with the other lays them 
 before the throne of the sovereign pontiff. 
 
 These explanations of his theses, which he denomi- 
 nated "Solutions," were written with gi-eat modera- 
 tion. Luther tried to soften the passages which had 
 caused most iiritation, and gave proof of genuine 
 modesty. At the same time he shewed that his convic- 
 tions were immoveable ; and he courageously defended 
 all the propositions which truth obliged him to main- 
 tain. He again repeated, that every Christian who 
 truly repents possesses the remission of sins without 
 indulgence ; that the pope, like the humblest of priests, 
 can only declare simply what God has already par- 
 doned ; that the treasm-e of the merits of the saints 
 administered by the pope was a chimera ; and that Holy 
 Scripture was the only rule of faith. Let us hear him- 
 self on some of these points. 
 
 He begins with establishing the nature of true 
 penitence, and contrasts the divine act, which renews 
 man, with the mummery of the Romish Church. 
 " The Greek word nfravofne," says he, " signifies — be 
 clothed with a uew spirit and new feelings; have a 
 new nature; so that, ceasing to be earthly, you 
 may become heavenly. , . . Christ is a teacher 
 of the spirit and not of the letter, and His words are 
 spirit and life." He, tlierefore, inculcates, not those 
 external penances which the proudest sinners can per- 
 form without being humbled, but a repentance accord- 
 ing to spirit and truth, — a repentance which may be 
 fulfilled in all the situations of life, under the purple 
 of kings, the cassock of priests, and the coronet of 
 princes; amid the magnificence of Babylon, where a 
 
 Daniel lived, as well as under a monk's frock and a 
 beggar's tatters. 
 
 Further ou we meet with these bold words : " I give 
 myself no trouble as to what pleases or displeases the 
 pope. He is a man like other men. There have been 
 several popes who loved not only errors and vices, but 
 even things still more extraordinary. I listen to the 
 pope as pope; that is, when he speaks in the canons, 
 according to the canons, or when he decides some 
 article with a council ; but not when he speaks out of 
 his own head. If I did otherwise, would I not be 
 bound to say with those who know not Jesus Christ, 
 that the horrible massacres of Christians of which 
 Julius II. w.as guilty, were the kind acts of an 
 affectionate shepherd towards the Lord's sheep?" 
 
 " I cannot but be astonished," continues he, " at the 
 simplicity of those who have said that the two swords 
 of the Gospel represent, — the one the spiritual power, 
 and the other the temporal. Yes, the pope holds a 
 sword of steel, and so exhibits himself to Christendom, 
 not as a tender father, but as a formidable tyrant. 
 Ah ! God in His anger has given us the sword we 
 wished, and withdrawn that which we despised. In 
 no quarter of the world have there been more dreadful 
 wars than among Christians. . . . Why did the 
 ingenious intellect which discovered this fine com- 
 mentary, not with equal subtilty interpret the history 
 of the two keys committed to St. Peter, and in that 
 way make it an established dogirfa of the Church, that 
 the one serves to open the treasures of heaven, and the 
 other the treasures of the world V' 
 
 " It is impossible," he again says, " that a man cau 
 be a Christian without having Christ ; and if he has 
 Christ, he at the same time has all that belongs to 
 Christ. The thing which gi\es peace to our conscience 
 is, that by faitli our sins are no longer ours, but 
 Christ's, on whom God has laid them; and that, ou 
 the other hand, all the righteousness of Christ is ours, 
 to whom God has given it. Christ puts His hand 
 upon us and we are cured. He throws His mantle 
 over us and we are covered ; for He is the glorious 
 Saviour, blessed for ever and ever." 
 
 With such views of the riches of salvation by Jesus 
 Christ, there was no need of indulgences. 
 
 Luther, while attacking the papacy, speaks honour- 
 ably of Leo X. " The times in which we live are so 
 bad," says he, " that even the greatest personages can- 
 not come to the help of the Church. We have now a 
 very good ])ope in Leo X. His sincerity and know- 
 ledge fill us with joy. But what can one man, though 
 amiable and agreeable, do by himself alone ? He 
 cei-tainly deserved to be pope in better times. AVe, in 
 our day, deserve only such popes as Julius II. and 
 Alexander VL" 
 
LUTHER'S LETTERS TO HIS BISHOP AND THE POPE. 
 
 He afterwards comes to the crowning point: "I 
 wish to say the thing in a few words and boldly. The 
 Church stands in need of a reformation ; and this can- 
 not be the work cither of a single man, like the pope, 
 or of many men, like the cardinals, and fathers of 
 councils ; but it must be that of the whole world, or 
 rather, it is a work which belongs to God only. As to 
 the time iu which such a reformation ought to begin. 
 He alone who created time can tell. . . . The 
 embankment is broken down, and it is no longer in 
 our power to an-est the torrents which arc rushing 
 impetuously along." 
 
 Such are some of the thoughts and declarations 
 which Luther addressed to the enlightened among his 
 countrymen. The feast of Pentecost was at hand; 
 and at this period, when the apostles rendered the iirst 
 testimony of their faith to the risen Saviour, Luther, ii 
 new apostle, published this enlivening book, in which 
 he expressed his earnest longings for a resurrection of 
 the Church. Saturday, 22nd May, 1518, being Pente- 
 cost eve, he sent his work to his ordinary, the bishop 
 of Brandenburg, with the following letter: — 
 
 "Most w^orthy Father in God, — Some time ago, 
 when a novel and unheard-of doctrine, touching the 
 apostolic indulgences, began to make a noise iu these 
 countries, both learned and ignorant felt concerned ; 
 and many persons, some of them known to me, and 
 others whom I did not even know by face, urged mo 
 to publish, by word of mouth, or by writing, what I 
 thought of the novelty, I am unwilling to say, the 
 impudence of this doctrine. At first I was silent, and 
 kept back. But at length matters came to such a 
 point, tliat the holiness of the pope was compromised. 
 
 " What was I to do ? I thought it best neither to 
 approve nor to condemn these doctrines; but to 
 establish a discussion on this important point, until 
 the holy Church should decide. 
 
 " Nobody having come forward to this combat, to 
 which I had invited all the world, and my theses 
 having been considered not as materials for discussion, 
 but positive assertions, I feel myself obliged to publish 
 an e.Yplauation of them. Deign, then, most gracious 
 bishop, to receive these trifles at my hand. And that 
 all the world may see I am not acting presumptuously, 
 I supplicate your reverence to take pea and ink, and 
 blot out, or even throw into the fire and burn, what- 
 ever in them displeases you. I know that Jesus Christ 
 has no need of my labours and my services, and that 
 He can very well, without me, publish good tidings to 
 His Church. Not that the bulls and menaces of my 
 enemies deter me, — very much the contrary. If they 
 were not so impudent and so shameless, nobody would 
 hear a word from me. I would shut myself up in a 
 corner, and there study by myself for myself. If this 
 affair is not of God, it certainly cannot be my affair, 
 iiir tliat of any man, but a thing of nought. Let the 
 glory and honoiu- be ascribed to Him to whom alone 
 they belong." 
 
 Luther had still the greatest respect for the head of 
 the Church. He supposed that there was justice in 
 Leo X.. and a sincere love of truth. He resolved, 
 therefdio, to applv to him also; and eight days after, 
 on Trinity Sunday, 30th May, 1518, addressed him in 
 a letter, of which we give the following extracts :— 
 
 "To the Most Blessed Father, Liio X., Sovereign 
 Bishop, 
 " Friar Martin Luther, Augustine, wishes eternal 
 salvation ! 
 
 " I learn, most holy Father, that evil reports are 
 current with regard to me, and that my name is 
 brought into bad odour with your holiness. I am 
 called heretic, apostate, traitor, and a thousand other 
 opprobrious epithetj*. "What I see astonishes ; what I 
 Iicar amazes me. But the only foundation of my 
 tranquillity remains, and that is a pure and peaceful 
 conscience. Be pleased to listen to me, most holy 
 Father, — to me, who am only an ignorant child." 
 
 Luther relates the origin of the whole affair, and 
 continues thus : — 
 
 " In all taverns nothing was heard but complaints 
 of the avarice of priests, and attacks on the power of 
 the keys and the sovereign pontiff. This all Germany 
 can testify. On hearing these things, my zeal for the 
 glory of Christ was moved, (so I thought,) or if they 
 will explain it otherwise, my young and boiling blood 
 was inflamed. 
 
 " I warned several of the princes of the Church ; 
 but some mocked me, and others turned a deaf ear. 
 All seemed paralyzed by the terror of your name. 
 Then I published the discussion. 
 
 " And this, most holy Father ! this is the fire which 
 is said to have set the whole world in flames ! 
 
 " Now, what must I do ? I cannot retract, and I 
 see that this publication is subjecting me to incon- 
 ceivable hatred in all quarters. I love not to stand 
 forth in the midst of the world; for I am without 
 knowledge, without talent, and far too feeble for such 
 great things, especially in this illustrious age, in 
 which Cicero himself, were he alive, would be obliged 
 to hide in some obscure corner. 
 
 " But iu order to appease my adversaries, and re- 
 spond to numerous solicitations, I here publish my 
 thoughts. I publish them, holy Fatlier, that I may 
 place myself in safety under the shadow of your wiugs. 
 All who are willing will thus be able to understand 
 with what simplicity of heart I have asked the ecclesi- 
 astical authority to instruct me, and what respect I 
 have shewn for the power of the keys. If I had not 
 managed the affair in a becoming manner, it is im- 
 possible that the most serene lord Frederick, duke 
 and elector of Saxony, who shines among the friends 
 of apostolical and Christian truth, would ever have 
 tolerated, in his university of Wittemberg, a man so 
 dangerous as I am represented to be. 
 
 " Wherefore, most holy Father, I throw myself at 
 the feet of your holiness, and submit to you with all 
 I have, and all I am. Destroy my cause, or embrace 
 it ; decide for me, or decide against me ; take my life, 
 or restore it to me, just as you please. I will re- 
 cognise your voice .is the voice of Jesus Christ, who 
 presides and speaks by you. If I have deserved death, 
 I refuse not to die. The earth belongs unto the Lord, 
 and 'all that it contains. Let Him be praised to all 
 eternity. Amen. May He sustain you for ever and 
 ever. Amen. 
 
 " Ou the day of the Holy Trinity, in the year 1518. 
 "Friab Maktin Lutuer, Auyiisline." 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATIOX. 
 
 What humility and truth in this fear, or rather in 
 this confession of Luther, that his young and boUing 
 blood had, perhaps, been too quickly inflamed ! We 
 here recognise the man of sincerity, who, not presum- 
 ing on himself, fears the influence of passion even in 
 those of his actions which are most conformable to the 
 TTord of God. There is a wide difference between 
 this language and that of a proud fanatic. We see in 
 Luther an earnest desire to gain over Leo to the cause 
 of truth, to prevent all disruption, and make this refor- 
 mation, the necessity of which he proclaims, come from 
 the very pinnacle of the Chiu-ch. Assuredly he is not 
 the person who ought to be charged T%-ith destroying 
 in the West that unity, the loss of which was after- 
 wards so much regretted. He sacrificed everything in 
 order to maintain it, — everything but truth. It was 
 not he, but his adversaries, who, by refusing to acknow- 
 ledge the fulness and sufficiency of the salvation wrought 
 out by Jesus Christ, are chargeable with having rent 
 the Saviour's robe at the foot of the cross. 
 
 After writing this letter, Luther, the very same day, 
 addressed his friend Staupitz, vicar-general of his 
 order. It was through him he ^vished his " Solutions " 
 and his epistle to reach Leo. 
 
 " I pray you," says he to him, "kindly to accept the 
 miserable things which I send you. and transmit them 
 to the excellent pope, Leo X. Xot that I would 
 thereby drag you into the perUs to which I am exposed. 
 I wish to take all the danger to myself. Jesus Christ 
 wiU see whether what I have said comes from Him or 
 comes from me — Jesus Christ, without whose will 
 neither the tongue of the pope can move, nor the hearts 
 of kings resolve. 
 
 '•To those who threaten me I have no answer to 
 give, unless it be the remark of Eeuchlin : ' The poor 
 man has nothing to fe;ir. for he has nothing to lose.' 
 I have neither money nor goods, and I ask none. If I 
 once possessed some honour and some reputation, let 
 him that has begun to strip me of them finish his work. 
 I have nothing left but this miserable body, enfeebled 
 by so many trials ; let them kill it by force or fraud, 
 to the glory of God. In this way they will, perhaps, 
 shorten my life an hour or two. Enough for me to 
 have a precious Redeemer, a powerful Priest-, Jesus 
 Christ the Lord I — ^I will praise Him whUe I have 
 a breath of life ; and if none -n-ill praise Him with me, 
 how can I help it ? " 
 
 These words enable us to read Luther's heart. 
 
 While he was thus looking with confidence towards 
 Rome, Rome had thoughts of vengeance towards him. 
 On the 3d of April, Cardinal R.iphael de Rovere had 
 ■WTitten to the Elector Frederick, in the pope's name, 
 stating that suspicions were entertained of liis faith, 
 and that he ought to beware of protecting Luther. 
 
 '• Cardinal R.aphael," says Luther, '• would have had 
 great pleasiu-e in seeing me hiu-ned by Duke Frederick." 
 Thus Rome began to whet her arms against Luther, 
 and the first blow which she aimed at him was thrqugh 
 the mind of his protector. If she succeeded in destrov- 
 ing the shelter under which the monk of Wittemberg 
 was reposing, he would become an easv prev. 
 
 The German princes attached much importance to 
 their reputation as Christian princes. The slightest 
 suspicion of heresy filled them -vrith alarm, and the 
 
 court of Rome had shrewdly availed itself of this feel- 
 ing. Frederick, moreover, had always been attached 
 to the religion of his fathers, and Raphael's letter made 
 a very strong impression on his mind. But it was a 
 principle ^-ith the elector not to act hastily in anything. 
 He knew that truth was not always on the side of the 
 strongest. The transactions of the empire with Rome 
 had taught him to distrust the selfish views of that 
 court ; and he was aware that in order to be a Chris- 
 tian prince, it w.as not necessary to be the pope's slave. 
 '• He was not," says Melancthon, " one of those pro- 
 fane spirits who wish to stifle all changes in their first 
 beginnings, Frederick resigned himself to God. He 
 carefully read the writings which were published, and 
 what he judged true he allowed no one to destroy." 
 He had power to do so. Supreme in his own states, 
 he was respected in the empire, at le.ost as highly as the 
 emperor himself. 
 
 It is prob.ible that Luther learned something of this 
 letter of Cardinal Raphael, which was sent to the 
 elector on the 7th of July. Perhaps it was the pros- 
 pect of excommunication which this Roman missive 
 seemed to presage, that led him to mount the pulpit of 
 Wittemberg on the 15th of the same mouth, and on 
 this subject deUver a discourse which made a profound 
 impression. He distinguished between internal and 
 external excommunication, — the former excluding from 
 communion with God, and the latter excluding only 
 from the ceremonies of the Church. •• Nobody." says 
 he, '• can reconcile a lapsed soul with God save God 
 himself. Nobody can separate man from communion 
 , with God unless it be man himself by his own sins ! 
 I Happy he who dies unjustly excommunicated I While 
 i for righteousness' sake he endures a heavy infliction ou 
 the part of man, he receives the crown of eternal 
 felicity from the hand of God," 
 
 Some highly applauded this bold language, whUe 
 others were more irritated by it. But Luther was no 
 longer alone ; and although his faith needed no other 
 support than that of God, a phalanx of defence against 
 his enemies was formed .around him. The Germans 
 had heard the voice of the reformer. His discourses 
 and his writings sent forth flashes which awoke and 
 illumined his contemporaries. The energy of his faith 
 fell in torrents of fire on slumbering hearts. The life 
 which God had infused into this extraordinary soul 
 was imp.arted to the dead body of the Church ; and 
 Christendom, which had for so many ages been 
 motionless, was animated with a religious enthusiasm. 
 The devotedness of the people to the superstitions of 
 Rome diminished every day, and the number of hands 
 which offered money for the purchase of p-irdon 
 became fewer and fewer, while at the same time 
 Luther's fame continued to increase. People turned 
 towards him, and h.ailed him with love and respect, as 
 the intrepid defender of truth and liberty. No doubt 
 the full depth of the doctrines which he .announced 
 was not perceived. It was enough for the greater 
 number to know that the new doctor withstood the 
 pope, and that the empire of priests and monks was 
 shaken by his powerful word. To them the attack of 
 ' Luther was like one of those fires which are kindled 
 I on mountain tops, as the signal for a whole niition 
 to rise and burst ite chains. Before the reformer 
 
DIET AT AUGSBURG. 
 
 suspected what he had done, all the generous hearted 
 
 I among his countrymen had already acknowledged him 
 
 for their leader. To many, however, the appearance 
 
 of Luther was something more. The "Word of God, 
 
 which he wielded with so much power, pierced their 
 
 minds like a sharp two-edged sword ; and their hearts 
 
 were inflamed with an ardent desire to obtain the 
 
 assurance of pardon and eternal life. Since primitive 
 
 times, the Church had not known such hungering and 
 
 thirsting after righteousness. If the preaching of 
 
 , Peter the Hermit and Bernard so aroused the popula- 
 
 I tion of the Middle Ages as to make them take up 
 
 ; a perishable cross, the preaching of Luther disposed 
 
 those of his time to embrace the true cross, — the truth 
 
 which saves. The framework which then lay with all 
 
 its weight on the Church had smothered everything ; 
 
 , the form had destroyed the life. But the powerful 
 
 word given to Luther caused a quickening breath to 
 
 , circulate over the soil of Christendom. At the first 
 
 I glance, the writings of Luther were equally captivating 
 
 , to believers and unbelievers, — to unbelievers, because 
 
 I the positive doctrines afterwards to be established 
 
 1 were not yet fully developed in them ; and to believers, 
 
 because they contained the germ of that living faith 
 
 which they so powerfully express. Hence the influence 
 
 of these writings was immense. They spread almost 
 
 instantaneously over Germany and the world. The 
 
 I prevailing impression of men everywhere was, that 
 
 they were assisting, not at the establishment of a sect, 
 
 but at a new birth of the Church and of Society. 
 
 I Those who were born of the Spirit of God ranged 
 
 themselves around him who was its organ. Christen- 
 
 ' dom was divided into two camps, — the one leagued with 
 
 I the spirit against the form, and the other with the 
 
 j form against the spirit. It is true that on the side of 
 
 the form were all the appearances of strength and 
 
 I grandeur, aud on the side of the spirit those of feeble- 
 
 ; ness and insignificance. But the form, devoid of the 
 
 spirit, is a lifeless body, which the first breath may 
 
 upset. Its appearance of power only provokes hostility, 
 
 and accelerates its downfall. In this way the simple 
 
 I truth had placed Luther at the head of a mighty army. 
 
 I CHAPTER n. 
 
 I Diet at Augsburg— The Emperor to the Pope-The Elector to Kovere— 
 1 Luther cited to Rome— Luther's Peace— Intercession of the Universitj— 
 [ Ptp«l Brief— LuUier's Indignation— The Pope to the Elector. 
 
 This army was needed, for the great began to move. 
 
 I Both the empire and the Church were uniting their 
 efforts to rid themselves of this troublesome monk. 
 Had the imperial throne been occupied by a brave and 
 energetic prince, he might have profited by these 
 reUgious agitations ; and, throwing himself on God and 
 the nation, given new force to the former opposition to 
 the papacy. But Maximilian was too old, and was 
 determined, moreover, to sacrifice everything to what 
 he regarded as the end of his existence,— the aggran- 
 disement of his house, and through it the exaltation 
 
 I of hia grandson. 
 
 The Emperor Maximilian at this time held a diet at 
 Augsburg. Six electors attended in person; and all 
 the Germanic states were represented at it ; while the 
 kings of France, Hungary, and Poland sent their 
 ambassadors. All these princes and envoys appeared 
 in great splendour. The war against the Turks was 
 one of the subjects for which the diet had assembled. 
 Tlie legate of Leo X. strongly urged the prosecution 
 of it ; but tlie states, instructed by the bad use which 
 had formerly been made of their contributions, and 
 sagely counselled by the Elector Frederick, con- 
 tented themselves with declaring that they would take 
 the matter into consideration, aud, at tlie same time, 
 produced new grievances against Rome. A Latin 
 discourse, published during the diet, boldly called the 
 attention of the German princes to the true danger. 
 " You wish," said the author, '• to put the Turk to 
 flight. This is well ; but I am much afraid that you 
 are mistaken as to his person. It is not in Asia, but 
 in Ital}-, that you ought to seek him." 
 
 Another affair of no less importance was to occupy 
 the diet. Maximilian was desirous that his grandson 
 Charles, already king of Spain and Xaples, should be 
 proclaimed king of the Romans, and his successors in 
 the imperial dignity. The pope knew his interest too 
 well to wish the imperial throne to be occupied by a 
 prince whose power in Italy might prove formidable to 
 him. The emperor thought he had already gained the 
 greater part of the electors and states ; but he found a 
 strenuous opponent in Frederick. In vain did he so- 
 licit him, and in vain did the ministers and best friends 
 of the elector join their entreaties to those of the 
 emperor. Frederick was immoveable, and proved the 
 truth of what has been said of him, that when once 
 satisfied of the justice of a resolution, he had firmness 
 of soul never to abandon it. The emperor's design 
 failed. 
 
 From this time the emperor sought to gain the good- 
 will of the pope, in order to render him favourable to 
 his plans ; and, as a special proof of his devotedness, 
 on the 5th August, wrote him the following letter: — 
 •• Most holy Father, we learned, some days ago, that a 
 friar of the Augustine order, named Martin Luther, 
 has begun to maintain divers propositions as to the 
 commerce in indulgences. Our displeasure is the 
 greater because the said friar finds many protectors, 
 among whom are powerful personages. If your holi- 
 ness and the very reverend fathers of the Church (the 
 cardinals) do not forthwith employ their authoritjfc to 
 put an end to these scandals, not only will these per- 
 nicious doctors seduce the simple, but they will involve 
 great princes in their ruin. "We will take care that 
 whatever your holiness may decide on this matter, for 
 the glory of Almighty God, shall be observed by all in 
 our empire." 
 
 This letter must have been ^vritteu after some rather 
 keen discussion between Maximilian and Frederick. 
 The same day the elector wrote to Raphael de Rovere. 
 He had, doubtless, learned that the emperor was 
 addressing the Roman pontiff, and to parry the blow, 
 he put himself in communication with Rome. 
 
 " I can have no other wish," said he, '" than to shew 
 myself submissive to the universal Church. Accord- 
 ingly, I have never defended the writings and sermons 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of Doctor Martin Luther. I understand, moreover, 
 that he has always offered to appear with a safe-con- 
 duct before impartial, learned, and Christian judges, 
 iu order to defend his doctrine, and submit, in the 
 event of being convinced by Scripture itself." 
 
 Leo X., who had hitherto allowed the affair to take 
 its course, aroused by the cries of theologians and 
 monks, instituted an ecclesiastical com-t, which was to 
 try Luther at Kome, and in which Sylvester Prierio, 
 the great enemy of the reformer, was at once accuser 
 and judge. The charge was soon dra^vn up, and Luther 
 was summoned by the court to appear personally in 
 sixty days. 
 
 Luther was at Wittemberg, calmly awaiting the good 
 effect which his humble letter to the pope was, as he 
 imagined, to produce, when, on the 7tli of August, 
 only two days after the despatch of the letters of Maxi- 
 milian and Frederick, he received the citation from the 
 Roman tribunal. " At the moment," says he, •' when 
 I was expecting the benediction, I saw the thunder 
 burst upon me. I was the lamb troubling the water 
 to the wolf. Tetzel escapes, and I must allow myself 
 to be eaten." 
 
 This citation threw Wittemberg into consternation ; 
 for whatever course Luther might adopt, he could not 
 avert the danger. If he repaired to Rome, he must 
 tlicre become the victim of his enemies. If he refused 
 to go, he would, as a matter of course, be condemned 
 for contumacy, without being able to escape ; for it was 
 known that the legate had received orders from the 
 pope to do everything he could do to irritate the 
 emperor and the German princes against him. His 
 friends were in dismay. Must the teacher of truth go 
 with his life in his hand to that great city, drunk ivith 
 llic blood of the saints and martyrs of Jesus ? Is it suffi- 
 cient to ensure any man's destruction that he has raised 
 his head from the bosom of enslaved Christendom? 
 Must this man, whom God appears to have formed for 
 resisting a power which hitherto nothing has been able 
 to resist, be also overthrown ? Luther himself saw .no 
 one who could save him, unless it were the elector ; but 
 he would rather die than endanger his prince. His 
 friends at last fell on an expedient which would not 
 compromise Frederick. Let him refuse a safe-conduct, 
 and Luther will have a legitimate cause for refusing to 
 appear at Rome. 
 
 On the 8th of August, Luther wrote to Spalatin, 
 praying that the elector would employ his influence to 
 have him cited in Germany. He also wrote to Stau- 
 j)it8 : " See what ambuscades they use to ensnare me, 
 and how I am surrounded with thorns. But Christ 
 lives and reigns, to-day, yesterday, and for ever. My 
 conscience assures me that what I have taught is the 
 truth, though it becomes still more odious when I 
 teach it. The Church is like the womb of Rebecca. 
 The children must struggle together so as even to en- 
 danger the life of the mother. As to what remains, 
 entreat the Lord that I may not have too much joy iu 
 this trial. May God not lay tlie sin to their charge." 
 
 Tlic friends of Luther did not confine themselves to 
 consultation and complaint. Spalatiu, on the part of 
 the elector, ^vrote to Renner, the emperor's secretary : 
 " Dr. Martin is very willing that his judges shall be all 
 the universities of Germany, with the exception of 
 
 those of Erfurt, Leipsic, and Frankfort-on-the-Oder, 
 which he has ground to suspect. It is impossible for 
 him to appear personally at Rome." 
 
 The university of Wittemberg wrote a letter of inter- 
 cession to the pope himself, and thus spoke of Luther ; 
 '■ The feebleness of his body, and the dangers of the 
 journey, make it difficult, and even impossible for him 
 to obey the order of your holiness. His distress aud 
 his prayers dispose us to have compassion on him. 
 We, then, as obedient sons, entreat you, most holy 
 Father, to be pleased to regard him as a man who has 
 never taught doctrines in opposition to the sentiments 
 of the Roman Church." On the same day the univer- 
 sity, in its anxiety, addressed Charles de Miltitz, a 
 Saxon gentleman, — the chamberlain, and a great 
 favourite of the pope,— and bore testimony to Luther 
 iu terms still stronger tlian those which it had ventmed 
 to insert in the former letter. " The worthy father, 
 Martin Luther, Augustine, is the noblest and most 
 honourable man of our university. For several years 
 we have seen and known his ability, his knowledge, his 
 high attainments iu arts and literature, his irreproach- 
 able manners, and his altogether Cliristian conduct." 
 
 This active charity on the part of all who were 
 about Luther, is his finest eulogium. 
 
 Wliile the issue was anxiously waited for, the affair 
 terminated more easily than might have been supposed. 
 The Legate de Vio, chagrined at not having succeeded 
 in the commission which he had received to prepare a 
 general war against the Turks, was desirous to give 
 lustre to his embassy iu Germany by some other bril- 
 liant exploit; and thinking that if he extinguished 
 heresy he would reappear at Rome with glory, he 
 asked the pope to remit the affair to him. Leo felt 
 himself under obligation to Frederick, for having so 
 strenuously opposed the election of young Charles, and 
 was aware that he might still want his assistance. 
 Accordingly, without adverting to the citation, he 
 charged his legate by a brief, dated 23d of August, to 
 examine the affair in Germany. The pope lost nothing 
 by this mode of proceeding ; and, at the same time,^ if 
 Luther could be brought to a retractation, the noise 
 and scandal which his appearance at Rome might have 
 occiisioned were avoided. 
 
 " We charge you," said he, " to bring personally he- 
 fore you, to pursue and constrain without delay, and as 
 soon as you receive this our letter, the said Luther, 
 who has already been declared heretic by our dear 
 brother, Jerome, bishop of Asculan." 
 
 Then the pope prescribes the severest measures 
 against Luther. 
 
 " For this purpose invoke the arm and assistance of 
 our very dear son iu Christ, Maximilian, the other 
 princes of Germany, and all its commonalities, univer- 
 sities, and powers ecclesiastical or secular ; and if you 
 apprehend him, keep him in safe custody, in order that 
 he may be brought before us." 
 
 We see that this indulgent concession of the pope 
 was little else than a surer method of dragging Luther 
 to Rome. Next follow the gentle measures :— 
 
 " If he returns to himself, and asks pardon for his 
 great crime, asks it of himself, and without being urged 
 to do it, we give you power to receive him into the 
 unity of Holy Mother Church." 
 
THE POPE'S BRIEF. 
 
 lOV 
 
 The pope soon returns to malediction. 
 "If he persists in his obstinacy, and yon cannot 
 make yourself master of his person, we give you power 
 to proscribe him in all parts of Germany; to banish, 
 curse, and excommunicate all who arc attached to him, 
 and to order all Christians to shun their presence." 
 Still, this is not enough. The pope continues : — 
 " And iu order that this contagion may be the more 
 easily extirpated, you will excommunicate all prelates, 
 religious orders, communities, counts, dukes, and 
 grandees, except the Emperor Maximilian, who shall 
 refuse to seize the said Martin Luther and his 
 adherents, and send them to you, under due and 
 sufficient guard. And if (which God forbid) the said 
 princes, conimuuities, universities, grandees, or any 
 one belonging to them, offer an asylum to the said 
 Martin and his adlierents, in any way, and give him, 
 publicly or in secret, by themselves or others, aid and 
 counsel, we lay under interdict these princes, com- 
 inunities, and grandees, with their towns, burghs, 
 fields, and villages, whither said Martin may flee, as 
 long as he shall remain there, and for three days after 
 he shall have left." 
 
 Tiiis audacious chair, which pretends to be the re- 
 presentative on earth of Him who has said, God sent 
 not His Son into the uorld to condemn the world, but 
 that the u-orld tliiriiif/h Him mifiht he sared, continues its 
 anathemas ; and, after having denounced penalties 
 against ecclesiastics, proceeds : — 
 
 "In regard to the laitj', if tliey do not obey your 
 orders instantly, and without any opposition, we 
 declare them infamous, (with the exception of the 
 most worthy emperor.) incapable of performing any 
 lawful act, deprived of Christian burial, and stript of 
 all fiefs which they may hold, whether of the apostolic 
 see, or of any other superior whatsoever." 
 
 Such was the fate which awaited Luther. The 
 monarch of Rome has leagued for his destruction ; and 
 to effect it, spared nothing, — not even the peace of the 
 tomb. His ruin seems inevitable. How will he 
 escape this immense conspiracy ? Bnt Rome had mis- 
 calculated. A movement produced by the Spirit of 
 God was not to be quelled by the decrees of its 
 chancery. 
 
 Even the forms of a just and impartial inquest had 
 not been observed. Luther had been declared heretic, 
 not only without having been heard, but even before 
 the expiry of the period named for his compearance. 
 The passions (and nowhere do they shew themselves 
 stronger than in religious discussions) overleap all the 
 forms of justice. Strange proceedings, in this respect, 
 occur, not only in the Church of Rome, but in Pro- 
 testant churches also which have turned aside from 
 the Gospel ; in other words, in all places where the 
 truth is not, every thing done against the Gospel is 
 deemed lawful. AVe often see men who, in any other 
 case, would scruple to commit tlie smallest injustice, 
 not hesitating to trample under foot all forms and all 
 rights when the matter in question is Christianity, and 
 the testimony born to it. 
 
 When Luther was afterwards made acquainted with 
 this brief, he expressed his indignation. " Here," says 
 he, " is the most remarkable part of the whole affair. 
 The brief is dated on the 23rd of August, and I was 
 
 cited for the 7th of August ; so that between the 
 citation and the brief there is an interval of sixteen 
 days. Now, make the calculation, and you will find 
 that my Lord Jerome, bishop of Ascoli, has pro- 
 ceeded against me, given judgment, condemned, and 
 declared me heretic, beff)rc tlie citation could have 
 reached me, or at most sixteen days after it had been 
 despatched to me. Now, I ask, where are the sixty 
 days given nic in the citation '! They commenced on 
 the 7th August, and were to end on the 7th October. 
 Is it the style and fashion of the court of Rome to 
 cite, admonish, accuse, judge, and pronounce sentence 
 of condemnation, all in one day, against a man who is 
 at such a tlistance from Rome, that he knows nothing at 
 all of the proceedings ? What answer would they give 
 to this ? Doubtless, they forgot to purge themselves 
 with helobore before proceeding to such falsehoods." 
 
 But at the same time tliat Rome was secretly de- 
 positing her thunders in the hands of her legate, she 
 was endeavouring, by smooth and flattering words, to 
 detach the prince whose power she most dreaded from 
 Luther's cause. The same day, 25th August, 1518, 
 the pope wrote the Elector of Saxony. Recurring to 
 those wiles of ancient policy which we have already 
 pointed out, he endeavoured to flatter the prince's 
 self-love. 
 
 " Dear son," said the Roman pontiff, " when we 
 think on your noble and honourable race, and on your- 
 self, its head and ornament ; when we recollect how 
 you and your ancestors have always desired to main- 
 tain Christian faith, and the honour and dignity of the 
 holy see, we cannot believe that a man who abandons 
 the faith can trust to the favour of your highness, in 
 giving loose reins to his wickedness. And yet it is 
 told us from all quarters that a certain friar, Martin 
 Luther, hermit of the order of St. Augustine, has, 
 like a child of malice, and a contemner of God, for- 
 gotten his habit and his order, which consist in 
 humility and obedience, and is boasting that he fears 
 neither the authority nor the punishment of any man, 
 because assured of your favour and protection. 
 
 "But, as we know that he is mistaken, we have 
 thought good to write to your highness, and exhort 
 you, according to the Lord, to be vigilant for the 
 honour of your name as a Christian prince, and to de- 
 fend yourself from these calumnies, — ^yourself the orna- 
 ment, the glory, and sweet savour of your noble race, 
 — and to guard, not only against a fault so grave as 
 that which is imputed to you, but also against even the 
 suspicion which the insensate hardihood of this friar 
 tends to excite against you." 
 
 Leo X., at the same time, announced to Frederick 
 that he had charged Cardinal Saint Sixtus to examine 
 the affair, and he enjoined him to put Luther into the 
 hands of the legate, " lest," added he, returning again 
 to his favourite argument, — " lest the pious people of 
 our time, and of future times, may one day lament and 
 say. The most pernicious heresy with which the Church 
 of God has been afflicted, was excited by the favour 
 and support of this high and honourable house." 
 
 Thus Rome had taken all her measures. With one 
 hand she diffused the perfume of praise, which is 
 always so intoxicating, while the other held terrors and 
 vengeance. 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 All the powers of the earth — emperor, pope, princes, 
 and legates — began to move against this humble friar 
 of Erfurt, whose internal combats we have already 
 traced. The kings of the earth stood vp, and the riders 
 took counsel together against the Lord, and against His 
 anointed. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Armourer Schwarzerd— His Wife— Philip— His Genius— His Studies— 
 The Bible— Call to Wittemberg— Melancthon's Departure and Journey 
 — Leipsic — Mistake— Luther'B Joy — Parallel — Revolution in Education 
 —Study of Greek. 
 
 The letter and brief had not reached Germany, and 
 Luther was still fearing that lie would be obliged to 
 appear at Eome, when a happy event gave comfort to 
 his heart. He needed a friend to whom he could 
 unbosom his sorrows, and whose faithful love would 
 solace him in his hours of depression. All this God 
 gave him in Melancthon. 
 
 On the 14th February, 1497, George Schwarzerd, a 
 skilful armour-master of Bretten, a small town in the 
 palatinate, had a son born to him, who was named 
 Philip, and who afterwards distinguished himself under 
 the name of Melancthon. Patronized by the palatine 
 princes, and those of Bavaria and Saxony, George was 
 a man of unimpeachable integrity. He often refused 
 the price which purchasers offered him ; and on learn- 
 ing that they were poor, insisted on returning their 
 money. He rose regularly at midnight, and on his 
 knees offered up a prayer. If on any occasion morn- 
 ing arrived without his having done it, he felt dissatis- 
 fied with himself the whole day. Barbara, Schwar- 
 zerd's wife, was daughter of an honourable magistrate 
 named John Reuter. She was of a gentle temper, 
 somewhat inclined to superstition, but otherwise re- 
 markable for wisdom and prudence. From her we 
 have the old well-known German rhymes, — 
 
 "The gi\ing of alms impoverisheth not ; 
 Attendance at church impedeth not ; 
 Greasing the wheel retardeth not; 
 Ill-gotten gear enricheth not ; 
 Tlie Book of God deceiveth not." 
 
 " Those who are pleased more to expend 
 Than their fields can render. 
 Must come to ruin in the end, — 
 It lu.iy be to a halter." 
 
 Young Philip was not eleven when his father died. 
 Two days before, George called his sou to his bedside, 
 and exhorted him to have the thought of God always 
 present. " I foresee," said the dying armourer, " that 
 dreadful storms are coming to shake the world. I 
 have seen great things, but greater are in preparation. 
 May God guide and direct you ! " Philip, after receiv- 
 ing his father's blessing, was sent to Spire, that he 
 might not be present at his death. He departed cry- 
 ing bitterly. 
 
 The young boy's grandfather, the worthy bailie 
 Reuter, who had also a son, acted as a father to him. 
 
 and took him, together with his brother, George, under 
 his own roof. Shortly after, he gave the three boys 
 for tutor John Hungarus, an excellent man, who after- 
 wards, and at a very advanced age, became a powerful 
 preacher of the Gospel. He let nothing pass in the 
 young mau, punishing him for every fault, yet with dis- 
 cretion. '-In this way," says Melancthon, in 1554, 
 " he made me a grammarian. He loved me as a son, 
 I loved him as a father ; and we will meet, I trust, in 
 eternal life." 
 
 Philip was remarkable for the excellence of his 
 understanding, and for his facility in learning, and 
 expounding what he had learned. He could not endure 
 idleness, and always sought out some one with whom 
 he might discuss what he had heard. It often 
 happened that educated strangers passed through 
 Bretten, and visited Reuter. The bailie's grandson 
 instantly accosted them, entered into conversation with 
 them, and so pressed them in discussion as to excite 
 the wonder of those present. To a powerful genius 
 he joined great sweetness of temper, and was hence a 
 general favourite. He had a stammer ; but, like the 
 celebrated orator of the Greeks, made such exertions 
 to overcome it, that it afterwards completely dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 His grandfather having died, Philip was sent with 
 his brother and his young uncle, John, to the school 
 of Pforzheim. The boys resided with one of their 
 relatives, the sister of the famous Reuchlin. Eager 
 for knowledge, Philip, under the tuition of George 
 Simler, made rapid progress in science, and especially 
 in the study of Greek, for which he had a real passion, 
 Reuchlin often came to Pforzheim; and having become 
 acquainted with his sister's young boarders, was soon 
 struck with Philip's answers, and gave him a Greek 
 grammar and a Bible. These two books were to be 
 the study of his whole life. 
 
 When Reuchlin returned from his second journey 
 into Italy, his young relative, then twelve years of age, 
 with some friends, performed a Latin comedy of his 
 own composition before him, in honour of his arrival. 
 Reuchlin, in raptm-es with the talents of the youth, 
 embraced him tenderly, called him his dear son, and 
 jocularly gave him the red bonnet which he had re- 
 ceived on being made doctor. It was at this time that 
 Reuchlin changed his name of Schwarzerd into that 
 of Melancthon. Both words, the one German and the 
 other Greek, mean black earth. It was a general 
 custom with the learned thus to change their names 
 into Greek or Latin. 
 
 Melancthon, at twelve, repaired to the university of 
 Heidelberg, and began to gratify his eager thirst for 
 kuowledge. He was admitted bachelor at fourteen. 
 In 1512 Reuchlin invited him to Tubingen, which 
 contained a great number of distinguished literary 
 men. Here he attended at the same time lectures on 
 theology, medicine, and jurisprudence. There was no 
 branch of knowledge which he did not think it his 
 duty to study. His object was not praise, but the 
 po.ssession of science and the benefits of it. 
 
 The Holy Scriptures particularly occupied him. 
 Those who frequented the church of Tubingen had 
 often observed a book in his hands, which he studied 
 between the services. This unknown volume seemed 
 
MELANCTHON'S ARRIVAL AT WITTEMBERG. 
 
 109 
 
 liU'gcr than the common prayer books ; and the report 
 spread tliat Thilip, when in church, read profane 
 books. It turned out that the object of their suspicion 
 was a copy of the Holy Scriptures, printed a short 
 time before at Basle by John Frobenius. This volume 
 he studied through life with lunvearied application. 
 He had it always with him, carrying it to all the 
 public meetings to which he was invited. Eejccting 
 the vain system of the schoolmen, he devoted himself 
 to the simple word of the Gospel. Erasmus at this 
 time wrote to CEcolampadius : '• Of Melancthon I have 
 the highest opinion, and the highest hopes. Jesus 
 grant that this young man may have a long life ! He 
 will completely eclipse Erasmus." Melancthon, never- 
 theless, shared in the errors of his age. '■ I shudder,'' 
 says he, in advanced life, " when I think of the honour 
 which I paid to images when I was still in the papacy." 
 
 In 1514 he was made doctor in philosophy, and 
 began to teach. His age was seventeen. The grace 
 and attractiveness which he gave to his lectures formed 
 a striking contrast to the insipid method which the 
 doctors, and especially the monks, had hitherto pur- 
 sued. He took an active part in the combat in which 
 Reuchlin was engaged with the Obscurants of his age. 
 His agreeable conversation, his gentle and elegant 
 manners, gaining him the love of all who knew him, 
 he soon acquired great authority, and a solid reputa- 
 tion in the world. 
 
 At this time, the Elector Frederick having conceived 
 the idea of inviting some distinguished professor of 
 ancient languages to his university of Wittemberg, ap- 
 plied to Reuchlin, who suggested Melancthon. Frede- 
 rick saw all the lustre which this young Hellenist might 
 shed on an institution which was so dear to him ; and 
 Reuchlin, delighted at seeing so fine a field opened to 
 bis young friend, addressed him in the words of 
 Jehovah to Abraham : "Come out from thy country, and 
 thy kindred, and thy father's house, and I will render thy 
 name great, and thou shall be blessed. Yes," continues 
 the old man, " I hope it will be so with thee, my dear 
 Philip, my work and my comfort." In this invitation 
 Melancthon saw a call from God. The university was 
 grieved to part with him, and yet he was not without 
 envious rivals and enemies. He left his native coun- 
 try, exclaiming, " The will of the Lord be done." He 
 was then twenty-one years of age. 
 
 Melancthon made the journey on horseback, in com- 
 pany with some Saxon merchants, in the same way in 
 which caravans travel in the desert ; for, sa3's Reuchlin, 
 he knew neither the towns nor the roads. At Augs- 
 burg he did homage to the e'.cctor, who happened to 
 be there. At ^Nuremberg he saw the excellent Pirck- 
 heimer, whom he already knew ; and at Leipsic formed 
 an intimacy with the learned Hellenist, Mosellanus. 
 In this last town the university gave a fete in honour 
 of him. It was a truly academic repast. The dishes 
 were numerous ; and as each made its appearance, a 
 professor rose and addressed Melancthon in a Latin dis- 
 course previously prepared. He immediately gave an 
 extempore reply. At length, worn out with so much 
 eloquence, " Most illustrious friends," said he, " allow 
 me to reply once for all to your addresses ; for not be- 
 ing prepared, I cannot put as miicii variety into my 
 replies as you into your addresses." Thereafter the 
 
 dishes arrived without the accompaniment of a dis- 
 course. 
 
 Rcuchlin's young relative arrived at Wittemberg, 
 25th August, 1518, two days after Leo X. had signed 
 the brief addressed to Cajetan, and the letter to the 
 elector. 
 
 The professors of Wittemberg did not receive Me- 
 lancthon with so much favour as those of Leipsic had 
 done. The first impression which he made upon them 
 did not correspond to their expectations. They saw a 
 young man who seemed still younger than he really 
 was, of small stature, and a feeble, timid air. Is this 
 the illustrious doctor whom the greatest men of the 
 age, Erasmus and Reuchlin, extol so loudly? . . . 
 Neither Luther, with whom he first was m'ade ac- 
 quainted, nor his colleagues, conceived high hopes of 
 him, when they saw his youth, his embarrassment, and 
 whole appearance. 
 
 i^Fromtht original by j 
 
 I tlie British Portrait GalUri/.) 
 
 Four days after his arrival (•29th August) he deli- 
 vered his inaugural address. The whole university 
 was assembled. The boy, as Luther calls him, spoke 
 such elegant Latin, and displayed so much knowledge, 
 a mind so cultivated, and a judgment so sound, that 
 all his hearers were filled with admiration. 
 
 At the termination of the address all pressed for- 
 ward to congratulate him ; but none felt more joy than 
 Luther, who hastened to communicate to his friends the 
 feelings with which his heart was overflowing. Writ- 
 ing Spalatin, 31st August, he says: "Melancthon, four 
 days after his arrival, delivered an address so beautiful 
 and so learned, that it was listened to with universal 
 approbation and astonishment. We have soon got the 
 better of the prejudices which his stature and personal 
 appearauce had produced. We praise and admire his 
 eloquence ; we thank the prince and you for the service 
 you have done us. I ask no other Greek master. But 
 I fear that his delicate body will not be able to digest 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 our food, and that, on account of the sraallness of his 
 salary, we shall not keep him long. I hear that the 
 Leipsic folks are already boasting of being able to 
 carry him off from us. Oh, my dear Spalatin, beware 
 of despisin.g his age and personal appearance. He is 
 a man worthy of all honour." 
 
 Melancthon immediately began to explain Homer 
 and St. Paul's Epistle to Titus. He was full of ardour. 
 '• I will do my utmost," wrote he to Spalatin, " to bring 
 Wittemberg into favour with all who love literature 
 and virtue." Four days after the inauguration, Luther 
 again wrote to Spalatin : " I recommend to jou most 
 particularly the very learned and very amiable Greek, 
 Philip. His class-room is always full. All the theo- 
 logians, in particular, attend him. He sets all classes, 
 from the highest to the lowest, to the learning of 
 Greek." 
 
 Melancthon was able to return the affection of 
 Luther, in whom he soon discovered a goodness of 
 heart, a strength of intellect, a courage and a wisdom, 
 which he had not jireviously found in any man. He 
 venerated and loved him. " If there is any one," said 
 he, "whom I love strongly, and whom ray whole soul 
 embraces, it is Martin Luther." 
 
 Thus met Luther and Melancthon, and they were 
 friends till death. We cannot sufficiently admire the 
 goodness and wisdom of God in uniting two men so 
 different, and yet so necessary to each other. What 
 Luther had in warmth, elasticity, and force, Melanc- 
 thon had in perspicuity, wisdom, and gentleness. 
 Luther animated Melancthon ; Melancthon moderated 
 Luther. They were like the two forms of electric mat- 
 ter — the positive and the negative — which modify each 
 other. Had Luther been without Melancthon, the 
 stream had, perhaps, overflowed its banks ; and, on the 
 other hand, Melancthon, when without Luther, hesi- 
 tated, and even yielded, where he ought to have stood 
 firm.' Luther did much by vigour, and Melancthon, 
 perhaps, did not less by pursuing a slower and calmer 
 course. Both were upright, open, and genei-ous, and 
 both, smitten with the love of the Word of eternal life, 
 served it with a fidelity and devotedness which formed 
 the distinguishing feature of their lives. 
 
 The arrival of Melancthon produced a revolution, 
 not only at Wittemberg, but throughout Germany 
 and the learned world. His study of the Greek and 
 Latin classics, and of philosophy, had given him an 
 order, perspicuity, and precision of thought, which 
 shed new light and inexpressible beauty on all the 
 subjects which he discussed. The mild spirit of the 
 Gospel fertilized and enlivened his meditations; and 
 the driest subjects, when he expounded them, were 
 invested with a grace which fascinated all his hearers. 
 The sterility which scholasticism had spread over 
 education ceased, and a new mode of instruction and 
 study commenced. " Thanks to Melancthon," says a 
 distinguished German historian, " Wittemberg became 
 the national school." 
 
 It was, indeed, of gi-eat importance that a man 
 thoroughly versed in Greek should teach in this uni- 
 versity, where the new developments of theology called 
 
 J Calvin mote to Sleidan : " May the Lord supply him witli a more reso- 
 lute spirit, that posterity may uot, through his timidity, sustain some 
 grievous loss." 
 
 masters and scholars to study the primitive documents 
 of the Christian faith in the original languages. 
 Thenceforth Luther set himself zealously to this task. 
 Often did the meaning of a Greek term, which had 
 previously been unknown to him, throw sudden light 
 on his theological views. For example, how great his 
 satisfaction and delight when he saw that the Greek 
 word which, according to the Latin Church, meant a 
 penance, a satisfaction enacted by the Church, meant 
 in Greek a transformation or conversion of heart. A 
 thick mist all at once disappeared from before his 
 eyes. The two meanings given to this word are 
 suificient to characterize the two churches. 
 
 The impulse which Melancthon gave to Luther, in 
 regard to the translation of the Bible, is one of the 
 most remarkable circumstances in the friendship of 
 these two great men. As early as 1517, Luther had 
 made some attempts at translation, and procured as 
 many Greek and Latin books as he could. Now, 
 aided by his dear Philip, his task received a new 
 impetus. Luther obliged Melancthon to take part in 
 his researches, by consulting him on difficult passages; 
 and the work, destined to be one of the greatest works 
 of the reformer, advanced more surely and more 
 rapidly. 
 
 Melaucthou, on his part, became acquainted with a 
 new theology. The beautiful and profound doctrine 
 of justification by faith filled him with astonishment 
 and joy. Still, in receiving the system Luther pro- 
 fessed, he acted independently, moulding it according 
 to the particular form of his own intellect; for, 
 although he was only twenty-one years of age, he was 
 one of those precocious minds which enter early into 
 possession of all their powers, and are themselves from 
 the very outset. 
 
 The zeal of the masters was soon transfused into 
 the scholars. It was proposed to reform the course 
 of study. With the conciu-rence of the elector, certain 
 branches, only of scholastic importance, were sup- 
 pressed, and at the same time a new impulse was 
 given to classic pursuits. The school of Wittemberg 
 imderwent a transformation, and the contrast between 
 it and other universities became still more prominent. 
 Still, however, the landmarks of the Church were 
 observed, though all felt that they were on the eve of 
 a great battle with the pope. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Sentiments of Luther and Staupitz— Order to Appear— Alarms and Courage 
 —The Elector with the Legate— Departure for Augsburg— Sojourn at 
 Weimar— Nuremberg. 
 
 TuE arrival of Melancthon, doubtless, gave a pleasant 
 turn to Luther's thoughts at this very critical moment; 
 and doubtless, in the sweet intercourse of growing 
 friendship, and amid the biblical labours to which he 
 devoted himself with new zeal, he sometimes forgot 
 Prierio, Leo, and the ecclesiastical court before which 
 he behoved to plead. Still, these were only fleeting 
 moments, and his thoughts were ever recurring to the 
 
AI.ARMS AND COURAGE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 formidable tribunal before which implacable euemies 
 had summoned hiui to appear. What terrors would 
 not this thought have thrown into a mind which was 
 seekiug aught else than the truth! But Luther 
 trembled not ! Confiding fully in the faithfulness 
 aud power of God, he remained firm ; and was quite 
 ready to expose himself, single-handed, to the rage of 
 enemies mightier than those who had lighted the fire 
 for John IIuss. 
 
 A few days after the arrival of Melancthon, and 
 before the pope's resolution transferring the citsition 
 of Luther from Home to Augsburg could be known, 
 Luther vrvoto Spalatin : " I ask not our sovereign to 
 do anything whatever for the defence of my theses. 
 I am willing to be delivered up and thrown single into 
 the bauds of my adversaries. Let him allow the 
 whole storm to burst upon me. What I have under- 
 taken to defend, I hope I shall be able, with the 
 I assistance of Christ, to maintain. Violence, indeed, 
 must be submitted to; but still without abandoning 
 ' the truth." 
 
 ' The courage of Luther communicated itself to others. 
 Men of the greatest gentleness aud timidity, ou seeing 
 the danger which threatened the witness for the truth, 
 fouud words full of energy and indignation. The 
 prudent and pacific Staupitz, on the 7th September, 
 ! wrote to Spalatin: "Cease not to exhort the prince, 
 your master and mine, not to be alarmed at the roaring 
 of the lions. Let him defend the truth without troub- 
 ling himself about Luther, or Staupitz, or the order. 
 Let there be a place where men can speak freely and 
 '. without fear. I know that the plague of Babylon (I 
 had almost said of Rome) breaks forth agaiust all who 
 I attack the abuses of those traffickers in Jesus Christ. 
 I have myself seen a preacher of the truth thrown 
 headlong from the pulpit ; I have seen him, though on 
 , a festival, bound and dragged to a dungeon. Others 
 I have seen still greater cruelties. Therefore, my dear 
 I friend, strive to make his highness persevere in his 
 1 sentiments." 
 
 , The order to appear at Augsburg before the cardinal 
 I legate at length arrived. Luther had now to do with 
 one of the princes of the Church. All his friends en- 
 j treated him not to go. They feared that on the jour- 
 I ncy snares might be laid for him, and an attempt made 
 ! on his life. Some employed themselves in looking out 
 I for an asylum to him. Staupitz himself, the timid 
 Staupitz, felt moved at the thought of the dangers 
 which threatened that friar Martin whom he had drawn 
 from the obscurity of the cloister, and placed on the 
 troubled stage where his life was now in peril. Ah ! 
 would it not have been better if the poor friar had 
 j remained for ever unknown 1 It was too late. Still, 
 I at least, he would do everything to save him. Accord- 
 ingly, on the 15th September, he wrote him from his 
 convent of Salzbourg, urging him to tiee, and seek an 
 1 asylum beside himself. " It seems to me," said he, 
 j "that the whole world is enraged, and in coalition 
 I against the truth. In the same way crucified Jesus 
 j was hated. I see not that you have anything to expect 
 but persecution. Shortly, no man will be able, with- 
 out the permission of the pope, to sound the Scriptures, 
 and search for Jesus Christ in them, though this Christ 
 himself enjoins. You have only a few friends ; and 
 
 would to God that the fear of your adversaries did not 
 prevent those few from declaring in your favour. The 
 wisest course is to quit AVittemberg for a time, and 
 come to me. Thus we will live aud die together. 
 This i.j also the prince's opinion," adds Staupitz. 
 
 From different quarters Luther received the most 
 alarming notices. Count Albert, of Mansfehl, sent a 
 message to him to beware of setting out, for some 
 great barons had sworn to make themselves masters of 
 his person, and to strangle or drown him. But nothing 
 could deter him. He never thought of availing him- 
 self of the vicar-general's offer. He will uot go and 
 hide himself in the obscurity of the convent of Salz- 
 bourg, but will faithfully remain on the stormy scene 
 ou which the hand of God has placed him. It is by 
 persevering in the face of adversaries, and proclaiming 
 the truth with loud voice in the midst of the world, 
 that the reign of truth advances. Why, then, should he 
 flee ? He is not one of " those who draw back to per- 
 dition ; but of those who believe to the saving of the 
 soul." The words of the Master whom he serves, and 
 loves better than life, are incessantly echoing in his 
 heart : Whosoever uill confess me before men, him will I 
 also confess before my Father who is in heaven. In 
 Luther and in the Reformation we uniformly meet with 
 that intrepid courage, that high-toned morality, that 
 boundless charity, which the first preaching of Chris- 
 tianity manifested to the world. " I am like Jeremiah," 
 says Luther, at the period of which we are now speak- 
 ing, — " Jeremiah, the man of quarrel and discord ; but 
 the more they multiply their menaces the more they 
 increase my joy. My wife and children are well pro- 
 vided, [of course, meaning he had none ;] my fields, my 
 houses, and all my goods, are in order. They have 
 already torn my honour and my reputation to shreds. 
 The only thing left me is my poor body, and let them 
 take it ; they will only shorten my life some few hours. 
 My soul they cannot take from me. He who would 
 publish the word of Christ in the world must expect 
 death every hour ; for our bridegroom is a bridegroom 
 of blood." 
 
 The elector was then at Augsburg. A short time 
 before quitting that towu after the diet, he had, of his 
 own accord, paid a visit to the legate. The cardinal, 
 greatly flattered by this mark of respect from so illus- 
 trious a prince, promised that if the monk presented 
 himself he would listen to him like a father, and kindly 
 dismiss him. Spalatin, on the part of the prince, -svTote 
 to his friend that the pope had named a commission to 
 try him in Germany; that the elector would not allow 
 him to be dragged to Rome ; aud that he must prepare 
 to set out for Augsbiu-g. Luther resolved to obey; 
 but the warning which he had received from Count 
 Mansfeld made him apply to Frederick for a safe-con- 
 duct. Frederick replied that it was unnecessary, and 
 merely gave him recommendations to some of the lead- 
 ing counsellors of Augsburg. He also sent him some 
 money for the jom-ney. The reformer, poor and de- 
 fenceless, set out ou foot to place himself in the hands 
 of his adversaries. 
 
 What must have been his feelings on quitting 
 Wittemberg, and directing his steps towards Augs- 
 burg, where the legate of the pope was waiting for 
 him ! The object of this journey was not like that of 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Heidelberg, a friendly meetiii?. He was going to 
 appear in presence of the legate of Rome without a 
 safe-conduct; perhaps he was going to death. But 
 in him faith was not a mere matter of show. Being a 
 reality, it gave him peace ; and, in the name of the 
 Lord of Hosts, he could advance without fear to bear 
 testimony to the Gospel. 
 
 He arrived at Weimar on the 28th of September, 
 
 and lodged in the convent of the Cordeliers. One of 
 tlie monks was unable to withdraw his eyes from him. 
 It was Myconius. This was the first time he had seen 
 
 Luther ; and he longed to approach him, and tell that 
 he owed the peace of his soul to him, and that his 
 
 whole desire was to labour with him. But Myconius, 
 being closely watched by his superiors, was not per- 
 mitted to speak to Luther. 
 
 The Elector of Saxony was then holding his court 
 at Weimar, and this is probably the reason why the 
 Cordeliers gave admittance to the doctor. The day 
 after his arrival, the feast of St. Michael was cele- 
 brated. Luther said mass, and was even invited to 
 preach in the church of the castle. It was a mark of 
 favour which the prince wished to give him. He, 
 accordingly, in presence of the court, preached a long 
 sermon, on the text of the day, which is taken from 
 the Gospel of St. Matthew, (chap, xviii. 1-11.) He 
 spoke forcibly against hypocrites, and those who boast 
 of their own righteousness ; but he did not speak of 
 the angels, though this was the customary topic on 
 St. Michael's day. 
 
 The courage of the doctor of Wittemberg, in calmly 
 setting out on foot to obey a summons, which, in the 
 case of so many before him, had issued in death, 
 astonished those who saw him. Interest, admiration, 
 and compassion, succeeded each other in their minds. 
 John Kestner, superintendent to the Cordeliers, alarmed 
 at the idea of the dangers which awaited his guest, 
 said to him, "Brother, you will find at Augsburg 
 Italians, men of learning, and subtle antagonists, who 
 will give you much to do. I fear you will not be able 
 to defend your cause against them. They will cast 
 you into the fire, and with their flames consume you." 
 Luther replied gravely: "Dear friend, pray to our 
 Lord God, who is in heaven, and present a jiuter nosier 
 for me, and His dear child, Jesus, whose cause my 
 cause is, that He may be gracious toward me. If He 
 maintain His cause, mine is maintained. But if He 
 pleases not to maintain it, assuredly it is not I who 
 can maintain it ; and it is He 
 who will bear the aiYront." 
 
 Luther continued his jour- 
 ney on foot, and arrived at 
 Nuremberg. He was going 
 to present himself before a 
 prince of the Church, and 
 wished his dress to be suit- 
 able; but his clothes were old, 
 and, besides, had suffered 
 much by the journey. He 
 borrowed a frock from his 
 faithful friend, Winceslaus 
 Link, preacher at Nuremberg. 
 Luther, doubtless, did not 
 confine his visit to Link; but 
 •— also saw his other friends in 
 J ^ Nuremberg, secretaiy Scheur), 
 |(t ' the celebrated painter, Albert 
 
 I Durer, to whom Nuremberg is 
 
 I I (If now erecting a statue, and 
 '"' many others. He strengthened . 
 
 himself by intercourse with 
 the excellent of the earth, 
 while many monks and laymen 
 expressed alarm, and endea- 
 voured to shake him by repre- 
 senting the difiicnlties in his way. Letters which 
 he wrote from this town shew the spirit by which 
 
 ''•^illf 
 
LUTHER'S ARRIVAL AT AUGSBURG. 
 
 113 
 
 ho was animated. '• I have met," s.iys he, '-with 
 pusillaniraous men, who -would persuade mo not to go 
 to Augsburg ; but I liavc determined on going. The 
 will of the Lord be done. Even at jVugsburg, even in 
 the midst of His eucmies, Jesus Christ reigns. Lot 
 Christ live ; let Luther and every sinner die. Accord- 
 ing as it is written : " Lot the God of my salvation be 
 exalted ! Behave well, persevere, stand firm ; for we 
 must not be reproved either by men or by God ; God 
 is true, and man a liar." 
 
 Link and an Augustine monk could not consent to 
 allow Ltither to travel alone and meet tlie dangers 
 which threatened him. They were acquainted with 
 bis bold and fearless character, and suspected he would 
 fail in due precaution. They, therefore, accompanied 
 him. When they were about five leagues from Augs- 
 burg, Luther, exhausted, no doubt, by the fatigue of 
 travelling, and the varied emotions of his heart, was 
 seized with violent pains in the stomach. He thought 
 he was dying ; and his friends, becoming very uneasy, 
 hired a car to transport him. They arrived at Augs- 
 burg on the evening of Frida)', the 7th of October, 
 and lighted at the Augustine convent, Luther was 
 greatly fatigued, but soon recovered, — his faith and 
 mental energy speedily recruiting his exhausted body. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Arrival at Augsburg— De Vio— His Character — Sen-a-Longa — Preliminary 
 Conversation— Visit of the Councilloi-s— Return of Scrra-Longa— The 
 Prior— Luther's Wisdom — Luther and Serra-Longa— The Safe-Conduct 
 —Luther to Mclancthon. 
 
 The instant he was at Augsburg, and before he had 
 seen any one, Luther, wishing to pay all due respect 
 to the legate, begged Winceslaus Link to go and an- 
 nounce his arrival. Link did so, and humbly declared 
 to the cardinal, on the part of the doctor of "Wittem- 
 berg, that he was ready to appear at his order. The 
 legate was delighted with the news. At last he had a 
 hold of this boisterous heretic, who, he assured him- 
 self, would not quit the walls of Augsburg as he had 
 entered. At the same time, when Link went to the 
 legate, the monk Leonard set out to announce Luther's 
 arrival to Staupitz. The vicar-general had written the 
 doctor, that he would certainly come as soon as he 
 should know of his being in the town, and Luther 
 was unwilling to lose an instant in giving him in- 
 timation. 
 
 The diet was closed, and the emperor and the 
 electors had already separated. The emperor, it is 
 true, had not left, but was hunting in the neighbour- 
 hood. The 5-mbassador of Rome was thus at Augs- 
 burg alone. Had Luther come during the diet, he 
 would have found powerful protectors ; but now it 
 seemed that everything must bend under the weight of 
 papal authority. 
 
 The name of the judge before whom Luther had 
 to appear was not fitted to increase his confidence. 
 Thomas de Vio, surnamed Cajetan. from the town of 
 Gaeta, in the kingdom of Naples, where he was born, 
 
 had, from his youth, given great hopes. Having at 
 sixteen entered the Dominican order, against the ex- 
 press wish of his parents, ho afterwards became general 
 of his order, and a cardinal of the Roman Church. 
 But what was worse for Luther, this learned doctor 
 was one of the most zealous defenders of the scholastic 
 theology, which the reformer had always treated so 
 unmercifully. His mother was said to have dreamt 
 during her pregnancy, that St. Thomas would in per- 
 son educate the child to which she was to give birth, 
 and introduce him to heaven. Hence De Vio, on be- 
 coming Dominican, had changed his name from James 
 to Thomas. lie had zealously defended the preroga- 
 tives of the papacy, and the doctrines of Thomas 
 Aquinas, whom he regarded as the most perfect of 
 theologians. A lover of pomp and show, he almost 
 gave a literal meaning to the Roman maxim, that 
 legates are above kings, and surrounded himself with 
 great state. On the 1st of August, ho had celebrated 
 a solemn mass in the cathedral of Augsburg, and in 
 presence of all the princes of the empire, had placed 
 the cardinal's hat on the head of the Archbishop of 
 Mentz while kneeling before the altar, and had de- 
 livered to the emperor himself the hat and sword con- 
 secrated by the pope. Such was the man before whom 
 the monk of Wittemberg was going to appear, clothed 
 in a frock which was not even his own. Besides, the 
 acquirements of the legate, the austerity of his disposi- 
 tion, and the purity of his morals, gave him in Ger- 
 many an influence and authority which other Roman 
 courtiers would not have easily obtained. To this 
 reputation for sanctity he doubtless owed his mission. 
 Rome saw that he would serve her purposes admirably. 
 Thus the personal qualities of Cajetan made him still 
 more formidable. Moreover, the business entrusted to 
 him was not complicated. Luther had already been 
 declared a heretic. If he refused to retract, the duty 
 of the legate was to put him in prison ; or, if he 
 escaped, to launch excommunication at every one who 
 should dare to give him an asylum. This was all that 
 Rome required to be done by the legate before whom 
 Luther was cited. 
 
 Luther had recovered strength dui-ing the night, and 
 on Saturday morning, 8th October, being somewhat 
 rested from his journey, began to consider his strange 
 situation. He felt resigned, and waited till the will of 
 God should be manifested by the event. He had not 
 long to wait. A personage who was unknown to him 
 sent in a message, as if he had been entirely devoted 
 to his service, to say that he was coming to wait upon 
 him; and that Luther must take good care not to 
 appear before the legate without having seen him. 
 This message came from an Italian named LTrban, of 
 Serra-Longa, who had often been in Germany as en\'oy 
 of the Margrave of Montferrat. He was known to the 
 Elector of Saxony, to whom he had been accredited, 
 and after the death of the margrave, had attached 
 himself to Cardinal de Vio. 
 
 The finesse and manners of this man formed a very 
 striking contrast to the noble frankness and generous 
 integrity of Luther. The Italian shortly after arrived 
 at the Augustine convent. The cardinal had sent him 
 to sound the reformer, and prepare him for the retrac- 
 tation which he was expected to make. Serra-Longa 
 
114 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 imagined that his residence in Germany gave him great 
 advantages over the other courtiers in the suite of the 
 legate, and he hoped to have good sport with the Ger- 
 man monk. 
 
 He arrived attended by two servants, and pretended 
 to have come of his own accord, because of the friend- 
 ship which he felt for a favourite of the Elector of 
 Saxony, and because of his attachment to the holy 
 Church. After paying Lis respects to Luther in the 
 warmest terms, the diplomatist added, in an affectionate 
 manner : 
 
 "I come to give yon sage and good advice. Ee- 
 attach yourself to the Church. Submit unreservedly 
 to the cardinal. Retract your injurious expressions. 
 Eemember the Abbot Joachim of Florence. He, you 
 know, had said heretical things, and yet was declared 
 not heretical, because he retracted his errors." 
 
 Luther spoke of defending himself. 
 
 Serra-Lonrja. — " Beware of doing so ! . . . . 
 "Would you pretend to fight with the legate of- his 
 holiness, as if you were tilting at a tournay I" 
 
 Luther. — " When it is proved that I have taught 
 anything contrary to the Roman Church, I will pass 
 judgment on myself, and retract instantly. The whole 
 question will be, whether the legate leans more upon 
 St. Thomas than the faith authorizes him to do ? If 
 he does, I will not yield to him." 
 
 Serm-Lonya. — "Ah! ah! Do you pretend, then. 
 to break lances 1" 
 
 Then the Italian began to say things which Luther 
 designates horrible. He pretended that false proposi- 
 tions might be maintained, provided they jn-oduced 
 money and filled the strong box ; that the universities 
 must take good care not to dispute on the authority of 
 the pope ; that their duty, on the contrary, was to 
 maintain that the pope can, at his beck, alter or sup- 
 press articles of faith, — adding other things of the 
 same nature. But the wily Italian soon perceived that 
 he was forgetting himself. Returning to soft words, 
 he strove to persuade Luther to submit to the legate in 
 everything, and retract his doctrines, his oaths, and 
 his theses. 
 
 The doctor, who, at the outset, had given some 
 credit to the fine protestations of orator Urban, (as he 
 designates him in his account of the interview,) was 
 now convinced that they were of very little value, 
 and that Serra-Longa was much more on the legate's 
 side than on his. He, therefore, became less communi- 
 cative, and contented himself with saying that he was 
 quite disposed to exercise humility, give proof of 
 obedience, and make satisfaction in whatever matters 
 he had been mistaken. At these words Serra-Longa, 
 overjoyed, exclaimed : " I am off to the legate, and 
 you will follow me ; everything will go oif most ad- 
 mirably ; it will be soon finished. . . ." 
 
 He went off. The Saxon monk, who had more 
 discernment than the Roman courtier, thought within 
 himself : " This wily Sinon has come along ill prc- 
 prepared and ill instructed by his Greeks." Luther 
 was suspended between hope and fear ; hope, however, 
 predominating. The visit and the strange assertions 
 of Serra-Longa, whom, at a later period, he calls au 
 inexpert mediator, made him resume courage. 
 
 The councillors and other inhabitants of Augsburg, 
 
 to whom the elector had recommended Luther, hastened 
 to visit the monk, whose name was now resoundin" 
 throughout all Germany. Peutinger, councillor of 
 the empire, who was one of the most distinguished 
 patricians of the town, and often invited Luther to his 
 table, councillor Langemantel, Dr. Auerbach of Leipsic, 
 the two brothers Adelmann, both canons, and several 
 others besides, repaired to the convent of the 
 Augustines, and gave a cordial welcome to the extra- 
 ordinary man, who had journeyed so far to come and 
 place himself in the hands of the creatures of Rome. 
 '• Have you a safe-conduct ?" they asked. — '• No !" re- 
 plied the intrepid monk. "What hardihood!" ex- 
 claimed they. — "It was, indeed," says Luther, " a fit 
 term to designate my rash folly." All with one voice 
 entreated him not to go to the legate until he had 
 obtained a safe-conduct from the emperor himself. It 
 is probable that the public had already heard of the 
 papal brief of which the legate was the bearer. 
 
 " But," replied Luther, " I came to Augsburg with- 
 out a safe-conduct, and have arrived in good health." 
 
 "The elector having recommended you to us, you 
 ought to obey us, and do what we tell you," rejoined 
 Langemantel, kindly but firmly. Dr. Auerbach 
 seconded his remonstrances. " We know," says he, 
 " that the cardinal, at the bottom of his heart, is in 
 the highest degree incensed against you. No trust 
 can be put iu the Italians." 
 
 Canon Adelmann likewise insisted: "You have been 
 sent defenceless, and it has been forgotten to furnish 
 you with the precise thing which you required." 
 These friends engaged to obtain the necessary safe- 
 conduct from the emperor. They afterwards told 
 Luther how many persons, even of elevated rank, were 
 inclined in his favour. " Even the minister of France, 
 who quitted Augsburg a few days ago, spoke of you 
 iu the most honourable terms." This statement struck 
 Luther, and he afterwards remembered it. Thus, the 
 most respectable citizens in one of the first cities of 
 the empire were already gained to the reformation. 
 
 They were still conversing when Serra-Longa re- 
 appeared. " Come," said he to Luther, " the cardinal 
 is waiting for you, and I myself am going to conduct 
 you to his presence. Listen while I tell you how you 
 are to appear. Wheu you enter the hall where he is, 
 you wUl prostrate yourself before him with your face 
 on the ground ; wheu he tells you to rise, you will get 
 up on your knees, and not stand erect, but wait till he 
 bids you. Recollect that it is before a prince of the 
 Church that you are going to appear. For the rest, 
 fear nothing ; the whole will be finished soon, and 
 without difficulty." 
 
 Luther, who had promised this Italian that he would 
 be ready to follow at his call, felt embarrassed. Yet 
 he hesitated not to inform him of the advice which he 
 had received from his Augsburg friends, and spoke to 
 him of a safe-conduct. 
 
 " Beware of asking one," immediately replied Serra- 
 Longa; "you have no need of it. The legate is well 
 disposed, and quite ready to finish the thing amicably. 
 If you ask a safe-conduct, you will totally spoil your 
 affair." 
 
 " My gracious lord, the Elector of Saxony," replied 
 Luther, " has recommended me to several honourable 
 
LUTHER AND SERRA-LONGA. 
 
 men of this town, who counsel me to undertake nothing 
 without ft safe-couduct. I must follow their advice ; 
 for, were I not to do .<o, and •were anything to happen, 
 they would write to the elector, my master, that I had 
 refused to listen to them." 
 
 Luther persisted in his resolution, and Serra-Longa 
 eaw himself obliged to return to his chief, to announce 
 the obstacle which his mission had encountered at the 
 moment when he was flattering himself with seeing it 
 crowned with success. 
 
 Thus terminated the conferences of that day with 
 the orator of Montferrat. 
 
 Another invitation was given to Luther. John 
 Frosch, the prior of the Carmelites, who was an old 
 friend of his, and two years before, as a licentiate of 
 theology, had maintained theses under the presidency 
 of Luther, paid him a visit, and earnestly begged he 
 would come and reside with him. He claimed the 
 honour of having the doctor of Germany for his guest. 
 Men at length feared not to do homage to him in pre- 
 sence of Rome ; the feeble had already become strong. 
 Luther accepted, and left the Augustine convent for 
 that of the Carmelites. The day did not close without 
 serious reflection. The eagerness of Serra-Longa, and 
 the fears of the councillors, equally served to acquaint 
 him with the difKculty of his position. Nevertheless, 
 God iu heaven was his protector, and under His guar- 
 dianship he could sleep without fear. 
 
 The next day, being Sunday, gave him somewhat 
 more repose. Pie had, however, to endure a different 
 kind of fatigue. The whole talk of the town was about 
 Dr. Luther ; and, as Melancthon expresses it, every- 
 body was desirous to see '• this new Erostratus, who 
 had kindled so immense a conflagration." The people 
 pressed around him, and the good doctor, no doubt, 
 smiled at their eagerness. 
 
 But he had to submit to another kind of importunity. 
 If the people were desirous to see him, they were still 
 more so to hear him ; and he was requested on aU 
 hands to preach. Luther had no greater delight than 
 in proclaiming the Word, and would have been happy 
 to preach Jesus Christ in this great city, in the solemn 
 circumstances in which he was placed. But on this 
 occasion, as on many others, he shewed a strong sense 
 of propriety, and profound respect for his superiors, 
 and refused to preach, lest the legate might suppose 
 that he did it in order to give him pain, and by way 
 of defiance. This moderation and wisdom were un- 
 doubtedly of as much value as a sermon. 
 
 The cardinal's creatures, however, did not leave him 
 in tranquillity, but returned to the charge. "The 
 cardinal," said they, '• assures you of his entire grace 
 and favour. What do you fear?" They alleged a 
 thousand reasons in order to induce him to go. " He 
 is a father full of mercy," said one of these envoys ; 
 but another, approaching, whispered iu his ear, " Don't 
 believe what is told you — he does not keep his word." 
 Luther adhered to his resolution. 
 
 On Monday morning, 10th October, Serra-Longa 
 returned to the charge. The courtier had made it a 
 point of honour to succeed in his negotiation. As soon 
 as he eiUcred, he exclaimed in Latin, " Why do you 
 not come to the cardinal ? He is waiting for you with 
 the most indulgent feelings. The whole matter may 
 
 be summed up in six letters : Eevoca, retract. Come, 
 you Iiave nothing to fear." 
 
 Luther tliought within himself, these six are im- 
 portant letters; but, without entering into discussion 
 on the subject, said : " As soon as I have obtained the 
 safe-conduct I will appear." 
 
 Serra-Longa broke out on hearing these words. 
 He insisted, and remonstrated ; but found Luther im- 
 moveable. Becoming more and more irritated, he 
 exclaimed : " You imagine, doubtless, that the elector 
 will take up arms in your behalf, and for your sake 
 run the risk of losing the territories handed down to 
 him from his fathers." 
 
 Luther.—'^ God forbid." 
 
 Sena-Lon(/a. — "Abandoned by all, where will your 
 refuge be ?" 
 
 Luther, {looking vpwarils uith the eye of /uith.) — 
 " L'nder heaven." 
 
 Serra-Longa, struck with this sublime reply, for 
 which he was not prepared, remained a moment silent, 
 and then continued : — 
 
 " Wliat would you do if you had the pope, the 
 legate, and all the cardinals in your hands, as they 
 have you in theirs '?" 
 
 Luther. — " I would pay them all honour and respect. 
 But in my view, the Word of God takes precedence 
 of all." 
 
 Serra-Longa, (laughing, and wagging one of his 
 fingers, as the Italians do.) — " Hera ! hem ! all honour. 
 . . . I don't believe a word of it. . . ." 
 
 He then went out, leapt into his saddle, and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 Serra-Longa returned no more to Luther; but he 
 long remembered both the resistance which he had 
 met with from the reformer, and that which his master 
 also was soon to experience. At a later period, we 
 shall see him with loud cries demanding Luther's blood. 
 
 Serra-Longa had not long left the doctor when the 
 safe-conduct arrived. His friends had obtained it 
 from the councillor of the empire, who, it is probable, 
 had previously consulted with the emperor, as he was 
 not far from Augsburg. It would even seem, from a 
 remark afterwards made by the cardinals, that, to 
 avoid offending him, his consent had been asked. 
 This may have been his reason for employing Serra- 
 Longa to work upon Luther; for to have openly 
 opposed the giving of a safe-conduct, would have been 
 to reveal intentions which he was desirous to conceal. 
 It was safer to induce Luther himself to desist from 
 his demand. It was soon seen, however, that the 
 Saxon monk was not made of pliable materials. 
 
 Luther is going to appear. While demanding a 
 safe-conduct, he did not trust to a carnal arm ; for he 
 knew very well that a safe-conduct did not save John 
 Huss from the flames. He only wished to do his duty 
 by submitting to tlie advice of his master's friends. 
 Jehovah will decide. If He requires him to give back 
 his life, he is ready to give it joyfully. At this solemn 
 moment he feels a longing for converse with his 
 friends, especially with Melancthon, now so dear to 
 his heart, and avails himself of a moment of retire- 
 ment to write him. 
 
 " Comport yourself like a mau," says he to him, 
 " as you always do. Teach our dear youth what is 
 
116 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 right and agreeable to God. For me, I am ready t(P 
 be sacrificed for you and for them, if it is the Lord's 
 will. Sooner than retract what I was bound to teach, 
 I would die, and even (what would be to me the 
 greatest misfortune) be deprived for ever of your 
 delightful society, thus losing (perhaps by my fault) 
 the excellent studies to which we are now devoted. 
 
 '•Italy, like Egypt of old, is plunged in darkness, so 
 thick that it may be felt. Nobody knows anything of 
 Christ, or of what relates to Him ; and yet these people 
 are our lords and masters in faith aud manners. 
 Thus the wrath of God is fulfilled upon us, as the 
 prophet speaks : I will <jive them youths for (/ovcniors, 
 and babes will rule over them. Conduct yourself as iu 
 presence of the Lord, my dear Philip, and avert the 
 divine wrath by pure and fervent prayer." 
 
 Tlie legate, informed that Luther was next day to 
 appear before him, assembled the Italians aud Ger- 
 mans in whom he had the gi-eatest confidence, in order 
 to consider what was necessary to be done with the 
 Saxon monk. Opinions were divided. " He must," 
 says one, " be compelled to retract." " He must be 
 seized," says another, " and imprisoned." A third 
 thought that it was better to get quit of him ; and a 
 fourth, that an attempt should bo made to gain him 
 by kindness and lenity. This last advice the cardinal 
 seems at first to have determined to adopt. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 First Appearance — First Words — Conditions of Rome — Propositions to 
 Retract— Luthei-'s Reply— He 'Withdraws— Impressions ou bnth sides- 
 Arrival of Staupitz. 
 
 The day of conference at length aii-ived.' The legate, 
 knowing that Luther had declared his readiness to 
 retract what could be proved contrary to the truth, 
 had great hopes of success. He doubted not that it 
 would be easy for a man of his rank and knowledge to 
 bring back this monk to the obedience of the Church. 
 Luther repaired to the legate, accompanied by the 
 prior of the Carmelites, (his host aud friend,) two friars 
 of the convent. Dr. Link, and an Augustine, probably 
 the one who had come with him from Nuremberg. 
 Scarcely had he entered the palace of the legate, than 
 all the Italians in the suite of the prince of the Church 
 rushed forward. E^'ery one wished to see the famous 
 doctor, and pressed so upon him that he could scarcely 
 advance. Luther found the apostolical nuncio and 
 Serra-Longa in the hall where the cardinal was wait- 
 ing. The reception was cold, but polite, and conform- 
 able to Roman etiquette. Luther, following the in- 
 structions which Serra-Longa had given him, pros- 
 strated himself before the cardinal ; when told to rise, 
 he put himself on his knees ; aud on a new order from 
 the legate, stood erect. Several of the most distin- 
 guished Italians in the service of the legate pushed for- 
 ward into the hall to be present at the interview. 
 They desired, tibove all, to see the German monk humb- 
 ling himself before the representative of the pope. 
 
 1 Tuesday, llth Oftober. 
 
 The legate remained silent. Hating Luther as an 
 adversary of the theological supremacy of St. Thomas, 
 and as the head of an active opposition in a rising 
 university, whose very first steps had greatly disquieted 
 the Thomists, he was pleased at seeing him lying be- 
 fore him, and thought, says a contemporary, that 
 Luther was going to sing a palinode. Luther, on his 
 pai-t, waited till the prince should address him ; but see- 
 ing he did not, he took his silence for an invitation to 
 begin, and spoke as follows : — 
 
 " Most Worthy Father, — On the citation of his 
 papal holiness, and at the request of my gracious lord, 
 the Elector of Saxony, I appear before you as a sub- 
 missive and obedient son of the holy Christian Church, 
 and I acknowledge that I published the propositions 
 and theses in question. I am ready to listen, in all 
 obedience, to the charge brought against me, and to 
 allow myself, if I am mistaken, to be instructed in the 
 way of truth." 
 
 The cardinal, who had resolved to assume the air of 
 a tender father, full of compassion for an erring child, 
 now spoke in the most friendly tone, praised the humi- 
 lity of Luther, expressed all the joy it gave him, and 
 said : " My dear son, you have stirred up all Germany 
 by your dispute on indulgences. I am told that you 
 are a very learned doctor in the Scriptures, and have 
 many disciples. Wherefore, if you would be a mem- 
 ber of the Church, and find in the pope a most gracious 
 lord, listen to me." 
 
 After this exordium, the legate did not hesitate to 
 disclose to him at once all that he expected of him — so 
 confident was he of his submission. " Here," said he, 
 "are three articles which, by the order of our most 
 holy Father, Leo. X., I have to lay before you : — First, 
 You must retrace your steps, acknowledge your faults, 
 and retract your errors, propositions, and discourses ; 
 secondly. You must promise to abstain in future from 
 circulating your opinions ; and, thirdly, You must en- 
 gage to be more moderate, and to avoid everything that 
 might grieve or upset the Church." 
 
 Luther. — " I request, most worthy father, that you 
 will communicate to me the brief of the pope, in virtue 
 of which you have received full power to dispose of 
 this affair." 
 
 Serra-Longa and the other Italians iu the cardinal's 
 suite stared on hearing this request ; and although the 
 German monk had already appeared to them a very 
 odd man, they could scarcely recover from the astonish- 
 ment produced by so bold a speech. Christians, accus- 
 tomed to ideas of justice, desire just procedure in the 
 case of others, as well as of themselves ; but those who 
 act habitually in an arbitrary manner, are quite sur- 
 prised when they are told to proceed in regular form, 
 according to law. 
 
 De Via. — "This request, my dear son, cannot be 
 granted. You must acknowledge your errors, take 
 care of your words in future, and not return to your 
 vomit, so that we may be able to sleep without trouble 
 and anxiety; thereafter, conformably to the order and 
 authority of our most holy Father, the pope, I will 
 arrange the affair." 
 
 Luther. — "Have the goodness, then, to tell me in 
 what I have erred." 
 
 At this new request the Italian courtiers, who had 
 
LUTHER AND DE VIO. 
 
 117 
 
 expected to see the poor German on his knees crying 
 mercy, were strucl< with still greater astonishment. 
 Not one of them would have thought of condescending 
 so far as to answer so impertinent a question. But 
 De Vio, who considered it ungenerous to crush the 
 cative monk witii tlie whole wciglit of his autliority, 
 and who, besides, was confident that his superior know- 
 ledge would give him an easy victory, consented to tell 
 Luther of what he was accused, and even to enter into 
 discussion with him. In justice to this general of the 
 Dominicans, it must be admitted that he had more 
 equity, a better sense of propriety, and less passion, 
 than have been shewn on many occasions since in 
 similar affairs. He assumed a tone of condescension, 
 and said, — 
 
 "Very dear son! — Here are two propositions which 
 you have advanced, and which you must, first of all, 
 retract : — Firsts The treasury of indulgences does not 
 consist of the merits and sufferings of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ ; second, The man who receives the holy sacra- 
 mentmust have faith in thegracewhichisofferedtohim." 
 
 In fact, both of these propositions gave a mortal 
 blow to the Roman traffic. If the pope had not the 
 power to dispose at pleasure of the merits of the 
 Saviour, — if those who received the bills which the 
 courtiers of the Church were negotiating, did not receive 
 part of this infinite righteousness, the paper lost all its 
 value, and was worth no more than if it had been blank. 
 It was the same with the sacraments. Indulgences 
 were, to some extent, an extraordinary branch of the 
 commerce of Rome, whereas the sacraments were of 
 the natiu-e of an ordinary branch. The returns which 
 they yielded were far from being insignificant. To 
 maintain that faith was necessary before the sacra- 
 ments could confer a real benefit on a Christian soul, 
 was to deprive them of all isterest in the eyes of the 
 people; faith being a thing which the pope did not 
 give, which was beyond his power, and came from God 
 only. To declare it necessary, was to wrest out of the 
 hands of Rome both speculation and profit. Luther, 
 in attacking these two dogmas, had imitated Jesus 
 Christ, when, at the commencement of His ministry. 
 He overthrew the tables of the money-changers, and 
 drove the buyers and sellers out of the temple, saying. 
 Make not mij Father's house a house of merchandise. 
 
 " I will not, in order to combat these errors," con- 
 tinued Cajetan, "invoke the autliority of St. Thomas, 
 and the other scholastic doctors ; I will found only on 
 the authority of Holy Scripture, and speak with you 
 in all friendship." 
 
 But scarcely had De Vio begun to unfold his proofs 
 than he deviated from the rule which he had declared 
 his intention to follow. He combated Luther's first 
 proposition by an " Extravagance "^ of Pope Clement, 
 and the second by all sorts of scholastic dogmas. The 
 discussion commenced on this constitution of the pope 
 in favour of iudidgences. Luther, indignant at the 
 aathority which the legate ascribed to a decree of 
 Rome, exclaimed, — 
 
 "I cannot receive such constitutions as sufiicieut 
 proofs in so important matters. For they wrest the 
 Holy Scripture, and never quote it appositely." 
 
 tlie body of the tinon law. 
 
 J, coUcctcJ ,iml aildtd i 
 
 De Vio. — " The pope has authority and power over 
 all things." 
 
 Luther, {keenlij.) — " Save Scripture." 
 Be Vio, {ironically.) — "Save Scripture I . . The 
 pope, know you not, is above councils ? Even recently 
 he condemned and punished the Council of Basle." 
 Luther. — " The university of Paris appealed." 
 De Vio. — "These Pdi'isiau gentry will pay the 
 peiuilty." 
 
 The discussion between the cardinal and Luther 
 afterwards turned on the second point, — viz., on faith. 
 This Luther declared to be necessary, in order to re- 
 ceive benefit from the sacraments ; and, according to 
 his custom, quoted several passages of Scripture in 
 favour of tlie opinion which he maintained ; but the 
 legate received them with loud laughter. "It is of 
 general faith you speak, then," said he. — '• No," replied 
 Luther. One of the Italians, m.ister of the ceremonies 
 to the legate, out of all patience at Luther's opposition 
 and his answers, was burning with eagerness to speak. 
 He was constantly trying to break in, but the legate 
 enjoined silence, and at last was obliged to reprimand 
 him so sharply, that the master of the ceremonies left 
 the hall in confusion. 
 
 " As to indulgences," said Luther, " if it can be 
 shewn that I am mistaken, I am quite willing to be 
 instructed. One may pass over that point without be- 
 ing a bad Christian ; but on the article of faith, were I 
 to yield a whit, I should be denying Jesus Christ. 
 With regard to it, then, I am neither able nor willing 
 to yield, and by the grace of God never shall." 
 
 De Vio, {heijinning to lose temper.) — "Whether you 
 will or not, you must this very day retract that article ; 
 otherwise, for that article alone, I will reject and con- 
 demn all your doctrine." | 
 
 Luther. — "I have no will apart from that of the I 
 Lord ; He will do with me what pleases Him. But • 
 had I five heads, I woidd lose them all sooner than j 
 retract the testimony which I have borne to holy j 
 Christian faith." j 
 
 De Vio. — " I did not come here to reason with you. 
 Retract, or prepare to suffer the pains which yon have i 
 deserved." j 
 
 Luther saw plainly that it was impossible to settle 
 the matter by a conference. His opponent sat before 
 him as if he were the pope himself, and insisted on his 
 receiving humbly, and with submission, whatever he 
 said ; while his answers, even when founded on the 
 Holy Scriptures, were received with a shrug of his j 
 shoulders, and all sorts of irony and contempt. He j 
 thought the wisest coui-se would be to answer the car- j 
 diual in writing. This method, thought he, leaves at 
 least some consolation to the oppressed. Others will \ 
 be able to form a judgment of the affair; and the | 
 unjust adversary, who, by clamour, remains master : 
 of the field of battle, may be deterred by it. [ 
 
 Luther having signified his intention to withdraw, i 
 the legate said to him, " Do you wish me to give you 
 a safe-conduct to Rome ?" 
 
 Nothing would have been more agreeable to Cajetau ' 
 than the acceptance of this offer, as it would have \ 
 disencumbered him of a ttisk, the difficulties of which i 
 he began to comprehend. But the reformer, who saw 
 all the difficulties with which he was surrounded even j 
 
118 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 at Augsburg, took good care not to accept rj proposal 
 the effect of which could only have been to give him 
 over, bound hand and foot, to the vengeance of his 
 enemies. He rejected it as often as De Yio was 
 pleased to renew it, and this was frequently. The 
 legate disguised the pain which he felt at Luther's 
 refusal, and, wrapping himself up in liis dignity, dis- 
 missed the monk with a smile of compassion, under 
 which he tried to conceal his disappointment, and at 
 the same time the politeness of one who hopes he may 
 succeed better another time. 
 
 No sooner was Luther in the court of the palace, 
 than the talkative Italian, the master of the ceremonies, 
 whom his master's reprimands had obliged to quit the 
 hall of conference, delighted at being able to speak out 
 of sight of Cajetan, and burning with eagerness to 
 confound the abominable heretic by his luminous 
 reasons, ran after him, and, continuing to walk, began 
 to retail his sophisms. But Luther, weary of this 
 foolish personage, answered him with one of those 
 cutting expressions which he had so much at com- 
 mand, and the poor master of the ceremonies left off, 
 and returned in confusion to the cardinal's palace. 
 
 Luther did not carry away a very high opinion of 
 liis opponent. He had heard from him, as he after- 
 wards wrote to Spalatin, propositions which were quite 
 at variance with theology, and in the mouth of any 
 other person would have been regarded as arch- 
 heretical. And yet De Vio was considered the most 
 learned of the Dominicans. Second to him was 
 Prierio. •' From this," says Luther, "' we may infer 
 what those must have been who were tenth or 
 liundi-edth." 
 
 On the other hand, the noble and resolute bearing 
 of the "Wittemberg doctor had greatly surprised the 
 cardinal and his courtiers. Instead of a poor monk 
 humbly begging pardon, they had found a free man, 
 a decided Christian, an enlightened teacher, who in- 
 sisted that mijust accusations should be supported by 
 proof, and who defended his doctrine triumphantly. 
 AU the inmates of Cajetan's palace inveighed against 
 the pride, obstinacy, and effrontery of this heretic. 
 Luther and De Yio had mutually learned to know 
 each other, and both prepared for their second inter- 
 viev>-. 
 
 A very agreeable surprise awaited Luther on his 
 return to the convent of the Carmelites. The vicar- 
 general of the Augustine order, his friend, his father 
 Staupitz, had arrived at Augsburg. Not having been 
 able to prevent Luther from coming to this city, 
 Staupitz gave his friend a new and touching proof of 
 his attachment by coming personally, in the hope of 
 being useful to him. This excellent man foresaw that 
 the conference with the legate woidd lead to very 
 serious consequences. He was equally agitated by his 
 fears and his friendship for Luther, who, after his 
 painful sederunt, felt it refreshing to clasp so valuable 
 a friend in liis arms. Having told him that it had 
 been impossible for him to get an answer worth any- 
 thing, and how the legate had been contented to 
 demand a retractation without trying to convince him 
 — " It is absolutely necessary," said Staupitz, " to give 
 the legate a written answer." 
 
 After what he had heard of the first interview. 
 
 Staupitz hoped nothing from the others, and therefore 
 determined on a proceeding which he deemed necessary. 
 He resolved to loose Luther from obedience to his 
 order. By this Staupitz hoped to gain two ends. If, 
 as all anticipated, Luther fell in the struggle, the dis- 
 grace of his condemnation would not fall on the whole 
 order ; or if the cardinal ordered Staupitz to oblige 
 Luther to silence or retractation, he would have an 
 excuse for not doing it. The ceremony, which took 
 place in the usual form, made Luther aware of all that 
 he had thenceforth to expect. He felt exceedingly at 
 seeing the ties which he had formed in the enthusiasm 
 of his youth thus broken. The order of his choice 
 rejects him. His natural protectors stand aloof, and 
 he becomes a stranger to his brethren. But though 
 his heart is filled with sadness at the thought, he 
 recovers all his joy on turning to the promises of a 
 faithful God, who has said, / ivill never Uave you nor 
 forsake you. 
 
 The councillors of the empire having intimated to 
 the legate, through the Bishop of Trent, that Luther 
 was provided with an imperial safe-conduct, and hav- 
 ing caused it to be declared at the same time, that no- 
 thing was to be attempted against the doctor's person, 
 De Vio became angr_y, and sharply replied in words 
 characteristically Roman, " Very well ; but I will do 
 what the pope commands." AVc know what this was. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 Commuiiication to the Legate— Second Appearance— Luther's Declariitioa 
 —The Legate's Reply— The Legate's VolubiUty— Luther's Request. 
 
 The next day both parties prepared for the second 
 interview, which promised to be decisive. The friends 
 of Luther, who had resolved to accompany him to the 
 legate, repaired to the convent of the Carmelites. 
 The Dean of Trent and Peutinger, both councillors 
 of the emperor, and Staupitz, arrived in succession. 
 Shortly after, the doctor had the pleasure to see them 
 joined by the Chevalier Philip von Feilitsch, and 
 Doctor Ruhel, councillors of the elector, who had been 
 ordered by their master to attend the conferences, and 
 protect the liberty of Luther. They had arrived the 
 previous evening, and were, says Mathesius, to stand 
 at his side, as at Constance the Chevalier de Chlum 
 stood at the side of John Huss. The doctor, more- 
 over, took a notary, and, accompanied with all these 
 friends, proceeded to the legate. 
 
 At this moment Staupitz came up to him ; he 
 thoroughly comprehended Luther's situation, and knew 
 that if he did not fix his eye solely on the Lord, who 
 is the deliverer of His people, he must succumb. '• My 
 dear brother," said he to him seriously, '• constantly 
 reniember that you have begun these things in the 
 name of the Lord Jesus Christ." Thus God sur- 
 rounded His humble servant with consolation and 
 eneoiu-agement. 
 
 Luther, on arriving at the cardinal's, found a new 
 opponent. This was the prior of the Dominicans of 
 
SECOND APPEARANCE BEFORE DE VIO. 
 
 Auggburg, Avlio was seated at the side of his chief. 
 Luther, agreeably to the resohuion wliich he had 
 formed, had written his reply; and, after tlic usual 
 salutations, with a firm voice read the following 
 declaration : — 
 
 " I declare that I honour the lioly Roman Church, 
 and that I will continue to honour it. I have sought 
 the truth in public discussions ; and all that I have said 
 I regard, even at this hour, as just, true, and Chris- 
 tian. Still I am a man, and may be mistal<en. I am, 
 therefore, disposed to receive instruction and correction 
 in the things in which I may have erred. I declare 
 myself ready to reply, by word of mouth or by writing, 
 to all the objections and all the charges which my lord 
 the legate may bring against me. I declare myself 
 ready to submit my theses to the four universities of 
 Basle, Fribourg in Brisgau, Louvain, and Paris ; and 
 to retract what they declare to be erroneous. In a 
 word, I am ready to do all that may be demanded of a 
 Christian. But I protest solemnly against the course 
 which is sought to be gi\en to this affair, and against 
 the strange pretension of constraining me to retract 
 without having refuted me." 
 
 Undoubtedly nothing could be more equitable than 
 these proposals of Luther ; and yet they must have 
 been very embarrassing to a judge whose decision had 
 been prescribed to him beforehand. The legate, who 
 had not expected this jirotestation, sought to conceal 
 his uneasiness bj- pretending to laugh at it ; and, assum- 
 ing an exterior of gentleness, said to Luther, smiling : 
 "This protestation is unnecessary. I will not dispute 
 with you either in public or in private ; but I purpose 
 to arrange the affair kindly, and like a father." The 
 whole policy of the cardinal consisted in putting aside 
 the strict forms of justice, which afford protection to 
 those who are prosecuted, and in treating the affair 
 only as one of administration between superior and in- 
 ferior, — a commodious method, inasmuch as it opens 
 up a wide field for arbitrary procedure. 
 
 Still maintaining the most affectionate manner, — 
 "My dear friend," said De Yio, " abandon, I pray you, 
 a useless design. Rather return to yourself, ackno^v- 
 ledge the truth, and I am ready to reconcile you with 
 the Church and the sovereign bishop. Whether you 
 will or not, it matters little. It will be hard for you 
 to kick against the pricks. . , ." 
 
 Luther, who saw himself treated as if he were 
 already proved a rebellious child, rejected of the 
 Chiu'ch, exclaimed : " I cannot retract ; but I offer to 
 answer, and in writing. We had enough of debating 
 yesterday." 
 
 De Vio was imtated at this expression, which 
 reminded him that he had not acted with sufficient 
 prudence ; but he recovered himself, and said with a 
 smile: '-Debating, my dear son! — I did not debate 
 with you. I have no wish to debate ; but in order to 
 please the most serene Elector Frederick, I am willing 
 to hear you, and exhort you amicably and paternally." 
 
 Luther did not comprehend why the legate should 
 have been so much offended .at the expression which 
 he had used ; for, thought he, if I had not wished to 
 speak politely, I would have said, not debated, but dis- 
 puted, and wraiKjled, — for that was truly what we did. 
 
 Still, De Vio, who felt that before the respectable 
 
 witnesses who were present at the conference, it was, 
 at least, necessary to seem to try to convince Luther to 
 return to the two propositions, which he had singled 
 out as fundamental errors, thoroughly resolved to let 
 the reformer speak as little as possible. Strong in his 
 Italian volubility, he overwhelms him with objections, 
 to which he does not wait for a reply. Sometimes he 
 jests, sometimes he .scolds; he declaims with impas- 
 sioned heat ; mixes up the most heterogeneous subjects ; 
 quotes St. Thomas and Aristotle ; cries, and gets into a 
 passion with all who differ with him in opinion; and 
 then apostrophizes Luther. Luther, more than ten 
 times, tries to speak ; but the legate instantly interrupts 
 him, and showers dowu menaces upon him. Retracta- 
 tion ! retractation ! is the whole sum of his demand ; he 
 thunders, and domineers, and insists on having all the 
 talk to himself. Staupitz interferes to stop the legate. 
 " Have the goodness," says he, " to give Doctor Martin 
 time to answer." But the legate recommences his dis- 
 course, quotes the '" Extravagances " and the opinions of 
 St. Thomas, determined to harangue during the whole 
 interview. If he cannot convince, and if he dares not 
 strike, he at least can stun. 
 
 Luther and Staupitz saw clearly that they must 
 abandon the hope, not only of enlightening De Vio by 
 discussion, but also of making a useful profession of 
 faith. Luther, therefore, resumed the request which 
 he had made at the commencement, aud which the car- 
 dinal had then evaded. Since he was not permitted to 
 speak, he asked that he might, at least, be allowed 
 to write, and send his written reply to the legate. 
 Staupitz supported him ; several others, who were pre- 
 sent, joined their entreaties; aud Cajetan, notwithstand- 
 ing of all his repugnance for what was written, (for he 
 remembered that what is written remains.) at last con- 
 sented. The meeting broke up. The hope of termi- 
 nating the affair at this interview was adjourned ; and it 
 became necessary to await the result of a subsequent 
 conference. 
 
 The permission which the general of the Domini- 
 cans gave Luther to prepare an answer, and to answer 
 in writing the two distinct and articulate accusations 
 which he had made, touching indulgences and faith, 
 was nothing more than justice demanded, and yet we 
 are obliged to De Vio for it, as a mark of moderation 
 and impartiality. 
 
 Luther left the cardinal's palace delighted that his 
 request had been gi-anted. In going and returning he 
 was the object of public attention. All enlightened 
 men were interested in his case, as if it had been their 
 own; for it was felt that the cause then pleaded at 
 Augsburg was the cause of the Gospel, justice, and 
 liberty. The lowest of the people alone were with 
 Cajetan ; and of this he, doubtless, gave some signifi- 
 cant hints to the reformer, who afterwards spoke of 
 them. 
 
 It became more and more evident that the legate 
 had no wish to hear any more from Luther than the 
 words, " I retract ;" and these Luther was resolved not 
 to pronounce. What will be the issue of this unequal 
 struggle? How can it be imagined that the whole 
 power of Rome, brought to bear on a single man, will 
 not succeed in crushing him ? Luther sees this. Feel- 
 ing the w^eight of the terrible hand under which he is 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 placed, he gives up the hope of ever returning to Wit- 
 temberg, revisiting his dear Philip, and again finding 
 himself in the midst of the generous youths into whose 
 hearts he loved so much to shed the seeds of life. He 
 sees excommunication hanging over his head, and has 
 no doubt that it must shortly fall upon him. These 
 prospects afflict his soul, but do not overwhelm it. His 
 confidence in God is not shaken. God may break the 
 instrument which He has been pleased till now to 
 employ, but the truth will be maintained. AYliatever 
 happens, Luther must defend it to the last. He ac- 
 cordingly begins to prepare the protestation which he 
 is to present to the legate. It appears that he devoted 
 to it part of the 13th October. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Third Appearance— Treasury of Imlulgcrices— Faith— HumlJo Request- 
 Legate's Reply— Luther's Reply— Legate's Rage— Luther Retires— Fiist 
 Defection. 
 
 On Friday, the 14lh October, Luther returned to the 
 cardinal, accompanied by the councillors of the elector. 
 The Italians pressed around him as usual, and were 
 present at the conference in great numbers. Luther 
 advanced, and presented his protestation to the legate. 
 The cardinal's people looked with astonishment at a 
 writing which, iu their eyes, was so audacious. The 
 following is the doctor of Wittemberg's declaration 
 to their master : — 
 
 " You attack me on two points. First, you oppose 
 to me the Constitution of Pope Clement VI., in which 
 it is said, that the treasury of indulgences is the merit 
 of Jesus Christ and the saints ; whereas I deny this 
 in my theses. 
 
 " Panormitauus (Luther thus designates Ives, author 
 of the famous collection of ecclesiastical law, entitled 
 ' Panormia,' and Bishop of Chartres at the end of the 
 eleventh century) declares, in his first book, that iu 
 regard to holy faith, not only a general council, but 
 every believer, is superior to the pope, if he produces 
 declarations of Scripture, and better arguments than 
 the pope. 
 
 " The voice of our Lord Jesus Christ rises far above 
 all the voices of men, whatever be the names they bear. 
 
 " What gives me the greatest pain and uneasiness is, 
 that this Constitution contains doctrines quite opposed 
 to the truth. It declares that the merits of the saints 
 is a treasure, while all Scripture testifies that God 
 recompenses far more richly than we deserve. The 
 prophet exclaims: Lord, enter not into judgment with 
 thy servant; for in tlnj siyht can no living man be 
 jicstijied. 'Woe to men, however honourable and 
 laudable their life may be,' says St. Augustine, ' were 
 judgment passed upon it without mercy.' 
 
 " Heuce the saints are not saved by their merits, but 
 only by the mercy of God, as I have declared. I 
 maintain this, and adhere firmly to it. The words of 
 holy Scripture, which declare that the saints have not 
 enough of merit, must take precedence of the words of 
 
 men, who affirm that they have too much ; for the pope 
 is not above, but beneath the Word of God." 
 
 Luther does not stop here, but shews that if indul- 
 gences cannot be the merit of saints, no more are they 
 the merit of Christ. He observes, that indulgences are 
 barren and without fruit, since they have no other 
 effect than to exempt men from doing good works, 
 such as prayers and alms. "No," exclaims he, "the 
 merit of Christ is not a treasure of indulgences, which 
 exempts from well-doing; but a treasure of grace, 
 which gives life. The merit of Christ is applied to 
 believers without indulgences, without keys, by the 
 Holy Spirit only, and not by the pope. If any one has 
 a better founded ojjiuion than mine," adds he, in con- 
 cluding this first point, •' let him shew it, and then I 
 will retract." 
 
 "I have affirmed," says he, in coming to the second 
 article, "that no man can be justified before God 
 unless it be by faith, and hence that it is necessary for 
 man to believe with full assurance that he has obtained 
 grace. To doubt of this grace is to reject it. The 
 righteousness and life of the righteous is his faith." 
 
 Luther proves his proposition by a multitude of 
 quotations from Scripture. 
 
 "Be pleased, then, to intercede for me with our 
 most holy lord, Pope Leo X.," adds he, " iu order that 
 he may not treat me with so much disfavour. . . . 
 My soul seeks the light of truth. I am not so proud, 
 so desirous of vain-glory, as to be ashamed to retract 
 if I have taught what is false. My greatest joy will 
 be to see the triumph of whatever accords with the will 
 of God. Only let them not force me to do anything 
 which is contrary to the cry of my conscience." 
 
 The legate had taken the declaration from Luther's 
 hands, and after having perused it, said to him coldly: 
 "Y''ou have here useless verbiage; you have written 
 many vain words ; you have answered the two articles 
 foolishly, and blotted your paper with a number of 
 passages of holy Scripture which have no reference to 
 the subject." Then, with a disdainful air, De Vio 
 threw down the protestation, as setting no value upon 
 it, and resuming the tone which he had found tolerably 
 successful at the last interview, began to cry at full 
 pitch that Luther must retract. Luther was immove- 
 able. "Friar! friar!" exclaims De Vio in Italian, 
 "last time you were very good, but to-day you are 
 very naughty." Then the cardinal begins a long dis- 
 course, drawn from the writings of St. Thomas, again 
 loudly extols the Constitution of Clement VI., aud 
 persists in maintaining, that, in virtue of this Consti- 
 tution, the very merits of Jesus Christ are distributed 
 to the faithful by means of indulgences. He thinks he 
 hai silenced Luther, who sometimes begins to speak; 
 but De Vio scolds, thunders away without ceasing, and 
 insists on having the whole field of battle to himself. 
 
 This method might have had some success a first 
 time, but Luther was not the man to suffer it a second. 
 His indignation at length burst forth, — it is his turn to 
 astonish the spectators, -who deem him already van- 
 quished by the volubility of the prelate. He raises his 
 powerful voice, seizes the favourite objection of the 
 cardinal, aud makes him pay dear for his temerity in 
 having entered the lists with him. " Retract ! re- 
 tract ! " repeated De Vio, shewing the Constitution of 
 
t^ 
 
THIRD APPEARANCE BEFORE DE VIO. 
 
 the pope. — '•Well,* replied Liillicr, "if it can be 
 proved by this Constitution that the treixsure of iudul- 
 gences is the merit of Jesus Christ, I consent to retract 
 according to tlie will and good pleasure of your 
 eminence. . ." 
 
 The Italians, who expected nothing of the kind, 
 stared at these words, and could scarcely contain their 
 joy at seeing the enemy at length caught in tlie net. 
 The cardinal was, as it were, out of himself ; he laughed 
 outright, but with a laugh in which auger and indig- 
 nation mingled ; darting forward, he lays hold of the 
 volume containing tlie famous Constitution, looks it out, 
 j)ounccs upon it, and, quite proud of his victory, reads 
 it aloud, witli boiling and heaving breast. The Italians 
 exult; the elector's councillors are uneasy and em- 
 barrassed; Luther is waiting for his opponent. At 
 length, when the cardinal comes to the words, "The 
 Lord Jesus Christ has acquired this treasure by His 
 sufferings," Luther stops him, — " Slost worthy father," 
 says he, '• be so good as consider and carefully medi- 
 tate this expression, ' has acquired.' Christ has ac- 
 quired a treasure by His merits ; the merits, therefore, 
 are not the treasure; for, to speak philosophically, 
 cause and effect are different things. The merits of 
 Christ have acquired authority to the pope to grant 
 such indulgences to the people ; but what the hand of 
 the pope distributes is not the merits themselves. 
 Thus, then, my conclusion is true ; and the Constitution, 
 which you invoke with so much noise, bears testimony 
 with me to the truth which I proclaim." 
 
 Dc Vio still holds the book in his hand ; his eyes are 
 still rivettcd on the fatal passage ; but he has nothing 
 to reply. Thus he is taken in the net which he him- 
 self had laid, aud Luther, with strong hand, keeps him, 
 in, to the inexpressible astonishment of the Italian 
 courtiers around him. The legate would have evaded 
 the difficulty, but could not. He had long abandoned 
 the testimony of Scripture and the authority of the 
 Fathers ; he had taken refuge in this " Extravagance " 
 of Clement VI., and there he is caught. Still, he has 
 too much fuiesse to let his embarrassment appear. 
 Wishing to hide his shame, the prince of the Church 
 suddenly changes the subject, and rushes violently 
 to other articles. Luther, who perceives the adroit 
 mantcuvre, allows him not to escape ; he grasps and 
 completely closes the net which he has thrown over the 
 cardinal, and makes evasion impossible. " Most rever- 
 end father ! " says he, with an irony clothed in the form 
 of respect, "your eminence cannot surely think that we 
 Germans do not know grammar ; to be a treasure, and 
 to acquire a treasure, arc very different things." 
 
 " Retract !" says De Vio ; •' retract ! or if you don't, 
 I send you to Rome, to appear there before the judges 
 entrusted with the cognizance of your cause. I ex- 
 communicate you, — you, all your partizans, all who are 
 or may become favourable to j-ou ; and I reject them 
 from the Cluu-ch. Full authority, in this respect, has 
 been given me by the holy apostolic see. Think you 
 your protectors can stop me ? Do you imagine that 
 the pope cares for Germany? The little finger of the 
 pope is stronger than all the German princes." 
 
 "Deign," replied Luther, "to send the written reply 
 which I handed you to Pope Leo X., with my very 
 humble prayers." 
 
 At these words, the legate, glad to find a moment's 
 respite, again wraps himself up in a feeling of his 
 dignity, and proudly and passionately says to Luther : 
 
 " Retract ! or return not." 
 
 Luther is struck with the expression. This time he 
 gives no verbal answer, but bows and takes his leave, 
 followed by the elector's councillors. The cardinal 
 aud his Italians, left alone, stare at each other, con- 
 founded at the issue of the debate. 
 
 Thus the Dominican system, clad in the Roman 
 purple, had proudly di^niis-^cd its humble opponent. 
 But Luther felt that tliL-re is a power, — viz.. Christian 
 truth, — truth, which no authority, secular or spiritual, 
 can ever subdue, Of the two combatants, he who 
 withdrew was master of the field. 
 
 This is the first step by which the Church detached 
 herself from the papacy. 
 
 Luther and De Vio never saw each other again ; but 
 the reformer had made a powerful impression on the 
 legate — an impression which was never entirely effaced. 
 What Luther had said on faith, and what De Vio read 
 in the subsequent writings of the doctor of Wittembcrg, 
 greatly modilied the cardinal's views. The theologians 
 of Rome were surprised and displeased at his statements 
 on justification in his commentary on the Epistle to the 
 Romans. The reformer did not recoil — did not retract ; 
 but his judge, he who never ceased exclaiming. Retract I 
 changed his views, and indirectly retracted his errors. 
 In this way was the reformer's unshaken fidelity re- 
 warded. 
 
 Luther returned to the convent where he had met 
 with hospitality. He had stood firm, had borne testi- 
 mony to the truth, and done his part. God will do the 
 rest. His heart was filled with peace and joy. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 De Vio and Stiupitz— St.iupitz and Luther— Luther and Spalatiu— Luther 
 to Carlstadt— Comnumion— Link and De Vio— Departure of Staupitz 
 and Link— Luther to Cfyetan- The Cardinal's Silence— Luther's farewell 
 — Departure— Appeal to the Pope. 
 
 Still the news brought to him were not at all satis- 
 factory. The rumour in the town was, that if he 
 would not retract, he was to be seized aud immured in 
 a dungeon. The vicar-general of the order, Staupitz 
 himself, it was confidently said, had been obliged to 
 consent to it. Luther cannot believe what is told him 
 of his friend. No! Staupitz will not betray him. As to 
 the designs of the cardinal, judging by his own words, 
 it is diiHcult to doubt. Still he is unwilling to flee 
 before the danger ; his life, like truth herself, is in 
 mighty hands; and, notwithstanding of the danger 
 which threatens him, he resolves not to quit Augsburg. 
 The legale soon repented of his violence. He felt 
 that he had gone out of his course, and he was desirous 
 to return to it. Scarcely had Staupitz fiuished dinner, 
 (it was the morning when the interview had taken 
 place, and the dinner-hour was mid-day.) when he 
 received a message from the cardinal to wait upon 
 him. Staupitz was accompanied by Winceslaus Link. 
 
HISTOEY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 The vicar-general founcl the legate alone with Sen-a- 
 Louga. De Vio immediately went up to Staupitz, and, 
 in the mildest accents, said to liini : " Try, then, to 
 persuade your monk, and induce him to make a retrac- 
 tation. Of a truth I am otherwise satisfied with him, 
 and he has not a better friend than I." 
 
 Staiqyitx. — "I have done so already, and will still 
 counsel him to submit to the Church in all humility." 
 
 De Vio. — •• You must answer the ai'guments which 
 he draws from holy Scripture." 
 
 Staupitz. — " I must confess to you, my lord, that 
 that is beyond my strength ; for Dr. Martin is my 
 superior both in talent and in knowledge of the Holy 
 Scriptures. 
 
 The cardinal, doubtless, smiled at the vicar-general's 
 frankness. He himself knew, besides, wherein lay the 
 difficulty of convincing Luther. He continued, and 
 said to Link : — ■ 
 
 "Are you aware that, as partizans of a heretical 
 doctrine, you are yourselves liable to the pains of the 
 Church?" 
 
 Staiipitt. — •' Deign to resume the conference with 
 Luther. Appoint a public discussion of the contro- 
 verted points." 
 
 De Vio, {tcrrijjcd at tJie verij idea.) — '•! wont have 
 any further discussion with that beast. For it has in 
 its head piercing eyes and strange speculations." 
 
 Staupitz at last obtained the cardinal's promise to 
 give Luther a written statement of what he was to 
 retract. 
 
 The vicar-general went immediately to Luther, and, 
 shaken by the cardinal's representations, tried to bring 
 about some arrangement. " Refute, then," says Luther, 
 "the passages of Scripture which I have brought for- 
 ward." " It is above my power," said Staupitz. 
 " AYell," said Luther, " it is agaiust my conscience to 
 retract, so long as no other explanation can be given 
 of these passages." "What!" continued he, "the 
 cardinal pretends, as you assure me, that he is desirous 
 to arrange the affair without shame or disadvantage to 
 me. Ah ! these are Roman words, and signify in good 
 German that it would be my disgrace and eternal ruin. 
 What else has he to expect, Avho, from fear of man and 
 against the voice of his conscience, abjures the truth ? " 
 
 Staupitz did not insist; he merely intimated that the 
 cardinal had consented to give him a written statement 
 of the poinis of which he demanded a retractation. 
 Then, doubtless, he informed him of his resolution to 
 leave Augsburg, where he had nothing more to do, and 
 Luther imparted to him a design which he had formed 
 with a view to comfort and strengthen their souls. 
 
 Staupitz promised to return, and they separated for 
 a short time. 
 
 Luther, left alone in his cell, turned his thoughts to- 
 wards friends wlio were dear to his heart. He trans- 
 ])orted himself to Weimar and Witteniberg. He was 
 desirous to inform the elector of wluit was passing; 
 and, afraid of compromising the prince by addressing 
 liim directly, wrote to Spalatin, and begged him to in- 
 form his master how matters stood. He related the 
 whole affair, even to the promise of the legate to give 
 him a written statement of the controverted points, and 
 concluded: "Thus matters are; but I have neither 
 hope nor confidence in the legate. I will not retract a 
 
 single syllable. I mil publish the reply which I have 
 sent him, in order that, if he proceeds to violence, his 
 shame may extend over all Christendom." 
 
 The doctor next availed himself of some moments 
 still left him to communicate with his friends at Wit- 
 temberg. 
 
 "Peace and felicity!" wrote he to Doctor Carlstadt. 
 " Accept these few lines as if they were a long letter ; 
 for time and events are pressing on me. Another time 
 I wiU write you and others at greater length. For 
 three days my affair has been under discussion, and 
 things are now come to this, that I have no hope of 
 returning to you, and expect nothing but excommuni- 
 cation. The legate is absolutely determined that I 
 shall have no discussion, either public or private. He 
 s.iys, he wishes not to be my judge, but my father ; and 
 yet the only words he will hear from me are, ' I retract, 
 and own that I have been mistaken.' These, again, 
 are words which I won't say. 
 
 "My cause is in so much the greater peril, that its 
 judges are not only implacable enemies, but, moreover, 
 men incapable of comprehending it. However, the 
 Lord God lives and reigns ; to His care I commend ray- 
 self, and I doubt not that, in answer to the prayers of 
 some j)ious souls. He will send me assistance ; methinks 
 I feel that I am prayed for. 
 
 " Either I shall return to you without having suffered 
 harm, or, struck with excommunication, will be obliged 
 to seek an asylum elsewhere. 
 
 " Be this as it may, comport yourself valiantly, stand 
 firm, exalt Christ intrepidly and joyfull}'. . . . 
 
 "The cardinal always calls me his dear son. I 
 know what this amouuts to. Nevertheless, I am per- 
 suaded I would be to him the dearest and most agree- 
 able of men, if I would only pronounce the single word 
 Eevoca, I retract. But I will not become a heretic by 
 retracting the faith which made me become a Chris- 
 tian. Better be hunted, cursed, burnt, and put to 
 death. . . . 
 
 "Take care of yourself, my dear doctor, and shew 
 this letter to our theologians, to Amsdorff, Philip, 
 Otten, and others, in order that you may pray for mc, 
 and also for yourselves ; for the affair which is here 
 discussed is yours also. It is that of faith in our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, and of divine grace." 
 
 Delightful thought ! which ever gives full peace and 
 consolation to those who have borne testimony to Jesus 
 Christ, to His divinity and grace, when the world from 
 all quarters showers down its censures, ejections, and 
 frowns. "Our cause is that of faith in our Lord!' 
 And how sweet also the conviction expressed by the 
 reformer, " I feel tliat I am prayed for." The Refor- 
 mation was the work of prayer and piety. Tlie 
 struggle between Luther and De Vio was a struggle 
 between the religious element re-appearing in full life, 
 and the expiring remains of the quibbling dialectics of 
 the Middle Ages. 
 
 Such was Luther's converse with his absent friends. 
 Stau))itz soon returned ; Doctor Ruhel and the Cheva- 
 lier de Ferlitzoch, the elector's envoys, also arrived 
 after they had taken leave of the cardiual. Some 
 other friends of the Gospel joined them ; and Luther, 
 seeing the generous men thus assembled on the point 
 of separating, perhaps separating from himself for ever, 
 
LUTHER TO DE A^IO. 
 
 proposed that Ihcy should join in celebrating the Lord's 
 Supper- The proposal was accepted, and this little 
 flock of believer's communicated in the body and blood 
 of Jesus Christ. AVhat feelings must have filled the 
 hearts of these friends of the reformer at this moment 
 when celebrating the Eucharist with him, and thinking 
 that it was, perha]>s, the last time he would be per- 
 mitted to do so ! What joy and love must have ani- 
 nnitcd Luther's heart at seeing himself so graciously 
 i received by his IMastcr at an hour when men were 
 repulsing him ! IIow solcnui must that supper have 
 been — how sacred that evening ! 
 
 The next day Luther waited for the articles which 
 the legate was to send him ; but no message arriving, 
 he begged his friend. Dr. Winceslaus Link, to go to 
 the cardinal. De Vio received Link with the greatest 
 affability, and assured liim that he would act only as a 
 friend. " I no longer," says he, " regard Doctor Mar- 
 tin Luther as a heretic. I will not excommunicate him 
 at this time, at least if I do not receive other orders 
 from Kome. I have sent his reply to the pope by an 
 express." Then, to give a proof of his good intentions, 
 he added: '•Would Doctor Martin Luther only retract 
 what relates to the indulgences, the affair would soon 
 be ended ; for, with regard to faith in the sacrament, 
 it is an article which every one may interpret and 
 understand in his own way." Spalatin, who relates 
 these words, adds the sarcastic, but just remark: "It 
 clearly follows, that Rome has more regard for money 
 than for the purity of the faith and the salvation of 
 souls." 
 
 Link returned to Luther. He found Staupilz with 
 him, and gave an account of his visit. When he 
 mentioned tiic legate's unlocked for concession, ''It 
 had been worth while," said Staupitz, "for Dr. Win- 
 ceslaus to have had a notary and witnesses with him to 
 take down the words, for if such a proposal was known 
 it would greatly prejudice the cause of the Romans." 
 
 Meanwhile, the smoother the prelate's words became, 
 the less the honest Germans trusted him. Several of 
 the worthy men to wliom Luther had been recom- 
 mended consulted together. " The legate," said they, 
 " is plotting some mischief by the courier of whom he 
 speaks ; there is good ground to fear that you will all 
 be seized and cast into prison." 
 
 Staupitz and AViucoslaus, therefore, determined to 
 quit the towu. Embracing Luther, who persisted in 
 remaining at Augsburg, they set out in all haste by 
 different roads for Nuremberg, not without a feeling of 
 great uneasiness as to the fate of the intrepid witness 
 whom they left behind. 
 
 Sunday p;issed quietly cuougli. Luther waited in 
 vain for a message from the legate. But as he did not 
 send him a word, Luther at last resolved to write him. 
 Staupitz and Link, before their departure, had begged 
 him to make all possible submission to the cardinal. 
 Luther was yet without experience in Rome and its 
 envoys; but if submission did not succeed, he would 
 be able to regard it as a warning. Now he must 
 at least make the attempt. In so far as concerns 
 himself, not a day passes in which he docs not condemn 
 himself, does not mourn over the facility with which 
 he allows himself to be hurried into expressions which 
 exceed the bounds of propriety. Why should he not 
 
 confess to the cardinal tliat which he daily confesses 
 to God ? Luther, moreover, had a heart which was 
 easily touched, and which suspected no e^'il. He 
 therefore took up the pen, and, under a feeling of re- 
 spect and good will, wrote to the cardinal as follows : — 
 
 " !5Io»T WORTHY Fatiieu in God, — I come once 
 more, not with my voice, but by writing, to supplicate 
 your paternal goodness to give me a favourable hear- 
 ing. The reverend Doctor Staupitz, my very dear 
 father in Christ, has asked me to humble myself, to 
 renounce my own opinion, and submit it to the judg- 
 ment of pious and impartial men. He also has lauded 
 your paternal goodness, and convinced me of the 
 favourable sentiments with which you are animated 
 towards me. The tidings filled me with joy. 
 
 " Now, then, most worthy father, I confess, as I have 
 already done, that I have not shewn enough of mo- 
 dest}', enough of meekness, enough of respect for the 
 name of the sovereign pontiff ; and although I have 
 been greatly provoked, I perceive it would have been 
 far better for me to have treated the affair with more 
 humility, good nature, and reverence, not answerinff a 
 fool accordinf) to his foUy^ for fear of being like unto him. 
 (Prov. xxvi. 4.) 
 
 " This grieves me very much ; I ask pardon for it ; 
 and I am willing to announce it to the people from the 
 pulpit, as indeed I have already often done. I will 
 endeavour, by the grace of God, to speak differently. 
 Moreover, I am ready to pi-omise, that, unless I am 
 asked, I will not say a single word on the subject of 
 indulgences after this affair is arranged. But, in like 
 manner, let those who led me to begin it, be obliged 
 hereafter to be moderate in their discourses, or to be 
 silent. 
 
 '• As regards the truth of my doctrine, the authority 
 of St. Thomas and other doctors cannot satisfy me. 
 If I am worthy of it, I must hear the voice of the 
 spouse, who is the Church. For it is certain that she 
 hears the voice of the Bridegroom, who is Christ. 
 
 " With all humility and submission, therefore, I pray 
 your paternal love to refer the whole of this matter, 
 which to this hour is so uucertaiu, to our most holy 
 lord, Leo X., in order that the Church may decide, 
 pronounce, and ordain, thereby enabling me to retract 
 with a good conscience, or to believe in sincerity." 
 
 The reading of this letter suggests a reflection. It 
 shews us that Luther Avas not acting on a premeditated 
 system, but only in virtue of convictions which were 
 successively impressed on his mind aud his heart. 
 
 So far from having adopted a fixed system, or calcu- 
 lated opposition, he was sometimes, without suspecting 
 it, at variance with himself. Old convictions still 
 prevailed in his mind, even after contrary convictions 
 had taken root. And yet, in these evidences of sin- 
 cerity and truth men have searched for weapons to 
 assail the Reformation ; because it followed the obli- 
 gatory law of progress invariably imposed on the 
 human mind, they have written the history of its 
 variations ; in the very traits which attest its sincerity, 
 and consequently do it honour, one of the greatest 
 geniuses of Christendom has found his strongest objec- 
 tions to it. Inconceivable is the waywardness of the 
 human mind ! 
 
 Luther received uo answer to his letter. Cajetan 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 and his courtiers, from being violently agitated, became 
 all at once motionless. What could the reason be? 
 Might it not be the calm which precedes the storm ? 
 Some are of the opinion of Pallavicini, who observes, 
 that " the cardinal expected that the proud monk would, 
 like inflated bellows, gradually lose the wind with 
 which he was filled, and become quite humble." 
 Others, who thought themselves better acquainted with 
 the ways of Rome, felt assured that the legate was 
 preparing to seize Luther ; but not daring, of his own 
 accord, to proceed to such extremities in defiance of 
 the imperial safe-conduct, was waiting for an answer 
 from Kome. Others, again, could not admit that the 
 cardinal would consent to wait so long. The Emperor 
 Maximilian, they said, (and this may indeed have been 
 true.) would have no more scruple in delivering up 
 Luther to the judgment of the Church, in spite of the 
 safe-conduct, than Sigismund had in delivering up John 
 Huss to the Council of Constance. Their conjecture, 
 therefore, was, that the legate was negotiating with 
 the emperor. The sanction of Maximilian might arrive 
 at any hour. The greater the opposition he had for- 
 merly shewed to the pope, the more disposed he now 
 seemed to flatter him, until he should succeed in en- 
 circling the head of his grandson with the imperial 
 crown. There was not an instant to be lost, "and, 
 therefore," said the generous men around Luther, 
 '• prepare an appeal to the pope, and quit Augsburg 
 without delay." 
 
 Luther, whose presence in the town had for four 
 days been quite useless, and who, by remaining these 
 four days after the departure of the Saxon councillors 
 whom the elector had sent to watch over his safety, 
 had suificiently demonstrated that he feared nothing, 
 and was ready to answer every charge, at length 
 yielded to the urgent entreaties of his friends. Wish- 
 ing to leave a notification to De Vio, he wrote him 
 on Tuesday, the evening before his departure. This 
 second letter is firmer in its tone than the former. It 
 would seem that Luther, in perceiving that all his 
 advances were vain, began to hold up his head, and 
 shew that he had a due sense both of his own rights 
 and of the injustice of his enemies. 
 
 "Most worthy Father in God," wrote he to De Vio, 
 " your paternal goodness has seen, — yes, I say, seen 
 and distinctly recognized my obedience. I have under- 
 taken a distant journey, in the midst of great dangers, 
 in much bodily weakness, and notwithstanding of my 
 extreme poverty, on the order of our most holy lord, 
 Leo X. I have appeared personally before your 
 eminence ; in fine, I have thrown myself at the feet of 
 his holiness, and am now waiting his pleasure, prepared 
 to acquiesce in his judgment, whether he condemn or 
 acquit me. I thus feel that I have omitted nothing 
 which becomes an obedient sou of the Church. 
 
 " Hence, I cannot see it to be my duty uselessly to 
 prolong my sojourn here ; indeed, it is impossible for 
 me to do so. I want means, and your paternal good- 
 ness has commanded me, in peremptory terms, not 
 again to shew myself in your presence, unless I am 
 willing to retract. 
 
 " I depart, therefore, in the name of the Lord, desir- 
 ing, if it be possible, to repair to some spot where I 
 may be able to live in peace. Several personages, of 
 
 greater weight than I am, have urged me to appeal 
 from your paternal goodness, and even from our most 
 holy lord, Leo X., ill informed, to himself better in- 
 formed. Although I know that such an appeal will be 
 much more agreeable to our most serene elector than a 
 retractation, nevertheless, if I had only had myself to 
 consult, I would not have taken it. Having com- 
 mitted no fault, I ought to have nothing to fear." 
 
 Luther, having written this letter, which was not 
 sent to the legate till after his departure, prepared to 
 quit Augsburg. God had kept him till this hour, and 
 his heart praised Him for it ; but he must not tempt 
 God. He took leave of his friends, Peutinger, Lange- 
 mantel, the Adelmanns, Auerbach, and the prior of the 
 Carmelites, who had shewn him so much Christian 
 hospitality. On Wednesday before daybreak he got 
 up, and was ready to depart. His friends had advised 
 him to use gi-eat precaution, lest his intention should 
 be observed and frustrated ; and he followed their 
 counsels as much as he could. A pony, which Stau- 
 pitz had left him, was brought to the gate of the con- 
 vent, and once more bidding adieu to his brethren, he 
 mounted and set off, without bridle, boots, or spurs, 
 and unarmed. The magistrates had sent one of their 
 oflicers on horseback, who was to accompany him, and 
 who knew the roads perfectly. The servant led him, 
 in the darkness, through the silent streets of Augs- 
 burg, towards a small gate which was pierced in the 
 city wall, and which councillor Langemautel had given 
 orders should be opened to him. He is slill iu the 
 power of the legate, and the hand of Rome may still 
 reach him. Doubtless, did the Italians know that their 
 prey was escajiing, they would sally forth in fury with 
 hue and cry. Who knows if the intrepid opponent of 
 Rome will not yet be seized and immured in a dun- 
 geon ? ... At length Luther and his guide arrive 
 at the little gate, and, passing through it, are out of 
 Augsburg. Then, putting their horses to the gallop, 
 they make off in all haste. 
 
 Luther, on departing, had left his appeal to the pope 
 in the hands of the prior of Pomesaw. His friends 
 were of opinion that it should not he sent to the legate, 
 and the prior was therefore charged to see to its being 
 fixed up, two or three days after the doctor's depart- 
 ure, on the gate of the cathedral, in presence of a 
 notary and witnesses. This was accordingly done. 
 
 In this document Luther declares that he appeals 
 from the most holy father the pope, ill formed, to the 
 most holy lord and father in Christ, by name Leo X., 
 by the grace of God, when better informed. This 
 appeal had been regularly drawn up and executed in 
 due form by Gall de Herbrachtingen, the imperial 
 notary, in presence of two Augustine monks, Bartho- 
 lomew L^tzmair and AVenzel Steinbies. It was dated 
 IGth October. 
 
 AVhen the cardinal was informed of Luther's depart- 
 ure, he was astonished, and even, as he declares in a 
 letter to the elector, was frightened and amazed. In 
 fact he had grounds for irritation. This departure, 
 which put so abrupt a termination to negotiation, 
 disappointed the hopes which had so long flattered 
 him. His ambition was to cure the wounds of the 
 Church, and re-establish the pope's influence in Ger- 
 many; and, lo ! the heretic has escaped not only with- 
 
LUTHER'S FLIGHT. 
 
 123 
 
 out having been punished, but even without having 
 been humbled. The conference had only served to 
 bring more prominently into view, on the one hand, 
 the simplicity, uprightness, aud firmness of Luther; 
 and, on the other, tlie iniperiousness aud unreasonable 
 conduct of the pope and his ambassador. Kome hav- 
 ing gained nothing, must have lost : her authority not 
 having been strengthened, had, of necessity, experi- 
 enced a new check. AVhat will be said at the Vatican '. 
 What tidings will arrive at Rome .' The difl'iculties 
 of his situation will be forgotten, and the failure im- 
 puted to his want of skill. Scrra-Longa and the 
 Italians are furious at seeing persons of their ability 
 outwitted by a German monk . De Mo is scarcely able 
 to conceal his irritation. The affront cries for venge- 
 ance, and we shall soon see him giving vent to his 
 wrath in a letter to the elector. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Lather's Flight— Admiration— Luther's Wish— The Legate to the Elector- 
 Elector to the Legate— Prosperity of the University. 
 
 LuTHEK continued with his guide to flee from Augs- 
 burg. He urged his steed to the utmost speed that 
 the poor animal's strength would permit. He thought 
 of the real or supposed flight of John Huss, the man- 
 ner in which he was laid hold of, and the assertion of 
 his adversaries, who pretended that the flight annulled 
 the emperor's safe-conduct, aud entitled them to con- 
 demn him to the flames. These uneasy thoughts 
 merely crossed Luther's mind. Escaped from the 
 town where he had passed ten days under the terrible 
 band of Rome, which had already crushed so mtiny 
 thousand witnesses of the truth, aud drenched herself 
 with blood, — now that he is free, now that he breathes 
 the pure air of the field, and traverses the villages aud 
 plains — now that he sees himself wonderfully delivered, 
 — his whole soul magnifies the Lord. Truly he may 
 now say: Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare 
 of the folders : the snare is broken, and ice are escaped. 
 Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and 
 earth. Luther's heart is thus filled with joy. But his 
 thoughts also revert to De Vio. "The cardinal," sa3-s 
 he, " would have liked to have me in his hands to send 
 me to Rome. No doubt he is chagrined at my escape. 
 He imagined that he was master of me at Augsburg, — 
 he thought he was sure of me ; but he had an eel by 
 the tail. Is it not a shame in these people to set so 
 high a price upon me? They would give many crowns 
 to have me, whereas our Lord Jesus Christ was sold 
 for thirty pieces of silver." 
 
 The first day Luther travelled fourteen leagues. In 
 the evening, on arriving at the inn where he was to 
 pass the night, he was so fatigued (■• his horse," says 
 one of his biographers, '• had a very hard trot ") that, 
 on dismounting, he could not stand erect, and stretched 
 himself out upon the straw. He, nevertheless, enjoyed 
 some sleep, and the next day continued his journey. 
 At Nuremberg he found Staupitz on a visit to the 
 
 convents of his order, and, for the first time, saw the 
 brief which the pope had sent to Cajetan respecting 
 him. He was indignant at it. In all probability, if 
 he had read it before his departure from Witteinberg, 
 he would never have appeared before the cardinal. 
 '•It is impossible to believe," says he, "that anything 
 so monstrous could emanate from a sovereign pontiff." 
 
 Throughout the journey Luther was an object of 
 general interest. He had not yielded a whit. Such a 
 victory, gained by a mendicant monk over a represen- 
 tative of Rome, e.xcited universal admiration. Ger- 
 many seemed avenged for the contempt of Italy. The 
 eternal AVord had been more honoured than tlic word 
 of the pope ; anil that vast power which had domineered 
 over the world for so many ages, had received an 
 important check. Luther's journey was a triumph. 
 People were delighted with the obstinacy of Rome, 
 hoping that it would hasten her downfall. Had she 
 not chosen to keep fast hold of dishonest gains, — had 
 she been wise enough not to despise the Germans, — ■ 
 had she reformed clamant abuses, — perhaps, according 
 to human views, things might have returned to the 
 state of death out of which Luther had aroused them. 
 But the papacy chooses not to yield, and the doctor 
 will see himself constrained to bring many other errors 
 to light, and to advance iu the knowledge and the 
 manifestation of the truth. 
 
 On the 26th October Luther arrived at Grsfenthal, 
 situated at the extremity of the forests of Thuringia. 
 Here he fell in with Count Albert of Mansfeld, w-ho 
 had so strongly dissuaded him from going to Augs- 
 burg. The count laughed heartily on seeing his singu- 
 lar equipage ; and, laying hands ou him, obliged him 
 to become his guest. Shortly after Luther resumed 
 his journey. 
 
 He made haste to be at AVittemberg by the 31st 
 October, expecting that the elector would be there at 
 the feast of All Saints, and that he would be able to 
 see him. The brief which he had read at Niu'embcrg 
 had made him fully aware of the danger of his situa- 
 tion. In fact, being already condemned at Rome, he 
 could not hope either to remain at AVittcmberg, or to 
 obtain an asylum in a convent, or to be in peace aud 
 safety anywhere else. The protection of the elector 
 might, perhaps, defend him ; but he was far from be- 
 ing able to calculate upon it. He could not expect 
 any help from the two friends whom he had formerly 
 had at the court. Staupit;:, having lost the favour he 
 long enjoyed, had quitted Saxony; Spalatin was loved 
 by Frederick, but had no great influence over him. 
 The elector himself was not so well acquainted with 
 the Gospel as to encounter manifest perils on account 
 of it. However, Luther saw nothing better which he 
 could do than return to AVittemberg, aud there await 
 the decision of an almighty and merciful God. If, as 
 several thought, he were left at liberty, his wish was 
 to devote himself entirely to study and to the education 
 of youth. 
 
 Luther did arrive at AVittemberg by the 30th Octo- 
 ber ; but his haste had been to no purpose, for neithei 
 the elector nor Spalatin came to the festival. His 
 friends were overjoyed on seeing him again among 
 them. The very day of his arrival he hastened to an- 
 nounce it to Spalatin : " I came back to AVittemberg 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 to-day, safe and sound, by the grace of God ; but how 
 long I shall remain, is more than I know. ... I 
 am filled with joy and peace ; so much so, that I can- 
 not help wondering liow the trial which I endure 
 appears so great to so many great personages." 
 
 De Vio did not wait long, after Luther's departure, 
 to vent all his indignation to the elector. His letter 
 breathes vengeance. lu an assuming tone he gives 
 Frederick an account of the conference. " Since friar 
 Martin," says he, in conclusion, " cannot be brought 
 by paternal methods to acknowledge his error, and 
 remain faithful to the Catholic Church, I pray your 
 highness to send him to Rome, or banish him from 
 your states. Be assured that this difficult, naughty, 
 and venomous affair, cannot last longer ; for, when I 
 shall have acquainted our most holy lord with all the 
 craft and malice, there will soon be au end of it." In 
 a postscript, in his own hand, the cardinal entreats the 
 elector not to sully his own honour, and that of his 
 illustrious ancestors, for a miserable paltry friar. 
 
 Never, perhaps, was the soul of Luther filled with 
 nobler indignation than on reading the copy of this 
 letter which the elector sent him. The thought of the 
 sufferings which he is destined to endure, the value of 
 the truth for which he is combating, the contempt he 
 feels for the conduct of the legate of Rome, at once 
 fill his heart. His reply, written under the influence 
 of those feelings, is full of the courage, dignity, and 
 faith, which ho always manifested in the most difficult 
 crisis of his life. He, in his turn, gives an account of 
 the conference of Augsburg, and then, after exposing 
 the conduct of the cardinal, continues : — 
 
 " I should like to answer the legate in the elector's 
 stead. 
 
 " ' Prove that you speak with knowledge,' I would 
 say to him; 'let the whole affair be committed to 
 writing, then I will send friar Martin to Rome ; or 
 rather, I myself will cause him to be seized and put to 
 death. I will take care of my conscience and my 
 honour, and allow no stain to sully my fame. But as 
 long as your certain knowledge shuns the light, and 
 manifests itself only by clamour, I cannot give credit 
 to darkness.' 
 
 " This, most excellent prince, would be my answer. 
 
 '•Let the reverend legate, or the pope himself, give 
 a written specification of my errors ; let them explain 
 their reasons ; let them instruct me who desire, who 
 ask, and wish, and wait for instruction, insomuch 
 that even a Turk would not refuse to give it. If I 
 retract not, and condemn myself after they shall have 
 proved to me that the passages which I have cited 
 ought to be understood differently from Avhat I have 
 done, then, O most excellent elector, let your highness 
 be the first to pursue and chase me, let the university 
 discard me and load me with its anger. Nay, more, 
 (and I call heaven and earth to witness.) let the Lord 
 Jesus Christ reject and condemn me ! The words 
 which I speak are not dictated by vain presumption, 
 but by immoveable conviction. I am willing that the 
 Lord God withdraw His grace from me, and that every 
 creature of God refuse to countenance me, if, when a 
 better doctrine shall have been shewn to me, I em- 
 brace it not. 
 
 " If, on account of the humbleness of my condition, 
 
 they despise me, a poor paltry mendicant friar, and if 
 they refuse to instruct me in the way of truth, let your 
 highness pray the legate to point out to you in writin" 
 wherein I have erred ; and if they refuse this favour 
 even to your highness, let them write their views 
 either to his imperial majesty, or to some archbishop 
 of Germany. AVhat ought I — what can I say more ? 
 
 "Let your highness listen to the voice of your 
 honom- and your conscience, and not send me to Rome. 
 No man can command you to do it, for it is impossible 
 I can be in safety at Rome. The pope himself is not 
 in safety there. It would be to order you to betray 
 Christian blood. They have paper, pens, and ink, and 
 they have also notaries without number. It is easy for 
 them to write, and shew wherein and how I have 
 erred. It will cost less to instruct me by writing while 
 I am absent, than while present to accomplish my 
 death by stratagem. 
 
 "I resign myself to exile. My enemies are so 
 ensnaring me on all sides, that I can nowhere live in 
 safety. In order that no evil may befall you on my 
 account, I, in the name of God, abandon your territor- 
 ies. I will go wherever an almighty and merciful God 
 wishes me to be. Let Hiui do with me as seemeth 
 to Him good ! 
 
 "Thus, then, most serene elector, with veneration I 
 bid you farewell. I commend you to Almighty God, 
 and give you immortal thanks for all your kindness 
 towards me. Whatever be the people among whom I 
 shall live in future, I will always remember you, and 
 gratefully pray, without ceasing, for the happiness of 
 j'ou and yours. ... I am still, thank God, full of 
 joy, and I bless Him that Christ His Son counts me 
 worthy of suffering in so holy a cause. May He 
 eternally guard your illustrious highness ! Amen ! " 
 
 This letter, so replete with truth, made a profound 
 impression on the elector. " He was shaken by a very 
 eloquent letter," says Maimbourg. He never would 
 have thought of delivering au innocent man into the 
 hands of Rome. Pci'haps he would have asked Luther 
 to remain for some time in concealment, but not even 
 in appearance would he have yielded, in any way, to 
 the menaces of the legate. He wrote to his councillor 
 Pfeflinger, who happened to be with the emperor, to 
 make him acquainted with the real state of matters, 
 and beg him to request Rome either to put an end to 
 the affair, or at least leave it to be decided in Germany 
 by impartial judges. 
 
 Some days after the elector replied to the legate: 
 " Since Doctor Martin appeared before you at Augs- 
 burg, you ought to be satisfied. We did not expect 
 that without having convicted him you would have 
 thought of constraining him to retract. None of the 
 learned in our dominions have told us that the doctrine 
 of Martin is impious, autichristian, and heretical. 
 The prince then refuses to send Luther to Rome, or 
 banish him from his states. 
 
 This letter, which was communicated to Luther, 
 filled him with joy. " Good God ! " wrote he to Spa- 
 latin, " with what joy I have read it and re-read it. I 
 know what confidence may be put in these words, so 
 admirable at once for vigour and moderation. I fear 
 the Romans will not comprehend all that is meant by 
 them; but they will at least comprehend that what they 
 
THOUGHTS OF DEPARTURE. 
 
 127 
 
 thought already finished is not even begun. Have the 
 goodness to present my thanks to the prince. It is 
 strange that lie (Do Vio) wlio, not long ago, was a 
 mendicant monk like nic, is not afraid to accost the 
 I most powerful princes without respect, to interpel, 
 ' threaten, and command them, and treat them with 
 inconceivable pride. Let him learn that the temporal 
 power is of God, and that it is not permitted him to 
 trample its glory under foot." 
 
 Frederick, in answering the legate in a tone which 
 he had not expected, had doubtless been encouraged by 
 an address which he had received from the university 
 of Wittemberg. This university had good reason for 
 declaring in the doctor's favour, inasmuch as it was 
 flourishing more and more, and eclij)sing all the other 
 schools. Crowds of students flocked from all parts of 
 Germany to hear the extraordinary man whose lessons 
 Beemcd to open a new era to religion and science. 
 These youths who came from all the provinces, stopped 
 at the moment when they perceived the steeples of 
 Wittemberg in the distance, and, raising their hands 
 to heaven, thanked God for making the light of ti-utli 
 shine on this town as formerly on Zion, and send its 
 rays even to the remotest countries. A life and 
 activity hitherto unknown animated the university. 
 "They ply their studies here like auts," wrote Luther. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Thoughts of Departure— AUieu3 to the Church — Critical Moment— Delivcv- 
 ance— Luther's Courage— Discontentment at Home— Bull— Appeal to a 
 CouscU. 
 
 LcTHER, thinking that he might soon be banished from 
 German}', employed himself in preparing the " Acts of 
 the Conference of Augsburg " for publication. He 
 wished these acts to remain as evidence of the struggle 
 which he had maintained with Rome. He saw the 
 Btonn ready to burst, but feared it not. Day after day 
 he expected the anathemas of Rome, and arranged and 
 set everything in order, that he might be ready when 
 they arrived. " Havhig tucked up my coat, and girt 
 my reins," said he, " I am ready to depart like Abra- 
 ham ; not knowing whither I shall go, or rather know- 
 ing well, since God is everywhere." He intended to 
 leave a farewell letter behind him. '• Have the bold- 
 ness, then," wrote he to Spalatin, " to read the letter of 
 a man cursed and excommunicated." 
 
 His friends were in great fear and anxiety on his 
 account, and begged him to enter himself prisoner in 
 the hands of the elector, in order that that prince 
 might somewhere keep him in safe custody. 
 
 His enemies could not understand what it was that 
 gave him so much confidence. One day they were 
 talking of him at the court of the Bishop of Branden- 
 burg, and asking on what prop he could be leaning. 
 "It must be in Erasmus," said they, "or Capito, or 
 some other of the learned, that he "confides." " No ! 
 no!" replied the bi.shop, "the pope would give himself 
 very little trouble with such folks as these. His trust 
 
 is in the university of Wittemberg and the Duke of 
 Saxony." Thus both were ignorant of the fortress in 
 which the reformer had taken refuge. 
 
 Tlioughts of departure flitted across Luther's mind. 
 They arose, not from fear, but from the foresight of 
 continually recurring obstacles which the free profes- 
 ."ion of the truth must encounter in Germany. "If I 
 remain here," said he, " the liberty of speaking and 
 writing will, as to many things, be wrested from me. 
 If I depart, I will freely unbosom the thoughts of my 
 heart, and offer my life to Jesus Christ." 
 
 France v.-as the country in whicli Luther hoped he 
 would be able, untrammelled, to announce the truth. 
 The liberty which the doctors and university of Paris 
 enjoyed seemed to him worthy of envy. He was, be- 
 sides, agreed with them on many points. What would 
 have happened had he been transported from Wittem- 
 berg to France? Would the Reformation have taken 
 place there as it did in Germany? Would the power 
 of Rome have been dethroned? — and would France, 
 which was destined to see the hierarchical principles 
 of Rome, and the destructive principles of an infidel 
 philosophy, long warring in its bosom, have become 
 one great focus of Gospel light ? It is useless to in- 
 dulge in vain conjectures on this subject ; but, perhaps, 
 Luther at Paris might have somewhat changed the 
 destinies of Europe and France. 
 
 Luther's soul was powerfully agitated. As he often 
 preached at the town church in place of Simon Heyens 
 Pontanus, pastor of Wittemberg, who was almost 
 always sick, he thought it his duty, at all events, to 
 take leave of a people to whom he had so often 
 preached salvation. " I am," said he one day in the 
 pulpit, — "I am a precarious and uncertain preacher. 
 How often already have I set out suddenly without 
 bidding you fai-ewell. ... In case the same thing 
 should happen again, and I not return, here receive my 
 adieus." After adding a few words more, he thus 
 meekly and modestly ended : " I warn you, in fine, not 
 to be alarmed thougii the papal censures let loose all 
 their fury on me. Impute it not to the pope, and wish 
 no ill either to him or any other mortal whatsoever ; 
 but commit the whole matter to God." 
 
 The moment seemed to have at length arrived. The 
 prince gave Luther to understand he was desirous of 
 his removal to a distance from Wittemberg ; and the 
 wishes of the elector were too sacred for him not to 
 hasten to comply with them. He accordingly made 
 preparations for his departure, without well knowing 
 whither he should direct his steps. He wished, how- 
 ever, to have a last meeting with his friends, and for 
 this purpose invited them to a farewell repast. Seated 
 at table with them, he was still enjoying their delight- 
 ful conversation, their tender and anxious friendship. 
 A letter is brought to him. ... It comes from 
 the court. He opens and reads, and his heart sinks : 
 it is a new order to depart. The prince asks why he 
 is so long of setting out. His soul was filled with sad- 
 ness. Still, however, he took courage, and raising his 
 head, and looking around on his guests, said firmly and 
 joyfully: "Father and mother forsake me, but the 
 Lord will take me up." There was nothing for it but 
 to depart. His friends were deeply moved. Wliat is 
 to become of him ? If Luther's protector rejects him, 
 
128 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 who will receive him? And the Gospel, and the 
 truth, and this admirable work . . . ; all, doubt- 
 less, must fall with their illustrious witness. The Re- 
 formation apparently is hanging by a thread ; and at 
 the moment when Luther quits the walls of Wittem- 
 berg, will not the thread break '? Luther and his 
 friends spoke little. Stunned with the blow which 
 was directed against their brother, they melt into 
 tears. But some moments after a second message 
 arrives, and Lutlier opens the letter, not doubting he 
 is to find a renewal of the summons to depart. But, 
 
 powerful hand of the Lord ! for this time he is 
 saved. The whole aspect is changed. " As the new 
 envoy of the pope hopes that everything may be 
 arranged by means of a conference, remain still." So 
 says the letter. How important an hour this was ; and 
 who can say what might have happened if Luther, 
 who was always in haste to obey the will of his prince, 
 had quitted Wittcmberg immediately after the first 
 message? Never were Luther and the work of the 
 Reformation at a lower ebb than at this moment. 
 Their destinies seemed to be decided ; but an instant 
 sufficed to change them. Arrived at the lowest point 
 in his career, the doctor of Wittemberg rapidly rcas- 
 cended ; and thenceforward his influence ceased not 
 to increase. In the language of a prophet, The Eternal 
 commands, and His servants descend into the depths; 
 af/ain theij mount up to heaven. 
 
 Spalatin having, by order of Frederick, invited 
 Luther to Lichteuberg to have an interview with him, 
 they had a long conversation on the situation of 
 affairs. " If the censures of Rome arrive," said Lu- 
 ther, "I certainly will not remain at Wittemberg." 
 "Beware of being too precipitate with your journey 
 to France," replied Spalatin, who left, telling him to 
 wait till he heard from him. " Only recommend my 
 soul to Christ," said Luther to his friends. "I see 
 that my adversaries are strong in their resolution to 
 destroy me ; but at the same time Christ strengthens 
 me in my resolution not to yield to them." 
 
 Luther at this time published the "Acts of the 
 Conference at Augsburg." Spalatin, on the part of 
 the elector, had written him not to do it ; but it was 
 too late. After the publication had taken place, the 
 prince approved of it. " Great God ! " said Luther in 
 the preface, "what new — what astonishing crime, to 
 seek light and truth ! And more especially to seek 
 them in the Church, in other words, in the kingdom of 
 truth." In a letter to Link, he says : " I send you my 
 Acts. They are more cutting, doubtless, than the legate 
 expected ; but my pen is ready to give birth to far 
 greater things. I know not myself whence those 
 thoughts come. In my opinion the affair is not even 
 conunenced ; so far are the grandees of Rome from 
 being entitled to hope it is ended. I will send you 
 what I have written, in order that you may see whether 
 
 1 have divined well in thinking that the Antichrist of 
 whom the Apostle Paul speaks is now reigning in the 
 court of Rome. I believe I am able to demonstrate 
 that it is at this day worse than the very Turks." 
 
 Ominous rumours reached Luther from all quarters. 
 One of his friends wrote to him, that the new envoy 
 of Rome had received orders to seize him, and deliver 
 him up to the pope. Another told him, that in travel- 
 
 ling he had fallen in with a courtier, and the conver- 
 sation having turned on the affairs of Germany, the 
 courtier declared that he had come under an obligation 
 to deliver Luther into the hands of the sovereign 
 pontiff. " But," wrote the reformer, " the more their 
 fury and violence increase, the less I tremble." 
 
 At Rome there was great dissatisfaction with Ca- 
 jetan. The chagrin which they felt at the failure of 
 the affair, at first turned upon him. The Roman 
 courtiers thought themselves entitled to reproach him 
 with a want of that prudence and finesse which, if they 
 are to be believed, constitute the first quality of a 
 legate, and with having failed, on so important an 
 occasion, to give pliancy to his scholastic theology. 
 He is wholly to blame, said the}^ His lumberiu" 
 pedantry has spoiled all. Of what use was it to irri- 
 tate Luther by insults and menaces, instead of gaining 
 him over by the promise of a good bishopric, or even 
 of a cardinal's hat. These hirelings judged the re- 
 former by themselves. However, it was necessary to 
 
 repair this blunder. On the one hand, Rrjnie must 
 give her decision, and, on the other, due court must be 
 paid to the elector, who might be of great use in the 
 election of an emperor, — an event which must shortly 
 take place. 
 
 As it was impossible for Roman ecclesiastics to sus- 
 pect what constituted the strength and courage of 
 Luther, they imagined that the elector was much more 
 implicated in the affair than he really was. The pope, 
 therefore, resolved to follow another line of conduct. 
 He caused his legate in Germany to publish a bull, 
 confirming the doctrine of indulgences on the very 
 points in which they were attacked, but without 
 mentioning either the elector or Luther. As the re- 
 former had always expressed his readiness to submit to 
 the decision of the Roman Church, the pope thought 
 that he must now either keep his word, or stand openly 
 convicted as a disturber of the peace of the Church, 
 and a contemner of the holy apostolic see. In either 
 case it seemed that the pope must gain. But nothing 
 is gained by obstinately opposing the truth. In vain 
 had the pope threatened to excommunicate every man 
 who should teach otherwise than he ordered ; the light 
 was not arrested by such orders. The wise plan would 
 have been to curb the pretensions of the venders of 
 indulgences. This decree of Rome was therefore a new 
 blunder. By legalizing clamant errors, it irritated all 
 the wise, and made it impossible for Luther to return. 
 " It was thought," savs a Roman Catholic historian, a 
 
APPEAL TO A GENERAL COUNCIL. 
 
 greiit euemy of the Reformation, " that this bull had 
 been made solely for the interest of the pope and the 
 mendicants, who began to find that nobody would give 
 anything for their indulgences." 
 
 The Cardinal De Vio published the bull at Lintz, in 
 Austria, on the i;3th December, 1518 ; but Luther had 
 already placed liimself beyond its reach. On the 28th 
 November, in the chapel of Corpus Christi at Wittem- 
 bcrg, lie had appealed from the pope to a general 
 council of the Ciiurch. He foresaw the storm which 
 was gathering around him, and he knew that God 
 alone could avert it. Still he did as duty called him. 
 He must, no doubt, quit Wittembcrg (were it only for 
 the sake of the elector) as soon as the Roman anathema 
 should arrive ; but he was unwilling to quit Saxony 
 and Germany without a strong protestation. This he 
 accordingly drew up ; and, in order that it might be 
 ready for circulation the moment the furies of Rome, 
 as he expresses it, should reach him, he caused it to be 
 printed, under the express condition that the bookseller 
 should deposit all the copies in his custody. But the 
 bookseller, in his eagerness for gain, sold almost the 
 
 whole, while Luther was (piietly waiting to receive 
 them. He felt annoyed, but the thing was done. This 
 bold protestation spread everywhere. In it Luther 
 declared anew that he had no intention to say anything 
 against the holy Church, or the authority of the Apos- 
 tolic See, or the pope well advised. " But," continues 
 he, " considering that the pope, who is the vicar of 
 God upon earth, may, like any other vicar, err, sin, or 
 lie, and that the appeal to a general council is the only 
 safeguard against tmjust proceedings which it is im- 
 possible to resist, I feel myself obliged to have recourse 
 to it." 
 
 Here, then, we see the Reformation launched on a 
 new course. It is no longer made to depend on the 
 pope aud his decisions, but on an universal council. 
 Luther addresses the whole Church, aud the voice 
 which proceeds from the chapel of Corpus Christi 
 must reach the whole members of Christ's flock. 
 There is no want of courage in the reformer, and here 
 he gives a new proof of it. Will God fail him ? The 
 aniiwer will be found in the different phases of the 
 Reformation which are still to be exhibited to our view. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 THE DISCUSSION OF LEIPSIC— 1519. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Luther's Dangers— God saves Luther— The Pope sends .1 Chambeilaiu— The 
 Legate's Journey — Briefs of Rome — Circumstances favourable to the 
 Reformation — Miltitz with Spalatin — Tetzel's Terror— Caresses of 5Iil- 
 titz— A Recantation Demanded— Luther Refuses, but Offers to be 
 Silent — Agreement between Lutlier and the Nuncio— The Legate's 
 Embrace— Tetzel overwhelmed by the Legate— Luther to the Pope- 
 Nature of the Reformation— Luther against Separation— De Vio and 
 Miltitz at Treves — Luther's cause extends in different Countries— 
 Lutlier's Writings the Commencement of the Reformation. 
 
 Dangers had gathered round Luther and the Reforma- 
 tion. The doctor of Wittemberg's appeal to a general 
 council was a new attack on papal authority. By a 
 bull of Pius II., the greater excommunication had been 
 denounced even against emperors who should dare to 
 incur the guilt of such a revolt. Frederick of Saxony, 
 as yet imperfectly confirmed in evangelical doctrine, 
 was preptired to send Luther away from his states; 
 and hence a new message from Leo might have thrown 
 the reformer among strangers, who would be afraid 
 to compromise themselves by receiving a monk whom 
 Rome had anathematized. And even 3hould the sword 
 of some noble be drawn in his defence, mere knights, 
 unable to cope with the powerful princes of Germany, 
 must soon have succumbed in the perilous enterprise. 
 
 But at the moment when all the courtiers of Leo X. 
 were urging him to rigorous measures, and when one 
 blow more might have placed his adversary in his 
 hands, the pope suddenly changed his course to one of 
 conciliation and apparent mildness. It may be said, 
 no doubt, that he was under a delusion as to the 
 cicctoi-'s feelings, and deemed them more decided in 
 Luther's favour than they really were. It may also be 
 .admitted that the public voice, and the spirit of the 
 age — powers which, at this time, were altogether new 
 — seemed to throw an impregnable barrier around the 
 reformer. It may even be supposed, with one of Leo's 
 biographers,' that he followed the promptings of his 
 mind and heart which inclined to gentleness and mode- 
 ration. Still, this new mode of action, on the part of 
 Rome, at such a moment, is so extraordinary that it is 
 impossible not to recognise in it a higher and mightier 
 hand. 
 
 There was then at the court of Rome a Saxon noble 
 who was chamberlain to the pope and canon of Mentz, 
 Treves, and Meissen. He had turned his talents to 
 advantage. As he boasted of being, in some degree, 
 allied to the Saxon princes, the Roman courtiers some- 
 times designated him by the title of Duke of Saxony. 
 In Italy lie made an absurd display of his German 
 nobility, while in Germany he aped the manners and 
 polish of the Italians. Ho was given to wine — a vice 
 which his residence at the court of Rome had increased. 
 
 1 Roscoe's " Life of Leo X." 
 
 Still the Roman courtiers hoped great things from him. 
 His German extraction — his insinuating address — and 
 his ability in negotiation, all led them to expect that 
 Charles de Miltitz (this was his name) would, by liis 
 prudence, succeed in arresting the mighty revolution 
 which was threatening to shake the world. 
 
 It was of importance to conceal the true object of 
 the chamberlain's mission ; and in tliis there was no 
 difficulty. Four years before, the pious elector had 
 applied to the pope for the golden rose. This rose, 
 the fairest of flowers, was emblematic of the body of 
 Jesus Christ ; and being annually consecrated by the 
 sovereign pontiff, was presented to one of the first 
 princes in Europe. On this occasion it was resolved 
 to send it to the elector. Miltitz set out with a 
 commission to examine into the state of affairs, and 
 to gain over the elector's councillors, Spalatin and 
 PfefRnger, for whom he had special letters. Rome 
 hoped that, by securing the favour of the persons 
 abont the prince, she would soon become mistress of 
 her formidable adversary. 
 
 The new legate, who arrived in Germany in Decem- 
 ber, 1518, was careful, as he came along, to ascertain 
 the state of public opinion. To his great astonishment 
 he observed, at every place where he stopped, that the 
 majority of the inhabitants were friendly to the Refor- 
 mation, and spoke of Luther with enthusiasm. For 
 one person favourable to the pope, there were three 
 favourable to the reformer. Luther has preserved an 
 anecdote of the journey : " Wliat think you of the see 
 (seat) of Rome/" frequently asked the legate at the 
 mistresses of the inns and their maidservants. One 
 day, one of these poor women, with great simplicity, 
 replied : " How can we know what kind of seats you 
 have at Rome, and whether they are of wood or 
 stone?" 
 
 The mere rumour of the new legate's arrival filled 
 the elector's court, the imiversity, the town of Wittem- 
 berg, and all Saxony, with suspicion and distrust. 
 " Thank God," wrote Melancthon, in alarm, " Martin 
 still breathes." It was confidently stated that the 
 Roman chamberlain had received orders to possess 
 himself of Luther's person, by force or fraud ; and the 
 doctor was advised, on all hands, to be on his guard 
 against the stratagems of Miltitz. " His object in com- 
 ing," said they, " is to seize you and give you up to 
 the pope. Persons worthy of credit have seen the 
 briefs of which he is the bearer." "I await the will 
 of God," replied Luther. 
 
 In fact, Miltitz brought letters addressed to the 
 elector, and his councillors, to the bishops, and to the 
 burgomaster of Wittemberg. He was also provided 
 with seventy apostolic briefs. Should the flattery and 
 the favours of Rome attain their object, and Frederick 
 
FAVOURABLE CIRCUMSTANCES. 
 
 131 
 
 deliver Luther into lier liivuds, those seventy briefs 
 were to serve as a kind of jiassports. lie was to pro- 
 duce and post up one of them in each of the towns 
 tiirough whicli he had to pass, and hope he might thus 
 succeed in dragging his prisoner, without opposition, 
 all tlie way to Rome. 
 
 The pope seemed to have taken every precaution. 
 Tiie electoral court knew not well what course to take. 
 Violence would have been resisted ; but the difficulty 
 was to oppose the chief of Christianity, when speaking 
 with so nuich mildness, and apparently with so much 
 reason. Would it not be the best plan, it was said, to 
 place Luther somewhere in concealment until the storm 
 was over ? . . . An unexpected event relieved 
 Luther, the elector, and the Reformation, from this 
 ditlicult situation. The aspect of affairs suddenly 
 changed. 
 
 Ou the 12th of January, 1519, Maximilian, the 
 emperor of Crcrmany, died ; and Frederick of Saxony, 
 agreeably to the Germanic constitution, became regent 
 of the empire. From this time the elector feared not 
 the schemes of nuncios, while new interests began to 
 engross the court of Rome — interests which, obliging 
 her to be chary of giving offence to Frederick, arrested 
 the blow which Miltitz and De Vio were undoubtedly 
 meditating. 
 
 The pope earnestly desired to prevent Charles of 
 Austria, already king of Naples, from ascending the 
 imperial throne. A neighbouring king appeared to 
 him more formidable than a German monk ; and in 
 his anxiety to secure the elector, who might be of 
 essential service to him in the matter, he resolved to 
 give some respite to the monk, that he might be the 
 better able to oppose the king. Both, however, ad- 
 vanced in spite of him. 
 
 In addition to the change thus produced in Leo, 
 there was another circumstance which tended to avert 
 the storm impending over the Reformation. The 
 death of the emperor was immediately followed by 
 political commotions. In the south of the empire the 
 Swabian confederation sought to punish Ulric of AVur- 
 temberg for his infidelity to it ; while in the south, the 
 Bishop of Ilildesheim proceeded, sword in hand, to 
 invade the bishopric of Miuden, and the territories of 
 the Duke of Brunswick. How could men in power, 
 amid such disturbances, attach any importance to a 
 dispute relating to the remission of sins? But, above 
 all, the reputation for wisdom enjoyed by the elector, 
 now regent of the empire, and the protection which 
 he gave to the new teachers, were made subservient 
 by Providence to the progress of the Reformation. 
 "The tempest," says Luther, "intermitted its fury, 
 aud papal excommunication began to fall into con- 
 tempt. The Gospel, under the shade of the elector's 
 regency, spread far and wide ; and in this way great 
 damage was sustained by the papacy." 
 
 Moreover, the severest prohibitions were naturally 
 mitigated during an interregnum. In everything there 
 was more freedom and greater facility of action. 
 Liberty, which began to shed its rays on the infant 
 Reformation, rapidly developed the still tender plant ; 
 and any one might have been able to predict how 
 favourable political freedom would prove to the pro- 
 gi-css of evaugelical Christianity. 
 
 Miltitz, having arrived in Saxony before the death 
 of Maximilian, lost no time in visiting his old friend 
 Spalatin ; but no sooner did he begin his complaint 
 against Luther, than the chaplain made an attack upon 
 Tetzel, acquainting the nuncio with the lies and blas- 
 phemies of the vender of indulgences, and assuring 
 him that all Germany blamed the Dominican for the 
 division which was rending the Church. 
 
 Miltitz was taken by surprise. Instead of accuser, 
 he had become the accused. Turning all his wrath 
 upon Tetzel, he summoned him to appear at Altenburg, 
 and give an account of his conduct. 
 
 The Dominican — as great a coward as a bully, and 
 afraid of the people whom he had provoked by his 
 impostures — had ceased his peregrinations over town 
 and country, and was living in retirement in the college 
 of St. Paul. He grew pale on receiving the letter 
 of Miltitz. Even Rome is abandoning, threatening, 
 and condemning him, — is insisting on dragging him 
 from the only asylum in which lie feels himself iu 
 safety, and exposing him to the fury of his enemies. 
 . . . Tetzel refused to obey the nuncio's summons. 
 "Assuredly," wrote he to Miltitz, on the 31st of De- 
 cember, 1518, "I would not regard the fatigues of the 
 journey if I could leave Leipsio without endangering 
 my life; but the Augustine, Martin Luther, has so 
 stirred up men in power, and incensed them against 
 me, that I am not in safety anywhere. A great num- 
 ber of Luther's partizans have conspired my death, and 
 therefore I cannot possibly come to you." There was 
 a striking contrast between the two men, — the one of 
 whom was then living in the college of St. Paul at 
 Leipsic, and the other in the cloister of the Augustines 
 at Wittemberg. In presence of danger the servant of 
 God displayed intrepid courage — the servant of men 
 despicable cowardice. 
 
 Miltitz had orders, in the first instance, to employ 
 the arms of persuasion ; and it was only in the event of 
 failure that he was to produce his seventy briefs, and 
 at the same time endeavour, by all the favours of 
 Rome, to induce the elector to put down Luther. He 
 accordingly expressed a desire to have an interview 
 with the reformer. Their common friend, Spalatin, 
 offered his house for this purpose, and Luther left 
 Wittemberg on the 2d or 3d of January to repair to 
 Altenburg. 
 
 At this interview Miltitz exhausted all the address 
 of a diplomatist and a Roman courtier. The moment 
 Luther arrived the nuncio approached him with great 
 demonstrations of friendship. " Oh ! " thought Luther, 
 " how completely his violence is turned into gentleness ! 
 This new Saul came into Germany provided with more 
 than seventy apostolic briefs, to carry me alive and in 
 chains to murderous Rome ; l3ut the Lord has cast him 
 down on the way." 
 
 " Dear Martin," said the pope's chamberlain to him 
 in a coaxing tone, " I thought you were an old theolo- 
 gian, sitting quietly behind your stove, and stuffed with 
 theological crotchets ; but I see that you are still young, 
 and in. the full vigour of life. Do you know," con- 
 tinued he iu a more serious tone, " that you have 
 stirred up the whole world against the pope, and at- 
 tached it to yourself.?" Miltitz was aware that to 
 flatter men's pride is the most effectual mode of seduc- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ing tliem ; but he knew not the man with whom he had 
 to do. " Had I an army of twenty-five thousand men," 
 added he, " assuredly I would not undertake to seize 
 you and carry you off to Rome." Rome, notwithstand- 
 ing of her power, felt herself feeble in presence of a 
 poor monk, and the monk felt strong in presence of 
 Rome. " God," said Luther, " arrests the billows of 
 the ocean at the shore, and arrests them ... by 
 the sand." 
 
 The nuncio, thinking he had thus prepared the mind 
 of his opponent, continued as follows: — "Do you 
 yourself bind up the wound which you have inflicted 
 on the Church, and which you alone can cure." " Be- 
 ware," added he, letting a few tears fall, — "beware of 
 
 serious combat. My armour is quite ready. 1 will 
 do still more," added he, after a momentary pause ; " I 
 will write his holiness, acknowledging that I have been 
 somewhat too violent, and declaring that it was as a 
 faithful child of the Church I combated harangues 
 which subjected her to mockery and insult from the 
 people. I even consent to publish a document in which 
 I will request all who read my books not to see any- 
 thing in them adverse to the Roman Church, but to 
 remain subject to her. Yes ; I am disposed to do 
 everything and bear everything ; but as to retractation, 
 never expect it from me." 
 
 Luther's decided tone convinced Miltitz that the 
 wisest course was to appear sntisfied wilh the promise 
 
 
 FREDERICK OF SAXONY. 
 
 raising a tempest, which would bring ruin on Christen- 
 dom." He tiien began gradually to insinuate that a 
 recantation was the only remedy for the evil ; but he, 
 at the same time, softened the offensiveness of the 
 term, by giving Luther to understand that he had the 
 highest esteem for him, and by expressing his indigna- 
 tion at Tetzel. The net was laid by a skilful hand, 
 and how was it possible to avoid being taken in it ? 
 " Had the Archbishop of Mentz spoken thus to me at 
 the outset," said the reformer afterwards, " this affair 
 would not have made so much noise." 
 
 Luther then replied. With calmness, but also with 
 dignity and force, he stated the just grievances of the 
 Church; expressed all the indignation he felt at the 
 Archbishop of Mentz; and nobly complained of the 
 imworthy treatment he had received from Rome, not- 
 withstanding of the purity of his intentions. Miltitz, 
 though he had not expected this firm language, was 
 able, however, to conceal his wrath. 
 
 Luther resumed : " I offer to be silent in futlire as 
 to these matters, and let the affair die out of itself, 
 provided my opponents also are silent ; but if they con- 
 tinue to attack me, a petty quai-rel will soon beget a 
 
 which the leformer had just made, and he meiely 
 proposed that an archbishop should be appointed arbi- 
 ter, to decide certain points which might come under 
 discussion. "Be it so," said Luther; "but I am much 
 afraid that the pope will not consent to have a judge. 
 In that case no more will I accept the judgment of the 
 pope — and then the strife will begin anew. The pope 
 will give out the text, and I will make the com- 
 mentary." 
 
 Thus terminated the first interview between Luther 
 and Miltitz. They had a second, in which the truce, 
 or rather peace, was signed. Luther immediately in- 
 formed the elector of what had passed. " Most serene 
 prince and very gracious lord," wrote he, "I hasten 
 very humbly to inform your electoral highness, that 
 Charles de Miltitz and I have at length agreed, and 
 
MILTITZ AND LUTHER. 
 
 have terminated the affair by means of the two follow- 
 ing articles : — 
 
 " 1st, Both parties are forbidden to preach or write, 
 or to do anything further in reference to the dispute 
 which luis arisen. 
 
 '• iiidly, MiUitz will immediately ac(iuaiut the holy 
 father witli the state of matters. His holiness will 
 order an enlightened bisho]) to inquire into the affair, 
 and specify the erroneous articles which I am required 
 to retract. If I am found to be in error, I will retract 
 williniily, and never more do anything that may be 
 l>rojudicial to the honour or tlic authority of the holy 
 Konian Church." 
 
 Tlio agreement being tlius made, IVfdtitz appeared 
 quite delighted. " For a hundred years," exclaimed 
 he, " no affair has given the cai'dinals and Roman 
 courtiers more anxiety than this. They would have 
 given ten thousand ducats sooner than consent to its 
 longer continuance." 
 
 The chamberlain of the pope made a great shew of 
 feeling before the monk of AVittemberg. Sometimes 
 lie exi)rcssed joy, at other times shed tears. This 
 display of sensibility made little impression on the 
 reformer; but he refrained from shewing what he 
 thought of it. " I looked as if I did not imderstaud 
 what was meant by these crocodile tears," said he. 
 The crocodile is said to weep when it cannot seize 
 its prey. 
 
 Luther having accepted an invitation to supper from 
 i\liltitz, tlir li.i.M l;ii,l aside the stiffness attributed to 
 his cillicc. whilr l.iiiliri- gave full scope to his uatural 
 gaiety. It was a j"you3 repast; and when the parting 
 horn- lu-rived, the legate took the heretical 
 doctor in his arms and kissed him. "A 
 Judas kiss," thought Luther; "I pretended," 
 wrote he to Staupitz, " not to comprehend 
 all these Italian manners." 
 
 Was this, then, to be, iu truth, the kiss of 
 reconciliation between Rome and the dawn- 
 ing Reformation? Miltitz hoped so, and 
 rejoiced at it, for he had a nearer view than 
 the courtiers of Rome of the fearful results 
 which the Reformation might produce in 
 regard to the papacy. If Luther and his op- 
 ponents are silent, said he to himself, the 
 dispute will be ended, and Rome, by availing 
 herself of favourable circumstances, will re- 
 gain all her ancient influence. It thus seemed 
 that the debate was drawing to a close : 
 Rome had stretched out her arms, and Luther 
 had apparently thrown himself into them : 
 but the Reformation was the work not of 
 man, but of God. The error of Rome con- 
 sisted in seeing the ([uarrel of a monk, 
 where she ought to have seen an awaken- 
 ing of the Church. The revival of Chris- 
 tendom was not to be arrested by the kisses of a 
 pope's chamberlain. 
 
 Miltitz, in fulfilment of the agreement which he had 
 just concluded, proceeded from Altenburg to Leipsic, 
 where Tetzel was residing. There was no occasion to 
 shut Tetzel's mouth, for, sooner than speak, he would, 
 if it had been possible, have hidden himself iu the 
 bowels of the earth; but the nuncio was determined 
 
 to discharge his wrath upon him. Immediately on his 
 arrival at Leipsic, Miltitz summoned the unhappy 
 Tetzel before him, loaded him with reproaches, accused 
 him of being the author of the whole mischief, and 
 tlireatened him with the pope's displeasure. Nor was 
 this all : the agent of the house of Fugger, who Wiis 
 then at Leipsic, was confronted with him. Miltitz 
 laid before tlie Dominican the accounts of that house, 
 together with papers which he himself had signed, and 
 proved that he had squandered or stolen considerable 
 sums. The poor wretch, who had stickled at nothing 
 in his day of glory, was overwhelmed by the justice of 
 these accusations : despair seized him, his health gave 
 way, and he knew not where to hide his shame. Lu- 
 ther heard of the miserable condition of his old enemy, 
 and was the only person who felt for him. In a letter 
 to Spalatin, he says: "I pity Tetzel." Nor did he 
 confine himself to such expressions. He had hated not 
 the man, but his misconduct; and at the moment when 
 Rome was pouring out her wrath upon him, wrote him 
 in the most consolatory terms. But all was to no 
 purpose. Tetzel, stung by remorse, alarmed at the 
 reproaches of his best friends, and dreading the anger 
 of the pope, not long after died miserably, and, as was 
 supposed, of a broken heart. 
 
 Luther, in fulfilment of his promises to Miltitz, on 
 the 3d of March wrote the following letter to the pope : 
 
 "Blessed Father! will your blessedness deign to 
 turn your paternal ears, which are like those of Christ 
 himself, towards your poor sheep, and kindly listen to 
 its bleat? "What shall I do, most holy Father? I am 
 unable to bear the fierceness of your anger, and know 
 
 not how to escape from it. I am asked to retract, and 
 would hasten to do so could it lead to the end which 
 is proposed by it. But owing to the persecutions 
 of my enemies, my writings have been circulated far 
 and wide, and are too deeply engraven on men's hearts 
 
 i to be effaced. A recantation would only add to the 
 dishonour of the Church of Rome, and raise an uni- 
 
 I versal cry of accusation against her. Most holy 
 
1.34 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Father ! I declare before God and all His creatures, 
 that I have never wished, and do not now wish, either 
 by force or guile, to attack the authority of the Roman 
 Church or of your holiness. I acknowledge that there 
 is nothing in heaven or ou the earth which ought to be 
 put above this Church, unless it be Jesus Christ, the 
 Lord of all." 
 
 These words might seem strange, and even reprehen- 
 sible, in the mouth of Luther, did we not reflect that 
 the light did not break in upon him all at once, but by 
 slow and progressive steps. They shew, and this is 
 very important, that the Eeformation was not simply 
 an opposition to the papacy. Its accomplishment was 
 not effected by warring against this or that form, or 
 by means of this or that negative tendency. Opposi- 
 tion to the pope was only one of its secondary features. 
 Its creating principle was a new life, a positive doc- 
 trine : " Jesus Christ, the Lord of all, and paramount 
 to all — to Rome herself," as Luther says in the con- 
 clusion of his letter. To this principle the revolution 
 of the sixteenth century is truly to be ascribed. 
 
 It is probable that at an earlier period a letter from 
 the monk of Wittemberg, positively refusing to retract, 
 would not have been allowed by the pope to pass with- 
 out animadversion. But Maximilian was dead, the 
 topic of engrossing interest was the election of his 
 successor ; and amid the political intrigues which then 
 agitated the pontifical city, Luther's letter was over- 
 looked. 
 
 The reformer was employing his time to better pur- 
 pose than his powerful antagonist. While Leo X., 
 engrossed by his interests as a temporal prince, was 
 straining every nerve to prevent a dreaded neighbour 
 from reaching the imperial throne, Luther v.'as daily 
 growing in knowledge and in faith. He studied the 
 decretals of the popes, and made discoveries which 
 greatly modified his views. Writing Spalatiu, he says : 
 "I am reading the decretals of the popes, and, let me 
 say it in your ear, I know not whether the pope is 
 Antichrist himself, or only his apostle, — to such a 
 degree, in these decretals, is Christ outraged and 
 crucified." 
 
 Still he continued to respect the ancient Church of 
 Rome, and had no thought of separating from her. 
 " Let the Roman Church," said he, in the explana- 
 tion which he had promised Miltitz to publish, " be 
 honoured of God above all others. On this point 
 there cannot be a doubt. St. Peter, St. Paul, forty- 
 six popes, and several hundred thousand martyrs, have 
 shed their blood in her bosom, and there vanquished 
 hell and the world, so that the eye of God specially 
 rests upon her. Although everything about her is 
 now in a very sad condition, that is no ground for 
 separating from her. On the contrary, the worse 
 things are, the more firmly we should cling to her. 
 Our separation is not the means by which she can be 
 improved. We must not abandon God because there 
 is a devil ; nor the children of God, who are still at 
 Rome, because the majority are wicked. No sin, no 
 wickedness, can justify us in destroying charity or 
 violating unity; for charity can do all things, and 
 nothing is difficult to unity." 
 
 It was not Luther that separated from Rome, but 
 Rome that separated from Luther ; and by so doing 
 
 rejected the ancient catholic faith, of which he was 
 then the representative. Nor was it Luther that 
 deprived Rome of her power, and compelled her bishop 
 to descend from an usurped throne. The doctrines 
 which he announced — the doctrine of the apostles 
 again divinely proclaimed throughout the Church with 
 great force and admirable purity — alone could prevail 
 against a power by which the Church had for ages 
 been enslaved. 
 
 These declarations, which Luther published at the 
 end of February, did not fully satisfy Miltitz and De 
 Vio. These two vultures, after both missing their 
 prey, had retired within the ancient walls of Treves. 
 There, seconded by the prince-archbishop, they hoped 
 jointly to accomplish the object in which they had 
 failed individually. The two nuncios were aware that 
 nothing more was to be expected from Frederick, now 
 invested with supreme power in the empire. They saw 
 that Luther persisted in his refusal of retractation. 
 The only plan, therefore, was to withdraw the heretical 
 monk from the protection of the elector, and entice him 
 into their own neighbourhood. If the reformer were 
 once in Treves, in a state subject to a prince of the 
 Church, he would be dexterous indeed if he got away 
 without giving full satisfaction to the sovereign pontiff. 
 The scheme was immediately proceeded with. " Lu- 
 ther," said Miltitz to the Elector-archbishop of Treves, 
 " has accepted your grace as arbiter ; call him, there- 
 fore, before you." The Elector of Treves accordingly 
 (3d May) wrote to the Elector of Saxony, and requested 
 him to send Luther. De Vio, and afterwards Miltitz 
 himself, also wrote, announcing that the rose of gold 
 had arrived at Augsburg, at the house of Fugger. 
 Now, thought they, is the moment to strike the decisive 
 blow. 
 
 But things were changed, and neither Frederick nor 
 Luther felt alarmed. The elector, understanding his 
 new position, had no longer any fear of the pope, and 
 far less of his servants. The reformer, seeing Miltitz 
 and De Vio in concert, had some idea of the fate which 
 awaited him if he complied with their invitation. 
 " Everywhere," says he, "on all hands, and in all ways, 
 they seek my life." Besides, he had requested the pope 
 to decide ; but the pope, engrossed with crowns and 
 intrigues, had given no answer. Luther thus wrote to 
 Miltitz : " How could I undertake the journey, without 
 an order from Rome, amid the troubles which shake 
 the empire ? How could I face so many dangers, and 
 subject myself to so much expense, I who am the 
 poorest of men '? " 
 
 The Elector of Treves, a man of wisdom and moder- 
 ation, and a friend of Frederick, was willing to meet 
 his views. He had no desire, moreover, to involve 
 himself in the affair without being positively called 
 upon. He therefore agreed with the Elector of Saxony 
 to defer the investigation to the nest diet. Two years 
 elapsed before this diet assembled at AVorms. 
 
 While the hand of Providence successfully warded 
 off all the dangers which threatened him, Luther was 
 boldly advancing to a result of which he was not him- 
 self aware. His reputation was extending, the cause 
 of truth was gaining strength, and the number of the 
 students of Wittemberg, among whom were the most 
 distinguished young men in Germany, rapidly increased. 
 
PUBLICATION OF LUTHER'S WORKS. 
 
 " Our town," wrote Luther, " cau scarcely coiitaiu all 
 who come to it ; " and on another occasion : " The num- 
 ber of students increases out of measure, like a stream 
 overflowing its banks." 
 
 But Germany was no longer the only country in 
 whicli the voice of the reformer was heard. It had 
 passed the frontiers of the empire, and begun to shake 
 the foundations of the Roman power in the different 
 states of Christendom. Frobenius, the famous printer 
 of Bale, had published the collected works of Luther, 
 which were rapidly disposed of. At Bale even the 
 bislioj) ajiplaudcd Luther; and the cardinal of Sion, 
 after reading his work, exclaimed, somewhat ironically, 
 and i)unniiig on his name, " O Luther, thou art a true 
 Luther!" {Laiitercr, a true purifier.) 
 
 Erasmus was at Louvaiu when Luther's works 
 arrived in the Netherlands. The prior of the Augus- 
 tines of Antwerp, who had studied at Wittemberg, and 
 according to the testimony of Erasmus, held true 
 primitive Christianity, and many other Belgians be- 
 sides, read them with avidity. " But," says the scholar 
 of Rotterdam, " those who sought only their own 
 interest, and entertained the people with old wives' 
 fables, gave full vent to their grovelling fanaticism." 
 '■ It is not in my power," says Erasmus, in a letter to 
 Luther. " to describe the emotions, the truly tragic 
 scenes, wliich your writings have produced." 
 
 Frobenius sent six hundred copies of the works into 
 France and S|)ain. They were publicly sold at Paris, 
 and, as far as appears, the doctors of Sorbonne then 
 read them with approbation. " It was time," s.aid 
 several of them, '• that those engaged in the study of 
 the Holy Scriptures should speak thus freely." In 
 England the works were received with still greater 
 eagerness. Spanish merchants at Antwerp caused 
 them to be translated into their native tongue, and 
 sent them into Spain. '• Assuredly," says Pallavicini, 
 '• these merchants were of Moorish blood." 
 
 Calvi, a learned bookseller of Pavia, carried a great 
 number of copies of the works into Italy, and circulated 
 them in all the transalpine towns. This learned man 
 was animated not by a love of gain, but a desire to 
 contribute to the revival of piety. The vigour with 
 which Luther maintained the cause of godliness filled 
 him with joy. " All the learned of Italy," exclaimed 
 he, '-will concur with me; and we will see you cele- 
 brated in stanzas composed by our most distinguished 
 poets." 
 
 Frobenius, in transmitting a copy of the publication 
 to Luther, told him all these gladdening news, and 
 added : " I have disposed of all the copies except ten, 
 and never had so good a return." Other letters also 
 informed Luther of the joy produced by his works. 
 " I am glad," says he, " that the truth gives so much 
 pleasure, although she speaks with little learning, and 
 in a style so barbarous." 
 
 Such was the commencement of the revival in the 
 different countries of Europe. In all countries, if we 
 except Switzerland, and even France, where the Gospel 
 had previously been heard, the arrival of Luther's 
 writings forms the first page in the history of the 
 Reformation. A printer of Bale diffused these first 
 germs of the truth. At the moment when the Roman 
 pontiff entertained hopes of suppressing the work la 
 
 Germany, it began in France, the Netherlands, Italy, 
 Spain, England, and Switzerland ; and now, even 
 should Rome hew down the original trunk, what would 
 it avail ? The seeds are already diffused over every 
 soil. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 c War seems ended in Gciniany— Erk Kevives the Contest— Debate Ijc- 
 twcen Eck and Carlstadt— The Quostion of the Pope— Luther Replies 
 — Alarm of Luther's Friends — Luther's Courage — Tnith triumphs single- 
 handed— Refusal of Duke George— Delight of Mosellanus, and Fears 
 of Erasmus. 
 
 While the combat was only beginning beyond the 
 limits of the empire, it seemed to him almost ceased 
 within it. The most blustering soldiers of Rome, the 
 Franciscan monks of Juterbock, after having impru- 
 dently attacked Luther, had, after a vigorous rejoinder 
 from the reformer, hastened to resume silence. The 
 partizans of the pope were quiet ; and Tetzel was unfit 
 for service. Luther's friends conjured him not to per- 
 sist in the contest, and he had promised to comply. 
 The theses were beginning to be forgotten. By this 
 perfidious peace the eloquent tongue of the reformer 
 was completely paralyzed ; and the Reformation seemed 
 to be arrested. " But," says Luther afterwards, when 
 speaking of this period, "men were imagining vain 
 things, for the Lord had arisen to judge the nations." 
 " God," says he in another place, " does not lead, but 
 urges and hurries me along. I am not my own mas- 
 ter. I would fain be at rest, but am precipitated into 
 the midst of tumult and revolution." 
 
 The person who renewed the contest was Eck the 
 schoolman, Luther's old friend, and the author of the 
 " Obelisks." He was sincerely attached to the papacy, 
 but seems to have been devoid of genuine religious 
 sentiment, and to Lave belonged to a class of men, at 
 all times too numerous, who value learning, and even 
 theology and religion, merely as a means of gaining a 
 name in the world. Vain glory lurks under the priest's 
 cassock as well as the soldier's helmet. Eck had 
 studied the art of disputation according to the scho- 
 lastic rules, and was an acknowledged master in this 
 species of warfare. While the knights of the Middle 
 Ages, and the warriors at the period of the Reforma- 
 tion, sought glory in tournaments, the schoolmen sought 
 it in the syllogistic disputations, which were often 
 exhibited in universities. Eck, who was full of him- 
 self, stood high in his own opinion, and was proud of 
 his talents, of the popularity of his cause, and the 
 trophies which he had won in eight universities in 
 Hungary, Lombardy, and Germany, eagerly longed for 
 an opportunity of displaying his power and dexterity in 
 debate with the reformer. He had spared notbing to 
 secure the reputation of being one of the most celebrated 
 scholars of the age. He was ever seeking to stir up 
 new discussions, to produce a sensation, and by means 
 of his exploits procure access to all the enjoyments of 
 life. A tour which he made in Italy had, by his own 
 account, been only a series of triumphs. The most 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 learned of the learned had been constrained to sub- 
 scribe to his theses. A practised bravado, he fixed his 
 eyes on a new field of battle, where he thought him- 
 self secure of victory. That little monk, who had 
 grown up all at once into a giant, — that Luther, whom 
 no one had hitherto been able to vanquish, — offended 
 his pride, and excited his jealousy. It might be that 
 Eck, in seeking his own glory, might destroy Rome ; 
 . . , but scholastic vanity was not to be arrested 
 by any such consideration. Theologians, as well as 
 princes, have repeatedly sacrificed the general interest 
 to their individual glory. Let us attend to the circum- 
 stances which gave the doctor of Ingolstadt an oppor- 
 tunity of entering the lists with his troublesome rival. 
 
 The zealous, but too ardent Carlstadt was still of 
 one mind with Luther, — the special bond of imion 
 between them being then- attachiiient to the doctrine 
 of grace, and their admiration of St. Augustine. Carl- 
 stadt, who was of an enthusiastic temperament, and 
 possessed little prudence, was not a man to be arrested 
 by the address and policy of a Miltitz. In opposition 
 to the " Obelisks " of Dr. Eck, he had published theses 
 in which he defended Luther and their common faith. 
 Eck had replied, and Carlstadt, determined not to leave 
 him the last word, had rejoined. The combat grew 
 warm. Eck, eager to avail himself of so favourable 
 an opportunity, had thrown down the gauntlet; and 
 the impctu<ius Carlstadt had taken it up. God em- 
 ]iloyed tlie passions of these two men to accomplish His 
 designs. Though Luther had taken no part in these 
 debates, he was destined to be the hero of the fight. 
 There are men whom the force of circumstances always 
 brings upon the scene. Leipsic was fixed upon, and 
 hence the origin of the celebrated discussion which 
 bears its name. 
 
 Eck cared little about combating with Carlstadt, 
 and even vanquishing him. Luther was the opponent 
 whom he had in view. He accordingly employed 
 every means to bring him into the field; and with this 
 view published thirteen theses, directed against the 
 leading doctrines which had been espoused by the 
 reformer. The thirteenth was in these terms : " We 
 deny that the Roman Church was not superior to 
 other churches before the time of Pope Sylvester ; and 
 we acknowledge at all times, that he who has occupied 
 the see of St. Peter and professed his faith, is the suc- 
 cessor of St. Peter, and the vicar of Jesus Christ." 
 Sylvester lived in the time of Constantino the great ; 
 and hence Eck, in this theses, denied that the primacy 
 which Rome enjoyed was conferred on her by that 
 emperor. 
 
 Luther, whose consent to remain silent had not been 
 given without reluctance, was strongly excited when 
 lie read these propositions. He saw that he was the 
 person aimed at, and felt that he could not, with 
 honour, evade the contest. " This man," said he, 
 '• names Carlstadt as his antagonist, and at the same 
 time makes his assault upon me. But God reigns, 
 and knows what result He designs to bring out of this 
 tragedy. The question is not between Dr. Eck and 
 me. God's purpose will be accomplished. Thanks to 
 Eck ; this affair, which hitherto has been mere sport, 
 will at length become serious, and give a fatal blow to 
 the tyranny of Rome and the Roman pontiff." 
 
 Rome herself broke the agreement. She did more, 
 — when she renewed the signal for battle, she directed 
 it to a point which Luther had not previously attacked. 
 The subject which Di-. I'^rk siii;jled out for his antago- 
 nists was the priuiacv "f ihc |.n|,c. In thus following 
 the dangerous exampK- « hi(-li 'IVlzel had given, Rome 
 invited the blows of the champion ; and if she left her 
 mangled members on the arena, she had herself to 
 blame for the punishment inflicted by his mighty arm. 
 
 The pontifical supremacy being once overthrown, 
 the whole of the Roman platform fell to pieces. 
 Hence, the papacy was in imminent peril ; and yet 
 neither Miltitz nor Cajetan took any steps to prevent 
 this now contest. Did they imagine that the Reforma- 
 tion would be vanquished, or were they smitten with 
 that blindness by which the ruin of the mighty is 
 accomplished? 
 
 Luther, who, by his long silence, had given an 
 example of rare moderation, boldly met the challenge 
 of his antagonist, whose theses he immediately opposed 
 by counter theses. The last was in these terms : " The 
 primacy of the Church of Rome is defended by means 
 of miserable decretals of the Roman pontiffs, com- 
 posed within the last four hundred years ; whereas this 
 primacy is contradicted by the authentic history of 
 eleven centuries, the declarations of Holy Scripture, 
 and the canons of the Council of Nice, which is the 
 purest of all councils." 
 
 At the same time Luther thus wrote to the elector : 
 " God knows it was my firm determination to be silent ; 
 and I rejoiced to see the game at length brought to a 
 close. So faithfully have I observed the paction con- 
 cluded with the pope's commissioner, that I did not 
 reply to Sylvester Prierias, notwithstanding of the 
 taunts of adversaries and the counsels of friends. But 
 now Dr. Eck attacks me ; and not only me, but the 
 whole university of Wittemberg besides. I caimut 
 allow it to be thus covered with obloquy." 
 
 At the same time Luther wrote to Carlstadt: "I 
 am nawilling, excellent Andrew, that you should 
 engage in this quarrel, since I am the person aimed 
 at." " I will gladly lay aside my serious labours and 
 enter into the sports of these flatterers of the Roman 
 pontiff." Then apostrophizing his adversary with dis- 
 dain, and calling from Wittemberg to Ingolstadt, he 
 exclaims : " Now, then, my dear Eck, be courageous, 
 aud gird thy sword upon thy thigh, thou mighty 
 man. Having failed to please you as mediator, per- 
 haps I will please you better as antagonist. Not that 
 I have any thought of vanquishing you ; but after all 
 the trophies which you have gained in Hungary, Lom- 
 bardy, and Bavaria, (at least if we are to take your 
 account for it,) I will give you an opportunity of 
 acquiring the name of the conqueror of Saxony and 
 Misnia, so that you will be for ever saluted by the 
 glorious title of Augustus." 
 
 All Luther's friends did not share his courage, for 
 up to this hour none had been able to withstand the 
 sophistry of Dr. Eck. But what alarmed them most 
 was the subject of dispute — the primacy of the pope ! 
 . . . How does the poor monk of Wittemberg dare 
 to encounter this giant who, for ages, has crushed all 
 his enemies ? The courtiers of the elector begin to 
 tremble. Spalatin, the confidant of the prince, and 
 
TRUTH TRIUMPHS UNAIDED. 
 
 137 
 
 intiinixte friciul of the reformer, is full of anxiety. 
 Frederick, too, feels uneasy : even the sword of the 
 knight of the lioly .sepulchre, witli -which he Iiiid been 
 armed at Jerusalem, would he unequal to this warfare. 
 Luther aloue feels no alarm. His thought is : The 
 Lord will deliver him into my hands. The faith with 
 which ho is animated enables him to strengthen his 
 friends. " I beg of you, my dear Spalatin," said he, 
 " not to give yoiirsclf up to fear ; you know well that 
 if Christ was not with mc, all that I have done up to 
 this hour must have been xny ruin. Was it not lately 
 written from Italy, to the chancellor of the Duke of 
 Pomerauia, that I had upset Rome, and that, not 
 knowing how to appease tlic (uniiiH. liny were purpos- 
 ing to attack me, not ac<'"iNiiii,t; l^ ili.' r..iins df justice, 
 but by Roman finesse, (the \rry wonl^ u-nl.) that is, 
 I presume, by poison, amlm>h. ami :i>>;i->iii;iliiiu .' 
 
 "I restrain myself, and fi-nni l.ur In Ihc elector and 
 the university, keep back many tliin-s \\ liich I would 
 employ against Kabylon, were 1 elsewhere. my 
 poor Spalatin ! it is impossible to speak of Scripture 
 and of (he Church without irritating the beast. Never, 
 therefore, liope to see me at rest, at least until I 
 reiHiiinri' |]iinl,i;fy. If this work is of God, it will 
 lint lie leniiiii.ited before all my friends have forsaken 
 me. as ('hri>t was forsaken by His disciples. Truth 
 will endure single-handed, and triumph iu virtue of its 
 own jirowess, not mine or yours, or any man's. If I 
 fall, the world will not perish with me. But, wretch 
 that I am, I fear I am not worthy to die in such a 
 cause." "Rome," he again wrote about this time, — 
 '• Rome is burning with eagerness to destroy me, while 
 I sit quiet and hold her in derision. I am informed 
 that, iu the field of Flora at Rome, one Martin Luther 
 has been publicly burned in effigy, after being loaded 
 with execrations. I abide their fury. The whole 
 world," continues he, "is in agitation, heaving to and 
 fro. What will happen 1 God knows. For my part, 
 I foresee wars and disasters. The Lord have mercy 
 on us." 
 
 Luther wrote letter after letter to Duke George, in 
 whose states Leipsic is, entreating permission to repair 
 thither and take part in the debate; but received no 
 answer. The grandson of the Bohemian king, Podie- 
 brad, alarmed at Luther's proposition concerning the 
 ]iope, and afraid of seeing Saxony involved in the wars 
 of which Bohemia had so long been the theatre, 
 was unwilling to grant the doctor's request. Luther, 
 therefore, determined to publish explanations of his 
 thirteenth theses. But this treatise, far from persuad- 
 ing Duke George, on the contrary confirmed him in 
 his resolution. Positively refusing to give the reformer 
 authority to debate, he merely allowed him to be pre- 
 sent as a spectator. This was a great disappointment 
 to Luther. Nevertheless, as he had only one wish, 
 and that was to obey God — he resolved to attend as a 
 spectator, and await the result. 
 
 The prince at the same time did everything in his 
 power to forward the discussion between Eck and 
 Carlstadt. Duke George was devoted to the ancient 
 doctrine ; but he was upright and sincere, and friendly 
 to free inquiry ; and did not think that an opinion was 
 to be charged with heresy, merely because it displeased 
 the court of Rome. The elector, moreover, urged his 
 
 cousin to permit the discussion ; and the duke, con- 
 firmed by Frederick's statements, ordered it to take 
 place. 
 
 Bishop Adolphus of Merseburg, in whose diocese 
 Leipsic is situated, was more alive than Miltitz and 
 Cajetan to the danger of trusting such important 
 questions to the chances of single combat. Rome could 
 not expose the fruit of the labours of so many ages to 
 such hazard. All the theologians of Leipsic were 
 equally alarmed, and implored their bishop to prevent 
 the discussion. Adolphus accordingly presented most 
 energetic remonstrances to Duke George, who replied 
 with much good sense: "I am surprised at seeing a 
 bishop so terrified at the ancient and laudable custom 
 of our fathers, in examining doubtful questions as to 
 matters of faith. If your theologians refuse to defend 
 their doctrines, the money given to them would be far 
 better employed in the maintenance of aged women 
 and young children, who would be able at least to spin 
 and sing." 
 
 This letter had little effect on the bishop and his 
 theologians. There is in error a secret consciousness 
 which makes it dread inquiry even when making loud 
 professions of being favourable to it. After an impru- 
 dent advance it makes a cowardly retreat. Truth did 
 not give the challenge, but firmly stood its ground. 
 Error gave it, and ran off. Moreover, the prosperity 
 of the university of Wittemberg excited the jealousy 
 of that of Leipsic. The monks and priests inveighed 
 from the pidpits of that city, urging the people to shun 
 the new heretics — slandering Luther, and painting 
 him, as well as his friends, in the blackest colours, in 
 order to stir up the fanaticism of the populace against 
 the reformers. Tetzel, who was still alive, awoke to 
 cry from the depth of his retreat, — "It is the devil 
 that is forcing on this contest." 
 
 All the professors of Leipsic, however, did not par- 
 ticipate in these apprehensions. Some belonged to the 
 indifferent class, consisting of persons who are always' 
 ready to laugh at the faults of both parties. Of this 
 class was the Greek professor, Peter Mosellanus, who 
 cared very little for John Eck, Carlstadt, and Martin 
 Luther; but anticipated great amusement from the 
 strife. Writing to his friend Erasmus, he says : " John 
 Eck, who is the most illustrious of pen gladiators and 
 rhapsodists, and like the Socrates of Aristophanes, 
 contemns even the gods, is to have a turn in debate 
 with Andrew Carlstadt. The battle will end in up- 
 roar, and there will be laughter in it for ten Demo- 
 cratuses." 
 
 The timid Erasmus, on the contrary, was frightened 
 at the idea of a combat, and his prudence — ever ready 
 to take alarm — would fain have prevented this discus- 
 sion. In a letter to Melancthou, he says: "If you 
 will be advised by Erasmus, you will be more anxious 
 to promote the advancement of sound literature than 
 to attack the enemies of it. My belief is, that in this 
 way our progress will be greater. Above all, while 
 engaged in this struggle, let us not forget that victory 
 must be obtained, not only by eloquence, but also by 
 moderation and meekness." Neither the alarms of 
 priests, nor the prudence of pacificators, could now 
 prevent the combat. The parties made ready their 
 weapons. 
 
IIISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Aniv.ll of Euk and IheWittembei-gers— Amsdorf— The Students— Carl stadt's 
 accident— Placard— Eck and Lntlicr—Pleissenburg— Shall Judges he 
 arpointed?— Luther objects. 
 
 At tlie time when the electors met at Frankfort to 
 give an emperor to Germany, (June, 1519,) theologians 
 met at Leipsic for an act which, though unnoticed by 
 the world, was destined to be not less important in its 
 results. 
 
 Eck was the first who arrived at the place of ren- 
 dezvous. On the 21st June he entered Leipsic in com- 
 pany with Poliander, a young man whom he had 
 brought from Ingolstadt to report the debate. All 
 kinds of honours were paid to the scholastic doctor, 
 who, on the fete Dieu, paraded the town in full canoni- 
 cals, and at the head of a numerous procession. There 
 wa.s a general eagerness to see him. According to his 
 own account, all the inhabitants were in his favour. 
 " Nevertheless," adds he, " a rumour was current in 
 the town that I was to be Avorsted in the encounter." 
 
 The day after the fete — viz., Friday, 24th June, 
 (St. Johu's day) — tlie Wittembergers arrived. Carl- 
 stadt, Eck's destined opponent, came first in a chariot 
 by himself. Next, in an open carringe, came Duke 
 ISarnim of Pomerania, who was then studying at Wit- 
 temberg under the direction of a tutor, and had been 
 elected rector of the university. On each side of him 
 sat the two great theologians, — the fathers of the Re- 
 formation, — Mclancthon and Luther. Melancthon had 
 been unwilling to quit his friend. lie had said to 
 Spalatin: "Martin, the soldier of the Lord, has stirred 
 up this fffitid marsh. I cannot think of the shameful 
 conduct of the pope's theologians without indignation. 
 Be firm, and adhere to us." Luther himself had ex- 
 pressed a desire that his Achates, as he has been 
 ■ called, should accompany him. 
 
 John Lauge, vicar of the Augustines, some doctors 
 in law, several masters of arts, two licentiates in tlieo- 
 logy, and other ecclesiastics, among whom Nicholas 
 Amsdorf was conspicuous, closed the rear. Amsdorf, 
 the member of a noble family in Saxouy, disregarding 
 the brilliant career which his birth might have opened 
 to him, had devoted himself to theology. The theses 
 on indulgences having brought him to the knowledge 
 of the truth, he had forthwitli made a bold profession 
 of the faith. Vigorous in intellect, and vehement in 
 temper, Amsdorf often pushed on Luther, by nature 
 abundantly ardent, to acts which were, pcrh;ip=. impru- 
 dent. Born to higli rank, he was not nMT.nvrd l.y the 
 gi-cat, a?id occasionally addressed tlicni \\ itii u tV<cdom 
 bordering on rudeness. " The Gospel uf J cms Christ," 
 said he one day in an assembly of nobles, '-belongs 
 to the poor and afilictcd, and not to you princes, lords, 
 and courtiers, whose lives are passed in luxury and 
 
 joy-" 
 
 But we have not yet mentioned the whole train from 
 Wittemberg. A large body of students accompanied 
 their teachers. Eck affirms that the number amounted 
 to two hundred. Armed with pikes and halberds, 
 they walked beside the carriages of the doctors, ready 
 to defend them, and proud of their cause. 
 
 Such was the order iu which the body of reformers 
 entered Leipsic. Just as they passed the Grimma gate, 
 which is iu front of St. Paul's cemetery, one of the 
 wheels of Carlstadt's carriage broke down. The 
 archdeacon, who, with great self-complacency, was 
 enjoying the solemn entry, tumbled into the mire. 
 He was not hurt, but was obliged to proceed to his 
 lodgings on foot. Luther's chariot, which was imme- 
 diately behind Carlstadt's, moved rapidly forward, and 
 delivered the reformer safe and sound. The inhabi- 
 tants of Leipsic, who had assembled to witness the 
 entry of the Wittemberg champions, considered the 
 accident as a bad omen for Carlstadt ; and the infer- 
 ence was soon current over the town — viz., that he 
 would be defeated in the combat, but that Luther 
 would come off victorious. 
 
 Adolphus of Merseburg did not remain idle. As 
 soon as he learned the approach of Luther and Carl- 
 stadt, and even before they had lighted from their 
 carriages, he caused a notice to be posted up on all the 
 church-doors, forbidding the discussion under pain of 
 excommunication. Duke George, astonished at his 
 presumption, ordered the town council to teai- down 
 the bishop's placard, and imprison the individual which 
 had been employed to put it up. The Duke George, 
 who had come in person to Leipsic, attended by all his 
 court, — among others, by Jerome Emser, with whom 
 Luther spent the famous evening at Dresden, — sent the 
 disputants the usual presents. "The duke," boasted 
 Eck, " presented me with a fine stag, and gave Carl- 
 stadt only a roebuck." 
 
 Eck was no sooner informed of Luther's arrival than 
 he called upon him. " What ! " said he, " it is said tluit 
 you refuse to debate with me! " 
 
 Luther. — " How can I when the duke forbids me ? " 
 
 Eck. — "If I cannot debate with you, I am not 
 anxious to have anything to do with Carlstadt. It 
 was for you I came here." Then, after a short pause, 
 he added: "If I obtain the duke's permission, will you 
 take the field?" 
 
 Luther, {joyfalbj.) — " Obtain it, and we shall debate." 
 
 Eck forthwith repaired to the duke, and tried to 
 dissipate his fears, representing to him that he was 
 certain of victory; and that the authority of the pope, 
 so far from suffering by the discussion, would come 
 out of it more glorious. " We must strike at the head. 
 If Luther stands erect, so do all his adherents — if he 
 falls, they all fall." George granted permission. 
 
 The duke had caused a large hall to be prepared 
 in his palace of Pleissenburg. Two desks had been 
 erected opposite to each other ; tables arranged for the 
 notaries who were to take down the discussion in writ- 
 ing ; and benches for the spectators. The desks and 
 benches were covered with rich tapestry. At the 
 doctor of AVittemberg's desk was suspended the portrait 
 of St. Martin, after whom he was named ; and at that 
 of Dr. Eck, the portrait of the knight of St. George. 
 " We shall see," said the arrogant Eck, with his eye 
 on the emblem, "whether I do not, with my steed, 
 trample down my enemies." Everything bespoke the 
 importance which was attached to the combat. 
 
 On 25th Juue, the parties met in the castle to 
 arrange the order of proceeding. Eck, who had more 
 confidence in his declamation and gesture, than in his 
 
PRKLIMINARV ARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 139 
 
 nrgumciit?, cxcliiiincd : " Wc will debate freely, off 
 hand ; and the notaries will uot take down our words 
 iu writing." 
 
 Carlstadt. — " The agreement was, that the discussion 
 should be written down, published, and submitted to 
 the judgment of all men." 
 
 i'c/i-. — "To write down everything, is to wear out 
 the spirit of tlie disputants, and protract the battle. 
 In that case, there can be no hope of the vivacity 
 requisite iu an animated debate. Do not lay an arrest 
 on the flow of eloquence." 
 
 Dr. Eck's friends supported his proposal, but Carl- 
 stadt persisted in his objection, and Eck was obliged 
 to yield. 
 
 Evh: — " Be it so, lot there be writing ; but, at all 
 events, the debate, when taken down by the notaries, 
 is not to be published before it has been submitted to 
 the decision of judges." 
 
 Dither. — " The truth of Dr. Eck and the Eckians 
 fears the light." 
 
 Eck. — "There must be judges." 
 
 Luther. — " And what judges ? " 
 
 Eck. — " After the debate is over wc will agree upon 
 them." 
 
 The object of the partizans of Rome was evident. 
 If the theologians of AVittemberg accepted judges, their 
 cause was lost. It was obvious beforehand who the 
 persons were whom their opponents would suggest ; 
 and yet the reformers, if they refused them, would be 
 covered with obloquy, as it would be circulated every- 
 where that they were afraid of submitting to impartial 
 judges. 
 
 The judges whom the reformei's desired were not 
 individuals whose opinion was already declared, but the 
 whole of Christendom. Their appeal was made to the 
 general voice. It mattered little who condemned them, 
 if, ill i)lcading the cause in presence of the Ciiristian 
 world, they succeeded in bringing some individuals to 
 flic light. " Luther," says a Roman historian, " de- 
 manded all the faithful for judges — in other words, 
 demanded a tribunal so numerous that there could be 
 uo urn large enough to hold its votes." 
 
 The meeting broke up. " See their stratagem," 
 said Luther and his friends to each other. "They 
 would, to a certainty, ask to have the pope or the 
 universities for judges." 
 
 In fact, the theologians of Rome, next morning, sent 
 one of their party to Luther, with a proposal that the 
 judge should be — the pope! . . . "The pope!" 
 said Luther, " how can I accept him ? " 
 
 " Beware," exclaimed all his friends, " of accepting 
 conditions so unjust." Eck and his friends having 
 considted anew, gave up the pope, and proposed certain 
 luiiversities. " Don't take from us the liberty which 
 you have already gi'anted us," replied Luther. " AVe 
 cannot yield this point," resumed Eck. "Then," ex- 
 claimed Luther, "I don't debate." 
 
 They again parted, and what had just passed was 
 talked of over the whole town. The Romans kept 
 crying everywhere: "Luther won't debate — he refuses 
 to accept of any judge ! " Commenting on, and tortur- 
 ing his words, they endeavoured to ri'iiresent them in 
 the most unfavourable light. " ^VIl;U ! truly.' he will 
 not debate ? " say the best friends of the reformer, and 
 
 hasten to him to express their alarm. " You decline 
 the contest!" exclaim they. " Your refusal will bring 
 eternal disgrace on your university and your cause." 
 This was to attack Luther in his most tender point. 
 "Very well," replied he, his heart filled with indig- 
 nation, "I accept the terms which are imposed on me; 
 but I reserve a right of appeal, and I decline the court 
 of Rome." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Tlic Procession— Mass— Mosellaiius— rent, Sancle ."ijiiriJus.'— rortraits of 
 J.uIIht and Carlstadt — Doctor Eck — <jai*lstadt's Books — Merit of Cou- 
 gmity— Niitural Powers— Scholastic Distinction — Point where Rome 
 and tlic Iteformation separate— Grace gives man freedom— Carlstartt's 
 Ni)tL--Duulv -Commotion in the auditory — Melancthon during the debate 
 — :\Ianniuvre3 of Eck — Luther Prea"hes — The Citizens of Leipsic— Quar- 
 rels of Students and quarrels of Teachers. 
 
 The 27th of June was the day fixed for the commence- 
 ment of the discussion. In the morning the parties 
 met in the hall of the university, and thereafter walked 
 in procession to the Church of St. Thomas, where high 
 mass was celebrated by the order and at the expense 
 of the duke. After service, those present proceeded 
 to the ducal castle. At their head walked Duke 
 George and the Duke of Pomerania; next came counts, 
 abbots, knights, and other persons of distinction ; and 
 lastly, the doctors of the two parties. A guard com- 
 posed of seventy-six citizens, carrying halberds, accom- 
 panied the procession, with colours flying, and drums 
 beating, and halted at the castle gate. 
 
 On the arrival at the palace, each took his place in 
 the hall where the debate was to take place, — Duke 
 George, the hereditary Prince John, Prince George of 
 Anhalt, a boy of twelve, and the Duke of Pomerania, 
 occupying the seats allotted to them. 
 
 Mosellanus, by order of the duke, mounted a pulpit, 
 to remind the theologians of the manner in which the 
 discussion was to be carried on. " If you begin to 
 quarrel," said the orator to them, " what difference 
 will there be between a theological disputant and a 
 swaggering duellist? What is victory here but just to 
 recall a brother from his error ? . . . . Each, it 
 would seem, should be more desirous to be conquered 
 than to conquer." 
 
 At the conclusion of the address sacred music echoed 
 along the aisles of the Pleissenburg, the whole assem- 
 bly knelt down, and the ancieut hymn of invocation 
 to the Holy Spirit, Veni., Sanctc Spiritiis, was sung. 
 Solemn hour iu the annals of the Reformation ! The 
 invocation was thrice repeated ; and while the solemn 
 chant was pealing, the defenders of the ancient, and 
 the champions of the new doctrines, the men of the 
 Church of the Middle Ages, and those desirous of 
 re-establishing the Church of the apostles, mingling 
 together without distinction, in lowly attitude bent 
 their faces to the ground. The ancient tie of one single 
 communion still united all these different minds, and 
 the same prayer still preceded from all these lips, as if 
 a single heart had dictated it. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 These were the last moments of external 
 unity for which a new spiritual living unity was about 
 to be substituted. The Holy Spirit was invoked in 
 behalf of the Church, and the Holy Spirit was about 
 to answer by a revival of Christendom. 
 
 When the hymn and prayer were finished, the as- 
 sembly rose up. The discussion should have now 
 commenced ; but as the hour of noon had arrived, 
 there was an adjournment of two hours. 
 
 The leading personages who proposed to attend the 
 debate, having dined with the duke, returned with him, 
 after dinner, to the castle hall, which was filled with 
 spectntors. Meel incjs of this description were the pub- 
 lic assc'iiil.li.'s ill \\liich the representatives of the age 
 (liscii I 1 ■; I' !'i^ I I if general and engrossing interest. 
 
 t^m^'^j"^ 
 
 The orators were soon at their post. That a better 
 idea may be formed of them, we will give their por- 
 traits, as drawn by one of the most impartial witnesses 
 of the debate. 
 
 " Martin Luther is of middle size, and so emaciated 
 by hard study that one might almost count his bones. 
 Pie is in the vigour of life, and his voice is clear and 
 sonorous. His learning and knowledge of the Holy 
 Scriptures are beyond compare; he has the whole 
 Word of God at command. In addition to this, he 
 has great store of arguments and ideas. It were, per- 
 haps, to be wished that he had a little more judgment 
 in arranging his materials. In conversation he is can- 
 did and courteous ; there is nothing stoical or haughty 
 about him ; he has the art of accommodating himself 
 to every individual. His address is pleasing, and 
 replete with good humour. He displays firmness, and 
 is never discomposed by the menaces of his adversaries, 
 be they what they may. One is, in a manner, com- 
 pelled to believe that, in the great things which he has 
 done, God must have assisted him. He is blamed, 
 however, for being more sarcastic in his rejoinders 
 than becomes a theologian, especially when he an- 
 nounces new religious ideas. 
 
 " Carlstadt is of smaller stature ; his complexion is | 
 
 dark and sallow, his voice disagreeable, his memory 
 less retentive, and his temper more easily ruffled than 
 Luther's. Still, however, he possesses, though in an 
 inferior degree, the same qualities which distinguish 
 his friend. 
 
 '• Eck is tall and broad-shouldered. He has a strong 
 and truly German voice, and such excellent lungs that 
 he would be well heard on the stage, or would make 
 an admirable town-crier. His accent is rather coarse 
 than elegant ; and he has none of the gracefulness so 
 much lauded by Cicero and Quintilian. His mouth, 
 his eyes, and his whole features, suggest the idea of a 
 soldier or a butcher, rather than a theologian. His 
 memory is excellent ; and were his intellect equal to it, 
 he would be faultless. But he is slow of comprehen- 
 '— - '- - — ^-^ sion, and wants judgment, 
 without which all other gifts 
 .ire useless. Hence, when 
 he debates, he piles up, 
 without selection or discern- 
 ment, passages from the 
 Bible, quotations from the 
 Fathers, and arguments of 
 '•:,j all descriptions. His as- 
 v! surance, moreover, is un- 
 _\ Ijounded. AVhen he finds 
 himself in a difficulty, he 
 darts off from the matter 
 in hand, and pounces upon 
 mother; sometimes, even 
 he adopts the view of his 
 antagonist, and, changing 
 the form of expression, 
 most dexterously charges 
 him with the very absurd- 
 ity which he himself was 
 defending." 
 
 Such, according to Moscl- 
 lanus, were the men who 
 drew the eyes of the crowds who were then thronging 
 into the great hall of Pleisseuburg. 
 
 The discussion was opened by Eck and Carlstadt. 
 Eck, for some moments, fixed his eyes on the books 
 which lay on the little table in front of his opponent's 
 desk, and seemed to give him uneasiness, — they were 
 the Bible and tlie Fatliers. " I decline the discussion," 
 exclaimed he suddenly, "if you are allowed to bring 
 books with you." A theologian have recourse to his 
 books in discussion! The astonishment of Dr. Eck 
 was still more astonishing. " It is merely a fig-leaf 
 which this Adam is employing to hide his shame," said 
 Luther. " Did Augustine consult no books in com- 
 bating the Manichees ?" No matter ! — Eck's partizans 
 made a great noise. Carlstadt remonstrated. "The 
 man is altogether devoid of memory," said Eck. At 
 last it was decided, agreeably to the desire of the chan- 
 cellor of Ingolstadt, that each disputant should have 
 the use only of his memory and his tongue. " Thus, 
 then," said several, " the object in this debate will not 
 be to discover truth, but to shew off the eloquence and 
 memory of the disputants." 
 
 The discussion lasted seventeen days; but as it is 
 impossible to give the whole of it, we must, as a histo- 
 rian says, imitate painters who, in representing a battle, 
 
FREE WILL : ITS TRUE NATURE. 
 
 141 
 
 place the most distinguished exploits in front, and leave 
 the others in the background. 
 
 The subject of discussion between Eck and Carlstadt 
 was important. " Before conversion," said Carlstadt, 
 '■ the will of man is incapable of doing good ; every 
 good work conies entirely and exclusively from God, 
 who gives first the will to do, and afterwards the 
 ability to perform." This truth is proclaimed by the 
 Scriptures, which say: It is God which u-orkcth in you 
 both to will and to do of His r/ood pleasure; and by 
 Augustine, who, in disputing with the Pelagians, 
 delivers it in almost the very same terms. l>\-ery 
 work in which there is neither love to God nor obedi- 
 ence to His will, is. in His sight, devoid of the only 
 quality which could render it truly good, even should 
 it be, in other respects, dictated by the most honourable 
 human motives. Now, there is in man a natural 
 enmity to God — an enmity which he is utterly unable 
 to suppress. He has not the power to do so ; he even 
 wants the will. If ever, therefore, it is to be sup- 
 pressed, it must be by the i)ower of God. 
 
 This is the doctrine of fiee will, so much declaimed 
 against in the world, and jet so simple. It had been 
 
 again to act." To use one of their favourite com- 
 parisons — " the bird whose legs are tied does not there- 
 by lose either its powers, or forget the art of flying, 
 though it must be loosed by some other hand before it 
 can be able again to use its wings." " The same," said 
 they, " is the case with man." 
 
 Such was the question discussed between Eck and 
 Carlstadt. At first, Eck seemed to deny Carlstadt's 
 propositions out and out; but feeling the difficulty of 
 maintaining his ground, said: "I grant that the will 
 has not power to do a good work, but receives it from 
 God." "Confess, then," rejoined Carlstadt, over- 
 joyed at obtaining such a concession, " that every good 
 work comes entirely from God." " Every good work 
 comes indeed from God," replied the schoolman 
 subtlely, "but not entirely." "There," exclaimed 
 Melancthon, "goes i disco\ cry well worthy of theo- 
 logical science ' An ipple, idded 1 ck, ' is all 
 produced bj the inn 1 ut not dt _ tli i in 1 iMthout 
 
 PALACE OF TH 
 
 dodiiiieof the Church. But the schoolmen 
 laiiied it in a manner which caused it to be niis- 
 cistiiod. No doubt, (said they,) the natural will 
 of man cannot do anything which is truly pleasing to 
 Gu<l ; but it can do much to render man more capable 
 and more worthy of receiving divine grace. These pre- 
 paratives they terniod merit of congruity; "because," 
 as St. Thomas expressed it, " it is congruous for God 
 to bestow peculiar favour on those who make a 
 good use of their will." In regard, again, to the con- 
 version which man must undergo, it is no doubt true 
 that, according to the schoolmen, the grace of God 
 behoved to accomplish it ; but still without excluding 
 his natural powers. " These powers," said they, " have 
 not been annihilated by sin — sin only puts an obstacle 
 in the way of their development ; but as soon as this 
 obstacle is removed, (and this, according to them, was 
 what the grace of God had to do,"* these powers begin 
 
 the cc )pii itnn 1 tli ti \. in Il\ n iiiiiic\ei 
 
 thought ot m nut lining th it an ipplc is ill produced 
 by the ^uii 
 
 " Very well," said his opponents, going still deeper 
 into this delicate question, so important in philosophy 
 and in religion, " let us consider how God acts on man, 
 and how man conducts himself when so acted on." 
 " I acknowledge," said Eck, " that in conversion the 
 first impulse comes from God, and that the human will 
 is entirely passive." So far the disputants were agreed. 
 " I acknowledge," said Carlstadt, on his part, " that 
 after this first action on the part of God, something 
 must come from man, something which St. Paul calls 
 the ivill, and which the Fathers designate by consent." 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Here again both parties were agreed : but at this point 
 the separation began. "This consent of man," said 
 Eck, " comes partly from our natural will, and partly 
 from the grace of God." — " No," said Carlstadt, " this 
 will in man is entirely created by God." Hereupon 
 Eck began to express astonishment and indignation at 
 words so well fitted to impress man with a sense of his 
 utter nothingness. " Your doctrine," exclaims he, 
 " makes man a stone or a block, incapable of any coun- 
 ter action. . . ." — "What!" replied the reformers, 
 " does not the faculty of receiving the powers which 
 God produces in him, (a faculty which we admit that 
 he possesses,) sufficiently distinguish him from a stone 
 and a block?" "But," resumed their antagonist, 
 " by denying man all natural power, you contradict 
 experience." — " We deny not," was the reply, " that 
 man possesses certain powers, and has in him a faculty 
 of reflecting, meditating, and choosing. We only con- 
 sider these powers and faculties as mere instruments, 
 incapable of doing anything that is good, until the 
 hand of God sets them in motion. They are like the 
 saw in the hands of the sawyer." 
 
 The great question of liberty was here debated ; and 
 it was easy to demonstrate that the doctrine of the 
 reformers did not divest man of the liberty of a moral 
 agent, or make him a passive machine. The liberty of 
 a moral agent consists in the power of acting conform- 
 ably to his choice. Every action done without external 
 constraint, and in consequence of the determination 
 of the mind itself, is a free action. The mind is deter- 
 mined by motives ; but we constantly see that the 
 same motives act differently on different minds. Many 
 do not act conformably to the motives which their 
 judgment approves. This inefiiciency of motives is 
 attributable to the obstacles which they meet with in 
 the corruption of the understanding and the heart. 
 Now, God, by giving a new heart and a new spirit, 
 removes those obstacles, and thereby, so far from 
 depriving man of freedom, on the contrary removes 
 what prevented him from acting freely, and in obe- 
 dience to the dictates of his conscience. In the lan- 
 guage of the Gospel, it renders him " free indeed," 
 (John viii. 36.) 
 
 A slight incident for a short time interrupted the 
 debate. Carlstadt (this is Eck's account) had prepared 
 different heads of argument ; and, as is done by many 
 of the orators of our day, read what he had written. 
 Eck saw in this ouly a school-boy's tactics, and ob- 
 jected. Carlstadt, embarrassed, and fearing he might 
 be taken at a disadvantage if deprived of his note- 
 book, insisted on retaining it. "Ah!" said the scho- 
 lastic doctor, quite proud of the advantage which he 
 thought he had over him, " his memory is shorter than 
 mine." Tiie point having been submitted to arbiters, it 
 was decided that quotations from the Fathers might 
 be read; but that in other respects the discussion 
 should be extempore. 
 
 This first part of the discussion often met with inter- 
 ruption from the audience. They ruffed and screamed. 
 Any proposition offensive to the ears of the majority 
 instantly aroused their clamour, and then, as in our 
 day, it was necessary to call to order. The disputants 
 also occasionally allowed themselves to be carried 
 away in the heat of discussion. 
 
 Melancthon sat near Luther, and attracted almost 
 equal attention. He was of short stature, and would 
 scarcely have been thought more than eighteen. 
 Luther, who was a whole head taller, seemed to be 
 united to him by the closest friendship ; they came in, 
 went out, and walked together. " To look at Melanc- 
 thon," says a Swiss theologian,' who studied at Wit- 
 temberg, " oue would think him a mere boy ; but iu 
 judgment, learning, and talent, he is a giant. It is 
 difficult to comprehend how so much wisdom and genius 
 can be contained within so puny a body." Between 
 the sittings, Melancthon conferred with Carlstadt and 
 Luther. He assisted them iu preparing for the debate, 
 and suggested arguments drawn from the stores of his 
 vast erudition ; but during the discussion he remained 
 quietly seated among the spectators, giving close atten- 
 tion to everything that was said by the theologians. 
 Occasionally, however, he came to the aid of Carlstadt. 
 When the latter was on the point of giving way under 
 the powerful declamation of the chancellor of Ingol- 
 stadt, the young professor whispered a word in his ear, 
 or slipt a paper to him on which he had noted down 
 the answer. Eck on one occasion perceived this, and 
 indignant that this grammarian, as he called him, 
 should presume to intermeddle with the discussion, 
 tiu'ned towai'ds him, and haughtily said : "Be silent, 
 Philip ; keep to your own studies, and give me no dis- 
 turbance." Perhaps Eck had already a presentiment 
 of the formidable adversary he was afterwards to en- 
 counter in this young man. Luther was offended at 
 the rude insult given to his friend : " The judgment of 
 Philip," said he, " weighs more with me than that of 
 a thousand Doctor Ecks." 
 
 The calm Melancthon easily discerned the weak 
 points of this discussion. " We can only be surprised," 
 says he, with the wisdom and grace conspicuous in all 
 his words, " when we think of the violence which was 
 brought to the discussion of such subjects. How could 
 any advantage be derived from it? The Spirit of 
 God loves retreat and silence : there dwell those whose 
 hearts He penetrates. The bride of Christ does not 
 stand in streets and public places, but conducts the 
 Bridegroom into her mother's house." 
 
 Both parties claimed the victory. Eck employed all 
 his address to make it appear that he had gained it. 
 As the points of divergence almost met, he often ex- 
 claimed that he had brought over his opponent to his 
 opinion ; or like a new Proteus, as Luther calls him, 
 turning suddenly round, he stated Carlstadt's own 
 opinion in different words, and then asked, with an air 
 of triumph, if he did not feel constrained to yield. 
 The unskilful, who were unable to detect the sophist's 
 manoeuvre, applauded and triumphed with him. . . ■ 
 In several respects the match was unequal. Carlstadt 
 was slow, and sometimes left his opponent's objections 
 unanswered till next day. Eck, on the contrary, was 
 master of his subject, and could lay his hand at once 
 on whatever he required. He came forward with a 
 haughty air, mounted his desk with a firm- step, and 
 when there, stamped with his foot, moved backwards 
 and forwards, made the ceiling ring with his powerful 
 voice, gave some sort of reply to every argument, and 
 astonished the audience with his memory and adroit- 
 
 1 John Kcssler, atterwaids rcfoniier of St. Gall. 
 
LUTHER'S SERMON BEFORE DUKE GEORGE. 
 
 143 
 
 ucss. Still Eck, without perceiving it, conceded much 
 more in the discussion than ho Imd intended. His 
 jjiirtizans shouted and laughed at each of his turns ; 
 " but," says Luther, " I strongly suspect they only 
 made a shew of laughing, and were exceedingly vexed 
 at heart when they saw their chief, who had commenced 
 with so much bravado, quit his standard, abandon his 
 army, and become a shameless deserter." 
 
 Three or four days after the discussion had com- 
 menced, it was interrupted by the feast of St. Peter 
 and St. Paul. 
 
 The Duke of Pomerania requested Luther to preach 
 before him, on the occasion, iu his chapel. Luther 
 gladly comi)lied. The chapel was soon filled, and 
 crowds still arriving, it became necessary to remove 
 to the great hall of the castle, where the discussion 
 was held. Luther preached from the text of the day, 
 on the grace of God, and the power of Peter; and 
 gave a popular exposition of the views which he was 
 wont to maintain before a learned audience. Chris- 
 tianity causes the light of truth to penetrate alike into 
 the highest and the humblest intellects, and is in this 
 way distinguished from all other religions, and from 
 all philosophical systems. The theologians of Leipsic, 
 who had been present at the sermon, hastened to 
 acquaint Eck with the expressions which had offended 
 them. " These subtle erroi-s," exclaimed they, " must 
 be answered — must be publicly refuted." This was just 
 what Eck wished. AH the churches were open to 
 him ; and on four successive occasions he mounted the 
 pulpit to declaim against Luther and his sermon. 
 Luther's friends were indignant, and demanded that 
 the theologian of AVittemberg should he heard in his 
 turn. But they demanded in vain. The pulpits were 
 open to the enemies of ev.angelical truth ; but shut 
 against those who proclaimed it. "I kept silence," 
 says Luther, " and was obliged to submit to attacks, 
 insults, and calumnies, without being able to exculpate 
 and defend myself." 
 
 The ecclesiastics were not the only persons who 
 displayed hostility to the evangelical doctrine: the 
 citizens of Leipsic were, in this respect, of one mind 
 with their clergy, and yielded themselves up with blind 
 fanaticism to the falsehoods and animosities which 
 were industriously propagated. The principal inhabi- 
 tants did not visit either Luther oi Carlstadt. They 
 left them unnoticed when they met them in the street, 
 and tried to prejudice the duke against them. On the 
 other hand, they visited and gave daily entertainments 
 to the doctor of Ingolstadt, who enjoyed their good 
 cheer, and learnedly discussed the compai-ative merits 
 of Saxony and Bavarian beer. His manners, some- 
 what free, did not indicate a very strict morality. The 
 only thing offered to Luther was the customary pre- 
 sent of wine to the disputants. Moreover, even those 
 who wished him well were anxious that others should 
 not know it ; several Nicodemites visited him by night 
 or in secret. There were only two who did themselves 
 honour by publicly decKaring their friendship. These 
 were Dr. Auerbach, whom we have already met at 
 Augsburg, and Dr. Pistor, junior. 
 
 The greatest excitement prevailed in the town. The 
 two parties formed, as it were, two hostile camps, and 
 sometimes came to blows. In taverns, frequent quar- 
 
 rels took place between the students of Leipsic and 
 "Wittemberg. It was openly averred, even at meetings 
 of the clergy, that Luther carried about with him a 
 devil, confined in a little box. " Whether the devil is 
 in a box, or only under his frock," said Eck, mali- 
 ciously, " I know not ; but most assuredly he is in one 
 or other of them." 
 
 During the discussion, several doctors of both parties 
 lodged with the printer Ilerbipolis ; and the dispute 
 ran so high, that the host was obliged to station a 
 town-officer at the top of the table with a halbert to 
 keep the peace, and prevent the guests from coming to 
 blows. One day, Baumgartner, a vender of indul- 
 gences, had a scuffle with a gentleman, a friend of 
 Luther, and fell into such a rage that he dropt down 
 dead. Eroschel, who gives the account, says : " I was 
 one of those who carried him to the grave." The 
 general agitation which prevailed was thus manifested. 
 Then, as now, the discourses of the desk were re- 
 echoed iu the drawing-room and in the streets. 
 
 Duke George, though very decidedly in favour of 
 Eck, did not betray so much passion as his subjects. 
 He invited Eck, Luther, and Carlstadt, to dine together 
 with him. He even asked Luther to pay him a visit 
 in private ; but soon shewed how strongly he was 
 prejudiced against him. "By your book on the Lord's 
 Prayer," said the duke to him, with bitterness, " you 
 have led many consciences astray. There are persons 
 who complain of not having been able to say one pater 
 for more than four days." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Hierarchy and Rationalism— Two Peasants" Sons— Eck and Luther begin— 
 The Head of the Church — The Primacy of Rome — Equality of Bishops 
 — Peter the Foundation — Christ tlic Foundation — Eclc insinuates that 
 Lutlier is a Hussite— Lutlier on the doctrine of Huss— Agitation in the 
 audience— Pleasantry of Dr. Eck— The Word alone— The Court Fool- 
 Luther at Mas5— Saying of the Duke— Purgatory— Close of the Discussion. 
 
 On the 4th of July the debate between Eck and Luther 
 commenced. Everything announced that it would be 
 keener, more decisive, and more interesting than that 
 which had just been conclnded, and during which the 
 audience had gradually thinned away. The two an- 
 tagonists descended into the arena, resolved not to lay 
 down their arras till victory should declare in favour of 
 one of them. All w-ere in eager expectation, for the 
 subject to be debated was the primacy of the pope. 
 Christianity has two great adversaries — hierarchism 
 and rationalism. Katioualism, as applied to the doc- 
 trine of man's natural powers, had been attacked by 
 the Eeformation in the former branch of the Leipsic 
 discussion. Hierarchism, viewed with reference to 
 ■what is at once its apex and its base, — \iz., the doc- 
 trine of the pope, — was now to be considered. On the 
 one side appeared Eck, boasting of the debates in which 
 he had been engaged, as a general boasts of his battles. 
 On the other side stood Luther, to whom the contest 
 seemed to promise only persecution and obloquy; but 
 
HISTORY or THE REFORMATION. 
 
 who came forward with a good conscience, a firm reso- 
 lution to sacrifice everything for the cause of truth, 
 and a confident expectation, founded on faith in God 
 and the deliverance which He affords. New convic- 
 tions had sunk deep into his mind, — as yet tliey were 
 not arranged into a system ; but in the heat of debate 
 tliey flashed forth Hive lightning. Grave and intrepid, 
 he manifested a decision which set all trammels at 
 defiance. His features bore marks of the storms 
 which had raged within his soul, and of the courage 
 with which he was prepared to face new tempests. 
 Two peasants' sons — representatives of the two systems 
 which still divide Christendom — were on the eve of a 
 contest, the issue of which would go far to decide the 
 future destiny of the State and the Church. 
 
 At seven in the morning the two antagonists were 
 in their desks, in the midst of a numerous and attentive 
 assembly. 
 
 Luther rose, and, in the exercise of a necessary pre- 
 caution, modestly said : — 
 
 " In the name of the Lord ! — Amen. I declare, that 
 the respect which I feel for the sovereign pontiff would 
 have disposed me to avoid this discussion, had the ex- 
 cellent Dr. Eck left me any alternative." 
 
 Eck. — "In thy name, dear Jesus! before I descend 
 into the arena, I protest in your presence, mighty 
 lords, that whatever I shall say is under correction of 
 the first of all sees, and the master who occupies it." 
 
 After a momentary pause, Eck continued : — " There 
 is in the Church of God a primacy derived from Jesus 
 Christ himself. The Church militant is an image of 
 the Church triumphant. But the latter is a monarchical 
 hierarchy, rising step by step up to the sole head, who 
 is God ; and, accordingly, Christ has established the 
 same gradation upon earth. "What kind of monster 
 should the Church be if she were without a 
 head ! " . . . 
 
 Luther, (turniiiff toirnnh the audience.) — "The doctor 
 is correct in saying that the universal Church must 
 have a head. If there is any one here who maintains 
 the contrary, let him stand up ! — the remark does not 
 at all apply to me." 
 
 Eck. — " If the Church militant has never been with- 
 out a monarch, I should like to know who that monarch 
 is, if he is not the pontiff of Eome?" 
 
 Lutlier. — "Tho head of the Church militant is not a 
 man, but Jesus Clirist himself. This I believe on the 
 testimony of God. Christ (says the Scripture) must 
 reiffii until He has put all His enemies under His feet. 
 AYe cannot, therefore, listen to those who would con- 
 fine Christ to the Church triumphant in heaven. His 
 reign is a reign of faith. We cannot see our Head, 
 and yet we have Him." 
 
 Eck, not admitting that he was beaten, had recourse 
 to other arguments, and resumed : " According to St. 
 Cyprian, sacerdotal unity is derived from Rome." 
 
 Luther. — " Granted in regard to the Western Church. 
 But is not the Church of Rome herself a descendant of 
 the Church of Jerusalem, which is properly the mother 
 and nurse of all the churches?" 
 
 Eck. — " St. Jerome declares, that unless an extraor- 
 dinary power, superior to all other powers, is given to 
 the pope, churches will have as many schisms as 
 pontiffs." 
 
 Luther. — " Granted : that is to say, this power might, 
 by human authority, be attributed to the Roman pon- 
 tiff, provided all the faithful consent to it. And, in 
 like manner, I, for my part, deny not that if all the 
 faithful throughout the world were to concur in 
 acknowledging the bishop, either of Rome, or of Paris, 
 or of Magdebourg, as prime and sovereign pontiff, it 
 would be necessary to acknowledge him as such in 
 deference to this universal consent of the Church. 
 The thing, however, never has been, and never will be 
 seen. Even in our own day does not the Greek Church 
 refuse her assent to Rome!" 
 
 At this period Luther was quite ready to acknow- 
 ledge the pope as first magistrate of the Church, elected 
 by her own free choice ; but he denied that he was of 
 Divine institution. At a later period, he denied that 
 subjection was due to him in any respect ; and this 
 denial he owed to the discussion at Leipsic. Eck had 
 come upon ground which he did not know so thoroughly 
 as Luther. The latter, it is true, could not maintain 
 his theses, that the papacy had not been in existence 
 for more than four centuries. Eck quoted iiuthorities 
 of an earlier date ; and these Luther was unable to 
 obviate, criticism not having yet attacked th'j spurious 
 decretals. But the nearer the discussion was brought 
 to primitive times, the more Luther's strength increased. 
 Eck appealed to the Fathers. Luther quoted the 
 Fathers in reply ; and all the hearers were struck with 
 his superiority to his rival. 
 
 " That my exposition," said he, "is that of St. Jerome, 
 I prove by St. Jerome's own Epistle to Evagrius, in 
 which he says : ' Every bishop, whether at Rome, or 
 Eugubium, or Constantinople, or Rhegiura, or Alex- 
 andria, or Tanis, has the same merit, and the same 
 priesthood. The power of riches, and the humiliation 
 of poverty, constitute the only precedence or inferiority 
 among bishops.'" 
 
 From the writings of the Fathers, Luther passed to 
 the decrees of councils, which regard the bishop of 
 Rome as only a first among equals. 
 
 " AVe read," says he, " in the decree of the Council 
 of Africa : ' The bishop of the first see must not be 
 called either prince of the pontiffs, or sovereign pontiff, 
 or any other similar name ; but only bishop of the first 
 see.' Were the supremacy of the bishop of Rome of 
 Divine institution, would not these words be heretical?" 
 Eck replied by one of those subtle distinctions which 
 were so familiar to him. 
 
 " The bishop of Rome, if you will so have it, is not 
 universal bishop, but bishop of the universal Churcli." 
 Luther. — " I am quite willing to leave this reply un- 
 answered : let our hearers judge for themselves." 
 
 "Assuredly," said he, afterwards, "the gloss is 
 worthy of a theologian, and well fitted to satisfy a 
 disputant thirsting for glory. My expensive sojourn 
 in Leipsic has not been for nothing, since I have 
 learned that the pope, though not indeed the universal 
 bishop, is the bishop of the universal Church." 
 
 Eck. — "Very well, I come to the essential point. 
 The venerable doctor calls upon me to prove that the 
 primacy of the Church of Rome is of Divine institution. 
 I prove it by these words of Christ : Tliou art Peter, 
 and on this rock I will build my Church. St. Augustine, 
 in one of his epistles, has thus expounded the passage : 
 
THE FOUNDATION-STONE. 
 
 ' Tliou art Peter, and upon this rock — tliat is to say, 
 on this Peter — I will build my Church.' It is true, 
 Augustine has elsewhere said, that by this rock must 
 be understood Christ himself ; but he never retracted 
 his former exposition." 
 
 Luther. — '• If the reverend doctor would attack me, 
 he should first reconcile these contraiy statements of 
 Au;rustine. It is undeniable that St. Augustine has, 
 again and again, said that the rock was Chrst; and he 
 niaj', perhaps, have once said that it was Peter himself. 
 ]5ut even should St. Augustine and all the Fathers say 
 that the apostle is the rock of which Christ speaks, I 
 would combat their view on the authority of an apostle, 
 — in other words. Divine authority; for it is written: 
 i\o other fuiiiidatinH am any nuin lay than that is laid, 
 namely, Jesus Christ, Peter himself calls Christ the 
 chief and corner-stone, on which ire arc built up a spiritual 
 house." 
 
 Ed;. — '■! am astonished at the humility and mo- 
 desty with which the reverend doctor undertakes single- 
 handed to combat so many distinguished Fathers, and 
 to know better than sovereign pontiffs, councils, doc- 
 tors, and universities. . . . It would, certainly, be 
 astonishing that (lod should have concealed the truth 
 from SI) nuuiy saints and martyrs . . . and not 
 revealed it \nitil the advent of the reverend father!" 
 
 Luther. — " The Fathers are not against me. The 
 distinguished doctors, St. Augustine and St. Ambrose, 
 spoak as 1 do. Super isto articulo Jidei, fundata est 
 Kcclesia, says St. Ambrose, when explaining what 
 must be understood by the rock on which the Church 
 is built. Let my opponent, then, bridle his tongue. 
 To express himself as he does, is to stir up strife, not 
 to discuss like a true doctor." 
 
 Eck had not expected that his opponent would 
 possess so much knowledge of the subject, and be able 
 to disentangle himself from the labyrinth in which he 
 tried to bewilder him. "The reverend doctor," said 
 he, " has entered the lists after carefully studying his 
 subject. Your highnesses will excuse me for not pre- 
 senting them with such exact researches. I came to 
 debate, and not to make a book." Eck was astonished, 
 but not beaten. Having no more arguments to give, 
 he had recourse to a mean and despicable artifice, 
 which, if it did not vanquish his opponent, would at 
 least subject him to great embarrassment. If the 
 charge of being a Bohemian, a heretic, a Hussite, 
 fastens upon Luther, he is vanquished — for the Bohe- 
 mians were detested in the Chiuxh. The scene of 
 discussion was not far from the frontiers of Bohemia. 
 Saxony, which, immediately after the condemnation of 
 John IIuss by the Council of' Constance, had been 
 subjected to all the horrors of a long and ruinous war, 
 was proud of the resistance which she had then given 
 to the Hussites. The university of Leipsic had been 
 founded to oppose their tenets ; and the discussion was 
 in presence of nobles, princes, and citizens, whose 
 fathers had fallen in that celebrated struggle. To 
 make out that Luther was at one with IIuss, was 
 almost like giving him the finishing blow ; and this 
 w.as the stratagem to which tlie doctor of Ingolstadt 
 had recourse. " From primitive times downwards," 
 says he, " it was acknowledged by all good Christians 
 that the Church of Kome holds its primacy of Jesus 
 
 Christ himself, and not of man. I must confess, how- 
 ever, that the Bohemians, while obstinately defending 
 their errors, attacked this doctrine. The venerable 
 father must pardon me if I am an enemy of the Bohe- 
 mians, because they are the enemies of the Church, and 
 if tlie present discussion has reminded me of these 
 heretics; for, . . . according to my weak judgment, 
 . . . the conclusions to which the doctor has come, 
 are all in favour of their errors. It is even aflirined 
 that the Hussites loudly boast of this." 
 
 Eck had calculated well. All his partizans received 
 the insinuation with acclamation, and an expression of 
 applause was general throughout the audience. "These 
 slanders," said the reformer at a later period, " tickled 
 their fancy much more agreeably than the discussion 
 itself." 
 
 Luther. — "I love not a schism, and I never shall. 
 Since the Bohemians, of their own authority, separate 
 from our unity, they do wrong, even were Divine 
 authority decisive in favour of their doctrine ; for at 
 the head of all Divine authority is charity and the 
 unity of the Spirit. 
 
 It was at the morning sitting, on the otii July, that 
 Luther thus expressed himself. Shortly after, the 
 meeting adjourned for dinner. Luther felt uneasy. 
 Had he not gone too far in thus condemning the 
 Christians of Bohemia? Have they not maintained 
 the doctrine which Luther is maintaining at this hour 1 
 He sees all the difficulty of the stop before him. Will 
 he declare against the council which condemned John 
 Huss, or will he abjure the grand idea of an universal 
 Christian Church, — an idea deeply imprinted on his 
 mind? Eesolute Luther hesitated not. "I must do 
 my duty, come what may." Accordingly, when the 
 assembly again met at two o'clock, he rose and said 
 firmly : — 
 
 " Certain of the tenets of John Huss and the Bohe- 
 mians are perfectly orthodox. This much is certain. 
 For instance, 'that there is only one universal Church;' 
 and again, ' that it is not necessary to salvation to 
 believe the Roman Church superior to others.' Whether 
 Wickliffe or Huss has said so I care not. ... It 
 is the truth." 
 
 This declaration of Luther produced an immense 
 sensation in the audience. The abhorred names of 
 Huss and Wickliffe, pronounced with eulogium by a 
 monk in the heart of a Catholic assembly ! . . . 
 A general murmur was heard. Duke George himself 
 felt as much alarmed as if he had actually seen the 
 standard of civil war, which had so long desolated the 
 states of his maternal ancestors, imfurled in Saxony. 
 Unable to conceal his emotion, he struck his thigh, 
 shook his head, and exclaimed, loud enough to be 
 heard by the whole assembly, " Tlie man is mad ! " 
 The whole audience was extremely excited. They 
 rose to their feet, and every one kept talking to his 
 neighbour. Those who had fallen asleep, awoke. 
 Luther's opponents expressed their exultation, while 
 his friends were greatly embarrassed. Several persons, 
 who till then had listened to him with pleasure, began 
 to doubt his orthodoxy. The impression produced upon 
 the mind of the duke by this declaration was never 
 effaced ; from this moment he looked upon the reformer 
 with an unfavourable eye, and became his enemy. 
 
HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Luther was uot intimidated by this explosiou of dis- 
 approbation. One of his leading argiuneuts was, that 
 tlio Greeks had never recognized the pope, and yet had 
 never been declared heretics ; that the Greek Church 
 had subsisted, was subsisting, and would subsist, with- 
 out the pope, and was a Church of Christ as much as 
 the Church of Rome. Eck, on the contrary, boldly 
 aftirmed that the Christian Church and the Eomau 
 Church were one and the same ; that the Greeks and 
 Orientals, by abandoning the Church, had also aban- 
 doned Christian faith, and unquestionably were here- 
 tics. — "What!" exclaimed Luther, "are not Gregory 
 of Nanzianzen, Basil tiie Great, Epiphauius, Chrysos- 
 tom, and uu immense number of other Greek bishops 
 in bliss? and yet they did not believe that the Church 
 of Rome was superior to other churches! . . . 
 It is not in the power of the pontiff of Rome to make 
 new articles of faith. The Christian believer has no 
 other authority tlum the Holy Scriptures — they alone 
 constitute Jjiniif I, in: I pray the illustrious doctor to 
 admit tliitt the iKuiiift's of Rome were men, and have 
 the goodness nut to make gods of them." 
 
 Eck had recourse to one of those witticisms which 
 at small cost give a little air of triumph to the person 
 j employing them. 
 
 "The reverend father," says he, "not being well 
 I versed in the culinary art, makes an odd mixture of 
 I Greek saints and heretics, so that the perfume of holi- 
 I uess in the one disguises the poison in the other." 
 i Luther, {hastily intermplinfj Eck.) — "The worthy 
 
 [ doctor is impertinent. I do not hold that there is any 
 ! conununion between Christ and Belial." 
 
 Luther had taken a large step in advance. In L51G 
 and 1517, he had only attacked the discourses of the 
 venders of indulgences, and had respected the decrees 
 of the popes. At a later period he had rejected these 
 decrees, but had appealed from them to a council. 
 Now he had discarded this last authority also, declar- 
 ing that no council can establish a new article of faith, 
 or claim to be infallible. Thus, all human authorities 
 had successively fallen before him. The sand brought 
 along by the rain and the floods had disappeared ; and 
 now, for building up the ruins of the Lord's house, 
 there remained oidy the eternal rock of the AVord of 
 God. " Venerable father ! " said Eck to him, " if you 
 believe that a council, lawfully assembled, can err, you 
 ai-e to me only a heathen man and a publican." 
 
 Such were the discussions between the two doctors. 
 The audience were attentive, but occasionally began to 
 flag, and hence were pleased with any incident which 
 enlivened the scene and gave them a momentary relaxa- 
 tion. The gravest matters have their comic interludes ; 
 and so it was at Leipsic. 
 
 Duke George, according to the custom of the time, 
 liad a court fool, to whom some wags said : " Luther 
 maintains that a court fool may marry. Eck maintains 
 the contrary." On this the fool took a great dislike to 
 Eck, and, every time he came into the hall with the 
 servants of Duke George, eyed the theologian with a 
 menacing air. The Chancellor of Ingolstadt, uot dis- 
 daining to descend to pleasantry, one day shut one eye, 
 (the fool was blind of one,) and with the other began 
 to squint at the poor creature, who, in a perfect rage, 
 let fly a volley of abuse. " The whole assembly," says 
 
 Peiffer, "burst into laughter." This amusing incident 
 somewhat relieved their minds from the stretch on 
 which they had been kept. 
 
 At tlie same time, both in the town and in the 
 churches, scenes occurred wliich shewed how much the 
 partizans of Rome were horrified at Luther's bold as- 
 sertions. An outcry was raised against him, especially 
 in the convents attached to the pope. 
 
 Luther had one day walked into the church of the 
 Dominicans before liigh mass. The only persons pre- 
 sent were some monks, saying low mass at the side 
 altars. No sooner was it told in the cloister that the 
 heretic Luther was in the church, than the monks came 
 down in all haste, laid hold of the ostensoriuin, and 
 carrying it into the tabernacle, shut it up, carefully 
 watching it, lest the holy sacrament should be profaned 
 by the heretical eye of the Augustine of Wittemberg. 
 At the same time, those who were saying mass hastily 
 gathered up their articles, quitted the altar, ran across 
 the church, and took refuge in the sacristy, "just," 
 says a historian, " as if the devil had been at their 
 heels." 
 
 The discussion became the general subject of con- 
 versation. Li the inns, at the university, and the 
 court, every one gave his opinion. Duke George, 
 whatever his irritation may have been, did not obsti- 
 nately shut his ears against conviction. One day, 
 when Eck and Luther were dining with him, he inter- 
 rupted their conversation, saying : " Let the pope be 
 pope, whether by Diviue or human law ; at all events, 
 he is pope." Luther was much pleased with the ex- 
 pression. " The prince," says he, " never would have 
 uttered it if my arguments had not made some impres- 
 sion on him." 
 
 The discussion on the primacy of the pope had 
 lasted during five days. On the 8th of July, the 
 doctrine of piu-gatory was discussed, and occupied two 
 days. Luther was still a believer in the existence of 
 purgatory ; but he denied that the doctrine, as held by 
 the schoolmen and his opponent, was taught either 
 in the Scriptures or by the Fathers. "Our Doctor 
 Eck," said he, — referring to the superficial knowledge 
 of his opponent, — " has to-day run over the Holy 
 Scriptures almost without touching them, just as an 
 insect skims the water." 
 
 On the 11th July, indulgences were discussed. "It 
 was mere sport and burlesque," says Luther. " Indul- 
 gences gave way at once, and Eck was almost entirely 
 of my opinion." Eck himself said: "Had I not dis- 
 puted with Doctor Martin on the primacy of the pope, 
 I could almost agree with him." 
 
 The discussion afterwards turned on repentance, 
 absolution by the priest, and satisfactions. Eck, as 
 usual, quoted the schoolmen, the Dominicans, and the 
 canons of the pope. Luther closed the discussion with 
 these words : — 
 
 "The reverend doctor flees before the Holy Scrip- 
 tures as the devil does before the cross. For my part, 
 with all due defere'iice to the Fathers, I prefer the 
 authority of Scripture, and recommend it to our 
 judges." 
 
 This closed the debate between Eck and Luther ; 
 but Carlstadt and the doctor of Ingolstadt continued, 
 for two days longer, to discuss the subject of human 
 
ECK'S ACCOUNT OF THE DISCUSSION. 
 
 merit and good works. On tlie ICth July, llie whole 
 proceeding, after having lasted twenty days, was closed 
 by a discourse from the rector of Leipsie. Tlie mo- 
 ment the discourse was finished, tlirilling music burst 
 forth, and the whole concluded with the Te Deum. 
 
 I5ut during this solemn chant, the feelings of the 
 audience no longer were what they had been during 
 tlie Veiii Sjiiiilus. The presentiments which several 
 persons had expressed seemed to be actually realized. 
 The blows struck by the champions of the two systems 
 had made a large wuuml in tlie papacy. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Jutcrcst tM by the Laity— Lanier's Opiuion— Ailiiiisjions and Boastings ot 
 Dr. Eck— Etfccla ot tlie Discussion— Poliander—Celliuius— The Youn-; 
 Prince of Anlialt— Tlie Students of Leipsie— Craciger— Calling of Mc- 
 lancthon — Emaucipatiou of Luther. 
 
 These theological discussions, to which the wui-klly- 
 miaded of the present day would not de\otc a few 
 short moments, had been attended and listened to with 
 eagerness during twenty days, — laymen, knights, and 
 princes, taking a deep interest in them to the last. 
 Duke Barnim and Duke George, seemed particularly 
 attentive, whereas some of the theologians of Leipsie, 
 friends of Dr. Eck. slept, as an eye-witness expresses 
 it, " quite soundly." It was even necessary to awake 
 them on the adjournments, that they might not lose 
 their dinner. 
 
 Luther was the first to quit Leipsie, and next Carl- 
 stiidt. Eck remained several days after they were 
 gone. 
 
 No formal decision was given on the points discussed. 
 Every one spoke as he thought. "There was at Leip- 
 sie," says Luther, "loss of time, and no investigation 
 of truth. During the two years in which we have 
 been examining the doctrines of onr opponents, we 
 have counted all their bones. Eck, on the contrary, 
 has hardly skimmed the surface ; but he cried more in 
 one hour, than we did in two long years." 
 
 Eck, when writing privately to his friends, admitted 
 his defeat to a certain extent, though he was at no 
 loss for an explanation. '• The Witterabergers," wrote 
 he to Ilochstraten on the ■24th July, '• defeated me on 
 several points — first, because they brought books with 
 them — secondly, because they took down the debate in 
 writing, and examined it at home at their leisure — and 
 thirdly, because they were more numerous. Two doc- 
 tors, (Carlstadt and Luther) ; Lange, vicar of the 
 Augustines; two licentiates, Amsdorff, and a very arro- 
 gant nephew of Eeuchlin, (Melauc(hon); three doctors 
 of law, and several masters of arts, lent their assistance 
 both in public and pri\ate ; whereas I stood alone, 
 having nothing but a good cause fur my conijianion." 
 Eck forgot Emser, and all the doctors of Leipsie. 
 
 Though these concessions escaped Eck in familiar 
 correspondence, he acted otherwise iu public. The 
 doctor of Ingolstadt, and the theologians of Leipsie, 
 made a great noise with ivhat they called their victory. 
 
 They everywhere set false reports in circulation, while 
 all the tongues of the party reiterated their expressions 
 of self-complacency. "Eck goes about triumphing," 
 wrote Luther. There were disputes, however, in the 
 camp of Rome in regard to the laurels. — " Had we 
 not come to the help of Eck," said the theologians of 
 Leipsie, " the illustrious doctor would have been over- 
 thrown." — "The theologians of Leipsie," said Eck on 
 his jiart, "are well enough, but I had hoped too much 
 from them : I did the whole myself." — " You see," said 
 Luther to Spalatin, " how they are chanting a new 
 Iliad, and a new .^Eueid. They are kind enough to 
 make me a Hector or a Tiirnus, while Eck is their 
 Achilles or ^Ivieas. Their only doubt is, whether the 
 victory was gained by the arms of Eck, or by those of 
 Leipsie. All I can say to throw light on the matter 
 is, that Eck uniformly kept bawling, and the Leip- 
 sie divines as uniformly held their peace." 
 
 " Eck," says the elegant, clever, and sagacious Mosel- 
 lauus, "has triumphed in the estimation of those who 
 do not understand the subject, and who have grown 
 old in poring over the schoolmen ; but, in the estima- 
 tion of all men of learning, intellect, and moderation, 
 Luther and Carlstadt are the victors." 
 
 The Leipsie discussion, however, was not destined 
 to vanish into smoke. Every work which is devoutly 
 performed bears fruit. The words of Luther had pene- 
 trated the minds of his hearers with irresistible force. 
 Several of those who had daily thronged the castle hall 
 were subdued by the truth, whose leading conquests 
 were made among her most decided opponents. Even 
 Poliander, the secretary, familiar friend and disciple 
 of Eck, was gained to the Reformation, and began, iu 
 1522, to preach the Gospel at Leipsie. John Camera- 
 rins, professor of Hebrew, one of the keenest opponents 
 of the Reformation, impressed by the words of the 
 
 : mighty teacher, began to examine the Holy Scriptiwes 
 more thoroughly; and, shortly after throwing up his 
 
 I situation, came to Wittemberg to study at the feet of 
 Luther. He was afterwards pastor at Frankfort and 
 Dresden. 
 
 Among those who had taken their place on the seats 
 reserved for the court, and accompanied Duke George, 
 was George of Anhalt, a young prince, twelve years of 
 age, of a family which had distinguished itself iu the 
 wars against the Saracens. At this time he was study- 
 ing at Leipsie with his tutor. Great ardour for science, 
 and a strong attachment to truth, had already become 
 the characteristics of the illustrious young prince. He 
 was often heard to repeat the words of Solomon, False- 
 Iwud ill becomes a prince. The Leipsie discussion in- 
 spired this child with serious reflection, and with a 
 decided leaning to Luther. Some time after a bishopi-ic 
 was offered to him. His brother, and all his family, 
 with the view of raising him to high honour in the 
 Church, urged him to accept it ; but he resolutely 
 declined. Ills pious mother, who was secretly favour- 
 able to Luther, having died, he became possessed of 
 all the reformer's writings. He was cousUmt and fer- 
 vent in prayer to God, to incline his heart to the truth ; 
 and, often in the solitude of his chamber, exclaimed, 
 Avitli tears. Deal mercifully with thy servant, and teach 
 me th;/ statutes. His prayers were heard. Carried for- 
 ward by bis convictions, he fearlessly joined the ranks 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 of the fi icncls of tlie Gospel. In vain did bis gnai'dians, 
 and [niticularly Duke George, besiege him with en- 
 ticities and remonstiauces. He remained inflexible; 
 and tbe Duke, half convinced by his pupil's reasons, 
 excHmied : "I cannot answer him; still, however, I 
 Tvill keep by my Church. I am too old a dog to be 
 tiamed" We will afterwards see in this amiable 
 pi nice one of the finest characters of the Reformation, 
 one -wlio himself preached the Word of life to bis sub- 
 jects, and to whom the saying of Dion respecting tlie 
 Emperor Marcus Antoninus has been applied ' He 
 ■v\is thiougb life consistent ^Mth him^elt , he was. a 
 
 general favourite ; and Mosellanus singled him out as 
 a model to all the university. He was called Gaspard 
 Cruciger, and was originally from Leipsic. This new 
 student of Wittemberg was afterwards the friend of 
 Melancthon, and the assistant of Luther in the tran- 
 slation of the Bible. 
 
 The Leipsic discussion produced results still more 
 important, inasmuch as the theologian of the Reforma- 
 tion then received his call. Modest and silent, Melanc- 
 thon had been present at the discussion, almost without 
 taking any pait m it fill then his attention hid 
 
 CHUhCH OF ST NICHOLAS LEIPbIC 
 But Luthci'.s Words lUL-t with iii tnthu i i lit. leccp- 
 tion, especially from the students Thty felt the dit- 
 ference between the spirit and life ct the doctoi of 
 Wittemberg, and the sophistical distinctions and vain 
 speculations of the Chancellor of Ingolstadt. They 
 saw Luther founding upon the Word of God, and they 
 saw Di. Eck founding only on human traditions. The 
 effect was soon visible. The classes of the university 
 of Leipsic almost emptied after the discussion. One 
 cncumstance partly contributed to this. The plague 
 thieateued to make its appearance; but there were 
 many other universities — for example, Erfurt, or Li- 
 golstidt — to which the students might have repaired. 
 Ihe foice of truth drew them to Wittemberg, where 
 the number of the students was doubled. 
 
 Among those who removed from the one university 
 to tliL ( ihor, was a youth of sixteen, of a melancholy 
 an — \\ lio fpoke little; and often, amid the conversation 
 and _ lines of his fellow-Students, seemed absorbed by 
 lii» ow u thoughts. His parents at first thought him of 
 ■weak intellect; but they soon found him so apt to 
 Icain, and so completely engrossed by his studies, that 
 they conceived high hopes of liim. His integrity, his 
 candoui-, his modesty, and his piety, made him a 
 
 PETEr S GATE LEIPSIC 
 
 been engrossed by litei iture, but the discussion fv,e 
 him a new impulse, and gained hiiii over to theolog} . 
 Henceforth his science did homage to the Word of 
 God. He received the evangelical truth with the 
 simplicity of a child. His audience heard him expound 
 the doctrines of salvation with a grace and clearness 
 by which all were charmed. He boldly advanced in 
 this, which was to him a new career ; " for," said he, 
 " Christ will never leave His people." From this mo- 
 ment the two friends walked side by side, contending 
 for liberty and truth, — the one with the energy of 
 St. Paul, and the other with the meekness of St. John. 
 Luther has admirably expressed the difference of their 
 calling : " I was born," said he, " to enter the field of 
 battle, and contend with factions and demons. Hence 
 my writings breathe w-ar and tempest. I must root up 
 the trunks, remove the thorns and the brambles, and 
 fill up the marshes and pools. I am the sturdy wood- 
 cutter, who must clear the passacrc and level the 
 ground; but master Philip advances eahiily and : .'ftly; 
 he digs and plants; sows and >v.iiei-s joyiHi-ly, in 
 accordance with the gifts which t.iud has, with so 
 liberal a hand, bestowed upon him." 
 
LUTHER'S EMANCIPATION. 
 
 If Jlclancthon, the quiet sower, was called to (he 
 work by the discussion of Lcipsic, Luther, the hardy 
 woodcutter, felt his arm streustheucd, and liis courage 
 still more inflamed by i(. The mightiest result of 
 this discussion was produced in Luther himself. 
 "Scholastic theology," said he, "sunk entirely in my 
 cslimalion, under the triumphant jn-csidency of Dr. 
 lick." In regard to the reformer, the veil which the 
 Sciiool and the Cliurch had Inuig up in front of the 
 sanctuary was rent from top to bottom. Constrained 
 to engage in new inrpiiries, he arrived at unexpected 
 discoveries. With equal astonishment and indignation 
 he saw the evil in all its magnitude. "While poring 
 over the annals of the Church, he discovered that the 
 supremacy of IJomc had no other origin than ambition 
 on the one hand, and credulous ignorance on the other. 
 The narrow point of view under whicli he had hitherto 
 looked at the Church, was succeeded by one both 
 clearer and wider. In the Christians of Greece and 
 the East he recognized true members of the Catholic 
 Church ; and instead of a visible head, seated on the 
 banks of the Tiber, he adored, as solo head of his 
 people, that invisible and eternal Redeemer, who, ac- 
 cording to His promise, is always and in all parts of the 
 woj-ld, in the midst of those who believe in His name. 
 The Latin Church Luther no longer regarded as the 
 universal Church. The narrow barriers of Rome were 
 thrown down ; and he shouted for joy when he saw 
 the glorious domain of ,Iesus Christ stretching far 
 beyond them. Henceforth he felt that he could be a 
 nKMubcr of the Church of Christ witliout belonging to 
 the Church of the pope. In particular, the ^XTitings 
 of John IIuss made a strong inqn-ossion on him. 
 To his great surprise he discovered in them the doc- 
 trine of St. Paul and St. Augustine, — the doctrine to 
 which he had himself arrived after so many struggles. 
 '■1 believe," said he, "and, without knowing it, taught 
 all the doctrines of John IIuss. So did Staupitz. In 
 short, without suspecting it, we are all Hussites, as are 
 also St. Paul and St. Augustine. I am confounded at 
 it, and know not what to think. ... Oh what 
 dreadful judgments have not men merited from God ! 
 Evangelical truth, when imfolded, and published more 
 than a century ago, was condemned, bvn-ned, and 
 suppressed. . . . Woe ! woe to the earth ! " 
 
 Luther disengaged himself from the papacy, regard- 
 ing it with decided aversion and holy indignation. All 
 the witnesses who, in every age, had risen up against 
 Rome, came successively before him, to testify against 
 her and unveil some of her abuses or errors. " Oh, 
 darkness ! " exclaimed he. 
 
 He was not allowed to be silent as to these sad dis- 
 coveries. Tiie pride of his adversaries, their pi'eteuded 
 triumjdi, and tlic efforts which they made to extinguish 
 the light, fixed his decision. He advanced in the path 
 in which God was loading him, without any uneasiness 
 as to the result. Luther has fixed upon this as the 
 moment of his emancipation from the papal yoke. 
 "Learn by me," said he, "how difficult it is to clisen- 
 cumber oneself of errors which tlie whole world con- 
 firms by its example, and which, from long Iiabit, have 
 become a second nature. For seven years I had been 
 reading, and, with great zeal, publicly expounding the 
 Holy Scriptures, so that I had them almost entirely by 
 
 heart. I had also all the rudiments of knowledge and 
 faith in the Lord Jesus Ciirist, — that is to say, I knew 
 that we were not justified and saved by our works, but 
 by faith in Christ; and I even maintained openly, 
 that the pope is not head of the Christian Church by 
 Divine authority. And yet ... I could not sec 
 the inference, — viz., that certainly and necessarily the 
 pope is of the devil. For whatever is not of God must, 
 of necessity, be of the devil." Further on Luther 
 adds : " I no longer vent my indignation against those 
 who are still attached to the pope, since I myself, after 
 reading the Holy Scriptures so carefully, and for so 
 many years, still clung to the pope with so much 
 obstinacy." 
 
 Such were the true results of the discussion of 
 Leipsic — results far more important than the discussion 
 itself, and resembling those first successes which disci- 
 pline an army, and inflame its courage. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Eck attaclcs Melancthou— Melauctlion's defence — Interpretation of Scrip- 
 ture — Lutlier's firmness — Tlie Bohemian Brethren — Eniser — Staupitz. 
 
 EcK abandoned himself to all the intoxication of what 
 he would fain have passed off as a victory. He kept 
 tearing at Luther, and heaped accusation upon accusa- 
 tion against him. He also wrote to Frederick. Like 
 a skilful general, he wished to take advantage of the 
 confusion which always succeeds a battle, in order to 
 obtain important concessions from the prince. Pre- 
 paratory to the steps which he meant to take against 
 his opponent personally, he invoked the flames against 
 his writings, even those of them which he had not read. 
 Imploring the elector to convene a provincial council, 
 the coarse-minded doctor exclaimed: "Let us exter- 
 minate all this vermin before they multiply out of 
 measure." 
 
 Luther was not the only person against whom he 
 vented his rage. He had the inq>rudence to call 
 Melancthou into the field. Melanothon, who was in 
 terms of the greatest intimacy with the excellent 
 CEcolampadius, gave him an account of the discussion, 
 and spoke of Eck in eulogistic terms. Nevertheless, 
 the pride of the Chancellor of Ingolstadt was offended, 
 and he immediately took np the pen against this 
 " grammarian of Wittemberg, who, it is true," said he, 
 " was not ignorant of Latin and Greek, but had dared 
 to publish a letter in which he had insulted him, Dr. 
 Eck." 
 
 Melancthou replied. It is his first theological writ- 
 ing, and displays the exquisite urbanity whioh charac- 
 terized this excellent man. Laying down the funda- 
 mental principles of hermcneutics, he shews that the 
 Holy Scriptures ought not to be explained according to 
 the Fathers, but the Fathers according to the Holy 
 Scriptures. " How often," s.ays he, " did not Jerome 
 commit mistakes ! how often Augustine ! how often 
 Ambrose ! how often do they differ in opinion ! how 
 of ten do they retract their own errors ! . . . There 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 is only one volume inspired by the Spirit of heaven, 
 pure and true throughout." 
 
 " Luther," it is said, " does not follow some ambigu- 
 ous expositions of the ancients ; and why should he 
 follow them ? When he expounds the passage of St. 
 JIatthew, Thon art Peter, and upon this rock I will 
 hiiild my Church, he agrees with Origen, who by him- 
 self alone is worth a host; with Augustine in his 
 homilj'; and Ambrose in his sixth book on St. Luke; 
 to say nothing of others. What, then, you will say, 
 do the Fathers contradict each other ? Is it surprising 
 that they should? I believe in the Fathers, because I 
 believe in the Holy Scriptures. The meaning of Scrip- 
 ture is one, and simple, like heavenly truth herself. 
 We arrive at it by comparing different passages toge- 
 ther ; we deduce it from the thread and connection 
 of the discourse. There is a philosophy enjoined us 
 iu regard to the Book of God; and it is, to employ it as 
 the touchstone by which all the opinions and maxims 
 of men must be tried." 
 
 It was a long time since these great truths had been 
 so elegantly expounded. The Word of God was re- 
 stored to its proper place, and the Fathers to theirs. 
 Tiie simple method by which we ascertain the meaning 
 of Scripture was distinctly traced. The Word had 
 precedence over all the ditlieulties and the expositions 
 of the School. Melancthon furnished the answer to 
 those who, like Dr. Eck, would envelope this subject 
 in the mists of a remote antiquity. The feeble gram- 
 marian had risen up, and the broad and sturdy shoul- 
 ders of the scholastic gladiator had bent under the first 
 pressure of his arm. 
 
 The weaker Eck was, the more uoise he made ; as 
 if his rhodomontades and accusations were to secure 
 the victory which he had failed to obtain in debate. 
 The monks and all the partizans of Rome re-echoing 
 his clamour, Germany rang with invectives against 
 Luther, who, however, remained passive. " The more 
 I see my name covered with opprobrium," said he, in 
 finishing the expositions which he published on the 
 propositions of Leipsic, "the prouder I feel; the truth, 
 iu other words, Christ, must increase, but I must 
 decrease. The voice of the Bridegroom and the bride 
 delights me more than all this clamour dismays me. 
 Men are not the authors of my sufferings, and I have 
 no hatred against them. It is Satan, the prince of 
 evil, who would terrify me. But He who is in us, is 
 greater than he who is in the world. The judgment 
 of our contemporaries is bad ; that of posterity will 
 be better." 
 
 If the Leipsic discussion multiplied Luther's enemies 
 in Germany, it also increased the number of his friends 
 abroad : " What Huss was formerly in Bohemia, you, 
 O Martin, are now in Saxony," wrote the brothers of 
 Bohemia to him; "wherefore pray, and be strong 
 iu the Lord." 
 
 About this time war was declared between Luther 
 and Emser, now a professor of Leipsic. The latter 
 addressed a letter to Dr. Zach, a zealous Roman 
 Catholic of Prague, in which his professed object was 
 to disabuse the Hussites of the idea that Luther was 
 of their party. Luther could not doubt, that under the 
 semblance of defending him, the learned Leipsicker's 
 real purpose was to fasten on him a suspicion of 
 
 adhering to the Bohemian heresy ; and he resolved to 
 tear aside the veil under which his old Dresden host 
 was endeavouring to shroud his enmity. With this 
 view he published a letter addressed to the " goat 
 Emser," — Emser's arms being a goat. Luther concludes 
 with a sentiment which well delineates his own cha- 
 racter : " To love all, but fear none." 
 
 While new friends and new enemies thus appeared, 
 old friends seemed to draw off from Luther. Staupitz, 
 who had been the means of bringing the reformer out 
 of the obscurity of the cloister of Erfurt, began to 
 shew him some degree of coolness. Luther was rising 
 too high for Staupitz to follow him. " You abandon 
 me," wrote Luther to him. " The whole day I have 
 been exceedingly grieved on j'our account — like a child 
 just weaned and weeping for its mother. Last night," 
 continues the reformer, " I dreamed of you : you were 
 keeping aloof from me ; and I was sobbing and 
 shedding tears ; then you gave me your hand, and told 
 me to dry up my tears, for you would return to me." 
 
 The pacificator, Miltitz, wished to make a new 
 attempt at conciliation. But what hold can be had on 
 men while still under the excitement of the contest ? 
 His endeavours led to no result. He brought the 
 famous rose of gold ; but the elector did not even take 
 the trouble to receive it in person. Frederick knew 
 the artifices of Rome, and was not to be imposed upon. 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 Epistle to the Galatians— Christ for us— Blindness of Luther's Adversaries 
 —First Ideas on the Supper— Is tlie Sacrament Sufficient without 
 Faitli?— Luther a Boliemian — Ecli attacked — Eclc sets out for Rome. 
 
 Far from drawing back, Luther uniformly continued 
 to advance, and at this time struck one of his severest 
 blows at error, by publishing his first commentary on 
 the Epistle to the Galatians. It is true, the second 
 commentary was superior to the first ; but still, the 
 first contained a forcible exposition of the doctrine of 
 justification by faith. Every expression of the new 
 apostle was full of life ; and God employed him to 
 imbue the hearts of the people with divine knowledge. 
 " Christ gave himself for our sins," said Luther to his 
 contemporaries. " It was not silver or gold that He 
 gave for us, nor was it a man or angels. He gave 
 himself — himself, out of whom there is no true great- 
 ness ; and this incomparable treasure He gave . . . 
 for our sins. Where, now, are tliose who proudly 
 boast of the powers of our will ? where are the lessons 
 of moral philosophy? where the power and strength 
 of the law? Our sins being so great, that they cannot 
 possibly be taken away without an immense ransom, 
 shall we pretend to acquire righteousness by the energy 
 of our will, by the power of the law, and the doctrines 
 of men l What will all these cunning devices, all these 
 illusions, avail us ? Ah ! we will only cover our 
 iniquities with a spurious righteousness, and convert 
 ourselves into hypocrites, whom no worldly power 
 can save." 
 
FIRST IDEAS ON THE EUCHARIST. 
 
 But -while Lutlicr thus proves that man's only salva- 
 tion is in Christ, he also shews how this salvation 
 changes his nature, and enables him to abound in good 
 works. "The man," says he, "who has truly heard 
 the Word of Christ, and keeps it, is immediately 
 clothed with the spirit of charity. If thou lovcst him 
 who has made thee a present of twenty florins, or done 
 thee some service, or in some way given thee a proof 
 of his affection, how much more oughtcst thou to love 
 Ilim, who, on thy account, has given not silver or gold, 
 but himself, received so many wounds, endured a 
 bloody sweat, and even died for thee ; in one word, 
 who, in paying for all thy sins, has annihilated death, 
 and secured for thee a Father full of love in heaven ! 
 . . . If thou lovcst llim not, thy heart has not 
 listened to the things which He has done ; thou hast 
 not believed them ; for faith works by love." " This 
 cpislle," said Luther, in speaking of the Epistle to the 
 Galatians, '• is my epistle : I am married to it." 
 
 His ojiponents caused him to proceed at a quicker 
 pace than he would otherwise have done. At this 
 time Eck instigated the Franciscans of Juterbock to 
 make a new attack upon him ; and Luther, in his reply, 
 not satisfied with repeating what he had already taught, 
 attacked errors which he had recently discovered. " I 
 would fain know," says he, " in what part of Scripture 
 the power of canonizing saints has been given to the 
 popes ; and also what the necessity, or even the utility 
 is, of canonizing them V , . . " However," adds 
 he, ironically, " let them canonize as they will." 
 
 These new attacks of Luther remained unanswered. 
 The blindness of his enemies was as favourable to him 
 as his own courage. They passionately defended 
 secondary matters, and said not a word when they saw 
 the foundations of Roman doctrine shaking under his 
 hand. While they were eagerly defending some out- 
 works, their intrepid adversary penetrated into the 
 heart of the citadel, and there boldly planted the stand- 
 ard of truth ; and hence their astonishment when they 
 saw the fortress sapped, blazing, and falling to pieces 
 amid the flames, at the moment when they thought it 
 impregnable, and were hurling defiance at their assail- 
 ants. Thus it is that great changes are accomplished. 
 
 The sacrament of the Lord's Supper began, at this 
 time, to engage Luther's attention. He looked for it 
 in the mass, but in vain. One day, shortly after his 
 return from Leipsic, he mounted the pulpit. Let us 
 mark his words, for they are the first which he pro- 
 nounced on a subject which afterwards divided the 
 Ciiurch and the Reformation into two parties. "In 
 the holy sacrament of the altar," says he, " there are 
 three things which it is necessary to know : the sign, 
 which must be external, visible, and under a corporal 
 form ; the thing signified, which is internal, spiritual, 
 and within the mind ; and faith, which avails itself of 
 both." Had the definitions jiot been pushed further, 
 unity would not have been destroyed. 
 
 Luther continues: " It were good that the Church 
 shoiiid, by a general council, decree that both kinds 
 sliall be distributed to all the faithful ; not, however, 
 on the ground that one kind is insufficient, for faith by 
 itself would be sufiicieut." These bold words pleased 
 his audience, though some were astonished and offended, 
 and exclaimed, " This is false and scandalous." 
 
 The preacher continues : ■• There is no union closer, 
 deeper, or more inseparable than that between food 
 and the body which is nourished by it. In the sacra- 
 ment, Christ unites himself to us so closely that He 
 acts in us as if He were identified with us. Our sius 
 attack Him. His righteousness defends us." 
 
 liut Luther, not deeming it enough to expouud the 
 truth, attacks one of the most fundamental errors of 
 Rome. The Roman Church pretends that the sacra- 
 ment operates by itself, independently of the disposi- 
 tion of him who receives it. Nothing can be more 
 convenient than such an opinion, since to it both the 
 eagerness with which the sacrament is sought, and the 
 profits of the clergy, are to be ascribed. Luther attacks 
 this doctrine,' and maintains its opposite," — viz., that 
 faith and a right disposition of heart are indispensable. 
 
 This energetic protestation was destined to over- 
 throw ancient superstitions ; but, strange to say, it 
 attracted no attention. Rome overlooked what might 
 have made her scream in agonj-, and impetuously at- 
 tacked the unimportant observation which Luther 
 threw out at the commencement of his discourse, con- 
 cerning communion in two kinds. The discourse hav- 
 ing been published in December, a general cry of 
 heresy was raised. "It is just the doctrine of Prague 
 unadulterated," was the exclamation at the Court of 
 Dresden, where the sermon arrived during the Christ- 
 mas festivals. " It is written, moreover, in German, 
 in order to make it accessible to the common people." 
 The devotion of the prince was troubled, and, on the 
 third day of the festival, he wrote to his cousin Frede- 
 rick : " Since the publication of this discourse, the 
 number of persons who receive the sacrament in two 
 kinds has received an increase of 6000. Your Luther, 
 from being a professor of Wittemberg, is on the eve of 
 becoming a bishop of Prague, and an areh-hcretic." 
 . . . The cry was : " Ho was born in Bohemia, of 
 Bohemian parents ; ho was brought up at Prague, and 
 trained in the writings of Wiekliffe." 
 
 Luther judged it right to contradict these rumours 
 in a writing in which he gravely detailed his parentage. 
 " I was born at Eisleben," said he, " and was baptized 
 in St. Peter's Church. The nearest town to Bohemia 
 in which I have ever been, is Dresden." 
 
 The letter of Duke George did not prejudice the 
 elector against Luther; for a few days after, he invited 
 him to a splendid entertainment which he gave to the 
 Spanish ambassador ; and at which Luther valiantly 
 combated the minister of Charles. The elector's chaj)- 
 lain had, by his master's order, requested Luther to use 
 moderation in defending his cause. " Excessive foUy 
 displeases man," replied Luther to Spalatin; "but 
 excessive wisdom displeases God. The Gospel cannot 
 be defended without tumult and scandal. The Word 
 of God is sword, war, ruin, scandal, destruction, 
 poison ; and hence, as Amos expresses it, it presents 
 itself like a bear in the path, and a lioness in the 
 forest. I ask nothing, I demand nothing. There is 
 one greater than I who asks and demands. AVhether 
 He stands or falls, I am neither gainer nor loser." 
 
 It was obvious that faith and courage were about 
 to become more necessary to Luther than ever. Eck 
 
 1 Known by tlie name v(opi(s opci-uUim, — the work perfunnetl. 
 
 2 That of the opui opcraiUii, — the work of the perfonuer, the conimiuiicaut. 
 
152 
 
 HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 was forming projects of revenge. Instead of the 
 lam-els which he had counted on gaining, he had be- 
 come a laughing-stock to all men of intellect through- 
 out the nation. Cutting satires wore puhlishcd against 
 
 him Ltk \\ 1 cut t tla M.1} ht at 1> A.n Epistle 
 of Ignorant Canons, ivntten hy Q^cohmpadius, and 
 a comphnit igauist him, probibly by the excellent 
 Pirckheiiner of Niu-emberg, exhibiting a conibiuafion 
 
 of sarcasm and dignity of which the '-Provincial 
 Letters " of Pascal alone can give some idea. 
 
 Luther expressed his dissatisfaction with some of 
 these writings. "It is better;" said he, "to attack 
 openly than to keep barking behind a hedge." 
 
 How greatly the Chancellor of Ingolstadt had mis- 
 calculated ! His countrymen abandon him ; and he 
 prepares for a journey beyond the Alps, to invoke the 
 aid of strangers. Wlierever he goes he vents his 
 thrcatenings against Luther, Melancthon, Carlstadt, 
 and the elector himself. " From the haughtiness of 
 his expressions," says the doctor of AVittemberg, " one 
 would say he imagines himself to be God Almighty." 
 Inflamed with rage and thirsting for vengeance, Eck, 
 having, in February, 1520, published a work on the 
 primacy of St. Peter, — a work devoid of sound cri- 
 ticism, in which he maintained that this apostle, the 
 first of the popes, resided for tweuty-iive years at 
 Rome, — set out for Italy in order to receive the reward 
 of his pretended triumphs, and to forge at Rome, 
 near the papal capitol, thunders mightier than the 
 
 1 frail scholastic arms which had given way in his hands. 
 
 I Lutlicr was aware of all the dangers to which the 
 
 j journey of his antagonist would expose him ; but he 
 feared not. Spalatin, alarmed, urged him to make 
 proposals of peace. "No," replied Luther, "so long 
 as he clamours, I cannot decline the contest. I com- 
 mit the whole affair to God, and leave my bark to the 
 winds and wa\es. It is the battle of the Lord. How 
 cau it be imagined that Christ will advance His cause 
 by peace ? Did He not combat even unto death ; and 
 
 j have not all the martjTS since done the same ?" 
 
 Such was the position of the two combatants of 
 
 t Leipsic at the commencement of the year 1520. The 
 one was stirring up the whole papacy to strike a blow 
 at his rival, who, on his part, waited for war as calmly 
 as if he had been waiting for peace. The year en 
 which we are entering will see the bursting of the storm. 
 
COMPETITORS FOR THE IMPERIAL CROWN. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 THE BULL OF ItOME — 1520. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CliaracHor of jraxiniiliun— llio Competitors for the Emiiiie — Charles— 
 Framis I.— Inclination of the Ocrmaus— The Crown offered to Frede- 
 rick—Charles is Eleeled. 
 
 A NEW character was going to appear uiion the stage. 
 God saw meet to place tlie monk of Wittemberg in 
 jircseuce of the most powerful mouarch wlio Iiad 
 appeared in Christendom since Charlemagne. He 
 chose a prince in the fervid vigour of youth, to whom 
 everything presaged a reign of long duration, — a prince 
 whose sceptre extended over a considerable portion 
 both of the old and the new world ; so that, according 
 to a celebrated expression, the sun never set on his 
 vast dominions, — and opposed him to this humble Re- 
 formation, which began with the anguish and sighs of 
 a poor monk in the obscure cell of a convent at Erfurt. 
 The history of this monarch and his reign seems to 
 have been destined to give a great lesson to the world. 
 It was to shew the nothingness of all " the power of 
 man," wlien it presumes to contend with '• the weak- 
 ness of God." Had a prince, friendly to Luther, been 
 called to the empire, the success of the Reformation 
 would have been attributed to his protection. Had 
 even an emperor opposed to the new doctrine, but 
 feeble, occupied the throne, the triumphant success of 
 the work would have been accounted for by the feeble- 
 ness of the mouarch. But it was the proud conqueror 
 of Pavia who behoved to humble his pride before the 
 l)ower of the Divine "Word, that all the world might 
 see how he, who had found it easy to drag Francis I. 
 a captive to Madrid, was compelled to lower his sword 
 before the son of a poor miner. 
 
 The Emperor Maximilian was dead, and the electors 
 had met at Frankfort to give him a successor. In the 
 circumstances in which Europe was placed, this elec- 
 tion was of vast importance, and was regarded with 
 deep interest by all Christendom. Maximilian had 
 not been a great prince ; but his memory was dear 
 to the people, who took a pleasure in remembering 
 liis presence of mind and good-humoured affability. 
 Luther often talked of him to his friends, and one day 
 related the following anecdote : — 
 
 A beggar had kept running after him asking charity, 
 and addressing him as his brother; '-for," said he, "we 
 ai-e both descended from the same father, Adam. I 
 am poor," continued he; '"but you are rich, .and it is 
 your duty to assist me." At these words the emperor 
 turned round and said to him : " Hold, there's a penny; 
 go to your other brothers, and if each gives you as 
 much, j'ou will soon be richer than I am." 
 
 The person about to be called to the empire was not 
 a good-natured Maximilian. Times were to undergo 
 a change ; ambitious potentates were competing for the 
 
 imperial throne of the West ; the reins of the empire 
 were to be seized by an energetic hand ; profound peace 
 was to be succeeded by long and bloody wars. 
 
 At the assembly of Frankfort, three kings aspired 
 to the crown of the Ciesars. A youthful prince, grand- 
 son of the last emperor, born at the opening of the 
 century, and consequently nineteen years of age, first 
 presented himself. He was named Charles, and was 
 
 (Fro... i;..- ....: ■ ..,, ;,..,..,..; 
 
 born at Ghent. His paternal grandmother, Mary, 
 daughter of Charles the Bold, had left him Flanders 
 and the rich States of Burgundy. His mother, Joan, 
 daughter of Ferdinand of Arragon and Isabella of 
 Ca.stile, and wife of Philip, son of the Emperor Maxi- 
 milian, had transmitted to him the united kingdoms of 
 Spain, Naples, and Sicily, to which Christopher Colum- 
 bus had added a new world, while the recent death of 
 his grandfather put him in possession of the hereditary 
 States of Austria. This young prince, who was en- 
 dowed with great talents, to a turn for military exer- 
 cises (in which the Dukes of Burgundy had long been 
 distinguished) — to the finesse and penetration of the 
 Italians — to the reverence for existing institutions 
 which still characterizes the house of Austria, and pro- 
 mised the papacy a firm defender, — joined a thorough 
 knowledge of public affairs, acquired under the direc- 
 tion of Chievres, having, from fifteen years of age, 
 taken part in all the deliberations of his cabinet. These 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 diversified qualities were, in a mannei-, shrouded under 
 Spanish reserve and taciturnity. In personal appear- 
 ance lie was tall in stature, and had somewhat of a 
 melancholy air. "He is pious and tranquil," said 
 Luther, " and I believe does not speak as much in a 
 year as I do in a day." Had the character of Charles 
 been formed under the influence of freedom and Chris- 
 tianity, he would, perhaps, have been one of the most 
 admirable princes on record ; but politics engrossed his 
 life, and stifled his great and good qualities. 
 
 Not contented with all the sceptres which he grasped 
 in his hand, young Charles aspired to the imperial 
 dignity. " It is like a sunbeam, which throws lustre 
 on the house which it illumines," said several ; " but put 
 forth the hand to lay hold of it and you will find 
 nothing." Charles, on the contrary, saw in it the pin- 
 nacle of all earthly grandeur, and a means of acquiring 
 a magic influence over the spirit of the nations. 
 
 Francis I. was the second of the competitors. The 
 young paladins of the court of this chivalric king were 
 incessantly representing to him that he was entitled, 
 like Charlemagne, to be the emperor of all the West; 
 and reviving the exploits of the ancient knights, to 
 attack the crescent which was menacing the empire, 
 discomfit the infidels, and recover the holy sepulchre. 
 
 " It is necessai-y," said the ambassadors of Francis 
 to the electors, — " it is necessary to prove to the dukes 
 of Austria that the imperial crown is not hereditary. 
 Besides, in existing circumstances, Germany has need, 
 not of a young man of nineteen, but of a prince who, 
 to an experienced judgment, joins talents which have 
 already been recognized. Francis will unite the arms 
 of France and Lombardy to those of Germany; and 
 make war on the Mussulmans. Sovereign of the 
 duchy of Milan, he is already a member of the imperial 
 body." These arguments the French ambassadors 
 supported by four hundred thousand crowns, which 
 they distributed in purchasing votes and in festivities ; 
 by which they endeavoured to gain over their guests. 
 
 The third competitor was Henry VIII., who, jealous 
 of the influence which the choice of the electors might 
 give to Francis or Charles, also entered the lists ; but 
 soon left his powerful rivals sole disputants for the 
 crown. 
 
 The electors were not disposed to favour either. 
 Their subjects thought they would have in Francis a 
 foreign master — and a master who might deprive the 
 electors themselves of their independence, as he had 
 lately deprived the nobles of his own dominions. As 
 to Charles, it was an ancient rule with the electors 
 not to choose a prince who was already playing an 
 important part in the empire. The pope shared in 
 these fears. He wished neither the King of Naples, 
 who was his ULighbour, nor the King of France, whose 
 enterprising spirit had filled him with alarm. " Choose 
 rather some one from amongst yourselves," was his 
 message to the electors. The Elector of Treves pro- 
 posed Frederick of Saxony; and the imperial crown 
 was laid at the feet of Luther's friend. 
 
 This choice would have obtained the approbation of 
 all Germany. Frederick's wisdom and affection for his 
 people were well known. During the revolt of Erfurt, 
 hu had been urged to take the town by assault, and 
 refused, in order to spare blood. " But it will not cost 
 
 five men." — " A single man would be too many," 
 replied the prince. The triumph of the Eeformation 
 seemed on the eve of being secured by the election of 
 its protector. Ought not Frederick to have regarded 
 the offer of the electors as a call from God himself? 
 Who could have presided better over the destinies of 
 the empire than a prince of so much wisdom ? Who 
 could have been stronger to oppose the Turks than 
 an emperor strong in faith ? The refusal of the Elector 
 of Saxony, so much laiided by historians, was perhaps 
 a fault. For the contests which afterwards tore Ger- 
 many to pieces, he is perhaps partly to blame. But it 
 is difficult to say whether Frederick deserves censure 
 for his want of faith, or honour for his humility. He 
 thought that even the safety of the empire made it his 
 duty to refuse the crown. " To save Germany," said 
 this modest and disinterested prince, " an emperor more 
 powerful than I is requisite." 
 
 The legate of Rome, seeing that the choice woidd 
 fall upon Charles, intimated that the pope withdrew 
 his objections; and, on the 28th of June, the grandson 
 of Maximilian was elected. "God," said Frederick 
 afterwards, "gave him to us in mercy and in anger." 
 The Spanish envoys sent a present of thirty thousand 
 gold florins to the Elector of Saxony, as a mark of 
 their master's gratitude ; but the prince refused it, and 
 charged his ministers not to accept of any present. 
 At the same time he secured the German liberties by 
 an engagement, to which the envoys of Charles took 
 an oath in his name. The circumstances in which the 
 latter prince encircled his head with the imperial 
 crown, seemed still better fitted than the oath to secure 
 the Germanic liberties aud the success of the Refor- 
 mation. The young prince was jealous of the laiu-els 
 which his rival, Francis I., had gained at Marignan. 
 The struggle was to be continued in Italy; and, in the 
 meantime, the Reformation would doubtless be made 
 secure. Charles left Spaiu in May, 1520, and was 
 crowned on the 22nd of October, at Aix-la-Chapelle. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Lutlicr wi-itcs to the Emperov— Luther's dangers— Instructions of Frederick 
 to the Court of Rome— Luther's Sentiments — Melauctlion's Fears— The 
 German Nobles favourable to the Reformation— Schaiunburg—SceUin- 
 gen — Ulric de Htitten — Luther's Confidence— Luther's greater Freedom 
 —Faith the source of Works— What Faith gives— Luther judging his 
 own Writings. 
 
 Luther had foreseen that the causo of the Reforma- 
 tion would soon be brought before the new emperor ; 
 and, when Charles was still at Madrid, addressed a 
 letter to him, in which he said : " If the cause which I 
 defend is worthy of being presented before the heavenly 
 Maj(!Sty, it cannot be unworthy of engaging the atten- 
 tion of a prince of this world. O Charles ! prince of 
 the kings of the earth, I cast myself as a suppliant at 
 the feet of your most serene majesty, and beseech you 
 to deign to take under the shadow of your wings, not 
 me, but the very cause of eternal truth ; for the defence 
 of which God has entrusted you with the sword." 
 
LUTHER'S DANGERS-'MELANCTHON'S FEARS. 
 
 155 
 
 The young King of Spam threw iiside this odd letter 
 from a Gerinnn monk, and returned no answer. 
 
 AVhilc Lutlicr was turning in vaiu toward Madrid, 
 the storm seemed gathering around him. Fanaticism 
 was rekiniUed in (Jermany. Ilochstratcn, indefatig- 
 able ill liis effort's at persecution, had extracted certain 
 tliescs friim Luther's writings, and obtained their con- 
 demnation by the universities of Cologne and Louvain. 
 That of Erfurt, which liad always had a grudge at 
 Luther, for having given AVittemberg the preference, 
 was on the eve of following their example. But the 
 doctor, liaving been informed of it, wrote Lange, in 
 terms so energetic that the theologians of Erfurt took 
 fright, and said nothing. Still, however, there was 
 cnougli ti) inflame the minds of men in the condemna- 
 tion pronounced by Cologne and Louvain. More than 
 this, the priests of Misuia, who had espoused Emser's 
 quarrel, said o|)enly (such is Melaucthon's statement) 
 that there would be no sin in killing Luther. "The 
 time is come," said Luther, '• when men think they 
 will do Jesus Christ service by putting us to death." 
 The murderous language of the priests did not fail of 
 its effect. 
 
 " One dnj" says a biographer, " when Luther was 
 in front of the Augustine convent, a stranger, with a 
 pistol hid under his arm, accosted him, and said, 'Why 
 do you walk about thus quite alone'?'" — "I am in the 
 hands of God," replied Luther ; " He is my strength 
 and my shield." '•Thereupon," adds the biographer, 
 '• the stranger grew pale, and fled trembling." About 
 the same time Serra-Longa, the orator of the confer- 
 ence of Augsburg, wrote to the elector : " Let not 
 Luther find any asylum in the states of your highness ; 
 but, repulsed by all, let him be stoned to death in the 
 face of heaven. This would please me more than a 
 gift of ten thousand crowns." 
 
 But the sound of the gathering storm was heard, 
 especially in the direction of Rcmic. Valentine Teutle- 
 ben, a noble of Thuringia, vicar of the Archbishop of 
 Mentz, and a zealous partizan of the papacy, was the 
 representative of the Elector of Saxony at Rome. 
 Tcutlobcn, ashamed of the protection which his master 
 gave to the heretical monk, could not bear to see his 
 mission pai'alyzcd by this imprudent conduct; and 
 imagined that, by alarming the elector, he would in- 
 duce him to abandon the rebel theologian. "Writing to 
 his master, he said : " I am not listened to, because of 
 the protection which you give to Luther." But the 
 Romans were mistaken if they thought they could 
 frighten sage Frederick. He knew that the will of 
 God and the movements of the people were more irre- 
 sistible than the decrees of the papal chancery. He 
 ordered his envoy to hint to the pope that, far from 
 defending Luther, he had always left him to defend 
 himself, — that he had, moreover, told him to quit 
 Saxony and the university, — that the doctor had de- 
 clared his readiness to obey, and would not now be in 
 the electoral states had not the legate, Charles de 
 Miltitz, begged the prince to keep him near himself, 
 from a fear that in other countries he would act with 
 still less restraint than in Saxony. Frederick did still 
 more ; he tried to enlighten Rome. " Germany," con- 
 tinues he, in his letter, " now possesses a great num- 
 ber of leai-ned men, distinguished for scholarship and 
 
 science ; the laity themselves begin to cultivate their 
 nnderslanding, and to love the Holy Scriptures. 
 Hence, there is great reason to fear that, if the equit- 
 able proposals of Doctor Luther arc not accepted, 
 peace will never be re-established. The doctrine of 
 Luther has struck its roots deep in many hearts. If, 
 instead of refuting it by passages from the Bible, an 
 attempt is made to crush him by the thunders of eccle- 
 siastical power, great scandal will be given, and perni- 
 cious and dreadful outbreaks will ensue." 
 
 The elector, having full confidence in Luther, caused 
 Teutlcben's letter to be communicated to him, and also 
 another letter from Cardinal St. George. The reformer 
 was moved on reading them. lie at once saw all the 
 dangers by which he was surrounded, and for aa 
 instant his heart sank. But it was in such moments 
 as these that his f:iilli (lisplaycd its full power. Often, 
 when feeble an.l nudy tn fall into despondency, he 
 rallied again, and sicmc^il ^iiater amid the raging of the 
 storm. He would fain have been delivered from all 
 these tri.als ; but, aware of the price that must h.ave 
 been paid for repose, he spurned it with indignation. 
 " Be silent ! " said he; " I am disposed to be so, if I am 
 allowed — that is to say, if others are silent. If any 
 one envies my situation, he is welcome to it. If any 
 one is desirous to destroy my writings, let him burn 
 them. I am ready to remain quiet, provided Gospel 
 truth is not compelled to be quiet also. I ask not a 
 cadinal's hat ; I ask neither gold, nor auglit that Rome 
 esteems. There is nothing which I will not concede, 
 provided Christians are not excluded from the way of 
 salvation. All their threatenings do not terrify — all 
 their promises cannot seduce me." 
 
 Animated by these sentiments, Luther soon resumed 
 his warlike temperament, preferring the Christian 
 combat to the calmness of solitude. One night was 
 sufficient to revive his desire of overthrowing Rome. 
 " My part is taken," wrote he next day. " I despise 
 the fury of Rome, and I despise her favour. No more 
 reconciliation, nor more communication with her for 
 ever. Let her condemn and burn my writings ! I, in 
 my turn, will condemn and publicly burn the pontifical 
 law, that nest of all heresies. The moderation which 
 I have shewn up to this hour has been useless, and I 
 have done with it I" 
 
 His friends were far from feeling equally tranquil. 
 Great alarm prevailed at Wittemberg. " We arc 
 waiting in extreme anxiety," said Melancthon. "I 
 would sooner die than be separated from Luther. Un- 
 less God come to our assistance, we perish." Writing 
 a month later, in his anxiety, he says : " Our Luther 
 still lives ; and God grant he long may; for the Roman 
 sycophants are using every means to destroy him. 
 Pray for the life of him who is sole vindicator of 
 sound theology." 
 
 These prayers were not in vain. The warnings 
 which the elector had given Rome, through his envoy, 
 were not without foundation. The word of Luther 
 had been everywhere heard, in cottages and convents, 
 at the firesides of the citizens, in the castles of nobles, 
 in academies, and in the palaces of kings. He had 
 said to Duke John of Saxony : " Let my life only have 
 contributed to the salvation of a single individual, and 
 I -will willingly consent that all my books perish." 
 
15G 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Not a single individual, but a groat multitude, had 
 fouud light iu the writiugs of the humble doctor; and 
 hence, in all quarters, there were men ready to protect 
 him. Tlic sword which was to attack him was on the 
 anvil of the Vatican ; but there wore heroes in Ger- 
 many who would interpose their bodies as his buckler. 
 At the moment when the bishops were waxing wroth, 
 when princes wore silent, when the people were await- 
 ing the result, and when the thunder was already 
 grumbling on the seven hills, God raised up the Ger- 
 man nobility, and placed them as a rampart around 
 His servant. 
 
 At this time, Sylvester of Schaumburg, one of the 
 most powerful nobles of Franconia, sent his sou to 
 AVittemberg with a letter for the reformer, in which 
 he said : " Your life is exposed to danger. If the 
 support of electors, princes, or magistrates fails you, I 
 beg of you to beware of going into Bohemia, where, 
 of old, very learned men had nmcli to suffer ; come 
 rather to me ; God willing. I shall soon have collected 
 more than a hundred gentlemen, and with their help 
 will be able to keep you free from harm." 
 
 Francis of Seckingen, the hero of his age, whose 
 intrepid courage we have already seen, loved the 
 reformer, because he found that he was worthy of love; 
 
 and also because he w-i^ hated by the monks. "My 
 person, mypropeitj, and sei vices, — all that I possess," 
 wrote he to hnn, "is at your disposal. Your wish 
 is to maintain Christian truth, and in that I am 
 ready to assist you." Ilarmuth of Cronberg spoke in 
 similar terms. Ulric von Hlitten, the poet and valiant 
 knight of the sixteenth century, ceased not to speak in 
 commendation of Luther. But how great the contrast 
 between those two mei^ ! Iliitten wrote to the refor- 
 mer : " We must have swords, bows, javelins, and 
 bullets, to destroy the fury of the devil." Luther, on 
 receiving these letters, exclaimed : " I have no wish 
 that men should have recourse to arms and carnage in 
 order to defend the Gospel. It was by the Word the 
 world was overcome — by the Word the Church has 
 been saved — and by the AVord will she be re-estab- 
 lished." " I despise not his offers," said he, on receiv- 
 
 ing the above letter from Schaumburg; "but still I 
 wish to lean on none but Christ." So spake not the 
 pontiffs of Rome when they waded in the blood of the 
 Vaudois and Albigenses. Hlitten was sensible of the 
 difference between his cause and Luther's, and accord- 
 ingly wrote with noble frankness : " I am occupied 
 with the things of man ; but you, rising to a far greater 
 height, give yourself wholly to those of God." After 
 thus writing, he set out to try, if possible, to gain over 
 Ferdinand and Charles V. to the truth. 
 
 Thus, on the one hand, Luther's enemies assail hira ; 
 and on the other, his friends rise up to defend him. 
 "My barque," says he, "floats here and there at the 
 pleasure of the winds ; . . . hope and fear reign 
 by turns ; but what matters it ? " Still his mind was 
 not uninfluenced by the marks of sympathy which he 
 received. " The Lord reigns," said he ; " and so visibly 
 as to be almost palpable." Luther saw that he was no 
 longer alone ; his words had proved faithful, and the 
 thought inspired him with new courage. Now that he 
 has other defenders prepared to brave the fury of 
 Rome, he will no longer be kept back by the fear of 
 
 FRANCIS I., 
 
 (Jjlev the Portrait h>j Titiam.) 
 
 compromising the elector. He becomes more free, and, 
 if possible, more decided. This is an important period 
 in the development of Luther's mind. Writing at this 
 time to the elector's chaplain, he says: " Rome must 
 be made aware, that though she should succeed, by 
 her menaces, iu exiling me from Wittemberg, she will 
 only damage her cause. Those who are ready to 
 defend me against the thunders of the papacy, are to 
 be found not in Bohemia, but in the heart of Ger- 
 many. If I have not yet done to my enemies all 
 that I am preiiaring for them, they must ascribe 
 it neither to my moderation nor to their tyranny; 
 but to my fear of compromising the name of the 
 elector, and the prosperity of the university of AVit- 
 temberg. Now that I have no longer any such fears. 
 
FAITH THE SOURCE OF WORKS. 
 
 I will rush witli new impetuosity ou Home aud her 
 courtiers." 
 
 Still Luther's hope was not placed on the great. He 
 had often been urged to dedicate a book to Duke John, 
 the elector's brother, but had never done it. '• I fear," 
 he had said, " that the suggestion conies from himself. 
 
 The Ilc.ly Scrlpti 
 
 sul)scr\ iout only to the 
 
 glory of (iod'.-. n i ids laid aside 
 
 his suspicions, aud di_Jii.,Ui-d liis di^cuursc on Good 
 A\^orks to Duke John. — a diacour^e in which he gives a 
 forcible exposition of the doctrine of ju-ti- 
 fication by faith — a mighty doctune \\h 
 power he rates far higher than the -\\ i 1 
 of Iliitten, the army of Seckingcn, oi th 
 protection of dukes and electors. 
 
 "'I'he first, the noblest, the subhnio t t 
 all works," says he, -'is faith in Je-»u-5 Cli 
 From this work all other works should 
 ceed; they are all the vassals of faith 
 from it alone derive their efficacy. 
 
 " If a man's own heart assures hiui lli it 
 what he is doing is agreeable to God the 
 work is good should it be merely the liftiiia 
 up of a straw; but in the absence of thi> 
 assurance the work is not good, thoiuh it 
 should be the raising of the dead. A p igan, 
 a Jew, a Turk, a sinner, can do all othti 
 works ; but to trust firmly in the Lord, and 
 feel assured of pleasing Ilim, are woiks of 
 which none are capable but the Clfisti in 
 strengtheued by gi-ace. 
 
 "A Christian, who has faith in God act-, 
 at all times, with freedom and gladne--, w hcic- 
 as the man who is not at one with God iS 
 
 fidl of cares, and is detained in thraldom ; he anx- 
 iously asks how many works he ought to do ; he runs 
 up and down interrogating this man and that man, and, 
 nowhere finding any peace, docs everything with dis- 
 satisfaction and fear. 
 
 " Hence, I have always extolled faith. But it is 
 otherwise in the world : there the essential point is to 
 have many works — works great and high, and of all 
 dimensions ; while it is a matter of indifference 
 whether or not faith animates them. Thus, men 
 build their peace, not on the good pleasui-e of God, but 
 on their own merits, — that is to say, on the sand. . . 
 (Matt. vii. 27.) 
 
 " To preach faith is, it is said, to prevent good works ; 
 but though a single man should have in himself the 
 powers of all men, or even of all creatures, the mere 
 obligation of living by faith would be a task too great 
 for him ever to accomplish. If I say to a sick person. 
 Be in health and you will have the use of your mem- 
 bers — will it be said that I forbid him to use his mem- 
 bers? Must not health precede laboin- ? The same 
 holds true in the in-eachiiig of faith ; it must be before 
 works, in order that works themselves may exist. 
 
 "Where, then, you will ask, is this faith found, and 
 how is it received ? This, indeed, is the most impor- 
 tant of all questions. Faith conies solely from Jesus 
 Christ, who is promised, and given gratuitously. 
 
 " man ! represent Christ to thyself, and consider 
 how in Ilim God manifests His mercy to thee without 
 being anticipated by any merit on thy part. In this 
 image of His grace receive the faith and assurance 
 that all thy sins arc forgiven thee. Works cannot pro- 
 duce it. it flows from the blood, the wounds, and the 
 death of Christ, Avhence it wells up in the heart. 
 Christ is the rock out of which come milk and honey. 
 (Deut. xxxii.)" 
 
 Not being able to give an account of all Luther's 
 works, we have quoted some short fragments of this 
 discourse on Good Works, on account of the opinion 
 which the reformer himself had of it. " It is in my 
 
 ym 
 
158 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFOEMATION. 
 
 judgmeat," said he, " the best work that J have pub- 
 lished." He immediately subjoins this jirofouud obser- 
 vation : " But I know that when anything I write 
 pleases myself, the infection of this bad leaven pre- 
 vents it from pleasing others." Melancthon, in send- 
 ing a copy of this discourse to a friend, thus expressed 
 I himself : " Of all Greek aud Latin authors none has 
 j come nearer the spirit of St. Paul than Luther." 
 
 CHAPTER 111. 
 
 The Papacy Attacked— Appeal to the Nobility— The Three Walls — All 
 Christians are Priests— The Magistrate's duty to Correct the Clergj' — 
 Abusis ufEojiie— Ruin of Italy— Dangers of Germany— The Pope— The 
 Ll -III,— 11.. MiiiiL, -The Marriage of Priests— Celibacy— Festivals - 
 111 I I iiiiy- The Uuiversities—The Empire— The Empe- 
 
 11 ■ I ! 1 : i: ;,„ -A Book not Published— Luther's Modesty— 
 
 But the substitution of a system of meritorious works 
 for the idea of grace and amnesty, was not the only 
 evil existing in the Church. A domineering power 
 had risen up among the liumble pastors of Christ's 
 flock. Luther must attack this usurped authority. A 
 vague and distant rumour of Eck's intrigues and suc- 
 cess at Rome awakened a warlike spirit in the reformer, 
 who, amid all his turmoil, had calmly studied the 
 origin, progress, and usurpations of the papacy. His 
 discoveries having filled him with surprise, he no longer 
 hesitated to communicate them, aud strike the blow 
 which was destined, like the rod of Moses of old, to 
 awaken a whole nation out of a lethargy, the result of 
 long bondage. Even before Rome had time to publish 
 her formidable bull, he published his declaration of 
 war. " The time of silence," exclaims he, " is past ; 
 the time for speaking has arrived. Tlie mysteries of 
 Antichrist must at length be unveiled." On the 24th 
 June, 1520, he published his famous "Appeal to his 
 Imperial Majesty and the Christian Nobility of Ger- 
 many, on the Reformation of Christianity." This work 
 ■\\as the signal of the attack which was at once to com- 
 plete the rupture and decide the victory. 
 
 " It is not from presumption," says he, at the outset 
 of this treatise, " that I, who am only one of the people, 
 undertake to address your lordships. The misery aud 
 oppression endured at this moment by all the States of 
 Christendom, and more especially by Germany, wring 
 from me a cry of distress. I must call for aid ; I must 
 see whether God will not give His Spirit to some one 
 of our countrymen, and stretch out a hand to our 
 unhappy nation. God has given us a young and gene- 
 rous prince, (the Emperor Charles V.,) and thus filled 
 our hearts with high hopes. But we, too, must, on 
 our own part, do all we can. 
 
 '• Now, the first thing necessary is, not to confide in 
 our own great strength, or our own high wisdom. 
 When any work otherwise good is begun in self-con- 
 fidence, God casts it down, and destroys it. Frederick 
 I., Frederick II., and many other emperors besides, 
 before whom the world trembled, have been trampled 
 upon by the pojies, because they trusted more to their 
 
 own strength than to God. They could not but fall. 
 In this war we have to combat the powers of hell ; and 
 our mode of conducting it must be to expect nothing 
 from the strength of human weapons — to trust humbly 
 in the Lord, and look still more to the distress of 
 Christendom than to the crimes of the wicked. It 
 may be that, by a different procedure, the work would 
 begin under more favourable appearances ; but sud- 
 denly, in the liont of the Cdiitest. foiifusiou would arise, 
 bad men -wi mill cMii^c frnrt'iil disnlri-, and the world 
 would be cleln-nl wilh bl.mil. Th.i ./ivuter the power 
 the greater the danger, Avheu thiuga are not done in the 
 fear of the Lord." 
 
 After this exordium, Luther continues : — 
 "The Romans, to guard against every species of 
 reformation, have surrounded themselves with three 
 walls. When attacked by the temporal power, they 
 denied its juiisdiction over them, and maintained the 
 superiority of the spiritual power. When tested by 
 Scripture, they replied, that none could interpret it but 
 the pope. When threatened with a council, they 
 again replied, that none but the pope could convene it. 
 " They have thus carried off from us the three rods 
 destined to chastise them, and abandoned themselves 
 to all sorts of wickedness. But now may God be our 
 help, and give us one of the trumpets which threw 
 down the walls of Jericho. Let us blow down the 
 walls of paper and straw which the Romans have built 
 around them ; and lift up the rods which punished the 
 wicked, by bringing the wiles of the devil to the light 
 of day." 
 
 Luther next commences the attack, and shakes to 
 the foundation that papal monarchy which had for ages 
 united the nations of the West into one body under 
 the scej)tre of the Roman bishop. There is no sacer- 
 dotal caste in Christianity. This truth, of which the 
 Church was so early robbed, he vigorously expounds 
 in the following terms : — 
 
 " It has been said that the pope, the bishops, the 
 priests, aud all those who people convents, form the 
 spiritual or ecclesiastical estate ; and that princes, no- 
 bles, citizens, and peasants, form the secular or lay 
 estate. This is a specious tale. But let no man be 
 alarmed. All Christians belong to the spiritual estate ; 
 and the only difference between them is in the functions 
 which they fulfil. We have all but one baptism, but one 
 faith; and these constitute tlie spirilual man. Unction, 
 tonsure, ordination, couseeiMliim. ei\iii by the pope, 
 or by a bishop, may make a li\ inMiiie. but can never 
 make a spiritual man. We are all consecrated priests 
 by baptism, as St. Peter says: 'You are a royal priest- 
 hood ; ' although all do not actually perform the offices 
 of kings and priests, because no one can assume what 
 is common to all without the common consent. But 
 if this consecration of God did not belong to us, the 
 unction of the pope could not make a single priest. If 
 teu brothers, the sons of one king, and possessing 
 equal claims to his inheritance, should choose one of 
 their number to administer for them, they would all be 
 kings, and yet only one of them would be the adminis- 
 trator of their common power. So it is in the Church. 
 Were several pious laymen banished to a desert, and 
 were they, from not having amoug them a priest con- 
 secrated by a bishop, to agree in selecting one of their 
 
ROMAN CORRUPTIOKS-THE POPE. 
 
 \:,0 
 
 number, whctlier murried or not, he would be as truly 
 a priest, as if all the bisliops of the world had conse- 
 crated him. Ill this way were Augustiue, Ambrose, 
 and Cyprian elected. 
 
 "Hence it follows, that laymen and priests, princes 
 and bishops, or, as we have said, ecclesiastics and laics, 
 have nothing to distinguish them but their functions. 
 They have all the same condition t but they have not 
 all tiie same work to perform. 
 
 '•This being so, why should not the magistrate cor- 
 rect the clergy > The secular power was api)ointed by 
 God for the punishment of the wicked and the pro- 
 tection of tlii^ LTiioil. and must be left free to act 
 throughout ('liii>iiii.lniii without respect of persons, be 
 they pope, l.i lin|,^. pri. -t-, monks, or nuns. St. Paul 
 says to all Lluistian>, /,(■/ ei-ery soul (and, conse- 
 quently, the pope also) be suiject to the hir/hef poueis ; 
 lor they bear not the sicord in rain, (Uom. xiii. 1, 4.)" 
 
 Luther, after throwing down the other two walls in 
 the same way, takes a review of all the abuses of 
 Rome. "With an elofpience of a truly popular descrip- 
 tion he exposes evils which had for ages been noto- 
 rious. Never had a nobler remonstrance been heard. 
 The assembly which Luther addresses is the Church ; 
 the i)ower whose abuses he attacks is that papacy 
 which had for ages been the oppressor of all nations; 
 and the Reformation for which he calls aloud, is des- 
 tined to exercise its powerful influence on Christen- 
 dom — all over the world, and so long as man shall 
 exist upon it. 
 
 He begins with the pope. " It is monstrous," says 
 he, " to see him who calls himself the vicar of Jesus 
 Christ displaying a magnificence unequalled by that 
 of any emperor. Is this the way in which he proves 
 his resemblance to lowly Jesus, or humble Peter ? He 
 is, it is said, the lord of the world. But Christ, whose 
 vicar he boasts to be, has said : My Iciiujdom is not of 
 this norld. Can the power of a vicegerent exceed that 
 of his prince?" . . . 
 
 Luther proceeds to depict the consequences of the 
 pai)al domination. " Do you know of what use the 
 cardinals su'e? I wiU tell you. Italy and Germany 
 have many convents, foundations, and benefices, richly 
 endowed. How could their revenues be brought to 
 Rome? . . . Cardinals were created; then on 
 tiiem cloisters and prelacies were bestowed; and at 
 this hour . . . Italy is almost a desert — the con- 
 vents are destroyed — the bishoprics devoured — the 
 towns in decay — the inhabitants corrupted — worship 
 dying out, and preaching abolished. . . . Why! 
 Because all the revenues of the churches go to Rome. 
 Never would the Turk himself have so ruined Italy." 
 
 Luther next turns to his countrymen : 
 
 " And now that they have thus sucked the blood of 
 their own country, they come into Germany. They 
 begin gently; but let us be on our guard. Germany 
 will soon become like Italy. We have already some 
 cardinals. Their thought is — before the rustic Ger- 
 mans comprehend our design they will have neither 
 bishopric, nor convent, nor benefice, nor jjenny, nor 
 farthing. Antichrist must possess the treasures of the 
 earth. Thirty or forty cardinals will be elected in a 
 single day; to one will be given Bamberg, to another 
 the duchy of AVurzbm'g, and rich benefices will be 
 
 annexed, until the churches and cities are laid desolate. 
 And then the pope will say: 'I am the vicar of Christ, 
 and the pastor of llis flocks. Let the Germans bo 
 resigned.'" 
 
 Luther's indignation rises : 
 
 " How do we Germans submit to such robbery and 
 concussion on the part of the pope ? If Franco has 
 successfully resisted, why do we allow ourselves to be 
 thus sported with and insulted ? Ah ! if they deprived 
 us of nothing but our goods. But they ravage 
 churches, plunder the sheep of Christ, abolish the 
 worship, and suppress the Word of God." 
 
 Lutiier then exposes the devices of Rome to obtain 
 money and secure tlie revenues of Germany. Annats, 
 palliums, commendams, administrations, expected fa- 
 vours, incorporations, reservations, &c., all pass in re- 
 view. Then he says : " Let us endeavour to put a 
 stop to this desolation and misery. If we would march 
 against the Turks, let us begin with the worst species 
 of them. If we hang pickpockets, and behead robbers, 
 let us not allow Roman avarice to escape — avarice, 
 which is the gi-eatest of all thieves and robbei-s ; and 
 that, too, in the name of St. Peter and Jesus Christ. 
 Who can endure it ? Who can be silent "? Is not all 
 that the pope possesses stolen ? He neither pui-chased 
 it nor inherited it from St. Peter, nor acquired it by 
 the sweat of his own brow. Where, then, did he get 
 it?" 
 
 Luther proposes remedies for all these cvik, and 
 energetically arouses the Gorman nobility to put an end 
 to Roman depredation. He next comes to the reform 
 of the pope himself. " Is it not ridiculous," says he, 
 " that the pope should pretend to be the lawful heir of 
 the empire ? Who gave it to him ? A\''as it Jesus 
 Christ, when He said : The Lings of the earth exercise 
 lordship over them ; hut it shall not he so with you / 
 (Luke xxii. 25, 2G.) How can he govern an empire, 
 and at the same time preach, pray, stuily, and take 
 care of the poor ? Jesus Cliri-t lulil His disciples 
 to carry with them gold or olnihi -. li. -uim' ihe ottice 
 of the ministry cannot be perl'oninil w ill mut freedom 
 from every other care ; yet the pope woidd govern the 
 empire, and at the same time remain pope." . . . 
 
 Luther continues to strip the sovereign pontiff of his 
 spoils. " Let the pope renounce every species of title 
 to the kingdom of Naples and Sicily. He has no more 
 right to it than I have. His possession of Bologna, 
 Imola, Ravenna, Romagna, Marche d'Ancona, &c., is 
 unjust, and contrary to the commands of Jesus Chi'ist. 
 No man, says St. Paul, who r/oeth a warfare entanyleth 
 himself li'ith the affairs of this 'life, (2 Tim. ii. 2.) And 
 the pope, who pretends to take the lead in the war of 
 the Gospel, entangles himself more with the affairs of 
 this life than any emperor or king. He must be dis- 
 encumbered of all this toil. The emperor should put a 
 Bible and a prayer-book into the hands of the pope, 
 that the pope may leave kings to govern, and devote 
 himself to preaching and prayer." 
 
 Luther is as averse to the pope's ecclesiastical power 
 in Germany iis to his temporal power in Italy. "The 
 first thing necessary is to banish from all the countries 
 of Germany the legates of the pope and the pretended 
 blessings which they sell us at the weight of gold, and 
 which are sheer imposture. They take our money; 
 
160 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 and why? for legalizing ill-gotten gain, for loosing 
 oaths, and teaching us to break faith, to sin, and go 
 dii-ect to hell. . , . Hearest then, O pope ! — not 
 pope most holy, but pope most sinful. . . . May 
 God, from His place in heaven, cast down thy throne 
 into the infernal abyss ! " 
 
 The Christian tribune pursues his course. After cit- 
 ing the pope to his bar, he cites all the abuses in the 
 Li'aiu of the papacy, and endeavours to sweep away 
 from the Church all the rubbish by which it is encum- 
 bered. He begins with the monks : 
 
 " And now I come to a lazy band, which promises 
 much, but performs little. Be not angry, dear su\s, 
 my intention is good ; what I have to say is a truth at 
 once sweet and bitter, — viz., that it is no longer neces- 
 sary to build cloistei-s for mendicant monks. Good 
 God ! we have only too many of them ; and would they 
 were all suppressed. ... To wander vagabond 
 over the count) y, never has done, and never will do 
 good." 
 
 The marriage of ecclesiastics comes next in course. 
 It is the first occasion on which Luther speaks of it : 
 
 '■ Into what a state have the clergy fallen, and how 
 many priests are burdened with women, and children, 
 and remorse, while no one comes to their assistance ! 
 Let the pope and the bishops run their course, and let 
 those who will go to perdition ; all very well ! but I am 
 resolved to unburden my conscience, and open my 
 mouth freely, however pope, bishops, and othei-s, may 
 be offended ! . . . I say, then, that according to 
 the institution of Jesus Chi-ist and the apostles, every 
 town ought to have a pastor or bishop, and that this 
 pastor may have a wife, as St. Paul writes to Timothy: 
 Let the hishop he the hmband of one vife, (1 Tim. iii. 2,) 
 and as is still iirai-ti>u(l in tli." Cw^k Cliinvh. But the 
 devil has pLT>u.i^l.-.! th.' \u.y.. a. Si. Paul trlls Timothy, 
 (1 Tim. iv. 1-.;.) to torlu.l ih.- dn-v in marry. And 
 hence evils so iiuun--ruus that it is impossible to give 
 them in detail. What is to be done i How are we to 
 save the many pastors who are blameworthy only in 
 tin's, that they live with a female, to whom they wish 
 with all their heart to be lawfully united ? Ah ! let 
 them save their conscience ! — let them take this woman 
 in lawfid wedlock, and live decently with her, not 
 troubling themselves whether it plesises or displeases 
 the pope. The salvation of your soul is of greater 
 moment than arbitrary and tyrannical laws — laws not 
 imposed by the Lord." 
 
 In this way the Reformation sought to restore purity 
 of morals within the Chiu'ch. The reformer con- 
 
 "Let feast-days be abolished, and let Sunday only 
 be kept ; or, if it is deemed proper to keep the great 
 Christian festivals, let them be celebrated in the morn- 
 ing, and let the remainder of the day be a working-day 
 as usual. For, by the ordinary mode of spending them 
 in di'inking, and gaming, and committing all sorts of 
 sins, or in mere idleness, God is offended on festivals 
 much more than on other days." 
 
 He afterwards attacks the dedioatitms of churches, 
 (which he describes as mere ia\ ( iii> ; ) and after them 
 fasts and fraternities. He lU-iir- imt mily to suppress 
 abuses, but also to put an end lu schisms. "It is 
 tune," says he, " to take the ctise of the Bohemians 
 
 into serious consideration, that hatred and envy may 
 cease, and union be again established." He proposes 
 excellent methods of conciliation, and adds : " In this 
 way must heretics be refuted by Scripture, as the 
 ancient Fathers did, and not subdued by fire. On a 
 contrary system, executioners would be the most 
 learned of all doctors. Oh ! would to God that each 
 party among us woidd shake hands with each other in 
 fraternal humility, rather than harden om-selves iu the 
 idea of our power and right ! Charity is more neces- 
 sary than the Roman papacy. I have now done what 
 was in my power. If the pope or his people oppose it, 
 they will have to give an account. The pope should 
 be ready to renounce the popedom, and all his wealth, 
 and all his honours, if he could thereby save a single 
 soul. But he would see the universe go to destruction 
 sooner than yield a hair-breadth of his usm-ped power. 
 I am clear of these things." 
 
 Luther next comes to universities and schools: 
 
 "I much fear the uuiwr.-iiir- w ill liccome wide gates 
 to hell, if due care is nut lak. ii tn i\ plain the Holy 
 Scriptures, and engrave it ou the Iiearts of the students. 
 My advice to every person is, not to place his child 
 where the Scripture does uot reign paramount. Every 
 institution in which the studies carried on lead to a 
 relaxed consideration of the Word of God, must prove 
 corrupting, — a weighty sentiment, which governments, 
 literary men, and parents in all ages, would do well 
 to ponder." 
 
 Towards the end of his address he rettirns to llie 
 empire and the empei-or : 
 
 " The popes," says he, " unable to lead the ancient 
 masters of the Roman empire at will, resolved on 
 wresting their title and theu- empire from them, and 
 giving it to us Germans. This tlivy arcoi]i|ili>li(.'(l, and 
 we have become bondmen to the ]"i|"'. I'"i- the pope 
 has possessed himself of Rome, ami Immiil the emperor 
 by oath never to I'eside iu it ; and the cuusuipiL'ace is, 
 that the emperor is the emperor of Rome without liav- 
 ing Rome. We have the name; the pope has the 
 coimtry and its cities. We have the title and the 
 insignia of empire ; the pope its treasury, power, privi- 
 leges, and freedom. The pope eats the fruit, and we 
 amuse ourselves with the husk. In this way our 
 simplicity has always been abused by the pride and 
 tyranny of the Romans. 
 
 " But now, may God, who has given us such an em- 
 pire, be om- aid ! Let us act conformably to our name, 
 our title, our insignia ; let us save our freedom, and give 
 the Romans to know, that through their hands it was 
 committed to us by God. They boast of having given 
 us an empire. Very well ! let us take what belongs to 
 us. Let the pope surrender Rome, and every part of 
 the empire that he possesses. Let liim put an end to 
 his taxes and extortions. Let him restore o.ir liberty, 
 our power, our wealth, our honour, our soul, and our 
 body. Let the empire be all that an empu-e ought to 
 be ; and let the sword of princes no longer be com- 
 pelled to lower itself before the hypocritical pretensions 
 of a pope." 
 
 In these words there is not only energy and elo- 
 quence, but also sound argument. Never did orator 
 so speak to the nobility of the empii-e, and to the 
 emperor himself. Far from being surprised that so 
 
RESULTS OF LUTHER'S ADDRESS. 
 
 161 
 
 many Germnn states rc\-olted from Rome, we should 
 rather wonder that all Germany did not proceed to the 
 banks of the Tiber, and there resume that imperial 
 power, the insignia of which the popes had imprudently 
 placed on the head of their chief. 
 
 Luther thus concludes Ills iutrepid address: 
 
 " I presume, however, that I have struck too high 
 a note, proposed many things that will appear impos- 
 sible, and been somewhat too severe on the many 
 errors which I have attacked. But what can I do? 
 Better that the world be oifended with me than God ! 
 . . . The utmost which it can take from me is life. 
 I have often offered to make peace with my opponents, 
 but, through their instrumentality, God has always 
 obliged me to speak out against them. I have still a 
 chant upon Rome in resei-ve ; and if they have an 
 itching car, I will sing it to them at full pitch. Rome ! 
 do ye understand me ?" . . . It is probable that 
 Luther here refers to a treatise on the papacy which 
 he was preparing for publication, but which never was 
 published. Rector Burkhardt, writing at this time to 
 Spenglcr, says : " There is, moreover, a short tract, 
 'De Execranda Venere Ronianorum;' but it is kept 
 in reserve." The title of the work seems to intimate 
 something which would ha^-e given great offence ; and 
 it is pleasing to think that Luther had moderation not 
 to publish it. 
 
 "If my cause is just," continues he, "it must be 
 condemned on the earth, and justified only by Ckrist 
 in heaven. Therefore let pope, bisheps, priests, 
 monks, doctors, come foi-ward, display all their zeal, and 
 give full vent to their fmy. Assiu-edly they are just 
 the people who ought to persecute the truth, as in all 
 ages they have persecuted it." 
 
 ■\\niere did this monk obtain this clear knowledge of 
 public affairs, which even the states of the empire 
 often find it so difficult to luiravel? Whence did this 
 German derive this courage, which enables him to hold 
 up liLs head among his countrymen, who had been 
 enslaved for so many ages, and deal such severe blows 
 to the papacy? By what mysterious energy is he ani- 
 mated? Does it not seem that he must have heard 
 the words which God addressed to one of ancient 
 times? — Lo! I have strengthened thy face against their 
 faces; I have made thj forehead like a diamond, and 
 harder than flint; he not, then, afraid because of them. 
 
 This exhortation, being addressed to the German 
 nobility, was soon in the hands of all those for whom 
 it was intended. It spread over Germany with incon- 
 ceivable rapidity. Luther's friends trembled; while 
 Staupitz, and those who wished to follow gentle 
 methods, thought the blow too severe. " In oiu- days," 
 replied Luther, " whatever is treated calmly falls into 
 oblivion, and nobody cares for it." At the same time 
 he displayed extraordinary simplicity and humility. 
 He was unconscious of his own powers. "I know 
 not," writes he, "what to say of myself; perhaps I am 
 the precursor of Philip (Melancthon.) Like Elias, I 
 am preparing the way for him, in spirit and in power, 
 that he may one day trouble Israel and the house of 
 Ahab." But there was no occasion to wait for any 
 other than he who ha<l appeared. The house of Ahab 
 was already shaken. The "Address to the German 
 Nobility," was published on the 26th of Jime, 1520; 
 
 and in a short time 4000 copies were sold, — a number, 
 at that period, unprecedented. The astonishment was 
 universal, and the whole people were in commotion. 
 The \'igonr, spirit, perspicuity, and noble boldness by 
 which it Wiis pervaded, made it truly a work for the 
 people, who felt that one who spoke in such terms 
 truly loved them. The confused views which many 
 wise men entertained were enlightened. All became 
 aware of the usurpations of Rome. At "Wittemberg 
 no man had any doubt whatever that the pope was 
 Antichrist. Even the elector's coiu-t, with all its 
 timidity and circumspection, did not disapprove of the 
 reformer, but only awaited the issue. The nobility 
 and the people did not even wait. The nation was 
 awakened, and, at the voice of Luther, adopted his 
 cause, and rallied around his standard. Nothing 
 could have been more advantageous to the reformer 
 than this publication. In palaces, in castles, in the 
 dwellings of the citizens, and even in cottages, all are 
 now prepared, and made proof, as it were, against the 
 sentence of condemnation which is about to fall upon 
 the prophet of the people. All Germany is on fire; 
 and the bull, come when it may, never will extinguish 
 the conflagration. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Preparations at Rome— Motives to Resist the Papacy— Eck at Rome— Eck 
 gains the Day — The Pope is the World — God produces the Separation — 
 A Swiss Priest pleads for Luther— The Roman Consistory— Preamble of 
 the Bull— Condemnation of Luther. 
 
 At Rome everything necessary for the condemnation 
 of the defender of the liberty of the Chiu-ch was 
 prepared. Men had long lived there in arrogant 
 security. The monks of Rome had long accused Leo 
 X. of devoting himself to luxury and pleasirre, and of 
 spending his whole time in hunting, theatricals, and 
 music, while the Church was crumbling to pieces. At 
 last, through the clamour of Dr. Eck, who had come 
 from Leipsic to invoke the power of the Vatican, the 
 pope, the cardinals, the monks, all Rome awoke and 
 bestirred themselves to save the papacy. 
 
 Rome, in fact, was obliged to adopt the severest 
 measures. The gauntlet had been thrown down, and 
 the combat was destined to be mortal. Luther attacked 
 not the abuses of the Roman pontificate, but the pon- 
 tificate itself. At his bidding the pope was humbly to 
 descend from his throne, and again become a simple 
 pastor or bishop on the banks of the Tiber. All the 
 dignitaries of the Roman hierarchy were required to 
 renounce their riches and worldly glory, and again be- 
 come elders or deacons of the churches of Italy. All 
 the splendour and power which had for ages dazzled 
 the West, behoved to vanish away and give place to the 
 humble and simple worship of the primitive Christians. 
 These things God could have done, and will one day 
 do; but they were not to be expected from men. 
 Even should a pope have been disinterested enough, 
 and bold enough to attempt the overthrow of the 
 ancient and sumptuous edifice of the Romish Church, 
 thousands of priests and bishops would have rushed 
 
HISTORY OP THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 forward to its support. The pope had received power 
 under the express condition of maintaining whatever 
 was entrusted to him. Eome deemed herself appointed 
 of God to govern the Church; and no wonder, therefore, 
 that she was prepared, with this view, to adopt the 
 most decisive measures. And yet, at the outset, she 
 did show hesitation. Several cardinals and the pope 
 himself were averse to severe proceedings. Leo had 
 too much sagacity not to be aware that a decision, the 
 enforcement "of which depended on the very dubious 
 inclinations of the civU power, might seriously com- 
 promise the authority of the Chm-ch. He saw, more- 
 over, that the violent methods already resorted to had 
 only increased the evil. "Is it impossible to gain 
 this Saxon monk?" asked the politicians of Eome. 
 '' Would all the power of the Chm-ch, and all the wiles 
 of Italy, be ineffectual for this purpose? Negotiation 
 must still be attempted." 
 
 Eck accordingly encountered formidable obstacles. 
 He neglected nothing to prevent what he termed 
 impious concessions. Going uj) and down Eome, he 
 gave vent to his rage, and cried for vengeance. The 
 fanatical faction of the monks having immediately 
 leagued with him, he felt strong in tliis alliance, and 
 proceeded with new corn-age to importune the pope 
 and the cardmals. According to him, all attempts at 
 concUiatiou were useless. " The idea of it," said he, 
 "is only the vain di-eam of those who slumber at a 
 distance from the scene." But he knew the danger; 
 for he had wi-estled with the audacious monk. The 
 thing necessary was to amputate the gangi-ened limb, 
 and so prevent the disease from attacking the whole 
 body. The blustering disputant of Leipsic solves ob- 
 jections one after another, and endeavom-s, but finds it 
 difficult, to persuade the pope. He wishes to save 
 Eome in spite of herself. Sparing no exertion, he 
 spent whole hours in deliberation in the cabinet of the 
 pontiff, and made application both to the com-t and the 
 cloisters, to the people and the Church. "Eck is 
 calling to the depth of depths against me," said Luther, 
 " and setting on fire the forests of Lebanon." At 
 length he succeeded. The fanatics in the councils of 
 the papacy vanquished the politicians. Leo gave way, 
 and Luther's condemnation was resolved. Eck began 
 again to breathe ; and his pride felt gi-atified by the 
 thought that his own efforts had procured the ruin of 
 his heretical rival, and thereby saved the Chm-ch. " It 
 was well," said he, " that I came to Eome at this time, 
 for little was known of Luther's errors. It will one 
 day be seen how much I have done in this cause." 
 
 No one exerted himself so much in seconding Dr. 
 Eck as the master of the sacred palace, Sylvester 
 Mazzolini de Frierio, who had just published a work, 
 in which he maintained, that not only to the pope alone 
 appertained the infallible decision of all debateable 
 points, but also that papal ascendancy was the fifth 
 monarchy of Daniel, and the only true monarchy; that 
 the pope was the prince of all ecclesiastical, and the 
 father of aU secular princes, the cliief of the world, 
 and even in substance the world itself. In another 
 writing he atfiiined, that the pope is as much superior 
 to the emperor as gold is to lead ; that the pope can 
 appoint and depose emperors and electors, establish 
 and annul x^ositive rights; and that the emperor, with 
 
 aU the laws and all the nations of Christendom, cannot 
 decide the smallest matter contrary to the pope's wUl. 
 Such was the voice wliich came forth from the palace 
 of the sovereign pontiff — such the monstrous fiction 
 which, in union with scholastic dogmas, aimed at sup- 
 pressing reviving truth. Had this fiction not been 
 immasked, as it has been, and that even by learned 
 msmbers of the Catholic Church, there would have 
 been neither true history nor true religion. The papacy 
 is not merely a lie in regard to the Bible, it is also a 
 lie in regard to the annals of nations. And hence the 
 Reformation, by destroying its fascinating power, has 
 emancipated not only the Chiu-ch, but also kings and 
 nations. The Eeformation has been desci-ibed as a 
 political work ; and in this secondary sense it truly 
 was so. 
 
 Thus God sent a spirit of delusion on the doctors of 
 Eome. The separation between truth and error must 
 now be accomplished, and it is to error that the task is 
 assigned. Had a compromise been entered into, it 
 must have been at the expense of truth ; for to mutilate 
 truth in the slightest degree, is to pave the way for her 
 complete annihilation. Like the insect which is said to 
 die on the loss of one of its antenna;, she must be com- 
 plete in aU her parts, in order to display the energy 
 which enables her to gain great and advantageous 
 victories, and propagate herself through coming ages. 
 To mingle any portion of error with truth, is to throw 
 a gi-ain of poison into a large dish of food. The grain 
 suffices to change its whole nature, and death ensues 
 slowly, it may be, but yet sm-ely. Those who defend 
 the doctrine of Christ against the attacks of its adver- 
 saries, keep as jealous an eye on its farthest outposts 
 as on the citadel itself; for the moment the enemy 
 gains any footing at all, he is on the highway to con- 
 quest. "The Eoman pontiff determined, at the period of 
 which we now treat, to rend the Chm-ch ; and the 
 fragment which remained in his hand, how splendid 
 soever it may be, in vain endeavom-s under pompous 
 ornaments to hide the deleterious principle by which it 
 is attacked. It is only where the Word of God is that 
 there is life. Luther, however great his courage was, 
 would probably have been silent had Eome been so, 
 and made some faint show of concession. But God 
 did not leave the Eeformation to depend on a weak 
 human heart. Luther was under the guidance of a 
 clearer intellect than his own. The pope was the 
 instrument in the hand of Providence to sever every 
 tie between the past and the future ; and laimch the 
 reformer on a new, unknown, and to liim micertain 
 career ; and the difficult avenues to which he would, if 
 left to himself, have been unable to find. The papal 
 bull was a writing of divorce, sent from Eome to the 
 pure Church of Jesus Christ, as personified in him who 
 was then her humble but faithful representative. And 
 the Church accepted the writing, on the imderstanding 
 that she was thenceforth to depend on none but her 
 heavenly Head. 
 
 While at Eome Luther's condemnation was urged 
 forward with so much violence, a humble priest, 
 dwelling in one of the humble towns of Helvetia, and 
 who had never had any correspondence with the refor- 
 mer, was deeply moved when he thought of the blow 
 which was aimed at him ; while even the friends of the 
 
THE PAPAL BULL. 
 
 163 
 
 Wittemberg doctor trembled iu silence, this mountaineer 
 of Switzerland resolved to employ every means to stay 
 the formidable bull. His name was Ulrich Zwingle. 
 William des Faucons, who was secretary to the papal 
 legate iu Switzerland, and managed the affairs of 
 Rome during the legate's absence, was his friend, and 
 a few days before had said to him : '• While I live you 
 may calculate on obtaining from mo everything tliat a 
 true friend can be expected to give." The Helvetian 
 priest, trusting to tliis declaration, repaired to tlic 
 Roman embassy. This, at least, may be inferred from 
 one of his letters. For himself lie had no fear of the 
 dangers to which evangelical f.iidi CNpoiJcd him, know- 
 ing that a disciple of Jesus ( In I-i mn-i always be ready 
 to sacrifice his life. "All 1 a-k ni Cliiist for myself," 
 said he to a friend to whuiu he was unbosoming his 
 solicitude on Luther's account, — '' all I ask is to be able 
 to bear like a man whatever evils await me. I am a 
 vessel of clay iu His hands. Let Him break or let 
 Him strengthen me, as seemcth to Him good." But the 
 Swiss evangelist had fears for the Christian Church, 
 shoidd this formidable blow reach the reformer; and 
 he endeavoured to persuade the representative of Rome 
 to enlighten the pope, and employ all the means in his 
 power to prevent him from launching an excommunica- 
 tion at Luther. '' The dignity of the holy see itself," 
 said he to him, " is here at stake ; for if mattei-s are 
 brought to such a point, Germany, in the height of her 
 enthusiasm for the Gospel and for its preacher, will 
 despise the pope and his anathemas." The efforts of 
 Zwingle were in vain. It appears, indeed, that when 
 he was making them, the blow had already been struck. 
 Such was the iirst occasion on which the paths of the 
 Saxon doctor and the Swiss priest met. The latter we 
 will again meet with in the course of this history, and 
 will see him gradually expanding and growing, until he 
 obtain a high standing iu the Church of the Lord. 
 
 After Luther's condemnation was at last resolved 
 upon, new difficulties arose in the consistory. The 
 theologians wished to proceed at once to fulminatiou, 
 whereas the lawyers were for beginning with a citation, 
 asking their theological colleagues : " Was not Adam 
 first cited? Adam, v/iere art thou? said the Lord. It 
 was the same with Cain, the question asked at him 
 was. Where is thy brother, Abel?" These strange argu- 
 ments, drawn from Scripture, the canonists strengthened 
 by appealing to the principles of the law of nature. 
 "The certainty of a crime," said they, "cannot deprive 
 the criminal of his right of defence." It is pleasing to 
 find a sense of justice still existing in a Roman con- 
 sistory. But these scruples did not suit the theologians, 
 who, hurried on by passion, thought only of proceeding 
 to business with despatch. It was at length agreed 
 that the doctrine of Luther should be immediately con- 
 demned, and that a period of sixty days should be 
 gi'anted to him and his adherents ; after which, provided 
 they did not retract, they should all be, ijyso facto, 
 excommunicated. De Vio, who had returned from 
 Germany in ill health, was carried to the meeting, that 
 he might not lose this little triumph, which carried 
 with it some degi-ee of consolation. Having been 
 defeated at Augsburg, he longed to be able at Rome to 
 condemn the invincible monk, before wliom his know- 
 ledge, finesse, and authority had proved imavaiUug. 
 
 Luther not being there to reply, De Vio felt himself 
 strong. A last conference, which Eck attended, was 
 held in presonce of the pope himself, in his villa at 
 Jlalliuno. On the 15th of June the sacred college 
 resolved on coudcmnation, and approved of the famous 
 bull. 
 
 "Arise, O Lord!" said the Roman pontiff, speaking 
 at this solemn moment as vicar of God and head of the 
 Church, — " arise and be judge iu tliy own cause. Re- 
 member the insults daily offered to thee by infatuated 
 men. Arise, O Peter ! — remember thy holy Roman 
 Church, the mother of all churches, and mistress of the 
 faith ! Arise, O Paul ! for here is a new Porphyry, 
 who is attacking thy doctrines, and the holy popes, our 
 predecessors ! Arise, in fine, assembly of all the saints, 
 holy Church of God, and intercede with the Almighty!" 
 
 The pope afterwards quotes as pernicious, scandalous, 
 and poisonous, forty-one propositions in which Luther 
 had expounded the holy doctrine of the Gospel. Among 
 these propositions we find the following : — 
 
 " To deny that sin remains in an infant after baptism, 
 is to trample St. Paul and our Lord Jesus Christ imder 
 foot." 
 
 " A new life is the best and noblest penance." 
 
 " To bui-n heretics is contrary to the will of the 
 Holy Spirit," &c. 
 
 " The moment this bull is published," continued the 
 pope, "it will be the duty of the bishops to make care- 
 ful search for the writings of Martin Luther, which 
 contain these errors, and to burn them publicly and 
 solemnly in presence of the clergy and laity. In regard 
 to Martin himself, good God ! what have we not done I 
 Imitating the goodness of the Almighty, we are ready, 
 even yet, to receive him into the bosom of the Church ; 
 and we give him sixty days to transmit his retractation 
 to us in a writing scaled by two prelates ; or, what ^vill 
 be more agreeable to us, to come to Rome in person, 
 that no doubt may be entertained as to his submission. 
 Meanwhile, and from this moment, he must cease to 
 preach, teach, or write, and must deliver his works to 
 the flames. If, in the space of sixty days, he do not 
 retract, we, by these presents, condemn him and his 
 adherents as public and absolute heretics." The pope 
 afterwards pronounces a multiplicity of excommunica- 
 tions, maledictions, and interdicts against Luther and 
 all his adherents, with injunctions to seize their persons 
 and send them to Rome. It is easy to conjecture what 
 the fate of these noble confessors of the Gospel would 
 have been in the dungeons of the papacy. 
 
 A thunderstorm was thus gathering over the head 
 of Luther. Some had been able to persuade themselves, 
 after Reuchlin's affau-, that the court at Rome would 
 not again make common cause with the Dominicans 
 and the Inquisitors. These, however, were again in 
 the ascendant, and the old alliance was solemnly re- 
 newed. The bull was published, and for ages the 
 mouth of Rome had never pronounced a sentence of 
 condemnation without following it up with a death- 
 blow. This murderous message was about to issue 
 from the seven hUls, and attack the Saxon monk in his 
 cloister. The moment was well chosen. There were 
 good gi-ounds for supposing that the new emperor, who, 
 for many reasons, was anxious to obtain the friendship 
 of the pope, would hasten to merit it by the sacrifice 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of an obscure monk. Leo X., tlie cardinals, and all 
 Kome, were exulting in the belief that their enemy 
 ■\vas already in their power. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Wittemberg— Melancthon— His Marriage— Catharine— Domestic Life— Bene- 
 flcenoe—GoodHumour— Christ and Antiquity— Labour— Love of Letters 
 — His Mother— ^Outbreak among the Students. 
 
 While the inhabitants of the eternal city were thus 
 agitated, more tranquil events were occurring at Wit- 
 temberg, where Melancthon was shedding a soft, but 
 brilliant light. From 1500 to 2000 hearers, who had 
 flocked from Germany, England, the Netherlands, 
 France, Italy, Hungary, and Greece, often assembled 
 around him. He was twenty-four years of age, and 
 had not taken orders. Every house in Wittemberg was 
 open to this learned and amiable young professor. 
 Foreign universities, in particular Ingolstadt, were 
 desirous to gain him ; and his Wittemberg friends 
 wished to get him married, and thereby retain him 
 among them. Luther, though he concurred in wishing 
 that his dear Philip should have a female companion, 
 declared openly that he woidd give no counsel in the 
 matter. The task was undertaken by others. The 
 young doctor was a frequent visitor of Burgomaster 
 Krapp. The burgomaster was of an ancient family, 
 and had a daughter named Catharine, remarkable for 
 the mildness of her dispositions and her great sensi- 
 bility. Melancthon was urged to ask her in marriage ; 
 but the young scholar was buried among his books, and 
 could talk of nothing else. His Greek authors and his 
 New Testament were all his delight. He combated 
 the arguments of his friends ; but at length his consent 
 was obtained, and all the arrangements having been 
 made by others, Catharine became his wife. He re- 
 ceived her with great coolness, and said, with a sigh : 
 " God has willed it ; so I must renoimce my studies 
 and my delights, to follow the wishes of my friends." 
 Still, he appreciated the good qualities of Catharine. 
 " The disposition and education of the girl," said he, 
 " are such as I might have asked God to give her : Be|m & 
 @ehs TfKfiaipono. She certainly deserved a better hus- 
 band." The matter was settled in August. The espou- 
 sals took place on the 25th of September, and the mar- 
 riage was celebrated in the end of November. Old 
 John Luther and his wife came with tlieir daughters 
 to Wittemberg on the occasion. Many learned and 
 distinguished persons were also present. 
 
 The young bride was as warm in her affection as the 
 young professor was cold. Ever full of anxiety for 
 her husband, Catharine took the alarm the moment she 
 saw him threatened with even the semblance of danger. 
 If Melancthon proposed to take any step which might 
 compromise him, she urged and entreated him to aban- 
 don it. " On one of these occasions," wrote Melanc- 
 thon, " I was obliged to yield to her weakness. . . . 
 It is our lot." How much unfaithfulness in the Church 
 has had a similar origin ! To the influence of Catha- 
 
 rine ought, perhaps, to be attributed the timidity and 
 fears with which her husband has often been reproached. 
 Catharine was as fond a mother as a wife. She gave 
 liberally to the poor. " God, leave me not in my 
 old age, when my hair shall begin to turn grey!" 
 Such was the frequent prayer of this pious and timor- 
 ous soul. Melancthon was soon won by the affection 
 of his wife. When he had tasted the pleasures of 
 domestic society, he felt how sweet they were, for he 
 was of a nature to feel them. His happiest moments 
 were beside his Catharine and her childi-en. A French 
 traveller having one day found the "preceptor of Ger- 
 many" rocking his infant with one hand, and with a 
 book in the other, started back in surprise ; but Melanc- 
 thon, without being discomposed, so warmly explained 
 to him the value of childi-en in the sight of God, that 
 the stranger loft the house (to use his own words) 
 " wiser than he had entered it." 
 
 The marriage of Melancthon gave a domestic hearth 
 to the Reformation. There was, thenceforth, in Wit- 
 temberg a family whose house was open to all those 
 whom the principle of a new life now animated. The 
 concourse of strangers was immense. Melancthon was 
 waited on for a thousand different affairs ; and his rule 
 was never to deny himself to anybody. The young 
 professor was particularly skilful in concealing his own 
 good deeds. If he had no more money, he secretly car- 
 ried his silver plate to some merchant, never hesitating 
 to part with it, provided he had the means of assisting 
 those who were in distress. " Hence," says his friend, 
 Camerarius, "it would have been impossible for him 
 to provide for his own wants, and those of his family, 
 had not a Divine and hidden blessing from time to 
 time furnished him with the means. He carried his 
 good nature to an extreme. He had some antique 
 medals of gold and silver, which were extremely curi- 
 ous. One day, when shewing them to a stranger who 
 was visiting him, Melancthon said : " Take any one of 
 them you wish." — " I wish them all," replied the stran- 
 ger. " I confess," says Philip, " I was at first offended 
 at the selfishness of the request ; however, I gave them 
 to him." Melancthon's writings had a savour of anti- 
 quity. This, however, did not prevent them from 
 exhaling the sweet savour of Christ, while it gave them 
 an inexpressible charm. There is not one of his letters 
 to his friends which does not contain some very apt 
 allusion to Homer, Plato, Cicero, and Pliny; while 
 Christ is always brought forward as his Master and 
 his God. Spalatin had asked him for an explanation 
 of our Saviour's words : Withoiit me ye can do nothing, 
 (John XV. 5.) Melancthon refers him to Luther : Cur 
 agam gestuin spectante Roscio? as Cicero expresses it; 
 and then continues : " This passage means, that we 
 must be absorbed by Christ, so that it is no longer wo 
 that act, but Christ that liveth in us. As in His per- 
 son the Divine has been incorporated with the human 
 nature, so must man be incorporated with Jesus Christ 
 by faith." 
 
 The distinguished scholar's habit was to go to bed 
 shortly after supper, and get up to his studies at two 
 or three in the morning. During these early hours his 
 best works were composed. His manuscripts usually 
 lay on his table exposed to the view of all who came 
 and went, so that several were stolen. When he had 
 
MELANCTHON'S CHARACTER AND HABITS. 
 
 a party of his friends, he asked one or other of them, 
 before tliey sat down to table, to read some short com- 
 position in prose or verse. During his journeys he was 
 always accompanied by some young persons, with whom 
 lie conversed in a manner at once instructive and 
 amusin"'. If the conversation flagged, each of them 
 had to repeat in his tin-n some passage taken from the 
 iiiu-ient poets. IIo often had recourse to irony, but 
 always tonipennl it with gi-cat gentleness. " He stings 
 and cuts," said he of himself; "but still without doing 
 any harm." 
 
 I'he acquisition of knowledge was his ruling passion. 
 The aim of his life was to diffuse literature and instruc- 
 tion. Let us not forget, that with him the first place 
 in literature was given to the Holy Scriptures, and only 
 a secondary place to the ancient C'hissios. '• My sole 
 object," said he, " is the defence of literature. MVc 
 must, by our example, inspire youth with an admiration 
 of literature, and make them love it for itself, and not 
 for the pecuniary profit which it may be made to yield. 
 The downfall of literature involves the destruction of 
 all that is good — of religion and morals — of things 
 human and divine. . . . The better a man is, the 
 more ardently does he exert himself in favoiu" of learn- 
 ing, for lie knows that the most pernicious of all pests 
 is ignorance." 
 
 Some time after his marriage, Melancthon went to 
 Bretten, in the Palatinate, accompanied by Camerarius 
 and other friends, to pay a visit to his affectionate 
 mother. On coming in sight of his native town, he 
 dismounted from his horse, threw himself on his knees, 
 and thanked God for permitting him to see it again. 
 i\Iargaret, on embracing her son, almost fainted with 
 joy. She would have had him reside at Bretten ; and 
 earnestly entreated him to continue in the faith of his 
 fathers. On this head Melancthon excused himself, 
 but with great tenderness, that he might not give 
 offence to the conscientious feelings of his mother. He 
 had great difficulty in parting with her; and whenever 
 a traveller brought him news of his native towni, he 
 rejoiced, to use his own expression, as if he had re- 
 newed the joys of his childhood. Such was the cha- 
 racter of one of the greatest instruments employed in 
 the religious Revolution of the sixteenth century. 
 
 The domestic calmness and studious activity of Wit- 
 temberg was, however, disturbed by a commotion, the 
 consequence of a ruptm-e which took place between the 
 students and the citizens. The rector betrayed great 
 weakness. One may suppose how deeply Melancthon 
 was grieved when he saw these disciples of literature 
 committing such excesses. Luther felt indignant ; and 
 had no idea of trying to gain them over by a false 
 condescension. The disgrace which these disorders 
 brought upon the university, stung him to the heart. 
 Having mounted the pulpit, he inveighed in strong 
 terms against these commotions, calling upon both 
 parties to submit to the authorities. His discourse 
 produced great irritation : " Satan," says he, " unable 
 to attack us from without, is trying to do us mischief 
 from within. Him I fear not; but I fear lest the 
 wrath of God be kindled against us for not having duly 
 received His Word. During the three last years I 
 have been thrice exposed to great danger. In 1518, 
 at Augsburg; in 1519, atLeipsic; and now, in 1520, 
 
 at Wittemberg. It is neither by wisdom nor by arms 
 that the renovation of the Church will be accomplished; 
 but by humble prayers, and by an intrepid faith, which 
 puts Jesus Christ on our side. O my friend! unite 
 your prayers to mine, that the evil spirit may not be 
 able, by means of this small spark, to kindle a vast 
 conllagiation." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Tlw Gospel in Iliily— Discourse ou Uie Ulass-Tlio Dabylonisli Cnplivity of 
 thoCUnich—UapUsm— Abolition of Vowa— Progress of th«ReforniaUou. 
 
 But fiercer combats awaited Luther. Rome was 
 brandishing the sword with which she had resolved to 
 attack the Gospel. Her threatened sentence, however, 
 so far from dispiriting the reformer, increased his cour- 
 age. The blows of this arrogant power gave him 
 little concern. He will himself give more formidable 
 blows, and thereby neutralize those of his adversaries. 
 While Transalpine consistories are fulminating their 
 anathemas against him, he will, with the sword of the 
 Gospel, pierce to the very heart of the Italian states. 
 Luther having been informed, by letters from Venice, 
 of the favoui-able reception which had been given to 
 his opinions, felt an ardent desire to carry the Gospel 
 over the Alps. Evangelists must be found to transport 
 it. " I wish," said he, '"that we had living books — I 
 mean preachers ; and that we could multiply them, and 
 afford them protection in all quarters, in order that 
 they might convey the knowledge of holy things to tha 
 people. The prince coidd not do a work more worthy 
 of him. Were the inhabitants of Italy to receive the 
 truth, ovu- cause woiUd be imassailable." It does not 
 appear that this project of Luther was realized. It is 
 true that, at a later period, evangelists, even Calvin 
 himself, sojourned for awhile in Italy ; but at this 
 time the design was not followed out. He had applied 
 to one of the great ones of the earth. Had he made 
 his appeal to men low in station, but fidl of zeal for 
 the kingdom of God, the result might have been very 
 different. The idea at this period was, that everything 
 behoved to be done by governments. The association 
 of private individuals, by which so much is now 
 accomplished in Christendom, was almost unknown. 
 
 If Luther did not succeed in his plans of spreading 
 the truth in a distant country, he Wiis only the more 
 zealous in proclaiming it himself. At this time his 
 discoui-se '-On the Holy Mass," was delivered at 
 Wittemberg. In it he inveighed against the numerous 
 sects of the Romish Church, and justly reproached it 
 with its want of unity. " The multiplicity of spu-itual 
 laws," said he, "has filled the world with sects and 
 divisions. Priests, monks, and laics, have shewn more 
 hatred of each other than subsists between Christians 
 and Tm-ks. What do I say? Priests are mortal 
 enemies of priests, and monks of monks. Each is 
 attached to his particular sect, and despises all othei-s. 
 There is an end of Christian love and imity." He then 
 attacks the idea that the miiss is a sacrifice, and has 
 auy efficacy in itself. " The best thing in every sacra- 
 ment, and consequently in the Supper, is the word and 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 promises of God. Without faith in this "Word and 
 these promises, the sacrament is dead; a body without 
 a soul, a fiagon without wine, a purse without money, 
 a type without an antitype, the letter without the 
 spirit, a casket ivithout its diamond, a scabbard with- 
 out its sword." 
 
 Luther's voice, however, was not confined to Wit- 
 temberg; and if he failed to procure missionaries to 
 carry his instructions to distant lands, God provided 
 him with a missionary of a new description. The art 
 of printing supplied the place of evangelists. The 
 press was destined to make a breach in the Roman 
 fortress. Luther had prepared a mine, the explosion 
 of wliich shook the Eoman edifice, to its very founda- 
 tions. This was his famous treatise on the " Babylonish 
 Captivity of the Church," which appeared 6th October, 
 1520. Never had man displayed such courage in such 
 critical circumstances. 
 
 In this ^vi'iting he first enumerates, with a kind of 
 ironical pride, all the advantages for which he is 
 indebted to his enemies. 
 
 ""Whether I will or not," says he, "I daily become 
 more learned, spurred on as I am by so many celebrated 
 masters. Two years ago I attacked indulgences ; but 
 with so much fear and indecision, that I am now 
 ashamed of it. But, after all, the mode of attack is 
 not to be wondered at, for I had nobody who would 
 help me to roll the stone." He returns thanks to 
 Prierio, Eck, Emser, and his other opponents, and con- 
 tinues: "I denied that the papacy was of God; but I 
 granted that it had the authority of man. Now, after 
 reading all the subtleties by which these sparks prop 
 up their idol, I know that the papacy is only the king- 
 dom of Baltylon, and the tyrannj' of the groat hunter, 
 Nimrod. I therefore beg all my friends, and all book- 
 sellers, to burn the books which I wi'Ote on this subject, 
 and to substitute for them the single proposition : ' TIte 
 napacy is a general chase, hy command of the Roman 
 pontiff, for the 2nirpose of running down and destroying 
 soids.' " 
 
 Luther afterwards attacks the prevailing errors on 
 the sacraments, on monastic vows, &c. The seven 
 sacraments of the Church he reduces to three — viz., 
 Baptism, Penitence, and the Lord's )Supper. He then 
 proceeds to baptism; and when discussing it dwells 
 especially on the excellence of faith, and makes a 
 vigorous attack upon Rome. "God," says he, "has 
 preserved this single sacrament to us clear of human 
 traditions. God has said. Whoso helieveth and is bap- 
 tized, shall be saved. This Divine promise must take 
 precedence of all works however splendid, of all vows, 
 all satisfactions, all indulgences, all that man has 
 devised. On this promise, if we receive it in faith, all 
 our salvation depends. If we believe, our heart is 
 strengthened by the Divine promise; and though all 
 else should abandon the believer, this promise will not 
 abandon him. "With it he will resist the adversary who 
 assaults his soul, and will meet death though pitiless, 
 and even the judgment of God himself. In all trials 
 his comfort will be to say, 'God is faithful to his 
 promises, and these were pledged to me in baptism; if 
 God be for me, who can be against me?' Oh, how 
 rich the Christian, the baptized! Nothing can destroy 
 him but his own refusal to believe." 
 
 " It may be that, to my observations on the necessity 
 of faith, will be opposed the baptism of little childi'en. 
 But as the "Word of God is jjowerful to change even 
 the heart of the wicked, though neither less deaf nor 
 less impotent than a little child ; so the prayer of the 
 Church, to which all things are possible, changes the 
 little child by means of the faith which God is pleased 
 to pour into its soul, and so cleanses and renews it." 
 
 After explaining the doctrine of baptism, Luther 
 emploj-s it as a weapon against the papacy. In fact, 
 if the Christian finds complete salvation in the renewal 
 which accompanies the baptism of faith, what need has 
 he of the prescriptions of Rome? 
 
 " "Wherefore," says Luther, "I declare that neither 
 the pope, nor the bishop, nor any man whatever, is 
 entitled to impose the smallest burden on a Christian 
 — at least without his consent. "Whatsoever is done 
 othei-wise is done tyrannically. We are free of all 
 men. The vow which we made in baptism is sufiicieut 
 by itself alone, and is more than all we could ever ac- 
 complish. Therefore all other vows may be abolished. 
 Let every one who enters the priesthood, or a religious 
 order, consider well that the works of a monk or a 
 priest, how difficult soever they may be, are, in the 
 view of God, in no respect superior to those of a peasant 
 labouring in the field, or a woman attending to the 
 duties of her house. God estimates all these tilings by 
 the rule of faith. And it often happens that the simple 
 labour of a man-sei-vant, or a maid-sei-vant, is more 
 agreeable to God than the fastings and works of a monk, 
 these bemg deficient in faith. . . . The Christian 
 people is the people of God led away into captivity, 
 to Babylon, and there robbed of their baptism." 
 
 Such were the weapons by which the religious revolu- 
 tion, whoso history we are tracing, was accomplished. 
 First, the necessity of faith was established, and then 
 the reformers used it as a hammer to break superstition 
 in pieces. They attacked error with that Divine power 
 which removes mountains. These, and many similar 
 passages of Luther, circulated in towns, convents, and 
 the country, were the leaven which leavened the whole 
 lump. 
 
 The conclusion of this famous production on the 
 captivity of Babylon, is in the following terms: — 
 
 "I learn that a new papal excommunication has been 
 prepared against me. If so, the present book may be 
 regarded as part of my future recantation. In proof 
 of my obedience, the rest will soon follow; and the 
 whole will, with the help of Christ, form a collection, 
 the like to which Rome never saw or heard before." 
 
 CHAPTER YIL 
 
 New Negotiations— ililtitz .nncl the Angustines of Eisleben— Depntation to 
 Luther— Miltitz and tlie Elector— Conference at Liclitemberg— Luther's 
 Letter to the Pope— 13ook Presented to the Pope— Union of the Believer 
 with Christ — Freedom and Bond.ige. 
 
 ArTER this publication all hope of reconciliation 
 between the pope and Luther must have vanished. 
 Persons of the least possible discernment must have 
 
DEPUTATION TO LUTHER. 
 
 been struck with the jncompatibility of the reformer's 
 belief with the doctrine of the Church; and yet, at 
 this very moment, new negotiations were about to 
 commence. In the end of Auj^ust, 1520, five weeks 
 before the publication of the '• Captivity of Babj-lon," 
 the general chapter of the Augiistiues had assembled 
 at Eisleben. At this meeting the venerable Staupitz 
 resigned his office of vicar-general of his order, and 
 Winceslas Link — ho who accompanied Luther to 
 Augsburg — was invested with it. Suddenly, in the 
 middle of the chapter, arrived the indefatigable lliltitz, 
 bui-ning with eagerness to reconcile Luther and the 
 pope. His avarice, and, above all, his jealousy and 
 hatred, were interested. Eck and Ids swaggering had 
 galled him. lie knew that the doctor of Ingolstadt 
 had spokeu disparagingly of him at Rome ; and there 
 was nothing he woidd not have saeriliced in order to 
 defeat the designs of this troublesome rival by means 
 of a speedily concluded peace. The interest of religion 
 gave him no concern. One day. by his own account, 
 he was dming with the Bishop of Leipsic. After the 
 guests had di-ank very freely, a new work of Luther's 
 was brought in. On being opened and read, the bishop 
 flew into a passion, and the official swore ; but Miltitz 
 laughed with all his heart. The Reformation was 
 ! treated by IMiltitz as a man of the world, and by Eck 
 
 as a theologian. 
 i Ai-oused by the arrival of Dr. Eck, IMiltitz addi-ossed 
 ' the chapter of the Augustines iu a discom-se, which he 
 I delivered ■with a very marked Italian accent, tliiuking 
 I thus to overawe his countrymen. "The whole Augustine 
 I order is compromised by this affair," said he. " Shew 
 mo some method of silencing Luther." "TVe have 
 nothing to do with the doctor," replied the fathers, 
 " and we know not what counsel to give you." They 
 founded, doubtless, on what Staupitz had done at 
 Augsburg, when he loosed Luther from his vows of 
 obedience to the order. Miltitz insisted: "Let a depu- 
 tation from this venerable chapter wait upon Luther, 
 and solicit him to ■^^Tite a letter to the pope, assuring 
 him that he has never plotted in any respect against 
 his person. That will be sufficient to tenninate the 
 affair." The chapter gave their consent, and assigned 
 the task of conferring with Luther, no doubt at the 
 nuncio's request, to the cx-vicar-general, Staupitz, and 
 his successor Link. The deputation forthwith set out 
 for Wittemberg, with a letter from jVliltitz to the doctor, 
 filled with expressions of the highest respect. "There 
 is no time to be lost," said he, "the thunder already 
 hovering over the head of the refoi-mer will soon burst, 
 and theu all is over." 
 
 Neither Luther nor the deputies, who concun-cd in 
 his opinions, hoped anything from a letter to the pope. 
 That, however, was a reason for not refusing to write 
 it, as it would only be a mere matter of form, and 
 might serve to bring out Luther's rights. " This Italian 
 of Saxony, (MUtitz.)" thought Luther, "in making this 
 demand, has doubtless his own particular interest in 
 view. A'cry well ; be it so ! I wUl write, as I can with 
 truth, that I have never objected to the pope personally. 
 I will even endeavoiu" to guard against severity in 
 attacking the see of Rome. Still, it shall have its 
 sprinkling of salt." 
 
 Luther having shortly after been informed of the 
 
 arrival of the bull in Germany, declared to Spalatin, 
 on the 3rd of October, that lie would not write the 
 pope; and on the Cth of the same monlli. published his 
 book on the " Captivity of Babylon." Jliltitz did not 
 even yet despair of success. His eagerness to humble 
 Eck made him believe an impossibility. On tlie 2nd 
 of October he had written the elector iu high spii-its : 
 " Everything will go well ; but, for the love of God, 
 delay no longer to order payment of the pension which 
 I have had from you and your brother for some years. 
 I must have money, in order to make new friends at 
 Rome. Write the pope, and do homage to the young 
 cardinals, the relatives of his holiness, ^vith gold and 
 silver pieces from the mint of your electoral highness ; 
 and add some for me also, for I was robbed of those 
 which you gave me." 
 
 Even after Luther was acquainted with the bull, the 
 intriguing IMiltitz was not discouraged, and requested a 
 conference with Luther at Lichtembcrg. The elector 
 ordered Luther to repair thither. But his friends, and 
 es])ecially the affectionate Melancthon, opposed it. 
 " What!" thought they, "at the moment when a bull 
 has appeared, ordering Luther to be seized and carried 
 off to Rome, to accept a conference with the pope's 
 nuncio in a retired spot ! Is it not evident that, 
 because Dr. Eck, from having too openly proclaimed 
 his hatred, is not able to approach the reformer, the 
 wily chamberlain has been employed to ensnare Luther 
 iu his nets ? " 
 
 These fears could not deter the doctor of Wittem- 
 berg. The prince has commanded, and he will obey. 
 "I am setting out for Lichtemberg," -oTote he to the 
 chaplain on the 11th of October; " pray for me." His 
 friends would not quit him. The same day, towards 
 evening, Luther entered Lichtemberg on horseback, 
 amid thirty horsemen, one of whom was Melancthon. 
 The papal nuncio arrived almost at the same time with 
 only fom- attendauts. Was this modest escort a strata- 
 gem to throw Luther and his friends off their guard '? 
 
 IMiltitz urged Luther with the most pressing solicita- 
 tions, assm-iug him that the blame would be thrown 
 upon Eck and his foolish boastings, and that every- 
 thing would terminate to the satisfaction of both parties. 
 " Very well,"' replied Luther ; " I offer henceforth to 
 keep silence, pro\'ided my opponents keep it also. For 
 the sake of peace, I will do everytliing that it is possible 
 for me to do." 
 
 Miltitz was delighted ; and, accompanying Luther as 
 far as Wittemberg, the refonner and the papal nuncio 
 walked arm in arm into this town, which Dr. Eck was 
 now approaching, holding menacingly in his hand the 
 formidable bull which was to overthrow the Refor- 
 mation. "We will bring the matter to a happy- 
 conclusion," wrote Miltitz forthwith to the elector. 
 " Thank the pope for his rose ; and, at the same time, 
 send forty or fifty florins to Cardinal Quatuor Sanc- 
 torum." 
 
 Luther felt bound to keep his promise of wi-iting the 
 pope. Before bidding Rome an eternal adieu, he 
 wished once more to tell her important and salutary 
 truths. Some, perhaps, will regard his letter only as a 
 piece of irony, — a bitter and insulting satire ; but 
 this were to mistake the sentiments by which he was 
 actuated. He sincerely believed that Rome was to 
 
1C8 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 blame for all the evils of Chrialeudoui ; auJ in this 
 view his words are not insiilts, but solemn warnings. 
 The more he loved Leo, and the more he loved the 
 Church of Christ, the more he desired to unfold the 
 full magnitude of the disease. The energy of his ex- 
 pressions is proportioned to the energy of his feelings. 
 The crisis has an-ived, and he seems like a prophet 
 walking roimd the city for the last time, upbraiding 
 it for all its abominations, denouncing the judgments 
 of the Almighty, and crying aloud, " Still some days 
 of respite ! " The letter is as follows : — 
 
 "To the most holy Father in God, Leo X., Pope 
 at Rome, salvation in Clu-ist Jesus our Lord. Amen. 
 
 " From amid the fearful war which I have been 
 waging for three years with disorderly men, I cannot 
 helj) looking to you, O Leo, most holy Father in God. 
 And although the folly of yom- impious flatterers has 
 compelled me to appeal from yom- judgment to a future 
 council, my heart is not turned away from your holi- 
 ness ; and I have not ceased to pray God earnestly and 
 with profound sighs, to grant prosperity to youi-self 
 and your pontificate. 
 
 "It is true I have attacked some antichi-istian 
 doctrines, and have inflicted a deej) wound on my 
 adversaries because of their impiety. Of this I rej^ent 
 not, as I have here Christ for an example. Of what 
 use is salt if it have lost its savour, or the edge of a 
 sword if it will not cut ? Cm-sed be he who does the 
 work of the Lord negligently. Most excellent Leo, 
 far from having conceived any bad thoughts with 
 regard to you, my wish is that you may enjoy the most 
 precious blessings throughout eternity. One thing 
 only I have done: I have maintained the Word of 
 truth. I am ready to yield to all in everything; but 
 as to this "Word, I will not, I cannot abandon it. He 
 who thinks differently on this subject is in error. 
 
 "It is true that I have attacked the court of Rome; 
 but neither yom-self nor any man living can deny that 
 there is greater corruption in it than was in Sodom and 
 Gomorrah, and that the impiety which prevails makes 
 cure hopeless. . Yes ; I have been horrified on seeing 
 how, under your name, the poor followers of Christ 
 were deceived. I have opposed this, and will oppose 
 it still, — not that I imagine it possible, in spite of the 
 opposition of flatterers, to accomplish anything in this 
 Babylon, which is confusion itself; but I owe it to my 
 brethren to endeavour, if possible, to remove some of 
 them from these dreadful evils. 
 
 "You know it; Rome has for many years been 
 inundating the world with whatever could destroy both 
 soul and body. The Church of Rome, formerly the 
 first in holiness, has become a den of robbers, a place 
 of prostitution, a kingdom of death and hell; so that 
 Antichrist himself, were he to appear, would be unable 
 to increase the amount of wickedness. All this is as 
 clear as day. 
 
 " And yet, O Leo, you yourself are like a lamb in 
 the midst of wolves — a Daniel in the lions' den. But 
 single-handed, what can you oppose to these monsters? 
 There may be three or four cardinals who to know- 
 ledge add virtue. But what are these against so many? 
 You should perish by poison even before you could try 
 any remedy. It is all over with the court at Rome — 
 the wrath of God has overtaken and will consume it. 
 
 It hates counsel — it fears reform — it will not moderate 
 the fury of its ungodliness; and hence it may be justly 
 said of it as of its mother. We tvouhl Itave healed Baby- 
 lon, hut she is not healed; forsahe her. It belonged to 
 you and your cardinals to apply the remedy; but the 
 patient laughs at the doctor, and the horse refuses to 
 feel the bit. .... 
 
 "Cherishing the deepest affection for you, most 
 excellent Leo, I have always regretted that, formed as 
 you are for a better age, you were raised to the pon- 
 tificate in these times. Rome is not worthy of you, 
 and those who resemble you ; the only chief whom she 
 deserves to have is Satan himself; and hence the truth 
 is, that in this Babylon he is more king than you are. 
 Would to God that, laying aside this glory which yom' 
 enemies so much extol, you would exchange it for a 
 modest pastoral office, or live on your paternal inheri- 
 tance. Rome's glory is of a kind fit only for Iscariots. 
 . . . O my dear Leo, of what use are you in this 
 Roman coiu-t, unless it be to allow the most execrable 
 men to use your name and yom- authority in ruining 
 fortunes, destroying souls, multiplying crimes, oppress- 
 ing faith, truth, and the whole Church of God? O 
 Leo, Leo ! you are the most unf ortimate of men, and 
 you sit upon the most dangerous of thrones. I tell 
 you the truth because I wish yom- good. 
 
 "Is it not true that, under the vast expanse of 
 heaven there is nothing more corrupt, more hateful, 
 than the Roman Court! In vice and corruption it 
 infinitely exceeds the Turks. Once the gate of heaven, 
 it has become the mouth of hell — a wide mouth which 
 the wrath of God keeps open, so that, on seeing so 
 many unhappy beings thrown headlong into it, I was 
 obliged to lift my voice, as in a tempest, in order 
 that, at least, some might be saved from the fearful 
 abyss. Such, O Leo, my Father, was the reason why 
 I inveighed against this death-giving see. Far from 
 attacking your person, I thought I was labouring for 
 your safety, when I valiantly assaulted this prison, or 
 rather this hell in which you are confined. To do all 
 sorts of evil to the Court of Rome, were to discharge 
 your own duty; to cover it with shame is to honour 
 Christ ; in one word, to be a Christian is to be any- 
 thing but a Roman. 
 
 "Meanwhile, seeing that in succouring the see of 
 Rome I was losing my labour and my pains, I sent 
 her a letter of divorce. I said to her, ' Adieu, Rome ! ' 
 He that is unjust, let him be unjust still ; and he that is 
 filthy, let him be filthy still, (Rev. xxii. 11 ;) and devoted 
 myself to the tranquil and solitary study of the sacred 
 volume. Then Satan opened his eyes and awoke his 
 servant, John Eck, a great enemy of Jesus Christ, in 
 order that he might oblige me again to descend into 
 the arena. Eck's wish was to establish the primacy, 
 not of Peter, but of himself, and, for that purpose, to 
 lead vanquished Luther in triumph. The blame of all 
 the obloquy which has been cast on the see of Rome 
 rests with him." 
 
 Luther narrates hia intercourse with De Vio, Mil- 
 titz, and Eck, and then continues : 
 
 "Now, then, I come to you, O most holy Father, 
 and, prostrated at your feet, pray you, if possible, to 
 put a curb on the enemies of the truth. But I cannot 
 retract my doctrine. I cannot permit rules of interpre- 
 
LUTHER'S LETTER TO THE POPE. 
 
 169 
 
 tntion to be imposed on the Holy Scriptures. The 
 Word of God — the source whence all freedom springs, 
 must be left free." 
 
 " O Leo, ray Father ! listen not to those flattering 
 sirens who tell you that you are not a mere man, but 
 a dcmi-god, and can ordain what you please. You are 
 the servant of servants ; and the seat which you oc- 
 cupy is of all others the most dangerous, and the most 
 unhappy. Give credit not to those who exalt, but to 
 those who humble you. Perhaps I am too bold in 
 giving advice to so high a majesty, whose duty it is to 
 instruct all men. But I see the dangers which sur- 
 round you at Kome; I see you driven hither and 
 thither, tossed, as it were, upon the billows of a raging 
 sea. Chai'ity urges me ; and I cannot resist sending 
 forth a warning cry. 
 
 " Not to appear empty-handed before your holiness, 
 I present you with a little book, which has appeared 
 under yom* name ; and which will make you aware of 
 the subjects to which I will be able to devote myself, 
 if your flatterers permit me. It is a small matter as 
 regards the size of the volume; but a great one in 
 regard to its contents ; for it comprehends a summary 
 of the Christian life. I am poor, and have nothing 
 else to offer ; besides, you have no want of anything 
 but spiritual gifts. I commend myself to your holiness. 
 May the Lord keep you for ever and ever ! Amen." 
 
 The little book with which Luther did homage to the 
 pope, was his "Treatise on the Liberty of the Chris- 
 tian ; " in which he demonstrates, without any polemical 
 discussion, how the Christian, without infringing on 
 the liberty which faith has given him, may submit to 
 every external ordinance in a spirit of freedom and 
 love. Two truths form the basis of the whole dis- 
 course, — viz., The Christian is free — all things are 
 his. The Christian is a servant subject to all in 
 everything. By faith he is free ; by love he is subject. 
 
 At first he explains the power of faith to make the 
 Christian free. " Faith unites the soul with Christ, 
 as a bride with the bridegroom. Everything that 
 Christ has becomes the property of the believer; 
 everything that the believer has becomes the property 
 of Christ. Christ possesses all blessings, even eternal 
 salvation; and these are thenceforth the property of 
 the believer. The believer possesses all vices and all 
 sins; and these become, thenceforth, the property of 
 Christ. A happy exchange now takes place. Christ, 
 who is God and man, Christ, who has never sinned, 
 and whose holiness is invincible, Christ the Omnipo- 
 tent and Eternal, appropriating to himself by His 
 wedding ring — that is to Siiy, by faith — all the sins of 
 the believer, — these sins are swallowed up in Him and 
 annihilated ; for no sin can exist in presence of His 
 infinite righteousness. Thus, by means of faith, the 
 soul is delivered from all sins, and invested with the 
 eternal righteousness of Jesus Christ the Bridegroom. 
 O happy union ! Jesus Christ the rich, the noble, the 
 holy Bridegroom, takes in marriage this poor, guilty, 
 contemned bride, delivers her from all evil, and decks 
 her in the richest robes. . . . Christ, a king and 
 priest, shares this honour and glory with all Christians. 
 The Christian is a king, and consequently possesses all 
 things. He is a priest, and consequently possesses God. 
 And it is faith, not works, which procures him this 
 
 honour. The Christian is free from all things, and 
 above all things — faith giving him everything in abun- 
 dance." 
 
 In the second part of the treatise Luther presents 
 the truth in its other point of view. " Although the 
 Christian has thus been made free, he voluntarily be- 
 comes a servant, that he may act towards his brethren 
 as God has acted towards him through Jesus Christ. 
 I desire," said he, " freely, joyfully, and gratuitously, to 
 serve a Father who hath thus shed upon me all the 
 riches of His goodness. I wish to become everything 
 to my neighbour, as Christ has become everything to 
 me." . . " From faith," continues Luther, "Hows 
 love to God, and from love a life full of liberty, charity, 
 and joy. Oh how noble and elevated a life the life of 
 the Christian is ! But, alas ! none know it, and none 
 preach it. By faith the Christian rises even to God, — 
 by love he descends to man ; still, however, remaining 
 always in God. This is true liberty, — a liberty as far 
 above every other species of liberty as the heavens are 
 above the earth." 
 
 Such was the treatise which accompanied Luther's 
 letter to Leo X. 
 
 CHAPTER VUI. 
 
 The BuU in Germany— Eck'a Reception— The Bull at Wittemberg — 
 Interposition of Zwingle. 
 
 "While the reformer was thus addressing the Roman 
 pontiff for the last time, the bull which anathematized 
 him was already in the hands of the Germanic Church, 
 and at Luther's own door. It would seem that no 
 doubt was entertained at Rome as to the success of 
 the measure which had thus been adopted against the 
 Reformation. The pope had charged two high func- 
 tionaries of his court — Caraccioli and Aleander — to be 
 the bearers of it to the Archbishop of llentz, who was 
 requested to see to its execution. But Eck himself 
 appeared in Saxony as the herald and executor of the 
 great pontifical work. No man knew better than the 
 doctor of Ingolstadt how formidable the blows were 
 which Luther had struck. Alive to the danger, he had 
 stretched forth his hand to sustain the tottering edifice 
 of Rome. In his own estimation he was the Atlas, 
 destined to support the ancient Roman world on his 
 robust shoulders when on the point of falling to pieces. 
 Proud of the success of his journey to Rome, — proud 
 of the charge which ho had received from the sove- 
 reign pontiff, — proud to appear in Germany with the 
 new title of protouotary and pontifical nuncio, — proud 
 of the bull which he held in his hand, and which con- 
 tained the condemnation of his indomitable rival, he 
 regarded his present mission as a triumph more splen- 
 did than all the victories which he had gained in Hun- 
 gary, Bavaria, Lombardy, and Saxony, and from which 
 he had previously derived so much renown. But this 
 pride was soon to be humbled. The pope, in entrust- 
 ing the publication of the bull to Eck, had committed 
 a blunder which was destined to neutralize its effect. 
 The proud distinction conferred on a man who did not 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFOEMATION. 
 
 hold high rank in the Church, gave offence to sensitive 
 and jealous spu"its. The bishops, accustomed to re- 
 ceive the bulls directly from the pope, were offended 
 at the publication of this one in their dioceses by an 
 upstart nuncio. The nation, who had hooted the pre- 
 tended conqueror of Leipsic at the moment of his 
 flight into Italy, were equally astonished and indignant 
 when they saw him repass the Alps, decked in the 
 insignia of pontifical nuncio, and with the power of 
 crushing whomsoever he chose. The sentence brought 
 by his implacable adversary, Luther regarded as an act 
 of personal revenge. " He regarded it," says Palla- 
 vicini, " as the perfidious poniard of a mortal enemy, 
 and not as the legitimate act of a Roman lictor." It 
 was generally viewed as less the bull of the sovereign 
 pontiff than of Dr. Eck. In this way the blow was 
 obstructed and weakened beforehand by the very per- 
 son at whose instigation it was struck. 
 
 The Chancellor of Ingolstadt had hastened back to 
 Saxony, which, as having been the scene of battle, he 
 was desirous should also be the scene of his victory. 
 Having arrived, he published the bull at Meissen, 
 Merseburg, and Brandenburg, towards the end of Sep- 
 tember. But in the first of these towns it was posted 
 up in a place where nobody could read it ; and the 
 bishops of those three sees were in no haste to publish 
 it. Even Duke George, Eck's great patron, prohi- 
 bited the council of Leipsic from making it public, 
 before receiving orders from the Bishop of Merseburg ; 
 and these orders did not arrive till the following year. 
 " These are only difficulties of form," said John Eck to 
 himself at first, for everything else seemed to smile 
 upon him. Duke George sent him a golden cup and 
 some ducats. Even Miltitz, who had hastened to 
 Leipsic, on learning that his rival had arrived, invited 
 him to dinner. The two legates were boon companions ; 
 and Miltitz thought he could not have a better oppor- 
 tunity of sounding Eck than over their wine. "After 
 he had drunk pretty freel)', he began," says the pope's 
 chamberlain, '• to boast in grand style ; he displayed 
 his bull, and told how he meant to bring that droll 
 fellow Martin to his senses." But the Ingolstadt doc- 
 tor soon had occasion to observe that the wind was 
 veering. The course of a year had produced a great 
 change in Leipsic. On St. Michael's day, some stu- 
 dents posted up placards, in ten different places, con- 
 taining a severe attack on the new nuncio, who, in 
 amazement, took refuge in the cloister of St. Paul, 
 where Tetzel had previously found his asylum, and 
 declining every visit, induced the rector to call his 
 youthful opponents to account. By this poor Eck 
 gained little. The.students composed a song upon liim, 
 and sang it in the streets. Eck must have heard it in 
 his prison. On this all his courage failed him, and the 
 redoubtable champion trembled in every limb. Every 
 day brought him threatening letters. One hundred 
 and fifty students, who had arrived from Wittemberg, 
 spoke out boldly agaiust the papal envoy. For once 
 the poor apostolical nuncio could hold out no longer. 
 '• I would not have them kill him," said Luther, 
 " though I wish his designs to fail." Eck, quitting his 
 retreat at night, clandestinely escaped from Leipsic to 
 go and hide himself at Coburg. Miltitz, who gives 
 the account, triumphed more than the reformer. His 
 
 triumph, however, was not of long duration. All the 
 chamberlain's projects of conciliation failed, and he 
 came at last to a miserable end. One day, when 
 drunk, he fell into the Rhine at Mentz, and was 
 drowned. 
 
 Eck gradually recovered courage. Repamug to 
 Erfurt, whose theologians had on more than one occa- 
 sion betrayed their jealousy of Luther, he insisted on 
 having his bull published in this town ; but the stu- 
 dents seized the copies, tore them to pieces, and threw 
 them into the river, saying : " Since it is a bull, let it 
 swim." " Now," said Luther, on being informed of 
 this, " the pope's paper is a true bull." Eck durst not 
 make his appearance at Wittemberg ; but he sent the 
 bull to the rector with a threat, that if it was not con- 
 formed to, he would destroy the university. At the 
 same time he wrote Duke John, Frederick's brother, 
 and co-regent : " Do not take what I do in bad part ; I 
 am acting in behalf of the faith, and it costs me many 
 cares, great labour, and much money." 
 
 The Bishop of Brandenburg, supposing him inclined, 
 was not entitled to act at Wittemberg in his capacity 
 of ordinary, the university being protected by its privi- 
 leges. Luther and Carlstadt, who were condemned 
 by the bull, were asked to take part in the meetings 
 which were held to deliberate on its contents. The 
 rector declared that, as he had not received a letter 
 from the pope along with the bull, he declined to pub- 
 lish it. The university had already acquired greater 
 authority in the surrounding countries than the sove- 
 reign pontiff himself. Its declaration served as a model 
 to the government of the elector ; and thus the spirit 
 which was in Luther triumphed over the bull of Rome. 
 
 While the German mind was thus strongly agitated 
 by this affair, a grave voice was heard in another quar- 
 ter of Europe. An individual, foreseeing the immense 
 rent which the papal bull was about to make in the 
 Church, came forward to give a solemn warning, and 
 to defend the reformer. It was that of the Swiss 
 priest, of whom we have already spoken, — viz., Ulrich 
 Zwinglc, who, though not united to Luther by any 
 friendly tie, published a treatise full of wisdom and 
 dignity, the fii-st of his numerous writings. A kind of 
 fraternal affection seemed to draw him towards the 
 doctor of Wittemberg. "The piety of the pontiff," 
 said he, " requires that he shall joyfully sacrifice what- 
 ever is dearest to him for the glory of Christ his King, 
 and for the public peace of the Church. Nothing is 
 more injurious to his dignity than to defend it by pen- 
 sions or terror. Even before the writings of Luther 
 were read, he had been calumniated to the people .is a 
 heretic, a schismatic, and as Antichrist himself. Not 
 one gave him warning — none refuted him. He called 
 for a discussion ; but all he could get was a sentence of 
 condemnation. The bull which is published displeases 
 even those who honour the majesty of the pope. ^ For 
 it is everywhere regarded as an expression of the impo- 
 tent hatred of some monks, and not of the mildness of 
 a pontiff, who ought to be the vicar of a Saviour full 
 of love. All acknowledge that the true doctrine of the 
 Gospel of Jesua Christ has greatly degenerated, and 
 that a public and thorough reformation of laws and 
 manners is required. Consider all men of learning and 
 virtue, — the more sincere they are, the stronger is their 
 
LUTHER'S SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 attachment to cvaiigolical truth, aiul the less their dis- 
 satisfaction with Luther's writings. There is not one 
 who does not acknowledge that he has derived benefit 
 from these hooks, though he may have met with pas- 
 sages which he was unable to approve. Let men of 
 sound doctrine and acknowledged probity be selected. 
 Let three princes, above all suspicion, — the Emperor 
 Charles, the King of England, and the King of 
 Hungary, — name tlie judges. Let these judges read 
 Luther's writings. Let them hear his defence, and 
 then lot their decision, whatever it be, bo confirmed. 
 NiKTjfTaroj ■!] Tov Xpta-rov iraiScfa lial aK-ijO^ia,^ ^ 
 
 This proposal, which came from the country of the 
 Swiss, led to no result. It was necessary that the 
 great divorce should take place. It was necessary that 
 Christendom should be rent in twain. Her very 
 wounds were destined to be the cure of her diseases. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Luther Examines liirasdf in the preseucc of God— Luther's Opinion nf tlio 
 BiUl— A Ncutr.ll Fiimily— Lutlier on tlic Bull, nud .igainst the Bull of 
 Antichrist— The Pope prohibits Faitli -Effecls of tlie Bull— Tiio Faggot 
 rile of Louvain. 
 
 But what signified all this resistance by students, 
 rectors, and priests? If the mighty arm of Charles "\'. 
 is joined to the mighty arm of the pope, will they not 
 crush these scholars and grammarians ? Will any one 
 be able to resist the combined power of the pontiff of 
 Christendom and of the Emperor of the West? The 
 blow has been struck. Luther is excommunicated; 
 and the Gospel seems lost. At this solemn moment 
 the reformer does not disguise to himself the magnitude 
 of the danger to which he is exposed ; but he looks 
 upward, and prepares to receive, as from the hand of 
 the Lord himself, a blow which seems destined to anni- 
 hilate him. He retires within himself, and meditates 
 at the footstool of the throne of God. "What the 
 residt is to be," says he, " I know not, and I am not 
 anxious to know ; certain as I am, that He who sits 
 in heaven has from all eternity foreseen the beginning, 
 the progress, and the end of this affair. Wherever 
 the blow is to strike, I am without fear. The leaf of 
 a tree falls not without our Father's will. How much 
 less shall we fall. It is a small matter to die for the 
 AVord, since this Word, which became incarnate, and 
 that for us, has itself first died. If we die with it, we 
 shall rise again with it ; and, passing along the same 
 road by which it passed, will arrive where it has 
 arrived, and remain with it throughout eternity." 
 Sometimes, however, Luther could not restrain the 
 contempt which he felt for the manoeuvres of his ene- 
 mies. On these occasions he displays his characteristic 
 combination of sublimity and sarcasm. '• I know no- 
 thing of Eck," says he, " except that he arrived with 
 a long beard, a long bull, and a long jiurse. . . . 
 But I will laugh at his bull." 
 
 On the 3d of October he was made acquainted with 
 the papal letter. "At length," says he, "this Roman 
 
 1 Let the teaching and tnitli of CIn-Iat prevail. 
 
 bull has arrived. I despise it, and defy it as impious, 
 false, and in all respects worthy of Eck. It is Christ 
 himself who is condemned. It gives no reasons ; it 
 merely cites me, not to be heard, but simply to sing a 
 palinode. I will treat it as spurious, though I have 
 no doubt it is genuine. OIi, if Charles V. were a man, 
 and would, for the love of Christ, attack these demons ! 
 I rejoice in having to endure some hardships for the 
 best of causes. I already fcol more liberty in my 
 heart; for, at length, I know that the pope is Anti- 
 christ, and that his .see is that of Satan hiins(;lf." 
 
 It was not in Saxony merely that the tluinders of 
 Rome had produced alarm. A (piiet family of Swabia, 
 — a neutral family, saw its peace suddenly broken up. 
 Bilibald Pirckheimer, of Nuremberg, one of the most 
 distinguished men of his age, having early lost his 
 beloved wife Crescentia, was united in the closest 
 affection with his two young sisters, Charitas, abbess 
 of St. Clair, and Clara, a nun of the same convent. 
 These two pious females served God in solitude ; and 
 divided their time between study, the care of the poor, 
 and preparation for eternity. Bilibald, who was a 
 statesman, relaxed from public affairs by maintaining 
 a correspondence with them. They were learned, read 
 Latin, and studied the Fathers; but their favourite 
 volume was the Holy Scriptures. They had never had 
 any other teacher than their brother. The letters of 
 Charitas are written in a delicate and amiable spirit. 
 Tenderly attached to Bilibald, she took alarm at the 
 least danger which threatened him. Pirckheimer, to 
 dissipate the fears of this timid spirit, wrote a dialogue 
 between Charitas and Veritas, (Charity and Truth,) in 
 which Veritas tries to strengthen Charitas. Nothing 
 can be more touching, or better fitted to solace a tender 
 and agonized heart. 
 
 What must have been the terror of Charitas when 
 the rumour spread, that in the papal bull Bilibald's 
 name was posted up beside that of Luther, on the 
 doors of cathedrals ! In fact, Eck, pushed on by blind 
 fury, had associated with Luther six of the most distin- 
 guished men of Germany, — viz., Carlstadt, Feldkir- 
 chen, and Egranus, (who gave themselves very little 
 concern about it,) and Adelmann. Pirckheimer, and his 
 friend Spongier, whose public functions made them 
 particularly alive to the insult. There was groat agi- 
 tation in the convent of St. Clair. How shall the 
 disgi-ace of Bilibald be borne ? Nothi.ig affects relatives 
 more deeply than such trials. In vain did the city of 
 Nur/ mberg, the Bishop of Bamberg, and even the 
 dukes of Bavaria, interfere in behalf of Spongier and 
 Pirckheimer : these noble-minded men were obliged to 
 humble themselves before Dr. Eck, who made them 
 feel all the importance of a Roman protonotary; and 
 obliged them to write a letter to the pope, declaring 
 that they adhered to the doctrines of Luther only in so 
 far as they were conformable to Christian faith. At 
 the same time Adelmann, with whom Eck had once had 
 a scuffle on rising up from table after a discussion on 
 the great question which then occupied all minds, was 
 required to appear before the Bishop of Augsburg, and 
 purge himself on oath of all participation in the Lu- 
 theran heresy. Still, however, anger and revenge had 
 I)roved bad counsellors to Eck. The names of Bilibald 
 and his friends damaged the bull. The character of 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 these eminent men and their extensive connections, 
 increased the general irritation. 
 
 Luther at first pretended to douht tlie authenticity of 
 the bull. " I learn," says he in the first work which he 
 published after it, " that Eck has brought from Rome 
 a new bull, which resembles him so much — is so stuffed 
 with falsehood and en-or, that it might well be named 
 Doctor EcTc. He gives out that it is the work of the 
 pope, whereas it is only a work of lies." After ex- 
 plaining his reasons for doubting its genuineness, 
 Luther thus concludes : " I must with my own eyes 
 see the lead, the seal, the tape, the conclusion, the 
 signature of the bull — every part of it, in short, or I 
 will not estimate all this clamour at the weight of a 
 straw." 
 
 But no man doubted, not even Luther himself, that 
 the bull was the pope's. Germany waited to see what 
 the reformer would do. Would he stand firm I AH 
 eyes were fixed on Wittemberg. Luther did not keep 
 his contemporaries long in suspense. On the 4th of 
 November, 1520, he replied, with a discharge of thunder, 
 by publishing his treatise "Against the Bull of Anti- 
 christ." 
 
 "Wliat errors, what impostm-es," said he, "have 
 crept in among the poor people under the cloak of the 
 Church, and the pretended infallibility of the j)ope ! 
 how many souls have thus been lost ! how much 
 blood shed ! what murders committed ! what kingdoms 
 ruined ! " 
 
 Fui'ther on he ii'onically says : " I know very well 
 how to distinguish between art and malice ; and set 
 very little value ou a malice wliich has no art. To 
 burn books is so easy a matter, that even children can 
 do it ; how much more the holy Father and his doctors. 
 It would become them to shew greater ability than is 
 requisite merely to burn books. . . . Besides, let 
 them destroy my works ! I desu-e nothing more ; for 
 all I wished was to guide men to the Bible, that they 
 might, thereafter, lay aside all my writings. Good 
 God ! if we had the knowledge of Scripture, wliat need 
 would there be for my writings ? . . . I am free, 
 by the grace of God; and bulls neither solace nor 
 frighten me. My strength and consolation are where 
 neither men nor devils can assail them." 
 
 Luther's tenth proposition, condemned by the pope, 
 was in the following terms : — " No man's sins are 
 pardoned if, when the priest absolves him, he does not 
 believe that they are pardoned." The pope, in con- 
 demning it, denied that faitli was necessary in the 
 sacrament. " They maintain," exclaims Luther, " that 
 we ought not to believe that our sins are pardoned 
 when we are absolved by the priest. What, then, are 
 we to do ? Listen now, O Christians, to a new arrival 
 from Rome. Condemnation is pronounced against this 
 article of faith which we profess when we say, J I be- 
 lieve in the Holy Ghost, the Holy Catholic Church, 
 and the forgiveness of sins.' Did I know that the pope 
 had really given this bull at Rome," (he did not doubt 
 it,) " and that it was not the invention of the arch-liar, 
 Eck, I would cry aloud to all Christians, that they 
 ought to hold the pope as the true Antichrist spoken of 
 in Scripture. And if he would not desist from pro- 
 scribing the faith of the Church, . . . then let the 
 temporal sword resist him even sooner than the Turk ! 
 
 J ; but the pope 
 
 . . . For the Tm-ks allow 
 forbids it." 
 
 While Luther was speaking thus forcibly, his perils 
 were increasing. The scheme of his enemies was to 
 (h-ive him out of Wittemberg. If Luther and Wittem- 
 berg are separated, both will be destroyed. A single 
 stroke would thus disencumber Rome of both the here- 
 tical doctor and the heretical university. Duke George, 
 the Bishop of Merseburg, and the theologians of Leipsic, 
 were labom-ing underhand at this work. Luther, on 
 being apprised of it, said, "I leave this affaii- in the 
 hands of God." These proceedings were not without 
 result : Adrian, professor of Hebrew at Wittemberg, 
 suddenly turned against the doctor. It requii-ed great 
 firmness in the faith to withstand the shock given by 
 the Roman bull. There are chai-acters which follow 
 the truth only a certain distance, and such was Adi-ian. 
 Frightened at the condemnation, he quitted Wittemberg, 
 and repaii'ed to Leipsic, to be near Dr. Eck. 
 
 The bull began to be executed. The voice of the 
 pontiff of Christendom was not an empty sound. Long 
 had fire and sword taught subjection to it. Faggot 
 piles were i^repared at his bidding, and everything in- 
 dicated that a dreadful catastrophe was to put au end 
 to the audacious revolt of the Augustine monk. In 
 October, 1520, all the copies of Luther's works in the 
 shops of the booksellers at Ingolstadt were seized, and 
 put under seal. The Archbishop-elector of Mentz, mo- 
 derate as he was, had to banish Ulrich of Hiitten from 
 his court, and imprison his printer. The papal nuncios 
 having laid siege to the young emperor, Charles declared 
 that he would protect the ancient religion ; and in some 
 of his hereditary possessions scaffolds were erected, on 
 which the writmgs of the heretic were reduced to ashes. 
 Princes of the Church and magistrates were present at 
 these autos-da-fe. Aleander was quite elated with his 
 success. " The pope," said he, in imitation of Prierio, 
 " may dethrone kings ! He may, if he chooses, say to 
 the emperor. Thou art only a tanner! _He knows well 
 how to bring one or two miserable grammarians to their 
 senses. We will dispose, moreover, of Duke Frederick 
 also." To hear the proud nuncio, one would have said 
 that the pile of Mentz which consumed Luther's books 
 was " le commencement de la Jin," (the beginning of the 
 end.) These flames, it was said at Rome, will carry 
 terror into every quarter. Such, in truth, was the 
 effect on many suiierstitious and timid spirits ; but 
 even in the hereditary states of Charles, where alone it 
 was ventured to execute the bull, the people, and even 
 the grandees, often answered these pontifical demons- 
 trations with derision, or expressions of indignation. 
 "Luther," said the doctors of Louvain, on presenting 
 themselves before Margaret, Regent of the Nether- 
 lands, — "Luther is subverting the Christian faith." 
 " AVho is this Luther ? " asked the princess. — " Au 
 ignorant monk." — " Well, then," replied she, " do you, 
 who are learned, and in such numbers, write against 
 him. The world will credit a midtitude of learned men 
 sooner than au isolated ignorant monk." The doctoi-s 
 of Louvain preferred an easier method. They caused 
 a vast pile to be erected at their own expense. The 
 place of execution was covered with spectators ; and 
 students and burghers wore seen hastening through the 
 crowd, their arms filled with large volumes, which they 
 
LUTHER'S APPEAL TO A GENERAL COUNCIL. 
 
 threw into the flamog. Their zeal edified the monks 
 and doctors ; but the trick was afterwards discovered. 
 Instead of the •m-itings of Luther, tlioy liad thrown in- 
 to the iiro the "Sermones Discipuli, Tartaret," and 
 other scholastic and popish books. 
 
 Tlie Count of Nassau, viceroy of Holland, when the 
 Dominicans were soliciting the favour of burning the 
 doctor's books, said to them : " Go and preach the Gos- 
 pel as purely as Luther, and you will have nobody to 
 complain of." At a festival, attended by the leading 
 princes of the empire, the reformer having become the 
 subject of conversation, the Baron of Ravenstein said 
 aloud : '■ In the space of four centuries only one Chris- 
 tian man has dared to lift his head, and the pope is 
 wishing to put him to death." 
 
 Luther, conscious of the power of his cause, remained 
 tranquil amid the tumult which the bull had excited. 
 " Did you not urge me so keenly," said he to Spalatin, 
 " I would be silent, well knowing that by the power 
 and counsel of God this work must be accomplished." 
 Tiie timid man was anxious for speech, the strong man 
 wished to be silent. It was because Luther discerned 
 a power not visible to the eyes of his friend. " Be of 
 good courage," continues the reformer ; " Christ began 
 these things, and Christ will accomplish them, though 
 I should be put to flight or put to death. Jesus Christ 
 is present here, and more powerful is He who is in us, 
 than he who is in the world." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Decisive Steps by the Reroniier — Luther's Appeal to a General Council — 
 Straggle at Close Quarters— The Bull burned by Luther— Meaning of 
 tliis bold act— Luther in the Academic Chair— Luther against the Pope- 
 New Work by Melancthon— How Luther encourages his Friends — Pro- 
 gress of tlie Contest — Melancthon's Opinion of the Timid— Luther's 
 Work on the Bible— Doctrine of Grace— Luther's Recantation. 
 
 But duty obliged him to speak, in order to manifest 
 the truth to the world. Rome has struck, and he will 
 make it known how he receives the blow. The pope 
 lias put liim under the ban of the Church, and he will 
 put the pope under the ban of Christendom. Up to 
 lliis hour the pope's word has been omnipotent. Luther 
 will oppose word to word, and the world will know 
 which is the more powerful of the two. " I am de- 
 sirous," said he, " to set my conscience at rest, by 
 making men aware of the danger to which they are 
 exposed." At the same time he prepares to renew his 
 appeal to an universal council. An appeal from the 
 pope to a council was a crime ; and hence the mode in 
 which Luther attempts to justify hiinself, is a new act 
 of hostility to papal authority. 
 
 On the morning of the iTtli November, a notary 
 and five witnesses, of whom Cruciger was one, met at 
 ten o'clock, in one of tlie halls of the Augustine con- 
 vent in which the doctor resided. There the public 
 officer, Sarctor of Eisleben, having seated himself to 
 draw up the minute of his protest, the reformer, in 
 presence of the witnesses, says, with a solemn tone : — 
 
 " Considering that a general council of the Christian 
 Cliurch is above the pope, especially in all that con- 
 cerns the faith : 
 
 "Considering that the power of the pope is not 
 above, but beneath Scripture, and that he lias no right 
 to worry the sheep of Christ, and throw them into the 
 wolf's mouth : 
 
 " I, Martin Luther, Augustine, doctor of the Holy 
 Scriptures at "Wittemberg, do, by this writing, appeal 
 for myself, and for all who shall adhere to me, from 
 the most holy Pope Leo, to a future universal Chris- 
 tian council. 
 
 " I appeal from the said Pope Leo, first, as an un- 
 just, rash, tyrannical judge, who condemns me without 
 hearing me, and without explaining the grounds of his 
 judgment; second!//, as a heretic, a strayed, obdurate 
 apostate, condemned by the Holy Scriptures, inasmuch 
 as he ordains me to deny that Christian faith is neces- 
 sary in the use of the sacraments ; thirdli/, as an enemy, 
 an antichrist, an adversary, a tyrant of tlie Holy Scrip- 
 ture, who dares to oppose his own words to all the 
 words of God ; fourthly, as a despiser, a calumniator, a 
 blasphemer of the holy Christian Church and a free 
 council, inasmuch as he pretends that a council is no- 
 thing in itself. 
 
 " Wherefore, I most humbly supplicate the most 
 serene, most illustrious, excellent, generous, noble, 
 brave, sage, and prudent lords, Charles, the Roman 
 emperor, the electors, princes, counts, barons, knights, 
 gentlemen, councillors, towns, and commonalties, 
 throughout Germany, to adhere to my protestation, 
 and join me in resisting the antichristian conduct of the 
 pope, for the glory of God, the defence of the Church, 
 and of Christian doctrine, and the maintenance of free 
 councils in Christendom. Let them do so, and Christ 
 our Lord will richly recompense them by His eternal 
 grace. But if there are any who despise my prayer, 
 and continue to obey that impious man, the pope, 
 rather than God, I, by these presents, shake myself 
 free of the responsibility. Having faithfully warned 
 their consciences, I leave them, as well as the pope, 
 and all his adherents, to the sovereign judgment of 
 God." 
 
 Such is Luther's deed of divorce, such his answer to 
 the papal bull. There is great seriousness in this de- 
 claration. The accusations which he brings against 
 the pope are very grave, and are not made in a spirit 
 of levity. This protestation spread over Germany, 
 and was sent to the leading courts of Christendom. 
 
 Though the step which Luther had just taken seemed 
 the very height of daring, he had a still bolder step in 
 reserve. The monk of Wittemberg will do all that the 
 pope dares to do. The son of the Medicis, and the 
 son of the miner of Mansfekl, have descended into the 
 lists ; and in this mortal struggle, which shakes the 
 world, not a blow is given by tlie one which is not re- 
 turned by the other. On the 10th December, a notice 
 appeared on the walls of Wittemberg, inviting the pro- 
 fessors and students to meet at nine o'clock in the 
 morning, at the east gate, near the holy cross. A 
 great number of teachers and pupils assembled ; and 
 Luther, walking at their head, led the procession to 
 the appointed spot. How many faggot piles has Rome 
 kindled in the course of ages ! Luther desires to make 
 
174 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 a better application of the great Roman principle. He 
 only wishes to rid himself of some old papers, and the 
 fire, he thinks, is the fit instrument for that. A scaf- 
 fold had been prepared. One of the oldest masters of 
 arts applied the torch. At the moment when the 
 flames rose, the redoubted Augustine, dressed in his 
 frock, was seen to approach the pile, holding in his 
 hands the Canon Law, the Decretals, the Clemen- 
 tines, the Extravagauts of the popes, some writings 
 of Eck and Emser, and the papal bull. The De- 
 cretals having first been consumed, Luther held np 
 the bull, and sayiug, " Since thou hast grieved the 
 Lord's Anointed, let the eternal fire grieve and con- 
 sume thee," threw it into the flames. Never was war 
 declared with more energy and resolution. Luther 
 quietly took the road back to the town, and the crowd 
 of doctors, professors, and students, after a loud cheer, 
 returned with him to Wittemberg. " llie Decretals," 
 said Luther, " resemble a body with a head as soft as 
 that of a maiden, limbs as full of violence as those of 
 a lion, and a tail with as many wiles as a serpent. In 
 all the papal laws there is not one word to teach us 
 who Jesus Christ is. My enemies," continues he, 
 "have been able, by burning my books, to injure the 
 truth in the minds of the common people, and there- 
 fore I have burnt their books in my turn. A serious 
 struggle has now commenced. Hitherto I have only 
 had child's play with the pope. I began the work in 
 the name of God ; it will be terminated without me 
 and by His power. If they burn my books, in which, 
 to speak without vain-glory, there is more of the Gos- 
 pel than in all the books of the pope, I am entitled, a 
 fortiori^ to burn theirs, in which there is nothing good." 
 
 Had Luther commenced the Reformation in this way, 
 such a proceeding would doubtless have led to fatal 
 results. Fanaticism would have been able to lay hold 
 of it, and throw the Chm-ch into a com'se of disoi-der 
 and violence. But the reformer's grave exposition of 
 Scripture had foimed a prelude to his work. The 
 foundations had been wisely laid ; and now, the mighty 
 stroke which he had just given, would not only expose 
 him to no hazard, but even accelerate the hour when 
 Christendom would be delivered from her chains. 
 
 Thus solemnly did Luther declare his separation 
 from the pope and his church. After his letter to Leo 
 he might think this necessary. He accepted the ex- 
 communication which Rome had pronounced. It made 
 the Christian world aware that there was now mortal 
 war between him and the pope. On reaching the 
 shore he burnt his ships, and left himself no alterna- 
 tive but that of advancing to the combat. 
 
 Luther liad returned to Wittemberg. Next day 
 the academic hall was fuller than usual. Men's 
 minds were excited. A feeling of solemnity prevailed 
 throughout the audience, in expectation of an addi-ess 
 from the doctor. Ho commented on the Psahns, — a 
 task which he had commenced in March of the previous 
 year. Having finished his lecture, he paused a few 
 moments, and then said firmly: "Be on your guard 
 agauist the laws and statutes of the pope. I have 
 burned the Decretals, but it is only child's play. It is 
 time, and more than time, to burn the pope. I mean 
 — he instantly resumed — the see of Rome, with all its 
 doctrines and abominations." Then, assinning a more 
 
 solemn tone, he said : " If you do not with all yom- 
 heart combat the impious government of the pope, you 
 cannot be saved. Whoever takes pleasure in the reli- 
 gion and worship of the papacy, will be eternally lost 
 in the life to come." 
 
 "If we reject it," added he, "we may expect all 
 kinds of dangers, and even the loss of life. But it is 
 far better to run such risks in the world than to be 
 sUent ! As long as I live I will warn my brethren of 
 the sore and plague of Babylon, lest several who are 
 with us fall back with the others into the abyss of 
 hell." 
 
 It is scarcely possible to imagine the effect produced 
 upon the audience by language, the energy of which 
 still makes us wonder. "None of us," adds the candid 
 student to whom we owe the fact, " at least if he be 
 not a block without intelligence, ('as,' adds he in a 
 parenthesis, ' all the papists are,') — none of us doubts 
 that it contains the simple truth. It is evident to all 
 the faithful that Dr. Luther is an angel of the living 
 God, called to feed the long bewildered sheep of Christ 
 with the Divine Word." 
 
 This discourse, and the act which crowned it, mark 
 an important epoch in the Reformation. The Leipsic 
 discussion had detached Luther inwardly from the pope. 
 But the moment when he burned the bull, was that in 
 which he declared, in the most expressive manner, his 
 entire separation from the Bishop of Rome and hia 
 chux'ch, and his attachment to the Church imiversal, 
 as founded by the apostles of Jesus Christ. After 
 three centuries, the fire which he kindled at the east 
 gate is still burning. 
 
 " The pope," said he, " has three crowns ; and they 
 are these : the first is against God, for he condemns 
 religion, — the second, against the emperor, for he con- 
 demns the secular power, — and the t/iird, against 
 society, for he condemns marriage." '\\'Tien he was 
 reproached with inveighing too violently against the 
 papacy, he replied : " Ah ! I wish everything I testify 
 against him were a clap of thunder; and every one of 
 my words were a thunderbolt." 
 
 This firmness of Luther was communicated to his 
 friends and countrymen. A whole nation rallied round 
 him. The university of Wittemberg, in particular, 
 always became more attached to the hero to whom it 
 owed its importance and renown. Carlstadt raised his 
 voice against " the raging lion of Florence," who tore 
 divine and human laws to pieces, and trampled under 
 foot the principles of eternal truth. At this time 
 Melancthou also addressed the states of the empire, in 
 a ^vTiting characterized by his usual elegance and wis- 
 dom. It was a reply to a treatise attributed to Emser, 
 but published under the name of Rhadinus, a Roman 
 theologian. Luther himself spoke not more foi-cibly; 
 and yet there is a grace in Melancthon's words which 
 gives them access to the heart. 
 
 After shewing, by passages of Scripture, that the 
 pope is not superior to other bishops ; " What prevents 
 us," says he to the states of the empire, " from depriv- 
 ing the pope of the privilege which we have given him ? 
 It matters little to Luther that our riches, — /. «., the 
 treasures of Europe, are sent to Rome. But what 
 causes his grief and ours is, that the laws of the pon- 
 tiffs and the reign of the pope, not only endanger the 
 
PROGRESS OF THE STRUGGLE. 
 
 souls of men but utterly destroy them. Every mau 
 can judge for himself, whether or not it suits him to 
 give his niouey for the maintenance of Roman luxury; 
 but to judge of the things of religion and of sacred 
 mysteries, is beyond the reach of the vulgar. Here, 
 then, Luther implores your faith and zeal; and all 
 pious men implore with him, — some with loud voice, 
 and others with groans and sighs. Remember, princes 
 of the Christian people, that you are Christians ; and 
 rescue the sad wrecks of Christianity from the tyranny 
 of Antichrist. You are deceived by those who pretend 
 that you have no authority over priests. The same 
 spirit which animated Jehu against the priests of Baal, 
 urges you, in imitation of that ancient example, to 
 abolish the Roman superstition, — a superstition far 
 more horrible than the idolatry of Baal." So spoke 
 mild Melancthou to the princes of Germany. 
 
 Some cries of alarm were heard among the friends 
 of the Reformation. Timid spirits, inclined to exces- 
 sive moderation, — Staupitz in particular, — expressed 
 the keenest anguish. " Till now," said Luther to him, 
 " the whole affair has been mere sport. You yourself 
 have said : ' Did God not do these things it is impos- 
 sible they could be done.' The tumult becomes more 
 and more tumultuous, and I do not think it will be 
 quelled before the last day." Such was Luther's mode 
 of encom-aging the timid. The tumult has existed for 
 three centuries, and is not quelled ! 
 
 "The papacy," continued he, "is not now what it 
 was yesterday and the day before. Lot it excommuni- 
 cato and burn my writings ; . . . let it kill me ! 
 — it cannot arrest what is going forward. Something 
 wonderful is at the door. I burnt the bull in great 
 trembling, but now I experience more joy from it than 
 from any action of my life." 
 
 We stop involuntarily, and delight to read in the 
 gi-eat soul of Luther all that the futiu-e is preparing. 
 " my father," says he to Staupitz, in concluding, 
 '• pray for the "Word of God and for me. I am heaved 
 on the billows, and as it were whirled upon them." 
 
 War is thus declared on all sides. The combatants 
 have thrown away their scabbards. The Word of God 
 has resumed its rights, and deposes him who had gone 
 the length of usm-ping God's place. Society is shaken 
 throughout. No period is without egotistical men, 
 who would willuigly leave human society in error and 
 corruption ; but wise men, even the timid among them, 
 think differently. " We know well," says the mild and 
 moderate Melancthon, " that statesmen' have a horror 
 at everything like innovation; and it must be confessed, 
 that in the sad confusion called human life, discord, 
 even that which arises from the best of causes, is 
 always accompanied with evil. Still, it is necessary 
 that in the Church the Word of God take precedence 
 of everything human. God denounces eternal wrath 
 against those who stri^-e to extinguish the truth ; and 
 therefore it was a duty incumbent on Luther — a 
 Christian duty, which he could not evade — to rebuke 
 the pernicious errors which disorderly men were circu- 
 lating with inconceivable effrontery. If discord engen- 
 ders many evils, (to my great grief I see it does,)" adds 
 sage Philip, " it is the fault of those who at the begin- 
 ning circulated errors, and of those who, filled with dia- 
 bolic hatred, are seeking at present to maintain them." 
 
 All, however, were not of the same opinion. Luther 
 was loaded with reproaclies, — the storm burst upon 
 him from all sides. " He is quite alone," said some ; 
 " he teaches novelties," said others. 
 
 " Who knows," replied Luther, in .iccordance with 
 the virtue given him from on high, — " who knows if 
 God has not chosen me, and called me ; and if they 
 ought not to fear that, in despising me, they may be 
 despising God himself ? . . . Moses was alone on 
 coming out of Egypt, — Elijah alone in the time of King 
 Ahab, — Isaiah alone in Jerusalem, — Ezekiel alone at 
 Babylon. . . . God never chose for a prophet 
 either the high priest or any other great personage. 
 He usually chose persons who were low and despised, 
 — on one occasion he even chose a shepherd, (Amos.) 
 At all times the saints have had to rebuke the great — 
 kings, princes, priests, the learned — at the risk of their 
 lives. And under the new dispensation has it not been 
 the same ? Ambrose in his day was alone ; after him 
 Jerome was alone ; later still Augustine was alone. 
 . . . I do not say that I am a prophet ; but I say 
 they ought to fear just because I am alone, and they 
 are many. One thing I am sure of, the Word of God 
 is with me, and is not with them. 
 
 " It is said also," continues he, " that I advance 
 novelties, and that it is impossible to believe that all 
 other doctors have for so long a period been mistaken. 
 
 " No, I do not preach novelties. But I say that all 
 Cliristian doctrines have disappeared, even among those 
 who ought to have preserved them, — I mean bishops 
 and the learned. I doubt not, however, that the truth 
 has remained in some hearts, should it even have been 
 in infants in the cradle. Poor peasants, mere babes, 
 now understand Jesus Christ better than the pope, the 
 bishops, and the doctors. 
 
 " I am accused of rejecting the holy doctors of the 
 Church. I reject them not ; but since all those doctors 
 try to prove their writings by Holy Scripture, it must 
 be clearer and moi-e certain than they are. Who thinks 
 of proving an obscure discourse by one still more ob- 
 scure ? Thus, then, necessity constrains us to recur to 
 the Bible, as all the doctors do, and to ask it to decide 
 upon their -writings ; for the Bible is lord and master. 
 
 "But it is said men in power persecute him. And 
 is it not clear from Scriptm'e that persecutors are 
 usually in the wrong, and the persecuted in the right ; 
 that the majority are always in favom* of falsehood, 
 and the minority in favour of truth ? The truth has, 
 at all times, caused clamour." 
 
 Luther afterwards reviews the propositions con- 
 demned in the bull as heretical, and demonstrates their 
 truth by proofs drawn from Holy Scripture. With 
 what force, in particular, does he now maintain the 
 doctrine of grace ! 
 
 " What !" says he, " will nature be able, before and 
 without grace, to hate sin, avoid it, and repent of it ; 
 while that, even since grace is come, this nature loves 
 sin, seeks it, desires it, and ceases not to combat grace, 
 and to be irritated against it — a fact for which all the 
 s.aints continually do groan? . . . It is as if it 
 were said that a large tree, which I am unable to bend 
 by exerting my utmost strength, bends of itself on my 
 letting it go ; or that a torrent, which walls and dykes 
 cannot arrest, is arrested the instant I leave it to itself. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 . . . No, it is not by considering sin and its conse- 
 quences that we attain to repentance, but by contem- 
 plating Jesus Clirist, His wounds, and boundless love. 
 The knowledge of sin must result from repentance, and 
 not repentance from the knowledge of sin. Knowledge 
 is the fruit, repentance is the tree. "With us the fruit 
 grows upon the tree ; but it would seem that, in the 
 states of the holy father, the tree grows upon the fruit." 
 
 The courageous doctor, though he protests, also re- 
 tracts some of his propositions. Sui-prise will cease 
 when his mode of doing it is known. After quoting 
 the four propositions on indulgences, condemned by the 
 biUl, he simply adds : 
 
 " In honour of the holy and learned bull, I refract 
 all that I have ever taught touching indulgences. If 
 my books have been justly burned, it must certainly be 
 because I conceded something to the pope in the doc- 
 trine of indulgences ; wherefore, I myself condemn them 
 to the fire." 
 
 He also retracts in regard to John Huss. " I say 
 now, not that some articles, but all the articles of John 
 Huss are Christian throughout. The pope, in con- 
 demning Huss, condemned the Gospel. I have done 
 five times more than he, and yet I much fear have not 
 done enough. Huss merely says, that a wicked pope 
 is not a member of Christendom ; but I, were St. Peter 
 himself sitting to-day at Kome, would deny that he 
 was pope by the appointment of God." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Coronation of Charles V.— The Nuncio Aleander— Will Luther's Books be 
 burnt ?— Aleander and the Emperor— The Nuncios and the Elector— 
 The Son of Duke John pleads for Luther— Luther's Calmness — The 
 Elector protects Luther— Reply to the Nuncios — Erasmus at Cologne — 
 Erasmus with the Elector— Declaration of Erasmus— Advice of Erasmus 
 —System of Charles V. 
 
 The powerful words of the reformer penetrated all 
 minds, and contributed to their emancipation. The 
 sparks of light which each word threw out were com- 
 municated to the whole nation. But a great question 
 remained to be solved. Would the prince, in whose 
 states Luther dwelt, favour the execution of the bull, 
 or would he oppose it '? The reply seemed doubtful. 
 At that time the elector and all the princes of the em- 
 pire were at Aix-la-Chapelle, where the crown of 
 Charlemagne was placed upon the head of the youngest, 
 but most powerful monarch of Christendom. Unpre- 
 cedented pomp and magnificence were displayed in the 
 ceremony. Charles V., Frederick, the princes, minis- 
 ters, and ambassadors, immediately after repaired to 
 Cologne. Aix-la-Chapello, where the plague was rag- 
 ing, seemed to empty itself into this ancient town on 
 the banks of the Rhine. 
 
 Among the crowd of strangers who pressed into the 
 city, were the two papal nuncios, Marino Caraccioli 
 and Jerome Aleander. Caraccioli, who had previously 
 executed a mission to Maximilian, was appointed to 
 congratulate the new emperor, and confer with him on 
 matters of state. But Rome had become aware that, 
 
 in order to succeed in extinguishing the Reformation, 
 it was necessary to send into Germany a nuncio 
 specially entrusted with the task, and with a character, 
 address, and activity fitted to accomplish it. Aleander 
 had been selected. This man, who was afterwards 
 decorated with the cardinals' purple, seems to have been 
 of rather an ancient family, and not of Jewish parent- 
 age, as has been said. The guUty Borgia called him to 
 Rome to be secretary to his sou, the Ca3sar, before 
 whose murderous sword all Rome trembled. "Like 
 master like servant," says a historian, who thus com- 
 pares Aleander to Alexander VI. This judgment 
 seems too severe. After the death of Borgia, Aleander 
 devoted himself to study with new ardour. His skill 
 in Greek, Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic, gave him the 
 reputation of being the most learned man of his age. 
 He threw his whole soul into whatever he undertook. 
 The zeal with which he studied languages was not a 
 whit stronger than that which he displayed in perse- 
 cuting the Reformation. Leo X. took him into his 
 service. Protestant historians speak of his epicurean 
 habits — Roman historians of the integrity of his life. 
 He seems to have been fond of luxury, show, and 
 amusement. " Aleander," says his old friend Erasmus, 
 " lived in Venice, in high office, but in low epicu- 
 reanism." He is admitted to have been violent in 
 temper, prompt in action, full of ardour, indefatigable, 
 imperious, and devoted to the pope. Eck is the blus- 
 tering, intrepid champion of the school, — Aleander the 
 proud ambassador of the arrogant court of the pontiffs. 
 He seemed formed to be a nuncio. 
 
 Rome had made every preparation to destroy the 
 monk of Wittemberg. The duty of assisting at the 
 coronation of the emiieror, as representative of the 
 pope, was to Aleander only a secondary mission, fitted 
 to facilitate his task by the respect which it secured to 
 him. The essential part of his commission was to 
 dispose Charles to crush the growing Reformation. In 
 putting the bull into the hands of the emperor, the 
 nuncio had thus addressed him : " The pope, who has 
 succeeded with so many great princes, will have little 
 difficulty in bringing three gi-ammarians to order." By 
 these, he meant Luther, Melancthon, and Erasmus. 
 Erasmus was present at this audience. 
 
 No sooner had Aleander arrived at Cologne, than he 
 proceeded, in concert with Caraccioli, to put everything 
 in train for burning Luther's heretical writings through- 
 out the empire ; but more especially under the eyes of 
 the princes of Germany, who were then assembled. 
 Charles V. had already consented to its being done in 
 his hereditary states. The minds of men were greatly 
 agitated. " Such measures," it was said to the minis- 
 ters of Charles, and to the nuncios themselves, "far 
 from curing the evil, will only make it worse. Do you 
 imagine that the doctrine of Luther exists only in the 
 books which you throw into the flames '? It is written 
 where you cannot reach it — on the hearts of the popu- 
 lation. If you will employ force, it must be that of 
 innumerable swords, drawn to massacre an immense 
 multitude. Some billets of wood, collected for the 
 purpose of consuming some bits of paper, will do 
 nothing ; such weapons become not the dignity either 
 of the emperor or the pontiff." The nuncio defended 
 his faggot piles. "These flames," said he, "are a 
 

 ^lir: 
 
 k 
 
 IMH 
 
THE NUNCIOS AND THE ELECTOR. 
 
 sentonoc of o(iiiilomiiiiti<>n wrilteu in gigantic letters, 
 and iiiiderstooil alikr l>y ihn-.^ who arc near, and those 
 who arc at a ili>l:inrr. I.y lli.' Karned and the ignorant. 
 
 But, in reality, the nuncio's elforts were directed not 
 against papi is and books, but Luther himself. "These 
 tiamos," ri'sumcd he, " are not sufficient to purify the 
 infected air of Germany. If they deter the simple, 
 they do not correct the wicked. The thing wanted is 
 an edict from the emperor against Luther's head." 
 
 Aleander did not find the emperor so complying on 
 the subject of the reformer's person, as on that of his 
 books. 
 
 '• Having just ascended the throne," said he to 
 Aleander, " I cannot, without the advice of my coun- 
 cillors, and the consent of the princes, strike such a 
 blow at an immense faction, surrounded by such 
 powerful defenders. Let us first know what our 
 father, the Elector of Saxony, thinks of the affair; 
 after that, we shall see what answer to give to the 
 pope." On the elector, therefore, the nuncios pro- 
 ceeded to try their wUes and the power of their 
 eloquence. 
 
 On the first Sunday of November, after Frederick 
 had attended mass in the convent of the Cordeliers, 
 Caraccioli and Aleander requested an audience. He 
 received them in the presence of the Bishop of Trent, 
 and several of his councillors. Caraccioli first pre- 
 sented the papal brief. Milder than Aleander, he 
 thought it best to gain the elector by flatter}', and 
 began to laud him and his ancestors. "In you," said 
 he, " we hope for the salvation of the Roman Church 
 and the Roman empire." 
 
 But the impetuous Aleander, wishing to come to the 
 point, came briskly forward, and interrupted his col- 
 league, who modestly gave way to him. " It is to me," 
 said he, " and Eck, that Martin's affair has been en- 
 trusted. See the immense perils to which this man 
 exposes the Christian commonwealth. If a remedy is 
 not speedily applied the empire is destroyed. What 
 ruined the Greeks if it was not their abandonment of 
 the pope ? You cannot remain united to Luther with- 
 out separating from Jesus Christ. In the name of his 
 holiness, I ask of you two things : first, to burn the 
 writings of Luther ; secondly, to punish him according 
 to his demerits, or at least to give him up a prisoner to 
 the pope. The emperor, and all the princes of the 
 empire, have declared theii- readiness to accede to our 
 demands ; you alone still hesitate." . . . 
 
 Frederick replied, by the intervention of the Bishop 
 of Trent : " This affair is too grave to be decided on 
 the spur of the moment. We will acquaint you with 
 our resolution." 
 
 Frederick's position was difficult. What course will 
 he adopt.? On the one side are the emperor, the 
 princes of the empire, and the chief pontiff of Christen- 
 dom, from whose authority the elector has as yet no 
 thought of withdrawing ; on the other, a monk, a feeble 
 monk ; for his person is all that is asked. The reign of 
 the emperor ha-s just commenced, and will discord be 
 thrown into the empire by Frederick, the oldest and 
 the wisest of all the princes of Germany ? Besides, 
 can he renounce that piety which led him as far as the 
 sepulchre of Christ .' ... 
 
 Other voices were then heard. John Frederick, sou 
 of Duke John, and nephew of Frederick, the pupil of 
 Spalatin, a young prince, seventeen years of age, who 
 afterwards wore the electoral crown, and whose reigu 
 was marked by great misfortunes, had been inspired 
 with a heartfelt love of the truth, and was strongly 
 attached to Luther. When he saw him struck with 
 the anathemas of Rome, he embraced his cause with 
 the w-armth of a young Christian and a young pi-ince. 
 lie wrote to the doctor, he wrote also to his uncle, 
 soliciting him to protect Luther against his enemies. 
 At the same time, Spalatin, though indeed he was often 
 veiy desponding, Pontauus, and the other councillors 
 who were w'ith the elector at Cologne, represented to 
 him that he could not abandon the reformer. 
 
 Amid the general agitation only one man remained 
 tranquil — that man was Luther. While others were 
 trying to save him by the influence of the great, the 
 monk, in his cloister at Wittemberg, thought that the 
 great stood more in need of being saved by him. Writ- 
 ing to Spalatin, he says : " If the Gospel was of a 
 nature to be propagated or maintained by the power of 
 the world, God would not have entrusted it to fisher- 
 men. To defend the Gospel appertains not to the 
 princes and pontiffs of this world. They have enough 
 to do to shelter themselves from the judgments of the 
 Lord and His Anointed. If I speak, I do it in order 
 that they may obtain the knowledge of the Divine 
 Word, and be saved by it." 
 
 Luther's expectation was not to be deceived. The 
 faith which a convent of Wittemberg contained exer- 
 cised its influence in the palaces of Cologne. The 
 heart of Frederick, shaken, perhaps, for an instant, 
 became gi-adually stronger. He was indignant that 
 the pope, notwitlistanding of urgent entreaties to inves- 
 tigate the matter in Germany, had condemned it at 
 Rome, on the demand of the reformer's personal enemy; 
 and that in his absence that enemy should have dared 
 to publish in Saxony a bull which threatened the ex- 
 istence of the university and the peace of his people. 
 Besides, the elector was convinced that Luther had 
 been wronged. He shuddered at the thought of de- 
 livering an innocent man into the cruel hands of his 
 enemies. Justice, rather than the pope, — such was 
 the rule he adopted. He resolved not to yield to Rome. 
 On the 4th November, when the Roman nuncios were 
 in his presence with the Bishop of Trent, liis council- 
 lors announced to them, on the part of the elector, that 
 he was much grieved to see how Doctor Eck had taken 
 the opportunity of his absence to involve in condemna- 
 tion several persons not adverted to in the bull, — that 
 it might be that, since his departure, an immense num- 
 ber of the learned and the ignorant, the clergy and the 
 laity, had united in adhering to the cause and the 
 ajjpeal of Luther, — that neither his imperial majesty, 
 nor any person, had shewn him that the -Nvritings of 
 Luther had been refuted, and that the only thing now 
 necessary was to throw them into the fire, — that he, 
 moreover, demanded a safe conduct for Doctor Luther, 
 to enable him to appear before learned, pious, and 
 important judges. 
 
 After this declaration, Aleander, Caraccioli, and 
 their suite, retired to deliberate. It was the first time 
 the elector had publicly declared his intentions with 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 regard to the reformer. The nuncios had anticipated 
 a very different result. " Now," thought they, " that 
 the elector, by persisting in playing liis part of impar- 
 tiality, would expose himself to dangers, the full extent 
 of which cannot be foreseen, he will not hesitate to 
 sacrifice the monk." So Kome had reasoned. But her 
 schemes were destined to fail before a power to which 
 she had not adverted — the love of justice and truth. 
 
 When again before the elector's councillors, " I 
 would fain know," said the imperious Aleander, "what 
 the elector would think, were one of his subjects to 
 choose the King of France, or some other foreign 
 prince for judge?" Seeing at length that the Saxon 
 councillors were not to be shaken, he said : " We will 
 execute the buU ; we will prosecute and burn the wi'it- 
 iugs of Luther. As to his person," added he, affecting 
 a tlisdaiuful indifference, " the pope has no anxiety to 
 dip his hand in the blood of the wi'etch." 
 
 News of the reply which the elector had given to 
 the mmcios having reached Wittemberg, Luther's, 
 friends were overjoyed. Melancthon and Amsdoiif, in 
 particular, cherished the most flattering hopes. ''Tlie 
 Gei-man nobility," said Melancthon, " will shape their 
 course by the example of a prince whom they follow 
 j in everything as their uestor. If Homer called his 
 hero ' the wall of the Greeks,' why should not Frede- 
 rick be called ' the wall of the Gei-mans ? ' " 
 
 Erasmus — the oracle of com-ts, the torch of the 
 schools, the light of the world — was then at Cologne, 
 having been invited thither by several princes who 
 wished to consult him. At the period of tlie Refor- 
 mation, Erasmus was at the head of the true midtUe 
 (juste milieu) party, — at least he thought he was, but 
 erroneously ; for when truth and error are in presence 
 of each other, the right side is not the middle. He 
 was the chief of that philosophical and university 
 party which had for ages aspu-ed to correct Rome, 
 without being able to do so ; he was the representative 
 of human wisdom ; but this wisdom was too weak to 
 repress the arrogance of the papacy. The wisdom of 
 God was necessary — that wisdom wliich the world 
 often calls folly, but at the bidding of whicli moun- 
 tains are crushed. Erasmus was unwilling cither to 
 throw himself into the amis of Luther, or to seat him- 
 self at the feet of the pope. He hesitated, and often 
 vibrated between these two powers, sometimes attracted 
 towards Luther, and then suddenly repelled towards 
 the pope. He had declared for Luther in a letter to 
 tlie Archbisliop of Mentz, in which he had said : " The 
 Lost spark of Clmstian piety seems ready to be extin- 
 guished. It is this that has moved Luther's heart ; he 
 cares neither for money nor honour." The publication 
 of this letter by the imprudent Ulrich von Hiitten, sub- 
 jected Erasmus to so much annoyance, that he resolved 
 to act with more prudence in future. Besides, he was 
 accused of being in concert with Luther, whose un- 
 guarded speeches, moreover, offended him. "Almost 
 all good people," said he, " are for Luther ; but I see 
 that we are on the high way to a revolt. I would not 
 have my name coupled with his. It hm-ts me, and does 
 him no good." " Be it so," replied Luther, " since it 
 pains you, I promise never to mention your name, nor 
 that of any of your friends." Such was the man to whom 
 both the enemies and the friends of the reformer a^jplied. 
 
 The elector, aware that the opinion of a man so 
 much respected as Erasmus would carry great weight, 
 invited the illustrious Dutchman to come to him. 
 Erasmus complied. This was on the 5th of December. 
 The friends of Luther saw this step not without secret 
 apprehension. The elector was sitting before the fire, 
 with Spalatin beside him, when Erasmus was intro- 
 duced. "What think you of Luther?" immediately 
 asked Frederick. The prudent Erasmus, sm-prised at 
 the direct question, at first tried to evade it. He 
 twisted his mouth, bit his lips, and said nothing. Then 
 the elector, opening his eyes, (says Spalatin,) as he was 
 wont to do when speaking to persons from whom he 
 wished a precise answer, looked piercingly at Erasmus, 
 who, not knowiug how to disembarrass himself, at last 
 said, half in jest: "Luther has committed two gi-eat 
 faults ; he has attacked the jjope's crown and the 
 monks' belly." The elector smiled, but gave Erasmus 
 to understand that he was in earnest. Then Erasmus, 
 laying aside his reserve, said : " The source of all this 
 dispute is the hatred of the monks against letters, and 
 the fear they have of seeing an end put to their 
 tyi-anny. What have they put in operation against 
 Luther? Clamour, cabal, hatred, libels. The more 
 vu'tuous and the more attached to the doctrines of the 
 Gospel a man is, the less is he opposed to Luther. The 
 harshness of the bull has excited the indignation of aU 
 good men ; and nobody has been able to discover in it 
 the meekness of a vicar of Jesus Christ. Out of so 
 many universities, two only have attacked Luther ; and 
 even these have only condemned, not convicted him. 
 Let not people deceive themselves ; the danger is 
 greater than some suppose. Things difficult and ardu- 
 ous are at hand. ... To begin the reign of 
 Charles with an act so hateful as the imprisonment of 
 Luther, would be of sad auguiy. The world is thu-st- 
 ing for evangelical truth. Let us beware of culpably 
 resisting it. Let the affair be examined by grave men 
 of soimd judgment ; this would be more accordant with 
 the dignity of the pope himself." 
 
 Thus spoke Erasmus to the elector. The reader 
 will, perhaps, be astonished at his frankness ; but Eras- 
 mus knew to whom he was speaking. Spalatin was 
 delighted ; and going out with Erasmus, accompanied 
 him as far as the house of the Coimt of Nuenar, pro- 
 vost of Cologne, where the illustrious scholar was 
 residing. Erasmus, in a fit of frankness, went into his 
 room, took up the pen and wrote down tlie substance 
 of what he had said to the elector, and gave it to Spala- 
 tin. But fear of Aleander soon took possession of the 
 timid Erasmus ; the courage which he had felt in the 
 presence of the elector and his chaplain vanished ; and 
 he begged Spalatin to send back his too bold writing, 
 lest it should fall into the hands of the terrible nuncio. 
 It was too late. 
 
 The elector, feeling strong in the opinion of Erasmus, 
 spoke in more decided terms to the emperor. Erasmus 
 himself strove in nocturnal conferences, like Nicodemus 
 of old, to persuade the councillors of Charles that it 
 was necessary to remit the wliole affair to impartial 
 judges. Perhaps he had some hope of being named 
 arbiter in this cause, which threatened to divide the 
 Christian world. His vanity would have been flattered 
 by the office. But, at the same time, not to lose him- 
 
LUTHER ON CONFESSION AND TRUE ABSOLUTION. 
 
 self at Rome, he wrote the most submissive letters to 
 Leo, who replied in kind terms, and thereby put poor 
 Alcandcr to the tort\ire. From love to the pope, he 
 could have sharply rebuked the pope. Erasmus com- 
 muniealcd the i)ontiff's letters, because they added to 
 his crodit. The nuncio made a complaint at Rome. 
 '•Pretend," was the answer, "that you do not observe 
 the nauj;htiiiess (if that man. Pnulcnce requires it — 
 it is necessary to leave the door open for repentance." 
 
 Charles V. himself endiraccd a vacillating system, 
 which consisted in flattering both the pope and the 
 elector ; and in seeming to incline alternately towards 
 tlie one or the other, according to the wants of the 
 moment. One of his ministers, whom he had sent to 
 Rome on certain Spanish matters, had airivcd at the 
 very time when Eck was loudly ]irosecuting Luther's 
 condenniation. The wily aiiibas^ndor instantly saw the 
 advantages which his niasler ini.:lit derive from the 
 Saxon monk, and on the ll'lli ilay, IfiiO, wrote the 
 emperor, who was still in Spain : " Your Majesty 
 should go into Germany, and there shew some favour 
 to one Martin Luther, who is at the court of Saxony, 
 and, by his discourses, is giving much uneasiness to the 
 court of Rome." Such, at the outset, was the light in 
 which Charles viewed the matter. His object was not 
 to know on which side truth or error lay, or to ascer- 
 tain what the great interest of Germany demanded. 
 AVhat does policy require, and by what means can the 
 pope be induced to support the emperor ? This was 
 the whole question, and at Rome was well known to be 
 so. The ministers of Charles gave Aleander a hint of 
 the plan which their master meant to follow. " The 
 emperor," said tliey, "will act towards the pope as the 
 pope acts towards the emperor ; for he cares not to in- 
 crease the power of his rivals, and, in particular, of the 
 King of France." At these words the imperious nuncio 
 gave vent to his indignation : " What ! " replied he, 
 " even should the pope abandon the emperor, must the 
 emperor abandon religion I If Charles means thus to 
 take his revenge, ... let him tremble ! This 
 unprincipled course will turn against himself." The 
 imperial diplomatists were not moved by the menaces 
 of the nuncio. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Lutlicr on Confession— True Absolution— Antichrist— Rally around Luther— 
 Satires— Ulrich von Hiitten— Lucas Cranach- The Carnival at Wittem- 
 berg— Staupitz Intimidated— Luther's Labours— Luther's Humility- 
 Progress of the Reformation. 
 
 If the legates of Rome failed with the mighty of the 
 world, the inferior agents of the papacy succeeded in 
 producing disturbance among the weak. The militia 
 of Rome had heard the command of their chief. Fana- 
 tical priests employed the bull in alarming consciences ; 
 and honest, but ill-informed, ecclesiastics regarded it as 
 a sacred duty to act confoi'mably to the instructions of 
 the pope. Luther had begun his struggle against Rome 
 in the confessional, and in the confessional Rome gave 
 battle to the adherents of the reformer. The bull, 
 
 though openly contemned by the nation, became power- 
 ful in these solitary tribunals. " Have you read the 
 writings of Luther '!" demanded the confessors ; " do 
 you possess them? do you regard them as sound, or 
 as heretical?" If the penitent hesitated to pronounce 
 the anathema, the priest refused him absolution. Sev- 
 eral consciences were troubled. The people were 
 strongly agitated. This skilful manoeuvre promised to 
 restore to the papal yoke whole districts already gained 
 to the Gospel. Rome congratulated herself on having, 
 in the tliirlemth e.niiiry. erected ;i tribunal destined to 
 bring the tree ennseieiiees (if Christians under subjec- 
 tion to the priests. While it continues in force her 
 reign is not ended. 
 
 Luther became aware of these circumstances. 
 Single-handed what will he do to defeat the ma- 
 noeuvre ? The Word — the Word uttered loudly and 
 boldly: such is his weapon. The AVord will search 
 out these alarmed consciences, these friglitened souls, 
 and strengthen them. A powerful impulse was re- 
 quired ; and Luther's voice was heard addressing peni- 
 tents with heroic boldness ; and a noble disregard of 
 all secondary considerations. " When you are asked," 
 says he, "whether or not you approve my books, 
 answer, ' You are a confessor ; and not au inquisitor 
 or a gaoler. My duty is to confess what my con- 
 science dictates ; yours not to probe and discover the 
 secrets of my heart. Give me absolution, and there- 
 after dispute with Luther, the pope, and whomsoever 
 you please ; but do not connect the sacrament of peace 
 with strife and combat.' If the confessor will not 
 yield, then," continues Luther, "I would rather dis- 
 pense with his absolution. Give yourself no uneasi- 
 ness ; if man will not absolve you, God will absolve 
 you. Rejoice in that you are absolved by God him- 
 self ; and present yourself without fear at the sacra- 
 ment of the altar. The priest will have to account at 
 the final judgment for the absolution which he shall 
 have refused you. They may indeed refuse us the 
 sacrament ; but they cannot deprive us of the strength 
 and gi'ace which God has attached to it. God has 
 placed salvation neither in their will nor in their 
 power; but in oiu' faith. Leave their sacrament, 
 altar, priest, church : the AVord of God condemned in 
 the bull is more than all these things. The soid can 
 dispense with the sacrament ; but cannot live without 
 the Word. Christ, the true Bishop, will himself 
 undertake to nourish you spiritually." 
 
 Thus Luther's voice found its way into families, 
 and alarmed consciences, unparting to them coiu-age 
 and faith. But it was not enough for him merely to 
 defend himself ; he felt it his duty to attack and 
 retm'n blow for blow. Ambrose Catherinus, a Roman 
 theologian, had written against him. "I will stir up 
 the bile of the Italian beast," said Luther ; and he kept 
 his word. In his reply, he proved, by the revelations 
 of Daniel and St. John, by the epistles of St. Paul, 
 St. Peter, and St. Jude, that the reign of Antichrist, 
 predicted and described in the Bible, was the papacy. 
 "I know for certain," says he in conchision, "that our 
 Lord Jesus Clu-ist lives and reigns. Strong in this 
 assurance, I would not fear several thousands of popes. 
 May God at length visit you according to His infinite 
 power, and cause the day of the glorious advent of 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 His Son to shine, — that day in which He will destroy 
 the wicked. And let all the people say, Amen ! " 
 
 And all the people did say. Amen! A holy fear 
 took possession of men's souls. Tliey saw Antichrist 
 seated on the pontifical throne. This new idea — an 
 idea which derived great force from the prophetical 
 description — being thrown by Luther into the midst of 
 his age, gave Rome a dreadful shock. Faith in the 
 Divine Word was substituted for that which, till then, 
 the Church alone had obtained ; and the power of the 
 pope, which had long been adored by the people, be- 
 came the object of their hatred and terror. 
 
 Germany replied to the papal bull by surrounding 
 Luther with acclamation. The plague was in Wittem- 
 berg, and yet arrivals of new students daily took 
 place ; while from four to six hundred pupils regularly 
 took their seats in the academic halls at the feet of 
 Luther and Melancthou. The church of the convent 
 and the town church were too small for the crowds 
 eager to hear the words of the reformer. The prior of 
 the Augustines was in terror lest these churches should 
 give way under the pressure of the audience. But the 
 movement was not confined within the walls of Wit- 
 temberg : it extended over Germany. Letters full of 
 consolation and faith, from princes, noble and learned 
 men, reached Luther from all quarters. He shewed 
 tlie chaplain more than thirty of them. 
 
 One day the Margrave of Brandenburg, with several 
 other princes, arrived at Wittemberg to visit Luther. 
 '' They wished to see the man," said the Margrave. 
 In fact, all wished to see the man whose word alarmed 
 the pope, and caused the pontiff of the West to totter 
 on his throne. 
 
 The enthusiasm of Luther's friends increased from 
 day to day. " Unparalleled folly of Emser ! " ex- 
 claimed Melancthon, "to presume to measure weapons 
 with our Hercules, — overlooking the finger of God in 
 the actions of Luther, as the King of Egypt over- 
 looked it in the hand of Moses." The mild Melancthon 
 found strong expressions to excite those who seemed to 
 him to retrograde or remain stationary. " Luther has 
 stood up for the truth," wrote he to John Hess, "and 
 yet you keep silence. He still breathes, he stiU pros- 
 pers, though Leo is indignant, and roars with rage. 
 Remember, it is impossible for Roman impiety to 
 approve of the Gospel. How should this unhappy 
 age be without its Judases, Caiaphases, Pilates, and 
 Herods ? Ai-m yourself, then, with the power of the 
 Word of God against such adversaries." 
 
 All the writings of Luther, his Lord's Prayer, and 
 especially a new edition of the German theology, were 
 eagerly devoured. Reading societies were formed, for 
 the piu-pose of procuring his works for the use of the 
 members. Friends made new impressions of them, and 
 circulated them by means of hawkers. They were also 
 recommended from pulpits. A German church was 
 demanded, one in which no dignity should in future be 
 conferred on any one who was not able to preach to 
 the people in Gei-man ; and the German bishops of 
 which should everywhere oppose the papal power. 
 
 Moreover, cutting satires, directed against the leading 
 ultramontanists, were circulated throughout the pro- 
 vinces of the empire. The opposition united all its 
 forces around this new doctrine, which give it precisely 
 
 what it wanted, by justifying it in regard to religion. 
 The greater part of the lawyers, weary of the quirks 
 of the ecclesiastical tribunals, attached themselves to 
 the Reformation ; but its cause viras keenly embraced, 
 above all, by the Humanists. Ulrich von Hiitten was 
 indefatigable. He wrote letters to Luther, to the le- 
 gates, and the leading men of Germany. " I tell you, 
 and teU you again, Marinus ! " said he to the legate, 
 Caraccioli, in one of his publications, " the mists with 
 which you blinded us are cleared away — the Gospel is 
 preached — the truth proclaimed — the absurdities of 
 Rome treated with contempt — ^your ordinances languish 
 and die — liberty begins." 
 
 Not contenting himself -svith prose, Hiitten had re- 
 com-se to verse also. He published his " Cry on the 
 Burning by Luther." Appealing to Jesus Clu'ist, he 
 prayed Him to consume, with the brightness of His 
 countenance, those who dared to deny His power. He 
 began, moreover, to write in German. " Hitherto," 
 said he, " I have written in Latin, a language which 
 all could not comprehend; but now I address myself 
 to my country." Plis German rhymes laid open, and 
 enabled the people to read, the shameful and voluminous 
 record of the sins of the Roman Court. But Hiitten 
 was unwilling to confine himself to mere words ; he 
 was impatient to bring his sword into the struggle ; for 
 he thought that by the swords and halberds of the 
 many valiant warriors, of which Germany was proud, 
 the vengeance of God was to be accomplished. Luther 
 opposed his infatuated projects. " I would not," said 
 he, " that men should fight for the Gospel by violence 
 and carnage. I have wi-itten so to Hiitten." 
 
 The celebrated painter, Lucas Cranach, published, 
 under the title of the "Passion of Christ and Anti- 
 christ," engravings which represented, on the one hand, 
 the splendour and magnificence of the pope, and on the 
 other, the humility and sufferings of the Redeemer. 
 Luther wrote the inscriptions. These engravings, exe- 
 cuted with gi-eat spirit, produced an astonishing effect. 
 The people withdi-ew from a church which appeared 
 so opposed to the spii-it of its Founder. " This work," 
 said Luther, " is excellent for the laity." 
 
 Several, in opposing the papacy, had recoiu-se to 
 arms, which ill accorded with the holiness of the 
 Christian life. Emser, in replying to Luther's tract, 
 entitled, " To the Goat of Leipsic," had published one 
 entitled, "To the Bull of Wittemberg." The name 
 was not ill chosen. But at Magdeburg, Emser's book 
 was hung on the gallows, with this inscription : " The 
 book is worthy of the place;" and a rod was placed 
 beside it, to indicate the punishment which the autlior 
 deserved. At Doeblin, there was written under the 
 papal bull, in derision of its impotent thunders, "The 
 nest is here, but the birds are flown." 
 
 At Wittemberg, the students, taking advantage of 
 the carnival, clothed one of their number in a dress 
 resembling that of the pope, and paraded him through 
 the streets "pompously, but rather too ludicrously," 
 says Luther. On arriving at the public square, they 
 went down to the banks of the river; and some of 
 them, feigning a sudden attack, seemed to wish to 
 throw the pope into the water ; but the pope, having 
 no liking for such a bath, took to his heels. His 
 cardinals, bishops, and familiara, followed his example, 
 
LUTHER'S LABOURS AND HUMILITY. 
 
 dispersing over all the quarters of tlie town, while the 
 students continued to pursue them. There was not a 
 corner of AVitteniberg wlierc some Roman dignitary did 
 not flee before the shouts and laughter of the inhabi- 
 tants, who were all in motion. " The enemy of Christ," 
 says Luther, "wlio sports both with kings and with 
 Christ himself, well deserves to be thus sported with." 
 In tliis we think him in error. Truth is too beautifid, 
 and ought never to be made to walk through the mire. 
 She ought to fight witliout such auxiliaries as songs, 
 caricatiu-es, and carnival frolics. It may be, that with- 
 out these popular demonstrations her success would be 
 less apparent ; but it would be more pure, and conse- 
 queutly more durable. Be this as it may, the impru- 
 dent and passionate conduct of the court of Rome had 
 excited universal antipathy; and the bidl, by which the 
 papacy tliought to stifle everything, was itself the cause 
 of general revolt. 
 
 Still the reformer's whole course was not one of 
 exultation and triumph. Behind the car in which he 
 was drawn by his zealous countrymen, transported 
 with admiration, there was not wanting the slave ap- 
 pointed to remind him of his frailty. Some of his 
 friends seemed disposed to call a halt. Staupitz, whom 
 he called his father, seemed shaken. The pope had 
 accused him, and Staupitz had declared his readiness 
 to submit to the judgment of his holiness. "I fear," 
 said Luther to him, " that in accepting the pope for 
 judge, you will seem to throw oil' me and the doctrines 
 which I have maintained. If Christ loves you, He will 
 constrain you to retract your letter. Christ is con- 
 demned, spoiled, blasphemed ; it is time not to fear, 
 but to cry aloud. Wherefore, while you exhort me to 
 humility, I exhort you to pride ; for you have too much 
 humility, just as I have too much of its opposite. I 
 shall be called proud and avaricious, an adulterer, a 
 murderer, an antipope, a man guUty of all crimes. It 
 matters not, so long as they cannot accuse me of hav- 
 ing kept an impious silence at the moment when the 
 Lord was grieved, and said : / looked on mij right hand, 
 and beheld, but there wees no man that mould know me. 
 (Ps. cxlii. 4.) The Word of Jesus Christ is not a 
 Word of peace, but a sword. If you will not follow 
 Jesus Christ, I will walk alone, advance alone, and 
 gain the day." 
 
 Thus Luther, like the commander of an army, kept 
 an eye on the whole field of battle ; and while he urged 
 fresh troops forward into the thickest of the fight, 
 marked those who appeared faint-hearted, and recalled 
 them to their post. His exhortations were everywhere 
 heard. His letters rapidly succeeded each other. 
 Three presses were constantly employed in multipljang 
 his writings. His words had free course among the 
 people, strengthened consciences which the confessionals 
 had alarmed, raised up those ready to faint in convents, 
 and maintained the rights of truth in t he palaces of princes. 
 
 " Amid the tempests which assail me," wrote he to 
 the elector, " I always hoped I would one day find 
 
 peace. But I now see it was only a man's thought. 
 Day after day the wave is rising, and I already stand 
 iu tlic midst of the ocean. The tempest breaks loose 
 with fearful roar. AV'ith one hand I grasp the sword, 
 and with tlie other build up the walls of Zion. Her 
 ancient links are snapt asunder, broken by the hand 
 which darted the thunders of excommunication against 
 her." " Excommunicated by the bull," says he, " I am 
 loosed from the authority of the pope and monastic 
 laws. With joy I embrace the deliverance. But I lay 
 aside neitlier tlie habit of the order nor the convent." 
 And yet, amidst all this agitation, he never loses sight 
 of the dangers liy which his own soul is beset during 
 the strife. He feels the necessity of keeping a watch 
 upon himself. "You do well to pray for me," wrote 
 he to Pellican, who was living at Bale. "I cannot 
 devote enough of time to holy exercises. My life is a 
 cross. Y'ou do well to exhort me to modesty. I feel 
 the want of it ; but I am not my own master : I know 
 not what spirit rules me. I wish ill to nobody; but my 
 enemies press me with such fury, that I am not suffi- 
 ciently on my guard against the seductions of Satan. 
 Pray, then, for me." 
 
 Thus both the reformer and the Reformation has- 
 tened on in the direction iu which God called them. 
 The movement extended. Men who might have been 
 expected to be most faithful to the hierarchy, began 
 to be shaken. "Even those," says Eek, ingeniously 
 enough, " who hold of the pope the best benefices and 
 the richest canonries, remain mute as fishes. Several 
 among them even extol Luther as a man filled with the 
 Spirit of God, and call the defenders of the pope 
 sophists and flatterers." The Church, apparently great 
 in power, supported by the treasures, the powers, and 
 the armies of the world, but in reality emaciated and 
 enfeebled, without love to God, without Christian life, 
 without enthusiasm for the truth, found herself in pre- 
 sence of men, simple, but bold ; men who, knowing 
 that God is with those who combat for His SVord, had 
 no doubt of victory. Every age has experienced how 
 powerful an idea is in penetrating the masses, iu arous- 
 ing nations, and, if need be, luu-rpng thousands to the 
 field of battle, and to death ; but if such is the influence 
 of a human idea, what must be the power of an idea 
 sent down from heaven when God opens the door of 
 the human heart ! The world has not often seen such 
 a power in operation. It did see it, however, in the 
 first days of Christianity, and in those of the Reforma- 
 tion ; and it will see it in days yet to come. Men who 
 disdained tlie world's wealth and grandeiu-, and were 
 contented to lead a life of pain and poverty, began to 
 move in behalf of the holiest thing upon the earth — 
 the doctrine of faith and of grace. In this heaving of 
 society all the religious elements were brought into 
 operation, and the fire of enthusiasm hm-ried men 
 boldly forward into a new life, an epoch of renovation, 
 which had just opened so majestically, and towards 
 which Providence was hastening the nations. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 THE DIET OF WOKJIS— (.JANUARY TO MAY) 1521. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Conquests by tho Wonl nf Gixl— The Diet of Worms— Difficulties— Charles 
 Demands Lulli-i \\v ] N-i"! to Charles— State ot Men's Miuds— 
 Aleauiler's Al i i I ■ -^'ts out without Luther — Aleander 
 
 Awakens I!"it: I i 1 i.,n of the Pope, and Communion with 
 
 Chi'ist— Fulnini ii "i th- j'.iiU -Luther's Motives in the Reformation. 
 
 The Reformatiou, which commenced with the sti-uggles 
 of an humble soul in the cell of a convent at Erfurt, 
 had never ceased to advance. An obscure individual, 
 with the Word of life in his hand, had stood erect in 
 presence of worldly grandeiu-, and made it tremble. 
 This "Word he had opposed, first, to Tetzel and his 
 numerous host ; and these avaricious merchants, after a 
 momentary resistance, had taken flight. Next, he had 
 opposed it to the legate of Rome at Augsburg ; and the 
 legate, paralyzed, liad allowed his prey to escape. At 
 a later period he had opposed it to the champions of 
 learning in the halls of Leipsic; and the astonished 
 theologians had seen their syllogistic weapons broken 
 to pieces in then- hands. At last he had opposed it to 
 tlie pope, who, disturbed in his sleep, had risen up 
 upon his throne, and thundered at the troublesome 
 monk ; but the whole power of the head of Christen- 
 dom this Word had paralyzed. The Word had still a 
 last struggle to maintain. It behoved to triumph over 
 the emperor of the West, over the kings and princes of 
 the earth ; and then, victorious over all the powers of 
 the world, take its place in the Chm'ch, to reign in it 
 as the pure Word of God. 
 
 The whole kingdom was agitated. Princes and 
 nobles, knights and citizens, clergy and laity, town and 
 country, all were engrossed. A mighty rehgious revo- 
 lution, of which God himself was the prime mover, 
 but which was also deeply rooted in the minds of the 
 people, was threatening to overthrow the long vene- 
 rated head of the Roman hierarchy. A new genera- 
 tion, of a grave, profound, active, and energetic spirit, 
 filled the universities, towns, courts, and castles, the 
 rural districts, and not unfrequently cloisters also. The 
 feeling that a great social transformation was at hand, 
 animated all minds with holy enthusiasm. In what 
 relation will the new emperor stand to this movement 
 of the age ? and what will be the issue of the mighty 
 impulse, by which all feel that they are borne along ? 
 
 A solemn diet was about to be opened. It was the 
 first imperial assembly over which the youthful Charles 
 was to preside. Nuremberg, where, in virtue of the 
 Golden Bull, it ought to have been held, being desolated 
 by the plague, it had been summoned to meet at 
 Worms, on the 6th of January, 1521. Never had a 
 diet been attended by so many princes. All desired to 
 be present at this first act of the government of the 
 young emperor, and to make a display of their power. 
 
 Among others, the young Landgrave, Philip of Hesse, 
 who was afterwards to play so important a part in 
 the Reformation, arrived at Worms in the middle of 
 January, with six hundred cavaliers, among them men 
 of renowned valour. 
 
 But there was a still more powerful motive whicli 
 induced the electors, dukes, archbishops, landgraves, 
 margraves, bishops, barons, and lords of the empire, as 
 well as the deputies of towns, and the ambassadors of 
 the kings of Christendom, at this moment, to throng 
 the roads leading to Worms with their brilliant equi- 
 pages. It had been announced that the diet would be 
 occupied with the nomination of a council of regency 
 to govern the empire during the absence of Charles, 
 with the jurisdiction of the imperial chamber, and 
 other important questions. But the public attention 
 was particularly directed to another matter, which the 
 emperor had also mentioned in his letter convening the 
 diet, — viz., the Reformation. The great interests of 
 politics trembled before the cause of the mouk of Wit- 
 temberg. This cause was the principal subject of con- 
 versation among all personages who arrived at Worms. 
 
 Everything announced that the diet would be difli- 
 cult and stormy. Charles, scarcely twenty years of 
 age, pale and sickly, yet as skilful as any one in the 
 gracefid management of his horse and in breaking a 
 lance, of a character imperfectly developed, and with a 
 grave and melancholy, but still benevolent expression 
 of countenance, gave no proof, as yet, of distinguished 
 talent, and seemed not to have adopted a decided 
 course. The able and active William of Croi, lord of 
 Chievres, who was his grand chamberlain, his governoi', 
 and prime minister, and possessed absolute authority 
 at the court, died at Worms. Numerous ambitious 
 projects were competing with each other. Many pas- 
 sions were in collision. The Spaniards and Belgians 
 were eager to insinuate themselves into the councils of 
 the young prince. The nuncios multiplied their intri- 
 gues, while the princes of Germany spoke out boldly. 
 A struggle might have been foreseen, yet a struggle in 
 which the principal part would be performed by the 
 secret movements of factions. 
 
 Charles opened the diet on the 28th of January, 
 1521, being the festival of Charlemagne. He had a 
 high idea of the importance of the imperial dignity. 
 In his opening address he said, that no monarchy could 
 be compared to the Roman empire, to which of old 
 almost the whole world had been subject; that, un- 
 happily, the empu-e was now only the shadow of what 
 it liad been ; but that he hoped, by means of his king- 
 doms and powerfid alliances, to re-establish it in its 
 ancient glory. 
 
 But numerous difficulties immediately presented them- 
 selves to the young emperor. How will he act, placed, 
 
ALARM OF ALEANDER. 
 
 183 
 
 as he is, between tlie papal luiucio and the elector, to 
 whom he owes his crown ? How can he avoid dissatis- 
 fying Aleandcr or Frederick ? The former urged the 
 emperor to execute the papal bull, and the latter begged 
 him to undertake nothing against the monk without 
 giving him a hearing. Wisliing to please these two 
 o])i)osito parties, the young prince, during a sojourn at 
 Oppenheim, had written to the elector to bring Luther 
 to Ihe diet, assuring him that no injustice would be 
 done him, that he would meet with no violence, and 
 that learned men would confer with him. 
 
 This letter of Cluirles, accompanied by letters from 
 Chievrcs and the Count of Nassau, throw the elector 
 into great perplexity. An alliance with the pope might 
 at any instant become necessary to the young and am- 
 bitious eni])eror, and in that case it was all over with 
 Luther. Frederick, by taking the reformer to Worms, 
 was, ])orliaps, taking him to the scaffold ; and yet the 
 orders of (jliarles were express. The elector ordered 
 Spalatin to acquaint Luther with the letters which he 
 had received. " The enemy," said the chaplain to him, 
 " is putting everything in operation to hasten on tlie 
 affaii"." 
 
 Luther's friends trembled, bnl he trembled not. He 
 was then in very feeble hf;ilili ; iid matter. "If lean- 
 not go to Worms in healtli," replied h(^ to the elector, 
 " I will make myself be carried ; since the emperor calls 
 me, I cannot doubt but it is a call from God himself. 
 If they mean to employ violence against me, as is prob- 
 able, (for assuredly it is not with a view to their own in- 
 struction that they make me appear,) I leave the matter 
 in the hands of the Lord. He who preserved the three 
 young men in the furnace, still lives and reigns. If He 
 is not pleased to sa^e me, my life is but a small matter ; 
 only let us not allow the Gospel to be exposed to the 
 derision of the wicked, and let us shed our blood for it 
 sooner than permit them to triumph. Wliether would 
 my life or my death contribute most to the general 
 safety? It is not for us to decide. Let us only pray 
 to God that our young emperor may not commence his 
 reign with dipping his hands in my blood ; I would far 
 rather perish by the sword of the Romans. You know 
 wliat judgments befel the Emperor Sigismund after the 
 murder of John Huss. Expect everything of me save 
 flight and recantation ; I cannot fly, still less can I 
 recant." 
 
 Before receiving this letter from Luther, the elector 
 had taken his resolution. As he was advancing in the 
 knowledge of the Gospel, he began to be more decided 
 in his measures. Seeing that the conference of Worms 
 could not liave a happy result, he wrote to the emperor : 
 " It seems to me ditficult to bring Luther with me to 
 AVorras; relieve me from the task. Besides, I have 
 never wished to take his doctrine under my protection ; 
 but only to prevent him from being condemned with- 
 out a hearing. The legates, without waiting for your 
 orders, have proceeded to take a step, insulting both 
 to Luther and to mo ; and I mucli fear, that in this 
 way they have hurried him on to an imprudent act, 
 which might expose him to great danger were he to 
 appear at the diet." The elector alluded to the pile 
 which had consumed the papal buU. 
 
 But the rumour of Luther's journey to Worms had 
 aU-eady spread. Men eager for novelty rejoiced at it. 
 
 The emperor's courtiers were alarmed ; but no one felt 
 so indignant as the papal legate. Aleander, on his 
 journey, had seen how deep an impression the Gospel 
 which Luther preached had made on all classes of 
 society. Literary men, lawyers, nobles, tlie lower 
 clergy, the regular orders, and the ])eople, were gained 
 to the Reformation. These friends of the new doctrine 
 carried their heads erect, and were bold in their lan- 
 guage ; while fear and terror froze the partizans of 
 Rome. The papacy still stood ; but its props were 
 shaking. A noise of devastation was already heard, 
 somewhat resembling the creaking which takes place 
 at the time when a mountain begins to slip. 
 
 Aleander, during his journey to Worms, was sadly 
 annoyed. AVhen he had to dine or sleep, neither 
 literary men, nor nobles, nor priests, even among the 
 supposed friends of the pope, durst receive him ; and 
 the proud nuncio was obliged to seek an asylum in 
 taverns of the lowest class. He was thus in terror, 
 and had no doubt that his life was in great danger. 
 In this way he arrived at Worms ; and thenceforth to 
 his Roman fanaticism was added resentment for the 
 jiersonal injuries which he had received. He imme- 
 diately put every means in operation to prevent the 
 audacious compearance of the redoubtable Luther. 
 " Would it not be scandalous," said he, " to see laics 
 re-investigating a cause which the pope had already 
 condemned?" Nothing alarms a Roman courtier so 
 much as an investigation ; and, moreover, an inves- 
 tigation to take place in Germany, and not at Rome. 
 How humiliating even should Luther's condemnation 
 be unanimously decided ! And it was not even certain 
 that such would be the result. Will not the powerful 
 word of Luther, which has already done such havoc, 
 involve many princes and nobles in inevitable ruin .' 
 Aleander, when before Charles, insisted, implored, 
 threatened, and spoke out as nuncio of the head of the 
 Church. Charles yielded ; and wrote to the elector, 
 that the time granted to Luther having already elapsed, 
 the monk was under papal excommunication ; and that, 
 therefore, unless he were willing to retract his writings, 
 Frederick must leave him at Wittemberg. Frederick 
 had already quitted Saxony without Luther. " I pray 
 the Lord to be favourable to our elector," were the 
 words of Melancthon on seeing him depart ; " on him 
 our hopes of the restoration of Christendom repose. 
 His enemies dare everything, ko! TrorTa \(flov Kirrjo-o/ieVous; 
 but God will bring to nought the counsel of Ahitho- 
 phel. As for us, let us do oiu- part in the combat by 
 our lessons and our prayers." Luther was deeply 
 grieved at being prohibited to appear at Worms. 
 
 Aleander did not consider it enough that Luther 
 should not come to AVorms — he wished him to be con- 
 demned. Returning incessantly to the chasge before 
 the princes, prelates, and different members of the 
 diet, he accused the Augustine monk not only of dis- 
 obedience and heresy, but sdso of sedition, rebellion, 
 impiety, and blasphemy. The very accent in which 
 he spoke betrayed the passions by which he was 
 actuated ; so that men exclaimed. It is hatred and love 
 of vengeance, rather than zeal and piety, that excite 
 him. However frequent, however vehement liis dis- 
 courses were, he made no converts. 
 
 Some pointed out to him that the papal bull had 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 condemned Luther only couditioually ; others did not 
 altogether conceal the joy which they felt at seeing 
 Roman pride humbled. The ministers of the emperor, 
 on the one hand, and the ecclesiastical electors, on the 
 other, affected great coldness, — the former, to make the 
 pope more sensible how necessary it was for him to 
 league with their master ; the latter, in order to induce 
 him to pay better for their favour. A conviction of 
 Luther's innocence prevailed in the assembly; and 
 Aleauder coiiM imt ri-lvain liis iiidiLrniition 
 
 But the coldness ot the diet did not try the patience 
 of the legate so much as the coldnebt. of Rome Rome, 
 which had so long refused to take a serious view of the 
 quarrel of the drunk German, had no idea that a bull 
 of the sovereign pontiff could prove insulKcient to make 
 him humble and submissive. She had, accordingly, 
 resumed her wonted seciu-ity; no longer sending either 
 bull or purses of money. But how was it possible 
 without money to succeed in such a business ? Rome 
 must be awakened ; and Aleander gives the alarm. 
 Writing to the Cardinal de Medicis, he says : " Ger- 
 many is detaching herself from Rome ; and the princes 
 are detaching themselves from the pope. A few de- 
 lays more — a few more attempts at compromise, and 
 the matter is past hope. Money! money! or Germany 
 is lost." 
 
 At this cry Rome awakes : the servants of the papa- 
 cy, laying aside their torpor, hastily forge their dreaded 
 thunder at the Vatican. The pope issues a new bull ; 
 and the excommunication with which, till then, the 
 heretical doctor had been merely threatened, is in dis- 
 tinct terms pronounced against him and all his adher- 
 ents. Rome herself, breaking the last thread which 
 still attached him to her Church, gave Luther greater 
 freedom, and thereby greater power. Thundered at by 
 the pope, he, with new affection, took refuge in Christ. 
 Driven from the external temple, he felt more strongly 
 that he was himself a temple inhabited by God. 
 
 "It is a glorious thing," said he, "that we sinners. 
 
 in believing on Jesns Christ, and eating His flesh, have 
 Him within us, with all His strength, power, wisdom, 
 and justice, according as it is written. He w/io believetk 
 in me, dwelleth in me and I in him. Admirable dwell- 
 ing ! marvellous tabernacle ! far superior to that of 
 Moses, and all magnificently adorned within with 
 superb tapestry, veils of purple, and furniture of gold ; 
 while without, as on the tabernacle which God ordered 
 to be constructed in the wilderness of Sinai, is seen 
 only a rough covering of beavers' skins or goats' hair.' 
 Christians often stimible, and m exteinil appear ince 
 are all feebleness and disgrace But uo matter withm 
 this inhimity md tolly dwells secietly a po-ner which 
 the woild cannot know, but which o\ercomes the 
 \\(rld, for Christ remameth in them I ha^e some- 
 times seen Chiistians walkmg ^\lth a halt and in gieat 
 weakness , but when the hour of combat or appearance 
 at the woilds bai aiiived Chiist, of a sudden, acted 
 AMthiii th m ml th \ bt u le o sti 3ng and lesolute, 
 tl t tU 1 Ml in 1 n \ 11 1 1 t le them 
 
 In regaid to Lutliur, such an Ikuu \\ as about to peal, 
 and Christ, in whose communion he dwelt, was not to 
 forsake him. Meanwhile, Rome naturally rejected 
 him. The reformer and all his partizans, whatever 
 their rank and power, were anathematized, and de- 
 prived personally, as well as in their descendants, of all 
 their dignities and effects. Every faitliful Christian, 
 as he loved his soul's salvation, was ordered to shun 
 the sight of the accursed crew. Wherever heresy had 
 been introduced, the priests were, on Sundays and fes- 
 tivals, — at the hour when the churches were best 
 filled, — solemnly to publish the excommunication. 
 They were to carry away the vessel; and ornaments of 
 the altar, and lay the cross upon the ground ; twelve 
 priests, with torches in their liaads, were to kindle 
 them, and dash them down with violence, and extin- 
 
 1 Exodus xxvL 7, 14. 
 
THE C^LL FROM GOD. ISCENE-.THE GME OF THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY, ERFURTH) 1505. 
 
LUTHERS DECLARATION. 
 
 giiish them by trampling them with their feet ; then 
 the bishop was to publish the comlcinnation of the im- 
 pious men ; all the bells were to be rung ; the bishops 
 and priests were to pronounce anathemas and male- 
 dictions ; and preach forcibly against Luther and his 
 adherents. 
 
 Twenty-two days had elapsed since the excommuni- 
 cation had been published at Rome, and it was perhaps 
 not yet known in Germany, when Luther, learning 
 that there was again some talk of calling him to 
 "Worms, addressed tlie elector iu a letter written in 
 s\ich terms tluxt Frederick might communicate it to 
 the diet. IjUther wished to correct the erroneous im- 
 pression of the princes, and frankly explain to this 
 august tribunal the true nature of a cause which was 
 so much misapprehended. "I rejoice with all my 
 heart, most serene lord," said he, "that his imperial 
 majesty means to bring this affair under consideratiou. 
 I call Jesus Christ to witness, that it is the cause of 
 Germany, of the Catholic Church, of the Christian 
 world, and of God himself, . . . and not of any 
 single man — and more especially such a man as I. I 
 am ready to repair to Worms, provided I have a safe- 
 couduct, and learned, pious, and impartial judges. I 
 am ready to answer . . . for it is not in a spirit 
 of rashness, or with a view to personal advantage, that 
 I have taught the doctrine with which I am re- 
 proached ; I have done it in obedience to my con- 
 science, and to the oath which, as doctor, I took to the 
 Holy Scriptures ; I have done it for the glory of God, 
 the safety of the Christian Church, the good of the 
 German nation, and the extirpation of many supersti- 
 tious, abuses, and evils, disgrace, tyranny, blasphemy, 
 and impiety." 
 
 This declaration, iu the solemn eirciunstances in 
 which Luther made it, is deserving of our attention. 
 "We here see the motives which influenced him, and the 
 primary causes which led to the renovation of Chris- 
 tian society. These were something more than monkish 
 jealousy or a wish to marry. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A Foreign Prince— Advice of Politicians— Conference between 
 and the Elector's Chancellor— Uselessness of these Manoei 
 der's Activity— Luther's Sayings— Charles gives in to the Pope. 
 
 But all this was of no importance in the eyes of politi- 
 cians. How high soever the idea which Charles enter- 
 tained of the imperial dignity, it was not in Germany 
 that his interests and policy centred. He was always 
 a Duke of Burgundy, who, to several sceptres, added 
 the first crown of Christendom. Strange ! at the 
 moment of her thorough transformation, Germany 
 selected for her head a foreign prince, iu whose eyes 
 her wants and tendencies were only of secondary im- 
 portance. The religious movement, it is true, was not 
 indifferent to the j'oung emperor ; but it was important 
 in his eyes only in so far as it menaced the pope. 
 War between Charles and France was inevitable, and 
 
 its chief seat was necessarily to be in Italy. An alli- 
 ance with the pope thus became every day more neces- 
 sary to the schemes of Charles. He would fain have 
 either detached Frederick from Luther, or satisfied the 
 pope without offending Frederick. Several of those 
 about him manifested, in regard to the affairs of tiie 
 Augustine monk, that cold disdain which politicians 
 usually affect when religion is in question. " Let us 
 avoid extremes," said they. " Let us trammel Luther 
 by negotiations, and reduce him to silence by some 
 kind of concession. The true course is to stifle the 
 embers, not stir them up. If the monk is caught in 
 the net, we have gained the day. By accepting a com- 
 promise, he will be interdicted and imdone. For ap- 
 pearance, some external reforms will be devised ; the 
 elector will be satisfied, the pope will be gained, and 
 affairs will resume their ordinary course." 
 
 Such was the project of the confidential councillors 
 of the emperor. The doctors of Wittemberg seem 
 to have divined this new policy. " They are trying in 
 secret to gain men's minds," said Melancthon, " and 
 are working in darkness." John Glapio, the confessor 
 of Charles V., — a man of rank, a skilful courtier, and 
 an intriguing monk, — undertook the execution of the 
 project. Glapio possessed the entire confidence of 
 Charles, who, in accordance with Spanish manners, 
 left to him almost entirely the management of matters 
 relating to religion. As soon as Charles was appointed 
 emperor, Leo X. had assiduously endeavoured to gain 
 Glapio by favours, to which the confessor was strongly 
 alive. There was no way in which he could make a 
 better return to the pope's kindness than by reducing 
 heresy to silence, and he, accordingly, set about the 
 task. 
 
 One of the elector's councillors was Chancellor Gre- 
 gory Bruck, or Pontanus, a man of gi-eat intelligence, 
 decision, and courage, who knew more of theology 
 than all the doctors, and whose wisdom was a match 
 for the wiles of the monks at the emperor's court. 
 Glapio, aware of the influence of the chancellor, asked 
 an interview with him ; and coming up to him as if he 
 had been the friend of the reformer, said to him, with 
 an expression of good will : " I was delighted when, on 
 reading the first productions of Luther, I found him a 
 vigorous stock, which had pushed forth noble branches, 
 and which gave promise to the Church of the most 
 precious fruits. Several before him, it is true, made 
 the same discoveries ; still, none but he has had the 
 noble courage to publish the truth without fear. But 
 when I read his book on the ' Captivity of Babylon,' 
 I felt as if beaten and bruised from head to foot." " I 
 don't believe," added the monk, " that Luther acknow- 
 ledges himself to be the author. I do not find in it 
 either his style or his science." . . . After some 
 discussion, the confessor continued : " Introduce me to 
 the elector, and I will, in your presence, explain to him 
 the errors of Luther." 
 
 The chancellor replied : " That the business of the 
 diet did not leave any leisure to his highness, who, 
 moreover, did not meddle with the affair." The monk 
 was vexed when his request was denied. " By the 
 way," said the chancellor, " as you say there is no evil 
 without a remedy, will you explain yourself?" 
 
 Assuming a confidential air, the confessor replied : 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 " The emperor earnestly desires to see sucli a man as 
 Luther reconciled to the Church, for liis books (before 
 the publication of his treatise on the ' Captivity of 
 Babylon') rather pleased his majesty. ... It 
 must, doubtless, have been Luther's rage at the bull 
 which dictated that work. Let him declare that he 
 did not wish to disturb the peace of the Church, and 
 the learned of all nations will rally around him. . . 
 Procure me an audience of his highness." 
 
 The chancellor waited upon Frederick. The elector 
 being well aware that any kind of recantation was im- 
 possible, replied: "Tell the confessor that I cannot 
 comply with his request ; but do you continue the con- 
 ference." 
 
 Glapio received this message with great demonstra- 
 tions of respect ; and, changing the attack, said : " Let 
 the elector name some confidential persons to deliberate 
 on this affair." 
 
 Chancellor. — " The elector does not profess to defend 
 the cause of Luther." 
 
 Confessor. — " Very well, do you, at least, discuss it 
 with me. . . . Jesus Christ is my witness, that 
 all I do is from love to the Chm-ch, and to Luther, who 
 has opened so many hearts to the truth." 
 
 The chancellor having refused to undertake what 
 was the reformer's own task, was preparing to retire. 
 
 " Stay," said the monk to him. 
 
 Cliancellor. — "What, then, is to be done?" 
 
 Confessor. — " Let Luther deny that he is the author 
 of the ' Captivity of Babylon.' " 
 
 Chancellor. — "But the papal bull condemns all his 
 other works." 
 
 Confessor. — " It is because of his obstinacy. If he 
 retracts his book, the pope, in the plenitude of his 
 power, can easily restore him to favour. What hopes 
 may we not cherish, now that we have so excellent an 
 emperor!" . . . 
 
 Perceiving that these words made some impression 
 on the chancellor, the monk hastened to add : " Luther 
 always insists on arguing from the Bible. The Bible ! 
 . . . it is like wax, and may be stretched and bent 
 at pleasure. I undertake to find in the Bible opinions 
 still more extraordinary than those of Luther. He is 
 mistaken when he converts all the sayings of Jesus 
 into commandments." Then, wishing to work also on 
 the fears of the chancellor, he added : *' What would 
 happen if to-day or to-morrow the emperor were to 
 try the effect of arms? . . . Think of it." He 
 then allowed Pontanus to retire. 
 
 The confessor prepared new snares. " After living 
 ten years with him," said Erasmus, "we should not 
 know him." 
 
 " What an excellent book that of Luther's on ' Chris- 
 tian Liberty,' " said he to the chancellor, when he saw 
 him a few days after; "what wisdom! what talent! 
 what intellect ! — it is just the style in which a true 
 scholar ought to write. Let unexceptionable persons 
 be chosen on either side, and let the pope and Luther 
 refer to their judgment. No doubt Luther has the 
 best of it on several articles. I will speak to the em- 
 peror himself on the subject. Believe me, I do not 
 say these things to you on my own suggestion. I have 
 told the emperor that God will chastise him, as well as 
 all the princes, if the Church, which is the spouse of 
 
 Jesus Christ, is not washed from all the stains by 
 which she is polluted. I have added, that God him- 
 self had raised up Luther, and had ordered him to 
 rebuke men sharply, using him as a rod to punish the 
 sins of the world." 
 
 The chancellor hearing these words, (they convey 
 the impressions of the time, and shew what was then 
 thought of Luther even by his opponents,) thought it 
 right to express his astonishment that more respect was 
 not shewn to his master. " Deliberations on this sub- 
 ject," said he, " are daily carried on before the emperor, 
 and the elector is not invited to them. It seems strange 
 that the emperor, who owes him some gratitude, ex- 
 cludes him from his councils." 
 
 Confessor. — " I have been present only once at these 
 deliberations, and I have heard the emperor resist the 
 solicitations of the nuncios. Five years hence it will 
 be seen how much Charles shall have done for the 
 reformation of the Church." 
 
 " The elector," replied Pontanus, " is ignorant of the 
 emperor's intentions. He should be invited, that ho 
 may hear them stated." 
 
 The confessor answered with a deep sigh : " I call 
 God to witness how ardently I desire to see the Eefor- 
 mation of Christendom accomplished." 
 
 To lengthen out the affair, and, meanwhile, keep 
 Luther's mouth shut, was all that Glapio had in view. 
 At all events Luther must not come to Worms. A 
 dead man returning from the other world, and appear- 
 ing in the midst of the diet, would not have alarmed 
 the nuncios, and monks, and whole host of the pope, 
 so much as the sight of the Wittemborg doctor. 
 
 " How many days does it take to come from Wit- 
 temberg to Worms ?" asked the monk at the chancel- 
 lor, affecting an air of indifference ; then, begging 
 Pontanus to present his very humble respects to the 
 elector, he departed. 
 
 Such were the manoeuvres of the courtiers. The 
 firmness of Pontanus outwitted them. This upright 
 man was immoveable as a rock in all negotiations. 
 Moreover, the Roman monks fell into the very snares 
 which they were laying for their enemies. "The 
 Christian," says Luther, in his figurative language, " is 
 like a bird fastened near a trap. The wolves and foxes 
 go round and round, and make a dart upon it to de- 
 vour it, but fall into the pit and perish ; while the 
 timid bird remains alive. Thus, holy angels guard us ; 
 and devouring wolves, hypocrites, and persecutors, 
 cannot do us any harm." Not only were the con- 
 fessor's artifices unavailing ; but, moreover, his admis- 
 sions confirmed Frederick in the belief that Luther was 
 in the right, and that it was his duty to defend him. 
 
 The hearts of men became every day more inclined 
 towards the Gospel. A prior of the Dominicans pro- 
 posed that the emperor, the kings of France, Spain, 
 England, Portugal, Hungary, and Poland, the pope, 
 and the electors, should name representatives by whom 
 the matter should be decided. " Never," said he, " has 
 reference been made to the pope alone." The general 
 feeling became such, that it seemed impossible to con- 
 demn Luther without a hearing and regular conviction. 
 
 Aleander became uneasy, and displayed more than 
 wonted energy. It is no longer merely against the 
 elector and Luther that he has to contend. He is 
 
ALEANDER'S EFFORTS TO CONDEMN LUTHER. 
 
 horrified at the secret negotiations of tlie confessor, 
 tlie proposition of tlic prior, the consent of Charles's 
 ministers, and the extreme coldness of Roman pioty 
 among the most devoted friends of the pope, " so that 
 one would have tiiought," says PuUavicini, " timt a 
 torrent of ice had passed over them." lie had at 
 leugtli rccei\ed gold and silver from Rome ; and held 
 in his hand energetic briefs, addressed to the most 
 powerful personages in the em])ire. Afraid that his 
 prey might escape, ho felt that now was the time to 
 strike a decisive blow. He dcspatcliod the briefs, 
 sliowcred gold and silver with lilioral hand, doalt out 
 the most enticing promises, "and pro\i(l(il," .s:iys the 
 cardinal historian, "with this triple weapon, he .strove 
 anew to turn the wavering assembly of the electors in 
 favour of the pope." He laboured, .ilmve all, to encircle 
 the emperor with his snares. Availing himself of the 
 differences between the Belgian and the Spanish mini- 
 sters, he laid close siege to the prince. All the friends 
 of Rome, awakened by his voice, nrged young Charles 
 with solicitations. "Every day," wrote the elector 
 to his brother John, " deliberations are held against 
 Luther : the demand is, that he be put under the ban 
 of the pope and the emperor ; in all sorts of ways 
 attempts are made to hurt him. Those who parade 
 about with their red hats, — the Romans, with all their 
 sect, labour in the task with indefatigable zeal." 
 
 In fact Aleander urged the condemnation of the 
 reformer with a violence which Luther terms " mar- 
 vellous fury." The apostate nuncio, as Luther calls 
 him, hurried by passion beyond the bounds of pru- 
 dence, one day exclaimed : " If you mean, Germans, 
 to shake off the yoke of Roman obedience, we will act 
 so, that, setting the one against the other, as an ex- 
 terminating sword, you will all perish in your own 
 blood." "Such," adds the reformer, "is the pope's 
 method of feeding the sheep of Christ." 
 
 Luther himself spoke a very different language. He 
 made no demand of a personal nature. " Luther is 
 ready," said Melancthon, " to purchase the glory and 
 advancement of the Gospel with his life." But he 
 trembled at the thought of the disasters of which his 
 death might be the signal. He saw a people led 
 astray, and perhaps avenging his martyrdom in the 
 blood of his enemies, especially the priests. He re- 
 coiled from the fearful responsibility. " God," said he, 
 " arrests the fury of His enemies ; but should it break 
 forth, ... a storm will burst upon the priests 
 similar to that which ravaged Bohemia. . . . lam 
 clear of it ; for I have earnestly besought the German 
 nobility to arrest the Romans by wisdom, and not by 
 the sword. To war upon priests — a body without 
 courage and strength — is to war upon women and 
 children." 
 
 Charles did not withstand the solicitations of the 
 nuncio. His Belgian and Spanish devotion had been 
 developed by his preceptor Adrian, who afterwards 
 occupied the pontifical throne. The pope liad addressed 
 a brief to him, imploring him to give legal effect to the 
 bull by an impei-ial edict. "In vain," said he to him, 
 " shall God have invested you with the sword of su- 
 preme power, if you do not employ it both against 
 infidels, and also against heretics, who are far worse 
 than infidels." One day, accordingly, in the beginning 
 
 of February, at the moment when everything was 
 ready at Worms for a brilliant tournament, and after 
 the emperor's tent had actually been erected, tlie 
 princes who were preparing to attend the fete, were 
 summoned to repair to the imperial palace. There the 
 papal bull was read to them ; and they were presented 
 with a stringent edict, enjoining the execution of it. 
 "If yon li:i\e anything better to propose," added the 
 emperor in ihe usual form, "I am ready to hear you." 
 Aniiiialrtl lUliales then began in the diet. "The 
 monk," ^^J'ole the deputy of one of the German free 
 towns, " gives us a great deal to do. Some would like 
 to crucify him, and I don't think that he will escape ; 
 the only thing to be feared is, that he may rise again 
 on the third day." The emperor hail tliouglit he would 
 be able to publish his edict without oiiposition on the 
 [)art of the states ; but it was not so. Men's minds 
 were not prepared, and it was necessary to gain the 
 diet. " Convince this assembly," said the young mon- 
 arch to the nuncio. This was just what Aleander 
 desired ; and he received a promise of being admitted 
 to the diet on the 13th February. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Aleander Admitted to the Diet — Aleander's Address— Luther Accused — 
 Rome Defended— Appeal to Charles against Luther — Effect of the 
 Nuncio's Address. 
 
 The nuncio prepared for the solemn audience. The 
 tiisk was important, but Aleander was worthy of it. 
 The ambassador of the sovereign pontiff was surrounded 
 with all the splendour of his office ; he was, moreover, 
 one of the most eloquent men of his age. The friends 
 of the Reformation looked fonvard to the sitting not 
 without fear. The elector, under the pretext of indis- 
 position, kept away; but he ordered some of his coun- 
 cillors to attend and give heed to the nuncio's address. 
 
 On the appointed day Aleander proceeded to the 
 hall of the assembled princes. Men's minds were ex- 
 cited; several thought of Annas or Caiaphas repair- 
 ing to Pilate's judgment hall to demand the life of Him 
 who vi&s perverting the nation, (Luke xxiii. 2.) "At the 
 moment when the nuncio was about to step across the 
 threshold, the officer of the diet,"says Pallavicini, "came 
 briskly up to him, took him by the breast, and pushed 
 him back." " He was a Lutheran at heart," adds the 
 Roman historian. If the story is true, it doubtless be- 
 trays strange passion in the officer ; but, at the same 
 time, gives an idea of the powerful infineuce which 
 Luther's doctrine had produced even on the doorkeepers 
 of the imperial council. Proud Aleander, haughtily 
 dra^ving himself up, moved on, and entered the hall. 
 Never had Rome been called to make her apology be- 
 fore so august an assembly. Tlie nuncio placed before 
 him the judicial docimieuts which he judged necessary, 
 — the works of Luther, and the papal bulls. Silence 
 being called, he spoke as follows : — 
 
 " Most august emperor ! — most puissant princes ! — 
 most excellent deputies ! — I come before you to main- 
 
188 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 taiu a cause for wliich my heart burns with the most 
 ardent affection. The suljject is, the preservation on 
 my master's head of that tiara which is reverenced by 
 all, — the maintenance of that papal throne, for which 
 I am ready to give my body to the flames, could the 
 monster who has engendered the growing heresy be 
 consumed by the same pile, and mingle his ashes with 
 mine.' 
 
 " No ! the disagi-eement between Luther and Rome 
 turns not on the interests of the pope. Luther's books 
 are before me, and any man with eyes in his head may 
 perceive that the holy doctrines of the Church are the 
 object of his attack. He teaches that those only com- 
 municate worthily whose consciences are filled with 
 sadness and confusion for their sins ; and that there is 
 no justification in baptism, without faith in the pro- 
 mise of which baptism is the pledge. He denies the 
 necessity of our works to obtain celestial glory. He 
 denies that we have liberty and power to observe 
 natural and Divine law. He affirms that we sin neces- 
 sarily in all our actions. Did ever the arsenal of hell 
 send forth arrows better fitted to loose the reins of 
 modesty? ... He preaches the abolition of reli- 
 gious vows. Can more sacrilegious impiety be ima- 
 gined ? . . . What desolation will not be seen in 
 the world, when those who ought to be the leaven of 
 the people shall have thrown aside their sacred vest- 
 ments, abandoned the temples which re-echoed with 
 their holy hymns, and plunged into adultery, incest, 
 and dissoluteness ! . . . 
 
 " Shall I enumerate all the crimes of this audacious 
 monk ? He sins against the dead, for ho denies purga- 
 tory; he sins against heaven, for he says he would not 
 believe an angel from heaven ; he sins against the 
 Church, for he pretends that all Christians are priests ; 
 he sins against the saints, for he despises their vener- 
 able writings ; he sins against the councils, for he terms 
 that of Constance an assembly of demons ; he sins 
 against the world, for he forbids the punishment of 
 death to be inflicted on any one who has not committed 
 a mortal sin. Some say he is a pious man. . . . 
 I have no wish to attack his life, I would only remind 
 this assembly that the devil deceives men by semblances 
 of truth." 
 
 Aleander having spoken of the condemnation of 
 purgatory by the Council of Florence, laid the papal 
 bull on this council at the feet of the emperor. The 
 Archbishop of Mentz took it up, and handed it to the 
 archbishops of Cologne and Treves, who received it 
 reverently, and passed it to the other princes. The 
 nuncio, having thus accused Luther, now proceeded to 
 the second point, which was to justify Rome. 
 
 "At Rome, says Luther, they promise one thing 
 with the lip, and do its opposite with the hand. If this 
 fact is true, must not the inference be the very reverse 
 of what he draws from it ? If the ministers of a reli- 
 gion live conformably to its precepts, it is a proof that 
 
 1 Seckendorff, and after him several Protestant historians, insist that 
 Pallavicini himself composed the address which be puts in the mouth of 
 Aleander. It is true the cardinal historian states that he gave it the form 
 in which it appears ; but he intimates the sources from which he drew it, 
 particularly the letters of Aleander deposited in the archives of the Vatican. 
 I think, therefore, that to reject it altogether would betray partiality. I 
 have collected some additional passages of the speech from other sources, 
 Protestant and Romish. 
 
 it is false. Such was the religion of the ancient 
 Romans. . . . Such is that of Mohammed, and that 
 of Luther himself ; but such is not the religion which 
 the pontiffs of Rome teach us. Yes, the doctrine which 
 they confess condemns all as faulty, several as culpa- 
 ble, and some even (I say it candidly) as criminal. 
 . . . This doctrine delivers their actions to the 
 censm-e of men during their life, and to historical in- 
 famy after their death. Now, what pleasure, what 
 advantage, I ask, could the pontiffs have found in in- 
 venting such a religion 1 
 
 " Tlie Church, it will be said, was not governed in 
 primitive times by Roman pontiffs — what must the 
 conclusion be? With such arguments they might 
 persuade men to live on acorns, and princesses to be 
 their own washerwomen." 
 
 But it was against his adversary — the reformer — that 
 the nuncio chiefly dii-ected his attack. Full of indig- 
 nation against those who said that he ought to be heard, 
 he exclaimed : " Luther will not allow any one to in- 
 struct him. The pope summoned hun to Rome ; but 
 he did not obey. The pope summoned him to Augs- 
 burg before his legate ; and he would not appear 
 without a safe-conduct from the emperor, — (. e., until 
 the hands of the legate were tied, and nothing left free 
 to him but his tongue. Ah ! " said Aleander, turning 
 towards Charles V., " I supplicate your imperial ma- 
 jesty not to do what would issue in disgrace. Interfere 
 not with a matter of which laics have no right to take 
 cognizance. Do your own work. Let Luther's doc- 
 trine be interdicted throughout the empire : let his 
 writings be everywhere burnt. Fear not: there is 
 enough in the writings of Luther to burn a hundred 
 thousand heretics. . . . And what have we to 
 fear? . . . The popiUace? Before the battle 
 they seem terrible from their insolence ; in the battle 
 they are contemptible from their cowardice. Foreign 
 princes ? The King of France has prohibited Luther's 
 doctrine from entering his kingdom ; while the King of 
 Great Britain is preparing a blow for it with his royal 
 hand. You know what the feelings of Hungary, Italy, 
 and Spain are, and none of your neighbours, how great 
 soever the enmity he may bear to yourself, wishes you 
 anything so bad as this heresy. If the house of our 
 enemy is adjacent to our own, we may wish him fever, 
 but not pestilence. . . . Who are all these Lu- 
 therans ? A huddle of insolent grammarians, corrupt 
 priests, disorderly monks, ignorant advocates, degraded 
 nobles, common people, misled and perverted. Is not 
 the Catholic party far more numei-ous, able, and 
 powerful ? A unanimous decree of this assembly will 
 enlighten the simple, give warning to the imprudent, 
 determine those who are hesitating, and confirm the 
 feeble. . . . But if the axe is not laid to the root 
 of this poisonous shrub, if the fatal stroke is not given 
 to it, then ... I see it covering the heritage of 
 Jesus Christ witli its branches, changing the vineyard 
 of the Lord into a howling forest, transforming the 
 kingdom of God into a den of wild beasts, and throw- 
 ing Germany into the frightful state of barbarism and 
 desolation to which Asia has been reduced by the 
 superstition of Mohammed." 
 
 The nuncio ceased. He had spoken for three hours. 
 The torrent of his eloquence had moved the assembly. 
 
SPEECH OF DUKE GEORGE. 
 
 '• Tlie princes, shaken and alamiecl," says Cochlocus, 
 " looked at cacli other ; and nuinnurs were soon heard 
 from different quarters ap;ainst Lutlier and his parti- 
 sans." Had tlie miglity Lutlicr been present, had he 
 been permitted to answer the discourse, had he, avail- 
 ing himself of the concession forced from the Roman 
 orator by the remembniiici' of lii< ohl master, the 
 infamous Borgia, been ])irinilti'il ti> shew that these 
 arguments, designed to (Irtnul Kmiic, constituted her 
 condemnation, and that tli<- (Icuiiinc which gave proof 
 of her iniquity was not invented by him, as the orator 
 said, but was the very religion which Christ had 
 given to the world, and which tiie Reformation was 
 establishing in its primitive lustre, — could he have pre- 
 sented an exact and animated picture of the errors and 
 abuses of the papacy, and shewn how it had perverted 
 the religion of Jesus Christ into an instrument of 
 aggrandisement and rapine, — the effect of the nuncio's 
 harangue would have been neutralized at the moment 
 of its delivery; but nobody rose to speak. The assem- 
 bly remained under the impression of tlie address, and, 
 excited and carried away, shewed tliemselves ready 
 violently to eradicate the heresy of Luther from the 
 soil of the empire. 
 
 Still the victory was only apparent. It was the will 
 of God that Rome should have an opportunity of dis- 
 playing her reasons and her strength. The greatest of 
 lier orators had addressed the assembled princes, and 
 said all that Rome had to say. But the last effort of 
 the papacy was the very thing which was destined to 
 become, in regard to several of those who witnessed it, 
 the signal of her defeat. If, in order to secure the 
 triumph of truth, it is necessary to proclaim it aloud, 
 so, in order to secure the destruction of error, it is suffi- 
 cient to publish it without reserve. Neither the one 
 nor the other, in order to accomplish its course, should 
 be concealed. The light judges all things. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Sentiments of the Princes— Speech of Duke George — Character of the 
 Reformation— A hundred and one Grievances — Charles yields— Tactics 
 of Aleander — The Grandees of Spain— Luther's Peace — Death and not 
 Retractation. 
 
 A FEW days sufficed to wear off these first impressions, 
 as always happens when an orator shrouds the empti- 
 ness of his arguments in high-sounding phrases. 
 
 The majority of the princes were ready to sacrifice 
 Luther ; but none were disposed to sacrifice the rights 
 of the empire, and the redress of German grievances. 
 There was no objection to give up the insolent monk 
 who had dared to speak so loud ; but it was wished to 
 make the pope so much the more sensible of the justice 
 of a reform which was demanded by the heads of the 
 kingdom. Accordingly, it was the greatest personal 
 euemy of Luther — Duke George of Saxony — who spoke 
 most energetically against the encroachments of Rome. 
 The grandson of Podiebrad, king of Bohemia, repulsed 
 
 by the doctrines of grace which the reformer proclaimed, 
 had not yet abandoned the hope of seeing a moral and 
 ecclesiastical reform ; and wliat irritated Iiini so much 
 against the monk of Wittemberg, was, that he had 
 spoiled the whole affair by his despised doctrines. But 
 now, seeing the nuncio sought to confound Luther and 
 reform in one common condemnation, George suddenly 
 stood up among the assembled princes, and, to the 
 great astonishment of those who knew his hatred to the 
 reformer, said : " The diet must not forget the griev- 
 ances of which it complains against the court of Rome. 
 What abuses have crept into our states ! The annats 
 which the emperor granted freely for the good of 
 Christendom now demanded as a debt, — the Roman 
 courtiers every day inventing new ordinances, in order 
 to absorb, sell, and farm out ecclesiastical benefices, — 
 a multitude of transgressions winked at, — rich offenders 
 unworthily tolerated, while those who have no means 
 of ransom are punished without pity, — the popes in- 
 cessantly bestowing expectancies and reversions on 
 the inmates of their palace, to the detriment of those 
 to whom the benefices belong, — the commendams of 
 abbeys and convents of Rome conferred on cardinals, 
 bishops, and prelates, who appropriate their revenues, 
 so that there is not one monk in convents which ought 
 to have twenty or thirty, — stations multiplied without 
 end, and indulgence shops established in all the streets 
 and squares of our cities, shops of St. Anthony, shops 
 of the Holy Spirit, of St. Hubert, of St. Cornelius, of 
 St. Vincent, and many others besides, — societies pur- 
 chasing from Rome the right of holding such markets, 
 then purchasing from their bishop the right of exhibit- 
 ing their wares, and, in order to procure all this money, 
 draining and emptying the pockets of the poor, — the 
 indulgence, which ought to be granted solely for the 
 salvation of souls, and which ougjit to be merited only 
 by prayers, fastings, and the salvation of souls, sold at 
 a regular price, — the officials of the bishops oppressing 
 those in humble life with penances for blasphemy, 
 adultery, debauchery, the violation of this or that feast 
 day, while, at the same time, not even censuring eccle- 
 siastics who are guilty of the same crimes, — penances 
 imposed on the penitent, and artfully arranged, so that 
 he soon falls anew into the same fault, and pays so 
 much the more money. . . . Such are some of the 
 crying abuses of Rome ; all sense of shame has been 
 cast off, and one thing only is pursued . . money! 
 money! Hence, preachers who ought to teach the I 
 truth, now do nothing more than retail lies — lies, which 
 are not only tolerated, but recompensed, because the 
 more they lie the more they gain. From this polluted 1 
 well comes forth all this polluted water. Debauchery 
 goes hand in hand with avarice. The officials cause 
 women to come to their houses under divers pretexts, j 
 and strive to seduce the:a, sometimes by menaces, 
 sometimes by presents ; or, if they cannot succeed, in- ! 
 jure them in their reputation. Ah ! the scandals caused 
 by the clergy precipitate multitudes of poor souls into 
 eternal condemnation! There must be a universal 
 reform, and this reform must be accomplished by sum- 
 moning a general council. Wherefore, most excellent 
 princes and lords, with submission I implore you to 
 lose no time in the consideration of this matter." Seve- 
 ral days after Aleander's address, Duke George pro- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 duced the list of grievances wliich he had euumerated. 
 This important document is preserved iu the archives 
 of Weimar. 
 
 Luther had not spoken more forcibly against the 
 abuses of Rome; but he had doue something more. 
 The duke pointed out the evil ; Luther had, along with 
 the evil, pointed out both the cause and the cure. He 
 had shewn that the sinner receives the true indulgence, 
 that wliich comes from God, solely by faith in the 
 grace and merits of Jesus Christ ; and this simple but 
 powei'ful doctrine had overturned all the markets estab- 
 lished by the priests. " How can one become pious ?" 
 asked he one day. " A Cordelier will reply, Put on a 
 grey hood, and tie a cord round your waist. A Eoman 
 will reply, Hear mass, and fast. But a Christian will 
 say, Faith in Christ alone justifies and saves. Before 
 works we must have eternal life. After we are born 
 anew, and made childi-en of God by the Word of grace, 
 then it is we do good works." 
 
 The duke spoke the language of a secular prince — 
 Luther the language of a reformer. The great sore of 
 the Church was, that she had devoted herself entirely 
 to externals ; had made all her works and her graces 
 to consist of outward and material things. Indulgences 
 had carried this to its extreme point, and pardon (the 
 most spiritual thing in Christianity) had been purchased 
 in shops like meat and drink. The great work of 
 Luther consisted in his availing himself of this extreme 
 point in the degeneracy of Christendom, in order to 
 bring back the individual and the Church to the primi- 
 tive source of life, and to re-establish the reign of the 
 Holy Spirit within the sanctuary of the heart. Here, 
 as often happens, the cure sprung out of the disease, 
 and the two extremes met. Henceforward the Church, 
 which during so many ages had been developed exter- 
 nally by ceremonies, observances, and human practices, 
 began again to be developed within by faith, hope, and 
 charity. 
 
 The duke's address produced the greater effect from 
 his opposition to Luther being well known. Other 
 members of the diet stated different grievances. The 
 ecclesiastical princes themselves supported these com- 
 plaints. " We have a pontiff," said they, " who spends 
 his life in hunting and pleasure. The benefices of 
 Germany are given at Rome to huntsmen, domestics, 
 grooms, stable-boys, body servants, and other people 
 of that class ; ignorant impolished people, without capa- 
 city, and entire strangers to Germany." The diet 
 appointed a commission to collect all these grievances. 
 Their number was found to be a hundred and one. 
 A deputation, consisting of secular and ecclesiastical 
 princes, presented the list to the emperor, imploring 
 him to give redi'ess, as he had engaged to do at his 
 election. " How many Christian souls are lost ? " 
 said they to Charles V. " How many depredations, 
 how much extortion, are caused by the scandals with 
 which the spiritual chief of Christendom is environed? 
 The ruin and dishonour of our people must be pre- 
 vented. Therefore, we all, in a body, supplicate you 
 most humbly, but also most urgently, to ordain a 
 general reformation, to undertake it, and to accomplish 
 it." There was, at this time, in Christian society an 
 unseen power intlnencing princes and their subjects, 
 — a wisdom from above dragging forward even the 
 
 adversaries of the Reformation, and preparing that 
 emancipation whose appointed hour had at length 
 arrived. 
 
 Chai-les could not be insensible to these remonstrances 
 of the empire. Neither himself nor the nuncio had 
 expected them. His confessor had even denounced the 
 vengeance of heaven against him if he did not reform 
 the Church. The emperor immediately withdi-ew the 
 edict which ordered Luther's writings to be committed 
 to the flames in every part of the empire, and in its 
 place substituted a provisional order remitting these 
 books to the magistrates. 
 
 T'his did not satisfy the assembly, who were de- 
 sirous that the reformer should appear. It is unjust, 
 said his friends, to condemn Luther without having 
 heard him, and without knowing from himself whether 
 he is the author of the books which are proposed to be 
 burnt. His doctrine, said his opponents, has so taken 
 possession of men's hearts, that it is impossible to arrest 
 their progress without hearing him. There need be no 
 discnssion with him. If he avows his wi-itings, and 
 refuses to retract them, then all of us — electors, 
 princes, states of the whole empire, true to the faith of 
 our ancestors — will, in a body, aid your majesty, by 
 all the means in our power, in the execution of your 
 decrees. 
 
 Aleander, alarmed, dreading both the intrepidity of 
 Luther and the ignorance of the princes, immediately 
 set himself to the task of preventing the reformer's 
 compearance. He went from the ministers of Charles, 
 to the princes who were most disposed to favour the 
 pope, and from these princes to the emperor himself. 
 "It is unlawful," said he, "to bring into question what 
 the sovereign pontiff has decided. There will be no 
 discussion with Luther, you say; but, continued he, 
 will not tlie power of this audacious man — will not the 
 fire of his eye, and the eloquence of his tongue, and the i 
 mysterious spirit which animates him, be suflicient to 
 excite some sedition ? Several already venerate him as 
 a saint; and you, everywhere, meet with his portrait 
 surrounded with a halo of glory, as round the head of 
 the Blessed. If it is determined to cite Iiim, at least 
 let it be without giving him the protection of public 
 faith." These last words were meant to frighten 
 Luther, or prepare his ruin. 
 
 The nuncio found easy access to the grandees of 
 Spain. In Spain, as in Germany, the opposition to the 
 Dominican inquisitors was national. The yoke of the 
 inquisition, which had been discontinued for a time, 
 had just been re-established by Charles. A numerous 
 party in the Peninsula sympathized with Luther ; but 
 it was not so with the great, who, on the banks of the 
 Rhine, again met with what they had hated beyond the 
 Pyrenees. Inflamed with the most violent fanaticism, 
 they were bent on annihilating the new heresy. In 
 particular, Frederick, duke of Alba, was transported 
 with rage whenever the subject of Reformation was 
 mooted. His wish would have been to wade in the 
 blood of all its adherents. Luther had not yet been 
 called to appear ; and yet his mere name was already 
 .agitating all the grandees of Christendom then assem- 
 bled at Worms. 
 
 The man who was thus agitating the mighty of the 
 earth was the only one who seemed to be at peace. 
 
CHARLES V. SUMMONS LUTHER. 
 
 The news from Worms wore alarming. Even Luther's 
 friends were frightened. " Nothing now is left us but 
 our wishes and our prayers," wrote Mehmcthon to 
 Spalatin. "Oh! if God would deign to ransom the 
 safety of the Christian people by my l)lood." But 
 Luther -was a stranger to fear. SluUting himself up in 
 his i)eaceful cell, he sat down to meditate, applying to 
 himself the words of Mary, the mother of our Lord, 
 when she exclaimed : ^fi/ sniil doth mn(]mj\i the Lord, 
 and 1111/ spirit hath njnircil in G<id iiii/ Surinuf. For He 
 that is mii/hti/ has i/mir /;./■ im' ,/,:iil llninjs; and holij is 
 His nami: He /»/>■ !=ii,ini .•'iirn./t/i irii'h His arm; He 
 hath put doini the nii;/hli/ from, tlicir seals, and exalted 
 them of low degree, (Luke i. 4G-55.) The following 
 are some of the tlioughts which filled Liithcr's heart : 
 He thtU is 7nii/hl>/ . . . says Mary. Oh ! how 
 great boldness on the part of a young girl ! With a 
 single word she strikes all the strong with languor, 
 all the miglity with feebleness, all the wise with folly, 
 and all those whose name is glorious on the earth, with 
 ignominy; and lays at the feet of God all strength, 
 all power, all wisdom, all glory. His arm, continues 
 she; and she thus ;i]i|ii>als to that power by which He 
 acts of himsili', ami witliciut the agency of His crea- 
 tures, — a uiysti ridiis pdwer, operating in secrecy and 
 in silence, until His purpose is accomplished. Hence 
 destruction comes before any one is aware of its 
 approach ; hence elevation, when no one is thinking 
 of it. He leaves His children in oppression and feeble- 
 ness, so that each of them says to himself, 'We are all 
 lost ! ' Then, however, they are most strong. For it is 
 where the power of raati ends, that the power of God 
 begins. Only let faith wait upon Him. . . . And, 
 on the other liand, God permits His adversaries to 
 increase their power and grandeur. He withdraws 
 from them the aid of His strength, and leaves them to 
 be inflated with their own. He leaves them void of 
 His eternal wisdom, and lets them fill themselves with 
 their wisdom of a day. And while they rise up in the 
 greatness of their might, the arm of the Lord keeps 
 back, and their work . . . vanishes like a soap 
 bubble when it bursts in the air." 
 
 It was on the 10th of March, at the moment when 
 his name was filling the imperial city with alarm, that 
 Luther finished this exposition of the " Magnificat." 
 
 He was not allowed to remain tranquil iu his retreat. 
 Spalatin, in conformity to the orders of the elector, 
 sent him a note of the articles of which it was proposed 
 to demand a retractation from him. A retractation 
 after the refusal at Augsburg ! . . . " Fear not," 
 he wic.lr to Spalatin, "that I will retract a single 
 syllal.l. . siniT their only argimient is to insist that my 
 w^riiin-,^ arc n|,|i,ised to the rites of what they call the 
 Cluu-eh. If tlic Emperor Charles summon me merely 
 for the purpose of retracting, I will answer him that I 
 will remain here ; and it will be just the same thing as 
 if I had been to AVorms and come back again. But if, 
 on the contrary, the emperor chooses to sinnmou me in 
 order that I may be put to death, I am ready to repair 
 at his call ; for, with the help of Christ, I will not 
 desert His Word on the battle-field. I know it : these 
 bloody men will never rest till they have deprived me 
 of life. Oh, that none but papists would become guilty 
 of my blood!" 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Will a Sufc-conduct be giveu?— Safe-conduct— Will Luther go?— Holy 
 Thursday at Rome — The Popo and Luther. 
 
 At length the emperor decided. The appearance of 
 Luther before the diet seemed the only thing fitted to 
 bring this affair, which occupied the whole empire, to 
 some kind of termination. Charles V. resolved to cite 
 him, but without giving him a safe-conduct. Here 
 Fredericlj asain lioL'an to act as his protector. Every- 
 body saw ilh- daii'/. r which tlircatcned the reformer. 
 Luther's lii.n.Is, -ays Coehlneus, were afraid that he 
 would be delivered up to the pope, or that the emperor 
 himself would put him to death as unworthy, on 
 account of his obstinate heresy, tiiiit any faith should 
 be kept with him. On this subject there was a long 
 and keen debate among the princes. Struck, at last, 
 with the general agitation then prevailing almost 
 throughout the whole population of Germany, and 
 afraid that, as Luther passed along, some sudden tu- 
 mult or dangerous sedition might break forth, (doubt- 
 less in favour of the reformer,) the princes deemed it 
 wise to calm men's minds on this account ; and not only 
 the emperor, but also the Elector of Saxony, Duke 
 George, and the Landgrave of Hesse, through whose 
 states he had to pass, each gave him a safe-conduct. 
 
 On the 6th March, 1521, Charles V. signed the 
 following summons addressed to Luther : — 
 
 " Charles, by the gi-ace of God, elected Roman Em- 
 peror, always Augustus, &c., &c. 
 
 " Honourable, dear, and pious ! We, and the states 
 of the holy empire, having resolved to make an inquest 
 touching the doctrine and the books which you have 
 published for some time past, have given you, to come 
 here and return to a place of safety, our safe-conduct, 
 and that of the empire, here subjoined. Our sincere 
 desire is, that you immediately prepare for this journey, 
 in order that, in the space of twenty-one days, men- 
 tioned in our safe-conduct, you may be here certainly, 
 and -without fail. Have no apprehension of eitlier 
 injustice or violence. We will firmly enforce our safe- 
 conduct under- written ; and we expect that you will 
 answer to our call. In so doing, you will follow oiu- 
 serious advice. 
 
 " Given at our imperial city of Worms, the sixth day 
 of March, in the year of our Lord, 1521, and in the 
 second year of our reign. Charles. 
 
 " By order of my Lord the Emperor, with his own 
 hand, Albert, Cardinal of Mentz, Arch-chancellor. 
 "Nicolas Z\vtl." 
 
 The safe-conduct enclosed iu this letter bore the 
 following address: — "To the honourable, our dear and 
 pious Doctor Martin Luther, of the order of the Augus- 
 tines." 
 
 It began thus : — 
 
 "We, Charles, fifth of the name, by the grace of 
 God elected Roman Emperor, always Augustus, King 
 of Spain, of the Two Sicilies, of Jerusalem, Hungarj', 
 Dalmatia, Croatia, &c.. Arch-duke of Austria, Duke 
 of Burgundy, Count of Hapsburg, Flanders, the Tyrol," 
 &c., &c. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Tlien tlie king of so many nations, giving to wit that 
 he had summoned before him an Augustine monk, 
 named Luther, ordered all princes, lords, magistrates, 
 and others, to respect the safe-conduct which he gave 
 him, under pain of punishment by the emperor and 
 the empire. 
 
 Thus the emperor gave the title of " dear, honour- 
 able, and pious," to a man at whose head the Church 
 had launched her excommunication. It had been 
 wished, in the drawing up of the document, to remove 
 all distrust from the mind of Luther and his friends. 
 Gaspard Sturm was appointed to carry this message to 
 the reformer, and accompany him to "Worms. The 
 elector, dreading the public indignation, wrote, on the 
 12th March, to the magistrates of Wittemberg, to see 
 to the safety of the emperor's officer, and, if deemed 
 necessary, to provide him with a guard. The herald 
 set out. 
 
 Thus the designs of God were accomplished. God 
 was pleased to set upon a hill that light which He 
 had kindled in the world ; and emperors, kings, and 
 princes, without knowing it, were forthwith in motion 
 t(i execute Ilis design. It is easy for Him to exalt the 
 lowest to tlie highest. An act of His power suffices to 
 raise the humble child of Mansfeld from an obscure 
 hut to the palace where kings are assembled. In re- 
 gard to Him, there is nothing small, nothing great. 
 When He wills it, Charles V. and Luther meet face 
 to face. 
 
 But will Luther obey this citation ? His best friends 
 were in doubt. The elector, on the 25th March, wrote 
 his brother : " Doctor Martin is summoned hither, but 
 I know not if he will come. I cannot augur any good 
 of it." Three weeks later (16th April) this excellent 
 prince, seeing the danger increase, wrote anew to Duke 
 John : " There is a proclamation against Luther. The 
 cardinals and bishops attack him with much severity. 
 May God tiu-n all to good ! Would to God I could 
 procure him an equitable reception ! " 
 
 While these things were passing at Woi-ms and Wit- 
 temberg, the papacy was reiterating its blows. On the 
 28th of March, the Thursday before Easter, Rome 
 resounded with a solemn excommunication. At this 
 season it is usual to publish the dreadful bull in Ccena 
 Domini, which is only a long series of imprecations. 
 On that day the avenues to the church in which the 
 sovereign pontiff was to officiate were occupied, at an 
 early hour, by the papal guards, and by a crowd of 
 people who had flocked from all parts of Italy to 
 receive the benediction of the holy father. The square 
 in front of the Basilisk was decorated with branches of 
 laurel and myrtle; wax tapers were burning on the 
 balcony of the church, and the ostensorium was raised 
 upon it, All at once bells make the air re-echo with 
 solemn sounds ; the pope, clothed in his pontifical robes, 
 and carried in a chair, appears on the balcony; the 
 people kneel, all heads are uncovered, the colours are 
 lowered, the muskets grounded, and a solemn silence 
 reigns. Some moments after, the pope slowly stretches 
 out his hands, raises them towards heaven, then bends 
 them slowly towards the ground, making the sign of 
 the cross. This movement is repeated thrice, and the 
 air echoes anew with the ringing of bells, which inti- 
 mate the pope's benediction to the surrounding country ; 
 
 then priests advance with impetuosity, holding lighted 
 torches, which they reverse, brandish, and throw about 
 with violence, to represent the flames of hell ; the people 
 are moved and agitated ; and the words of malediction 
 are heard from the height of the temple. 
 
 When Luther was informed of this excommunication, 
 he published the tenor of it, with some remarks, writ- 
 ten in that caustic style in which he so much excelled. 
 Although this publication did not appear till after- 
 wards, we will here give some idea of it. Let us hear 
 the high priest of Christendom on the balcony of his 
 Basilisk, and the monk of Wittemberg answering him 
 from the bosom of Oermanv. 
 
 CATHEDRAL OF WORMS 
 
 There is sometlnng chinctcn^tie in tlie contrast of 
 the two voices 
 
 The Fupe — " Leo Bishoj) " 
 
 Luther. — " Bishop ... as a wolt is a shepherd ; 
 for the bishop ought to exhort according to the doc- 
 trine of salvation, not belch out imprecations and 
 maledictions." 
 
 The Pope. — ". . . Servant of all the servants 
 of God." . . . 
 
 Luther. — " In the evening, when we are drunk ; but 
 in the morning we call ourselves Leo, lord of all the 
 lords." 
 
 The Pope. — " The Roman bishops, our predecessors, 
 have been wont, on this festival, to employ the weapons 
 of righteousness." . . . 
 
 Lvther. — " Which, according to you, are excommu- 
 nication and anathema; but according to St. Paul, 
 patience, meekness, and charity." (2 Cor. vi. 7.) 
 
THE POPE AND LUTHER. 
 
 193 
 
 The I'ope. — " According to tlie duty of the apostolic 
 ollice, and to maintaiu tho purity of Christian faith." 
 
 Lnt/iei: — " In otlier words, tlie temporal possessions 
 of llic poiifi." 
 
 T lie Pope. — "And its unity, which consists in the 
 union of the incmbere with Christ their head, . . . 
 and with His vicar." . . . 
 
 Luther. — "For Christ is not sufficient; one more 
 tlian He is necessary." 
 
 The I'npe. — " To guard the holy communion of the 
 faithful, we follow (ho uMciont custom, and excommuni- 
 cato and anathenuUizo, on tlio part of God Almighty, 
 tlio Fathor." 
 
 Luther. — " Of wliom it is said, God sent not His Son 
 into the world to condemn 'he tvorld" (John iii. 17.) 
 
 The Pope — ". . . And the Son and the Holy 
 Spirit, and according to the power of the apostles 
 Peter and Paul, . . . and our own." . . . 
 
 lAither. — " And myself ! says the ravenous wolf, as 
 if the power of Goa'wcic tdo frrl)lo without Iiiui." 
 
 The Pope.— '■■\\\'rm~<-M luivti.'s.— tho(;arasi,Mhe 
 Patarini, the Paupnvv ..f Lymis, tho Anioldists, the 
 Sporonists, the Pajsagiuu^, the Wicklitiites, the Hussites, 
 tlio Fratricelli." 
 
 J.iitlii-r. — "For they vrished to possess the Holy 
 S< lipturos, and insisted that the pope should be sober, 
 and proaoh the Word of God." 
 
 The /'ly/c. — •• And Martin Luther recently condemned 
 by us for a similar liorosy, as well as all his adherents, 
 aud all, whosoever they be, that shew liim any favour." 
 
 J.iilher. — "I thank thee, most gracious pontiff, for 
 condonuiing me in common with all these Christians. 
 I count it an honour to have my name proclaimed at 
 Rome, during the feast, in so glorious a manner, and 
 carried over the world with the names of all those 
 humble confessors of Jesus Christ." 
 
 The Pope. — "Likewise, we exconnnuuicate and curse 
 all pirates and corsairs." . . . 
 
 Luther. — "Who, then, is the greatest of pirates and 
 corsairs, if it be not he who robs souls, chains them, 
 aud puts them to death?" 
 
 The Pope. — " Particularly those who sail upon our 
 sea." 
 
 I^uther. — " Our sea ! . . . Saint Peter, our pre- 
 do.-ossor, said : Silrn- ami ,,old harr T ,mnr, (Acts iii. 6.) 
 Jo,-us Christ said : V/,, !,;,„,.< .,r t/,, ^•,»///,^■ e.cerci:<e lord- 
 .vA/y, orer Ihrm; Init ,1 ,/,„// imi h, ,., with you, (Luke 
 xxii. 2.).) But if a waggon hjadod with hay must, on 
 mooting with a drunken man, give way to him, a for- 
 tiori nnist St. Peter and Jesus Christ himself give way 
 to the pope !" 
 
 The Pope. — "Likewise, we excommunicate and curse 
 all who falsify our bulls, and our apostolic letters." . . 
 
 Luther. — " But the letters of God, the Scriptures of 
 God, all the world may condemn and burn." 
 
 The Pope. — " Likewise, we excommunicate and curse 
 all who detain provisions which are on the way to 
 Kome." . . . 
 
 Luther. — " He barks and bites like a dog threatened 
 to be deprived of his bone." 
 
 The Pope. — "Likewise, we condemn and curse all 
 who keep back judicial rights, fruits, tithes, revenues, 
 appertaining to the clergy." 
 
 1 This name is inaccurate,— read Gaiari or Catlmri. 
 
 Luther. — " For Jesus Christ has said : Whosoever ivill 
 sue thee at the law, and take aivai/ thi/ coat, let him have 
 thy cloak also, (Matt. v. 40;) and this is our commentary 
 upon the piissage." 
 
 The Pope. — "Whatever lie thoir station, dignity, 
 order, power, or rank, — bo they even bishops or 
 kings." . . . 
 
 Luther. — " Fur llivre trill arise false teachers among 
 you, who will dr.</,;.<r ilnmiiiinii, and sjjeak evil of dignities, 
 saith the Scriiiluio," (.liido S.) 
 
 The Pope. — "Likewise wo condemn and curse all 
 those who in any kind of way attack the city of Kome, 
 the kingdom of Sicily, the islands of Sardinia and Cor- 
 sica, the patrimony of St. Peter in Tuscany, the duchy 
 of Spoleto, the margi-avate of Ancona, the Campagiia, 
 the cities of Ferrara and Benevento, or any other city 
 or country appertaining to the Church of Itome." 
 
 Luther. — " O Peter, poor fisherman ! where did you 
 get Rome and all those kingdoms '! I salute you, Peter, 
 king of Sicily ! . . . and li.li.rni.ni at li.llisaida '" 
 
 The Pope.— '' Wo i!X< nnunir,-,!, ■;.,,.! ,•„,■.,. allolian- 
 
 ceUors, councillors, pai-lianniil,-. |ir.iiiiia(<.iv., i:. i\ iinurs, 
 officials, bishops, and otliors, who uppuso our loiters of 
 exhortation, invitation, prohibition, mediation, execu- 
 tion," &c. 
 
 Luther. — "For the holy see seeks only to live in 
 idleness, magnificence, and debauchery, to command, 
 storm, deceive, lie, iusidt, and commit all sorts of 
 wickedness in peace and safety. . . . 
 
 " O Lord, arise ! — it is not as the papists pretend. 
 Thou hast not forsaken ns, nor is thy favour turned 
 away from us." 
 
 So spake Leo X. at Rome, and Luther at Wittemberg. 
 
 The pontiff having finished his anathemas, the parch- 
 ment on which they were written was torn in pieces, 
 and the fragments thrown to the people. Immediately 
 there was a gi-eat rush among the crowd, all pressing 
 forward, and striving to get hold of a morsel of the 
 terrible bull. 
 
 Such were the holy relics which the papacy offered 
 to her faithful on the eve of the great day of grace of 
 expiation. The multitude soon dispersed, and the 
 vicinity of the Basilisk resumed its wonted stillness. 
 Let us retm-u to Wittemberg. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Lutlier's Courage— Bugenhagen at Wittemberg— PcMecutions in Ponierania 
 — Melancthon wishes to set out with Luther — Amsdorlf — Schurff— 
 Suaven— Hutteii to Cliarles V. 
 
 It was the 24th of March. The imperial herald, Gas- 
 pard Sturm, having at length passed the gates of the 
 town where Luther was, presented himself before the 
 doctor, aud put the summons of Charles V. into his 
 hands. A grave and solemn moment for the reformer ! 
 All his friends were in consternation. No prince, not 
 even excepting Frederick the Wise, had as yet declared 
 in his favour. Knights, it is true, uttered menaces ; 
 but the mighty Charles despised them. Still Luther 
 was not troubled. " The papists," said he, on seeing 
 
1.04 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 the anguisli of his friends, " have no wish for my ar- 
 rival at Worms, they only wish my condemnation and 
 death. No matter, pray not for me, but for the Word 
 of God. Before my blood is cold, thousands through- 
 out the world will be called to answer for having shed 
 it. The most lioli/ adversary of Christ, the father, mas- 
 ter, and generalissimo of homicides, insists on having 
 my life. Amen ! Let the will of the Lord be done. 
 Christ will give me His Spirit to vanquish these minis- 
 ters of error. I despise them during my life, and will 
 triumph over them by my death. They are doing all 
 they can at Womis to compel me to retract. Here, 
 then, will be my retractation : I once said, that the 
 pope was tlie vicar of Christ ; now, I say that he is the 
 enemy of the Lord, and the apostle of the devil." And 
 when he learned that all the puljjits of the Franciscans 
 were resounding with imprecations and maledictions 
 a.i^iiinst him, he exclaimed : " Oh ! what wondrous joy 
 it gives me ! " He knew that he had done the will of 
 God, and that God was with him ; why, then, should he 
 not set out boldly? This purity of intention, this 
 liberty of conscience, is a hidden power of incalculable 
 might, which never fails the servant of God, and which 
 makes him more invincible than helmets and armed 
 hosts could make him. 
 
 At this time arrived at Wittemberg a man who, like 
 Melauctlion, was destined to be Luther's friend through 
 life, and to console him at the moment of his departure. 
 It was a priest of th.irty-six: years of age, named 
 Bugenhagen, who had fled from the severities witli 
 which the Bishop of Camin, and Prince Bogislas of 
 Pomerania, persecuted the friends of the Gospel of all 
 classes — clergj', citizens, and literati. Of a senatorial 
 family at Wollin in Pomerania, — from which he is 
 commonly called "Pomeranus," — Bugenhagen, at 
 twenty years of age, began to teach at Treptow. 
 Youth flocked to hear him, while nobles and learned 
 men vied with each other for his society. He was a 
 diligent student of the Holy Scriptures, and prayed to 
 God to instruct him. One day, towards the end of 
 December, l.")2(), when he was supping with several 
 friends, Luther's treatise on the " Captivity of Baby- 
 lon " was put into his hands. After turning it over, 
 lie exclaimed : " Many heretics have infested the Church 
 since dur Saviour died, but never was there one more 
 pestilential than the author of this work." Having 
 taken tlie boolv home with him, and read it over and 
 over, his views entirely changed ; new truths presented 
 themselves to his mind, and returning some days after- 
 wards to his companions, he said to them : " The whole 
 world is fallen into Cimmerian darkness. This man, 
 and none but he, sees the trutli." " Some priests, a 
 deacon, even the abbot himself, received the pure doc- 
 trine of salvation, and preaching it with power, soon," 
 says a historian, " turned away tlieir hearers from 
 human superstitions to the sole efficacious merit of 
 Jesus Christ." Then pr^i-secutiiui burst fortli. Seve- 
 ral were already immuiT'l in ilmiLiriiiis. \\ lim Liiiieu- 
 hagen escaped from iii-; riicini, -. .ml :iiri\ rd at AVit- 
 temberg. "He suffers for the line uf th- Ciuspel," 
 immediately wrote Melauctlion to the elector's chap- 
 lain ; " wliere could he fly, if not to our asylum, to the 
 protection of our prince ?" 
 
 But none received Bugenhagen with so much delight 
 
 as Luther. It was arranged between them that, imme- 
 diately after the reformer's departure, Bugenhagen 
 should begin to expound the Psalms. Thus, Divine 
 Providence brought this powerfid mind to ai*in supply- 
 ing the place of him whom Wittemberg was going to 
 lose. Placed a year after at the head of the church of 
 this town, Bugenhagen presided over it for thirty-sis 
 years. Luther distinguished him by the name of 2'/ie 
 "Pastor. 
 
 Luther behoved to depart. His alarmed friends 
 thought, that unless God miraculously interposed, he 
 was going to death. Melancthon, who had left his 
 native country, had become attached to Luther with 
 all the affection of his soul. "Luther," said he, "is to 
 me in place of all my friends-. I fe.-l him to be greater 
 and more admirable than I can express. You know 
 how Alcibiades admired his Snciai.s ;' but I admire 
 Luther in a higher sense, for \u- U a Christian."' Then 
 he added the simple, but beautiful exjirL'-sion : "Every 
 time 1 contemplate him, I find him even greater than 
 himself." Melancthon wished to follow Luther in his 
 dangers. But their common friends, and, doubtless, 
 the doctor himself, were against it. Must not Philip 
 supply the place of his friend? and, should tliat friend 
 never return, who would direct the cause of the Refor- 
 mation ? "Ah! would to God," said Melancthon, 
 resigned, but grieved, — "would to God I had been 
 allowed to go with him." 
 
 The ardent Amsdorff immediately declared that he 
 would accompany the doctor. His strong soul felt a 
 pleasure in exposmg itself to danger. His high bear- 
 ing enabled him to appear fearless before an assembly 
 of kings. The elector had invited to Wittemberg, as 
 professor of law, Jerome Schurff, the sou of a pliysi- 
 cian of St. Gall, a celebrated man, of great meekness 
 of temper, and a very intimate friend of Luther. " He 
 has not yet simimoned up courage," said Luther, " to 
 pronounce sentence of death on a single malefactor." 
 Yet this timid individual volunteered to act as the doc- 
 tor's coiuisel on this dangerous journey. A young 
 Danish student, named Peter Suavon. wlin boarded 
 with Melancthon, and afterwards di •tiii'jiii-hcil liinisi'If 
 by his labours in Pomerania and I ).iiiirii k. al^o de- 
 clared that he would accompany lii< niaslir. Tlie 
 youth in schools were entitled to have their represen- 
 tative beside the champion of truth. 
 
 Germany was moved at the thought of the dangers 
 which threatened the representative of her people, and 
 foiuid a voice well fitted to express her fears. Ulrich 
 von Hiitten shuddered at the thought of the blow 
 about to be struck at his country; and, on the 1st of 
 April, wrote directly to Charles V. as follows : " Most 
 excellent emperor, you are on the point of destroying 
 us, and yourself with us. What is intended in this 
 affair of Luther, but just to destroy our liberty, and 
 abridge your power? There is not throughout the 
 whole breadth of the empire a good man who does not 
 feel the liveliest interest in this business. The priests 
 alone are in arms against Luther, because he is opposed 
 to their excessive power, their shameful luxury, their' 
 depraved lives, and has pleaded for the doctrine of 
 Christ, his country's freedom, and purity of manners. 
 
 1 " Alcibiades was persuaae4 tliat tlie demon of Soevates was assistance 
 which tlie gods sent to instruct and save."— PJiidirc/i's Life of Alcibiades. 
 
LUTHER'S JOURNEY TO WORMS. 
 
 195 
 
 "O emperor! dismiss from your prosenoe those ora- 
 toi-s of Home, those bishops ;uid fiirdiiials wlio would 
 prevent everything like reform. Did you not observe 
 the sadness of the people on seeing you, on your an-ivul, 
 Rl)proach the people surrounded by those wearers of 
 red hats, by a herd of priests, and not a band of valiant 
 \\'arriors'? 
 
 "Do not give up your sovereign majesty to those 
 who would trample it under their feet ! Have pity on 
 us ! Do not in your ruin drag the whole nation along 
 with yo>i ! Place us amid the greatest perils, under the 
 swords of tlie enemy and the canon's mouth ; let all 
 nations consi)ire against us ; let all armies assail us, so 
 that we may be able openly to manifest our valour, and 
 not be thus vanquished and enslaved in the dark, like 
 women, without arms and without a struggle. . . . 
 Ah ! our hope was that you would deliver us from the 
 yoke of the Romans, and overthrow the pontifical 
 tyranny. God grant that the futiu-c may turn out 
 better than the commencement. 
 
 "All Germany kneels before you; she supplicates 
 you with tears, implores your aid, your pity, your faith, 
 and, by the holy memory of those Germans, who, 
 when the whole world was subjugated to Rome, refused 
 to bend their head before that proud city, conjures you 
 to save her, restore her to herself, deliver her from 
 slavery, and avenge her of her tyrants!" . . . 
 
 So spoke Germany to Charles V through the instru- 
 mentality of the knight. The emperor paid uo atten- 
 tion to the letter ; perhaps threw it disdainfully from 
 him to one of his secretaries. He -s^-as a Fleming, and 
 not a German. Personal aggrandisement — not the 
 liberty and glory of the empire — was the object of all 
 his desires. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Deim-tiire f-jr Ihe Diet of WMrni<;— Luth' r's Adieu— His Condemnation 
 ruWislieil— Cavalcado ii. n rifint M,,liii- of Jonas and Lutlier— 
 I.utlier in liis old C i;\ I I' u lies at Erfui-t— Incident— 
 
 F;iitli ami Worlis— Chili r i. I ulliei's Courage— Lutliei- to 
 
 Spalatin — llaltflt Fr.iuk; : I .; \\ i i!is— Plan of tlie Imperialibts 
 
 — Lutlier's Firmness. 
 
 The 2nd of April had arrived, and Luther behoved to 
 take leave of his friends. After writing a note to 
 Lange, to intimate that he would spend the following 
 Tlun-sday or Friday at Erfurt, he bade adieu to his 
 colleagues. Turning to Melancthon, he said to him, in 
 a tone which betrayed emotion : " If I do not return, 
 and my enemies put me to death, O my brother, cease 
 not to teach, and remain firm in the truth. Labour iu 
 my stead, since I shall not be able to labour auy longer 
 for myself. If you live, it matters little though I 
 perish." Then, committing himself to the hand of Him 
 who is faithful and true, Luther took his seat, aud 
 quitted Wittemberg. The town council had provided 
 him with a modest carriage with a cloth covering, 
 which might be put on or off at pleasure. The im- 
 ])crial herald, clad in his insignia, and wearing the 
 imperial eagle, was on horseback in front, followed by 
 his servant. Next followed Luther, Schurff, AmsdoriF, 
 
 and Suaven, in their carriage. The friends of the Gos- 
 pel, the citizens of Wittemberg, iu deep emotion, were 
 invoking God, and shedding tears. Such was Luther's 
 dejiarture. 
 
 He soon observed that the hearts of those whom he 
 met were filled witli gloomy forebodings. At Leipsic 
 no honour was ])aid to him. Ho oidy received the 
 usutil ])resent of wine. At Naumbiu-g he met a priest, 
 probably J. Langer, a man of stern zeal, who carefully 
 l)reserved in his study the portrait of the famous 
 Jerome Savonarola of Ferrara, who was burnt at Flo- 
 rence in 1498, by order of Pope Alexander VI., as a 
 martyr to liberty and morality, as well as a confessor 
 of evangelical truth. Having taken the portrait of the 
 Italian martyr, the priest came up to Luther, and held 
 out the portrait to him without sjjcaking. Luther 
 undei-stood what the dumb figure intimated ; but his 
 intrepid soul remained firm. "It is Satan," said he, 
 "who, by these terrors, would fain prevent a confession 
 of the truth from being made in the assembly of the 
 princes, because he foresees the blow which this will 
 give to his kiugdom." "Adhere firmly to the truth 
 which thou ha.st per'ceived," said then the priest to him 
 gi-avfly, "and thy God will also adliere finuly to thee." 
 
 Having .^i)cMit the night at Naumbiu-g, where the 
 burgomaster had hospitably entertained him, Luther 
 arrived next evening at Weimar. He was scarcely 
 a moment there wlien he heard loud cries in all 
 directions. They were publishing his condi'iunation. 
 " Look !" said the herald to hiui. Ilr looked, and his 
 astonished eyes beheld imperial nn --■ )iu' r^ tiMversing 
 the town, and posting up the iiii|). ri.il cili.'t, which 
 ordered his writings to be laid liefore the magistrates. 
 Luther had no iloiil)t that tliese liar.-^h measures were 
 exhibited beforehand, to deter him from coming, that 
 he might afterwards be condemned for having refused 
 to appear, "Well, doctor, will you go on?" said 
 the imperial herald to him in alarm. — "Yes," replied 
 Luther, " though put under interdict in every town, I 
 will go on : I confide in the emperors safe-conduct." 
 
 At Weimar Luther had an audience of the elector's 
 brother, Duke John, who was then residing there. The 
 prince invited him to preach. He consented; aud from 
 his heart, now uuder deep emotion, came forth the 
 words of life. John Vo'it, the friend of Frederick 
 Myconius, a Franciscan monk, heard him ; aud being 
 converted to evangelical doctrine, quitted the convent 
 two years after. At a later period he became pro- 
 fessor of theology at Wittemberg. The duke ga\e 
 Luther the mouey necessary for his journey. 
 
 From Weimar the reformer proceeded to Erfurt. It 
 was the town of his youth ; and he hoped to see his 
 friend Lange, provided, as he had written him, he 
 could enter tlie town without danger. He was still 
 three or four leagues off, near the village of Nora, when 
 he saw a troop of horsemen appear in the distance. 
 Were they friends, or were they enemies'? Shortly 
 Crotus, the rector of the university, Eobanus Hesse, 
 Melancthon's friend, whom Luther called the king of 
 poets, Euricius Cordus, John Draco, and others, to the 
 number of forty, members of the senate, the university, 
 and the municipality, all on horseback, saluted him 
 with acclamation. A multitude of the inhabitants of 
 Erfurt covered the road, and gave loud expression to 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 their joy. All were eager to see the mighty man who 
 hatl voutiired to declare war against the pope. 
 
 A young man of twenty-eight, named Justus Jonas, 
 had got the start of the party. Jonas, after studying 
 law at Erfurt, had been appointed rector of the uni- 
 versity in 1519. Illumined by the evangelical light, 
 which then radiated iu all directions, he felt desirous to 
 become a theologian. " I believe," wrote Erasmus to 
 him, " that God has elected you as an instrument to 
 spread the glory of His Son Jesus." All Jonas's 
 thoughts were turned to Wittemberg and Luther. 
 Some years before, when only a student of law, being 
 of an active enterprising spirit, he had set out on foot, 
 accompanied by some friends ; and in order to reach 
 Erasmus, then at Brussels, had traversed forests in- 
 vested by robbers, and towns ravaged by the plague. 
 AVill he not now confront otlier dangers in order to 
 accompany the reformer to Worms'? He earnestly 
 begged the favour, and Luther consented. Thus met 
 these two doctors, who were to labour through life in 
 the renovation of the Church. Divine Providence 
 gathered around Luther men destined to be the light 
 of Germany: the Melancthous, the Amsdorffs, the 
 Bugenhagens, the Jonases. On his return from 
 Worms, Jonas was appointed provost of tlie Church 
 of Wittemberg, and doctor in theology. "Jonas," said 
 Luther, " is a man whose life would deserve to be pur- 
 chased at a large lariee, in order to detain him on the 
 earth." No preacher ever surpassed him in the gift of 
 ca]>livating his hearers. "Pomeranus is an expositor," 
 said jNlelancthon, " and I am a dialectitiaii, — Jonas is 
 an orator. The words flow from his lips with siu-- 
 passiug gi-ace; and his eloquence is overpowering. 
 But Luther is beyond us all." It seems that nearly 
 about the same time a comiiauion nf Luther's child- 
 hood, one of his brothers, joiiic.l ih.^ ,-,■,, it. 
 
 The deputation turned thiir .-^lirds, and horsemen 
 and footmen sm-rounding Luther's carriage, entered the 
 town of Erfurt. At the gate, in the squai-es and 
 streets, where the poor monk had so often begged his 
 bread, the crowd of spectators was immense. Luther 
 dismounted at the Augustine convent, where the Gos- 
 pel had consoled his heart. Lange received him with 
 joy; Usingen, and some of the more aged fathers, 
 shewed gi-eat coolness. There was a general desire to 
 hear him preach ; and though he was interdicted from 
 doing it, the herald himself could not resist the desire, 
 and consented. 
 
 Sunday after Easter the Augustine church at Erfm-t 
 was crowded. That friar who formerly opened the 
 doors and swept the church, mounted the pulpit, and 
 having opened the Bible, read these words : Peace he 
 with you. And wlicti lie had so said, He shewed them His 
 hands ami His side, (John xx. 19, 20.) "All the 
 jiliilosopliers, doctors, and writei's," said he, "have 
 e.xirtud themselves to shew how man may obtain eter- 
 nal life, and have not succeeded. I will now tell you." 
 This has, in all ages, been the great question ; ac- 
 cordingly, Luther's hearers redoubled their attention. 
 
 " Tliere are two kinds of works," continued the 
 reformer ; " works foreign to ourselves, — these are 
 good works ; and our own works, — these are of little 
 value. One builds a church ; another goes on a pil- 
 grimage to St. James's or St. Peter's; a third fasts, 
 
 prays, takes the cowl, walks barefoot ; a fourth does 
 something else. All these works are nothing, and will 
 perish ; for our own works have no efficacy in them. 
 But I am now going to tell you what is the genuine j 
 work. God raised a man again from the dead, even 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, that He might crush death, 
 destroy sin, and shut the gates of hell. Such is the 
 work of salvation. The devil thought that he had the 
 Lord in his power when he saw Him between the two 
 thieves, suffering the most ignominious martyrdom, 
 accursed of God and men. . . . But the Divinity 
 displayed its power, and annihilated sin, death, and 
 hell. . . . 
 
 " Christ has vanquished, — this is the grand news, — • 
 and we are saved by His work, not by our own. The 
 pope gives a very different account. But I maintain 
 that the holy mother of God herself was saved neither 
 by her virginity nor maternity, neither by her purity 
 nor her works ; but solely by means of faith, and by 
 the works of God." . . . 
 
 While Luther was speaking, a sudden noise was 
 heard, — one of the galleries gave a crack, and seemed 
 as if it were going to give way under the pressure of 
 the crowd. Some rushed out, and others sat still, 
 terror-struck. The orator stopped for a moment, and 
 then, stretching out his hand, exclaimed, with a loud 
 voice: "Fear nothing! there is no danger; the devil 
 is seeking, in this way, to prevent me from proclaim- 
 ing the Gospel ; but he shall not succeed." At these 
 words, those who were running out, stopped astonished 
 and rivetted to the spot; the assembly calmed, and 
 Luther, without troubling himself with the attempts of 
 the devil, continued : " You will, perhaps, say to me, j 
 Y'ou tell us a great deal about faith. Tell us, also, j 
 how we can obtain it. Y'es ; well, I will tell you. Oiu- 
 Lord Jesus Christ says : Peace be with you; behold mij 
 hands, — in other words, ' Behold, O man ! it is I — I 
 alone — who have taken away thy sin, and ransomed 
 thee ; and now thou hast peace, saitli the Lord.' 
 
 " I did not eat the fruit of the tree," resumed Luther ; 
 " neither did you eat it ; but we received the sin which 
 Adam has transmitted to us, and are guilty of it. In 
 like manner, I did not suffer on tlie cross, nor did you 
 suffer on it ; but Christ suffered for us ; we are justi- 
 fied by the work of God, and imt by nui- mvn. . 
 lam (saith the Lord) thy riijlil: ■'usm ss ,nid t/i// /■akinptinn. 
 "Let us believe the Gu.-^pil, Irt u.s lu'lieve St. Paul, 
 and not the letters and decretals of the popes." 
 
 Luther, after having preached faith as the means of 
 the sinner's justification, preaches works as the conse- 
 quence and evidence of salvation. 
 
 " vSince God has saved us," continues he, " let us so 
 order our works that he may take pleasure iu them. 
 Ai-t thou rich ? — let thy wealth be useful to the poor. 
 Art thou poor ? — let thy service be useful to the rich. 
 If thy toil is useful only to thyself, the service which 
 thou pretendest to render to God is mere falsehood." 
 
 Tliere is not a word in the sermon on Luther him- 
 self ; no allusion to the circumstances in which he is 
 placed ; nothing on Worms, on Charles, or the nuncios ; 
 he preaches Christ, and Christ only. At this moment, 
 when the world has its eyes upon him, he is not in the 
 least occupied with himself ; and herein is the mark of 
 a genuine servant of God. 
 
LUTHER'S ILLNESS AND COURAGE. 
 
 197 
 
 Luther set out from Erfurt, and passed through 
 Gotha, whore he again preached. Myconius adds, 
 tliat at the moment wlirn the ])eopln were coming out 
 from the sermon, (In' ilf\ il ili'luclicil from llic pciliment 
 of tlie church sonu' -lonr^ « hirh liml n.ii liiiilin'il for 
 two centuries. Tlic docinr slr|ii in iIk^ coiiMiit uf the 
 IJenedictines, at Koinhanlsbninn, and tlionce pro- 
 ceeded to Eisenach, where ho felt indisposed. Ams- 
 dorff, Jonas, Schurff, and all his friends, were alarmed. 
 He was bled; and the greatest possible attention 
 was paid him. Even the 
 sc/iii/tfieiss of the town, 
 John Oswald, hastened 
 to him with a cordial. 
 Luther, after drinking it, 
 fell asleep, and was there- 
 by so far recovered that 
 he was able to proceed 
 on the following day. 
 
 Wherever he passed 
 the people flocked to see 
 him. His journey was 
 a kind of triumphal pro- 
 cession. Deep interest 
 was felt in beholding the 
 intrepid man who was 
 on the way to oifer his 
 head to the emperor ani' 
 the empire. An immense 
 concourse surrounded 
 him. "Ah !" said some 
 of them to him, " there 
 arc so many cardinals 
 and so many bishops at 
 AVorms, they wll burn 
 you ; they will reduce 
 your body to ashes, as was done with that of John 
 Huss." But nothing terrified the monk. " Were they 
 to make a fire," said he, "that would extend from 
 AVorms to Wiitemberg, and reach even to the sky, I 
 would walk across it in the name of the Lord ; I would 
 appear before them ; I would walk into the jaws of this 
 Behemoth, and break his teeth, and confess the Lord 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 One day, when just going into an inn, and while the 
 crowd were as usual pressing around him, an officer 
 came up to him and said : " Are you the man who 
 undertakes to reform the papacy? How will you 
 succeed?" — "Yes," replied Luther, "I am the man. I 
 confide in Almighty God, whose word and command I 
 have before me." The officer, affected, gave him a 
 milder look, and said: "Dear friend, there is some- 
 thing in what you say. I am the sei'vant of Charles ; 
 but your Master is gi-eater than mine. He will aid 
 you and guard you." Such was the impression which 
 Luther produced. Even his enemies were struck at the 
 sight of the multitudes that thronged around him, 
 though they have painted the journey in different 
 colours. At length the doctor arrived at Frankfort, 
 on Sunday, 14th April. 
 
 News of Luther's advance had reached AA^orms. The 
 friends of the pope had thought he would not obey the 
 summons of the emperor. Albert, cardinal-archbishop 
 of Mentz, would have given anything to stop him by 
 
 the way ; and new schemes were set on foot for this 
 purpose. 
 
 Luther, on his anival at Frankfort, took some re- 
 pose, and then announced his approach to Spalatin, 
 who was at AVorms with the elector. It is the only 
 letter which he wrote during his journey. "I am 
 getting on," says he, "though Satan has striven to 
 stop me on the way by sickness. From Eisenach to 
 this I have never been without a feeling of languor, 
 and am still completely worn out. I learn that Charles 
 
 has published an edict to frighten me. But Clirist 
 lives, and we shall enter Worms in spite of all the 
 barriers of hell and all the powers of the air. There- 
 fore make ready my lodging." 
 
 The next day Luther visited the learned school of 
 William Nesse, a celebrated geogi'apher of that time. 
 " Be diligent," said he to the scholars, " in the reading 
 of the Scriptures, and the investigation of truth." 
 Then, placing his right hand on the head of one of the 
 children, and his left on another, he pronounced a 
 blessing on the whole school. 
 
 While Luther blessed the young, he was also the 
 hope of the old. Catherine of Holzhausen, a widow 
 advanced in years, and serving God, went to him and 
 said : " My father and mother told me that God would 
 raise up a man who should oppose the papal vanities, 
 and save the Word of God. I hope you are that man, 
 and I wish you, for your work, the gi-ace and the Holy 
 Spirit of God." 
 
 These were by no means the sentiments universally 
 entertained at Frankfort. John Cochloeus, dean of the 
 church of Notre Dame, was one of those most devoted 
 to the Roman Church. On seeing Luther pass through 
 Frankfort on his way to Worms, he could not suppress 
 his fears. He thought the Church was in want of de- 
 voted defenders ; and scarcely had Luther quitted the 
 town, than Cochloeusset out inhis track, ready, ashe says, 
 to give his life in defence of the honour of the Church. 
 
HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATION. 
 
 There was great alarm in the camp of the pope's 
 friends. The heresiarch was at hand, — every day, 
 every hour brought him nearer \Yoruis. If he entered, 
 all was perliaps lost. The Archbishop Albert, the 
 confessor Glapio, and all the politicians about the em- 
 peror, felt uneasy. How can the arrival of this monk 
 be prevented ? It is impossible to cany liim off, for he 
 has the emperor's safe-conduct. Stratagem aloue can 
 arrest him. These intriguers immediately arranged the 
 following plan. The emperor's confessor and his high 
 chamberlain, Paul of Armsdorff, quit Woi-ms in gi-eat 
 haste, and proceed about ten leagues distant, to the 
 castle of Ebcrnburg, the residence of Francis de Seck- 
 ingen, the knight who had offered Luther an asylum. 
 Eucer, a young Dominican, chaplain to the Elector- 
 Palatine, and who had been gained to the evangelical 
 doctrine at the Heidelberg discussion, had then taken 
 refuge in " this hotel of the just." The knight, who 
 had no great knowledge of the affairs of religion, was 
 easily imposed upon, while the disposition of the Pala- 
 tine chaplain favoured the designs of the confessor. In 
 fact, Bucer was inclined to pacific measures. Distin- 
 guishing between fundamental and secondary points, 
 he thought he might sacrifice the latter to imity and 
 jjeace. 
 
 The chamberlain and confessor begin their attack. 
 They give Seckingen and Bucer to understand that it 
 is all over with Lvither if he goes to Worms. They 
 assure him that the emperor is ready to seud certain 
 learned men to Ebernburg, there to confer with the 
 doctor. " Under your charge," say they to the knight, 
 " the two parties will be placed." " We are at one 
 with Luther on all essential points," say they to Bucer: 
 " only some secondary points remain ; and as to these 
 you will be mediator." The knight and the chaplain 
 are shaken. The confessor and chamberlain continue. 
 " The invitation addressed to Luther must come from 
 yon," say they to Seckingen; "and let Bucer be the 
 bearer of it." Everything was aiTanged according to 
 their wish. Let Luther only be credulous enough to 
 come to Ebernburg ; his safe-conduct will soon expire, 
 and then, who will be able to defend him ? 
 
 Luther had arrived at Oppenheim. His safe-conduct 
 was available only for three days longer. He sees a 
 troop of horsemen approaching, and soon recognises at 
 their head the Bucer with whom he had such intimate 
 conference at Heidelberg. " These horsemen belong 
 to Francis of Seckingen," said Bucer to him, after the 
 first expressions of friendshij). " He sends me to you 
 to conduct you to his strong castle. The emperor's 
 confessor is desirous of a conference with you. His 
 influence over Charles is unbounded : everything may 
 be arranged. But beware of Aleander!" Jonas, Anis- 
 dorff, and Schm-ff, knew not what to think ; Bucer 
 insisted ; but Luther hesitated not. " I continue my 
 journey," was his answer to Bucer ; '• and if the em- 
 peror's confessor has anything to say to me, he will 
 find me at Worms. I go where I am called." 
 
 Meanwhile Spalatin himself began to be troubled 
 and afraid. Sm-rounded at Worms by the enemies of 
 the Eeformation, he heard them saying that no respect 
 should be paid to the safe-conduct of a heretic. He 
 became alarmed for his friend; and at the moment 
 when the latter was approaching the town, a 
 
 presented himself, and said to him, on the part of the 
 chaplain, " Don't enter AVorms ! " This from his best 
 friend, the elector's confidant, Spalatin himself ! Lu- 
 ther, unmoved, turns his eye on the messenger, and 
 replies : " Go and tell your master, that were there as 
 many devils in Worms as there are tiles upon the roofs, 
 I would enter." Never, perhaps, was Luther so grand. 
 The envoy returned to Worms with his extraordinary 
 message. "I was then intrepid," said Luther a few 
 days before his death ; " I feared nothing. God can give 
 man such boldness ; I know not if at present I would 
 have as much liberty and joy." — "When the cause is 
 good," adds his disciple Mathesius, " the heart expands, 
 giving courage and energy to evangelists and soldiers." 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 Eutiylnto Worms— Climt for the Dead— Council Iield by Charles V.— Caiiito 
 and tlie Tempoi-izers — Concourse around Luther— Citation— Hutteu 
 to Luther — Proceeds to the Diet — Saying of Freundsberg — Imposing 
 Assembly— The Chancellor's Address— Luther's Reply— His Wisdom — 
 Saying of Charles V. — Alarm — Triumph — Luther's Firmness — Insults 
 from the Spaniards— Council— Luther's Trouble and Prayer— Might of 
 the Reform,ation— Luther's Oath to Scripture— The Court of the Diet- 
 Luther's Address— Three kinds of Writings— He demands Proof of his 
 Error — Solemn Warnings — He repeats his Address in Latiu— Here I 
 am : I can't do otherwise— The " weakness " of God— New Attempt. 
 
 At length, on the morning of the 16th April, Luther 
 perceived the walls of the ancient city. All were 
 looking for him, and there was only one thought in 
 Worms. The young noblemen, Bernard of Hirsch- 
 feld and Albert of Lindenau, with six cavaliers, and 
 other gentlemen in the suite of the princes, to the 
 ninnber of a hundred — if we may believe Pallavieini — 
 unable to restrain their impatience, galloped to meet 
 him, and surrounded him, in order to escort him at the 
 moment of his entry. He approached. Before him 
 pranced the imperial herald, decked in all the insignia 
 of his office. Next came Luther in his humble 
 carriage. Jonas followed on horseback, surrounded 
 by the cavaliers. A large crowd was waiting in front 
 of the gates. It was near mid-day when he passed 
 those walls which so many persons had foretold him he 
 should never leave. It was the dinner hour ; but the 
 moment when the sentinel stationed in the cathedral 
 steeple tolled the signal, everybody ran into the street 
 to see the monk. Thus was Luther in Worms. 
 
 Two thousand persons accompanied him through the 
 streets : there was a rush to meet him. The crowd 
 was increasing every moment, and was much larger 
 than when the emperor made his entry. Suddenly, 
 relates a historian, a man clad in a singular dress, and 
 carrying a large cross before him, as is usual at 
 funerals, breaks off from the crowd, advances towards 
 Luther, and then, in a loud voice, and with the plain- 
 tive cadence which is used in saying mass for the 
 repose of the souls of the dead, chants the following 
 stanzas, as if he had been determined that the very 
 dead should hear them : — 
 
 Advenisti, O desidembilis ! 
 Quem evpectabamus in tenebris ! 1 
 1 Thou hast arrived— thou whom we longed and waited for in darkness. 
 
CAPITO AND THE TEMPORIZERS. 
 
 109 
 
 Luther's anival is celebrated by a requiem. ]f the 
 story is true, it was the court fool of one of the dukes 
 of Bavaria who gave Lutiicr one of those warnings, 
 remarkable at once for wisdom and irony, of whicii so 
 many instances are furnished by these individuals. 
 But the clamour of the multitude soou drowned the 
 De Friij'iiiiflis of the cross-bearer. 
 
 The train could scarcely proceed through the mov- 
 ing mass. At length tlie imperial herald stopped be- 
 fore the hotel of the Knights of Rhodes. Here lodged 
 two of the elector's councillors, — Frederick of Thiui and 
 I'hilip of Feilitsch, as well as the marshal of the em- 
 pire, Ulrich of Pappenheim. Luther got out of his 
 carriage, and, on alighting, said : " The Lord will be 
 my defence." . . . "I entered Worms," said he 
 afterwards, " in a covered car in my frock. Everybody 
 ran into the street to see Friar Martin." 
 
 The news of his arrival filled the Elector of Saxony 
 and Aleander with alarm. The young and elegant 
 Archbishop ^V.lbert who held a mean between those 
 two parties, was an-ized at Luther's boldness. " Had 
 I not had more courage than he," said Luther, "it is 
 true I never should have been seen in AVorms." 
 
 Charles V. immediately assembled his council. The 
 e(jun(illors in the emperor's confidence repaired in 
 haste to the palace, for they, too, were in dismay. 
 '■ Luther is arrived," said Charles ; " what must be 
 done ? " 
 
 Modo, bishop of Palermo and chancellor of Flanders, 
 — if we are to receive Luther's own statement, — replied : 
 ■• AVe have long consulted on this subject. Let your 
 imperial majesty speedily get rid of this man. Did not 
 Sigisniuud cause John Huss to bcbm'nt? There is uo 
 obligation either to give or observe a safe-conduct to a 
 heretic." "No," said Charles; "what has been pro- 
 mised must be performed." There was nothing for it, 
 tliereforc, but to make the refonner appear. 
 
 While the councils of the great were thus agitated 
 on the subject of Luther, there were many men in 
 Worms who rejoiced that they were able at length to 
 behold this illustrious servant of God. In the first 
 rank among them was Capito, chaplain and councillor 
 to the Archbishop of Mentz. This remarkable man, 
 who, a short time before, had preached the Gospel in 
 Switzerland with great freedom,' thought it due to the 
 l)lace which he then occupied to pursue a course whicli 
 exposed him to a charge of cowardice from the Evan- 
 gelists, and of dissimulation from the Romans. He 
 had, however, preached the doctrine of faith clearly at 
 Mentz ; and on his departure, had succeeded in supply- 
 ing his place by a young preacher full of zeal, named 
 Hedio. In this town — the ancient see of the primate of 
 the German Church — the Word of God was not bound. 
 The Gospel was eagerly listened to ; in vain did the 
 monks strive to preach the Gospel after their own way, 
 and employ all the means in their power in order to 
 arrest the general impulse : they had no success. But 
 Capito, even while he preached the new doctrine, 
 laboured to continue in friendship with those who per- 
 secuted it. He flattered himself, with others of the 
 same sentiments, that he would thus be of great utility 
 to the Church. To hear them talk, it might have been 
 supposed that, if Luther was not biu-ut, if all the 
 
 1 See Book VIU. 
 
 Lutherans were not excommunicated, it was owing 
 entirely to Capito's influence over the Archbishop 
 Albert. Cochlanis, dean of Frankfort, arriving at 
 Worms almost at the same time with Luther, imme- 
 diately waited upon Capito, who being, apparently at 
 least, on very good terms with Aleander, introduced 
 Cochhcus to him, thus serving as a connecting link 
 between the two greatest enemies of the reformer. 
 Capito, doubtless, thought that he would do great ser- 
 vice to the cause of Christ by all this management ; 
 but it cannot be said that any good residted from it. 
 The event almost always belies these calculations of 
 human wisdom, and ])roves that a decided course, while 
 it is the most frank, is also tlie most wise. 
 
 Meanwhile, the crowd continued around the hotel of 
 Rhodes, at which Luther had alighted. Some looked 
 upon him as a prodigy of wisdom, and others as a 
 monster of iniquity. The whole town wished to see 
 him. The first hours were left him to recover from his 
 fatigue, and coiiv r-e with his most intimate friends; 
 but as Mini] a- i\.iiing came, counts, barons, knights, 
 gentleniiii, < rdr-ia-tics, and citizens, flocked in upon 
 liim. All, cM'ii Ills ;;i-('ntpst enemies, were struck with 
 the bold step he lia.l lal^ ii. the joy which api)eared to 
 animate him, tin' puui r ni lils eloquence, and the lofty 
 elevation and eutliiisiusui a\ liich made the influence of 
 this simple monk almost irresistible. Many attributed 
 this gi-audem- to something within him partaking of the 
 Divine ; while the friends of the pope loudly declared 
 that he was possessed with a devil. Call followed call, 
 and the crowd of curious visitors kept Luther standing 
 to a late period of the night. 
 
 The next morning, (Fridily, 17th April,) Ub'ich of 
 Pappenheim, hereditary marshal of the empire, sum- 
 moned him to appear at four o'clock, p.m., in presence 
 of his imperial majesty and the states of the empire. 
 Luther received the summons with profound respect. 
 
 Thus everything is fixed, and Luther is going to 
 appear for Jesus Christ before the most august assembly 
 in the world. He was not without encouragement. 
 The ardent knight, Uh-ich von Hiitten, was then in the 
 castle of Ebernburg. Not being able to appear at 
 Worms, — for Leo X. had asked Charles to send him 
 to Rome bound hand and foot, — he desired to stretch 
 out a friendly hand to Luther ; and on the same day 
 (17th April) wrote to him, borrowing the words of a 
 king of Israel : " I'he Lord hear thee in the dui/ of trouble ; 
 the name of the God of Jacob defend thee: send thee help 
 from the sanctuary, and streii.i/then thee out of Zion: re- 
 member all thy ojferini/s, and accept thy burnt sacrifice, 
 (Psalm XX.) O dearly beloved Luther ! my respected 
 father, fear not, and be strong. The council of the 
 wicked has beset you ; they have opened their mouths 
 upon you like roaring lions. But the Lord will rise up 
 against the wicked and scatter them. Fight, then, 
 valiantly for Christ. As for me, I also will fight 
 boldly. Would to God I were permitted to see the 
 wrinkling of their brows. But the Lord will cleanse 
 His vine, which the wild boar of the forest has laid 
 waste. . . . May Christ preserve you ! " 
 
 Bucer did what Hiitten was unable to do; he came 
 from Ebernburg to AVorms, and remained the whole 
 time beside his friend. 
 
 Four o'clock having struck, the marshal of the em- 
 
200 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 pire prcseuted himself. It was necessary to set out, 
 and Luther made ready. He was moved at the thought 
 of the august congress before which he was going to 
 appear. The herald walked first ; after liim the mar- 
 shal ; and last the reformer. The multitude thronging 
 the streets was still more numerous than on the pre- 
 vious evening. It was impossible to get on ; it was in 
 vain to cry, Give place ! — the crowd increased. At 
 length, the herald, seeing the impossibility of reaching 
 the town hall, caused some private houses to be opened, 
 and conducted Luther through gardens and secret pas- 
 sages to the place of meeting. The people, perceiving 
 this, rushed into the houses on the steps of the monk of 
 "Wittemberg, or placed themselves at the windows 
 which looked into the gardens, while great numbers of 
 persons got up on the roofs. The tops of the houses, 
 the pavement, every place above and below, was covered 
 with spectators. 
 
 Arrived at length at the town, Luther and those 
 who accompanied him were agaiu unable, because of 
 the crowd, to reach the door. Give way ! give way ! 
 Not one stirred. At last the imperial soldiers forced 
 a passage for Luther. The people rushed forward to 
 get in after him, but the soldiers kept them back with 
 their halberds. Luther got into the interior of the 
 building, which was completely filled with people. As 
 well in the antechambers as at the windows there were 
 more than five thousand spectators, — German, Italian, 
 Spanish, &c. Luther advanced with difficulty. As 
 he was at length approaching the door which was to 
 bring him in presence of his judges, he met a valiant 
 knight, — the celebrated general, George of Freunds- 
 berg, — who, four years afterwards, at the head of the 
 Germau lansquenets, couched his lance on the field of 
 Pavia, and bearing down upon the left wing of the 
 French army, drove it into the Tessino, and, in a great 
 measure, decided the captivity of the King of France. 
 
 The old general, seeiug Luther pass, clapped him on 
 the shoulder, and shaking his head, whitened in battle, 
 kindly said to him : " Poor monk ! poor monk ! you have 
 before you a march, and an affair, the like to which 
 neither I nor a great many captains have ever seen in 
 the bloodiest of our battles. But if your cause is just, 
 and you have full confidence in it, advance in the 
 name of God, and fear nothing. God will not forsake 
 you." A beautiful homage borne by warlike courage 
 to courage of intellect. It is the saying of a king : Hn 
 that rukth his spirit is greater than he that ta/ceth a citi/, 
 (Proverbs xvi. 32.) 
 
 At length, the doors of the hall being opened, 
 Luther entered, and many persons not belonging to the 
 diet made their way in along with him. Never had 
 man appeared before an assembly so august. The 
 Emperor Charles V., whose dominions embraced the 
 old and the new world ; his brother, the Archduke 
 Ferdinand ; six electors of the empire, whose descend- 
 ants are now almost all wearing ''le crown of kings ; 
 twenty-four dukes, the greater part of them reigning 
 over territories of gi'eater or less extent, and among 
 whom are some bearing a name which will afterwards 
 become fomiidable to the Reformation, (the Duke of 
 Alva, and his two sons ;) eight margraves ; thirty ai'ch- 
 bishops, bishops, or prelates ; seven ambassadors, among 
 them those of the kings of France and England ; the 
 deputies of ten free towns ; a great number of princes, 
 counts, and sovereign barons ; the nuncios of the pope ; 
 — in all, two hundred and four personages. Such was 
 the court before which Martin Luther appeared. 
 
 This appearance was in itself a signal victory gained 
 over the papacy. The pope had condemned the man ; 
 yet here he stood before a tribunal which thus far 
 placed itself above the pope. The pope had put him 
 under his ban, debarring him from all human society, 
 and yet here he was convened in honourable terms, 
 and admitted before the most august assembly in the 
 world. The pope had ordered that his mouth should 
 be for ever mute, and he was going to open it before 
 an audience of thousands, assembled from the remotest 
 quarters of Christendom. An immense revolution had 
 thus been accomplished by the instrumentality of Luther 
 Rome was descending from her throne — descending at 
 the bidding of a monk. 
 
 Some of the princes, seeing the humble son of the 
 miner of Mansfeld disconcerted in presence of the as- 
 sembly of kings, kindly approached him, and one of 
 them said : Fear not them who can hill the bod//, but can- 
 not kill the soul. Another added : When you will be 
 brought before kings it is not you that speak, but the Spirit 
 of your Father that speaketh in you. Thus the reformer 
 was consoled, in the very words of his Master, by the 
 instrumentality of the rulers of the world. 
 
 During this time the guards were making way for 
 Luther, who advanced till he came in front of the 
 throne of Charles V. The sight of the august assembly 
 seemed for a moment to dazzle and overawe Ijim. All 
 eyes were fixed upon him. The agitation gradually 
 calmed down into perfect silence. '• Don't speak be- 
 fore you are asked," said the marshal of the empire to 
 him, and withdrew. 
 
 After a moment of solemn stillness, John of Eck, the 
 chancellor of the Archbishop of Treves, — a friend of 
 
LUTHER BEFORE THE IMPERIAL TRIBUNAL. 
 
 201 
 
 Aloi' 
 
 and who must not be confounded 'with the 
 thcohinian of tlic same name, — rose up and said, in a 
 distiiK't and audible voice, lirst in Latin, and tlieu in 
 German: '■ Martin Luther, liis sacred and invincible 
 imperial majesty has cited you before his throne, by 
 the advice and counsel of the states of the holy Roman 
 cm})ire, in order to call upon you to answer these two 
 qufslions: First, Do you admit that these books were 
 coiii])oscd by you?" — At the same time the imperial 
 orator pointed to about twenty books lying on the table 
 in the middle of the hall, in front of Luther. "I did 
 not exactly know how they had procured them," says 
 Luther, in relating the circumstance. It was Alcander 
 who had taken tlie trouble. " Secondly," continued 
 the chancellor : "Do you mean to retract these books 
 and their contents, or do you peraist in the things 
 which you have advanced in them?" 
 
 Lutlicr, witlioul hesitation, was going to reply in the 
 nllirniative to tlic former question, when his counsel, 
 Jerome Sclun-ff, hastily interfering, called out : " Read 
 the titles of the books." The chancellor, going up to 
 the table, read the titles. The list contained several 
 devotional works not relating to controversy. 
 
 After the enumeration, Luther said, first in Latin, 
 and then in German : 
 
 "Most gracious emperor! — gracious princes and 
 lords ! 
 
 " His imperial majesty asks me two questions. 
 
 "As to the first, I acknowledge that the books 
 which have been named are mine : I cannot deny them. 
 
 "As to the second, considering that is a question 
 which concerns faith and the salvation of souls, — a 
 question in which the Word of God is interested ; in 
 other words, the greatest and most precious treasure 
 either in heaven or on the earth, — I should act impru- 
 dently were I to answer without reflection. I might 
 say less than the occasion requires, or more than the 
 truth demands, and thus incur the guilt which our 
 Saviour denounced when He said : W/ioso shall deny me 
 before 7nen, him ivill I demj before mi/ Father ivho is in 
 heaven. Wherefore, I pray your imperial majesty, 
 with all submission, to give me time, that I may answer 
 without offence to the Word of God." 
 
 This reply, far from countenancing the idea that 
 there was any hesitation in Luther, was worthy of the 
 reformer and the assembly. It became him to shew 
 calmness and circumspection in so grave a matter, and 
 to refrain, on this solemn moment, from everything that 
 might seem to indicate passion or levity. Moreover, 
 by taking a suitable time, he would thereby the better 
 prove the immoveable firmness of his resolution. His- 
 tory shews us many men who, by a word uttered too 
 hastily, brought great calamities on themselves, and 
 ou the world. Luther curbs his naturally impetuous 
 character, — restrains a tongue always ready to give 
 utterance, — is silent when all the feelings of his heart 
 are longing to embody themselves in words. This 
 self-restraint, this calmness, so extraordinary in such a 
 man, increased his power a hundred-fold, and put him 
 into a position to answer afterwards with a wisdom, 
 power, and dignity, which will disappoint the expecta- 
 tion of his enemies, and confound their pride and 
 malice. 
 
 Nevertheless, as he had spoken in a respectful and 
 
 somewhat subdued tone, several thought he was hesi- 
 tating, and even afraid. A ray of hope gleamed into 
 the souls of the partisans of Rome. Charles, impatient 
 to know the man whose words shook the empire, had 
 never taken his eye off him. Now turning towards 
 one of his courtiers, he said with disdain : "Assuredly, 
 that is not the man who would ever make me turn 
 heretic." Then, rising up, the young emperor with- 
 drew with his miuistei-s to the council chamber; the 
 electors with the princes were closeted in another ; and 
 the deputies of the free towns in a third. The diet, 
 when it again met, agreed to grant Luther's request. 
 It was a great mistake in men under the influence of 
 passion. "Martin Luther," said the Chancellor of 
 Treves, " his imperial majesty, in accordance with the 
 goodness which is natural to him, is pleased to grant 
 you another day; but on condition that you give your 
 reply verbally, and not in writing." 
 
 Then tiie imperial herald advanced and reconducted 
 Luther to his hotel. Menaces and cheers succeeded 
 each other as he passed along. The most unfavourable 
 reports were circulated among Luther's friends. " Tlie 
 diet is dissatisfied," said they; "the envoys of the pope 
 triumph ; the reformer will be sacrificed." INIen's pas- 
 sions gi-ew hot. Several gentletnen hastened to Luther's 
 lodgings. " Doctor," asked they iu deep emotion, " how 
 does the matter stand? It is confidently said that 
 they mean to burn you." " That won't be," continued 
 they, " or they shall pay for it with their lives." — "And 
 that would have been the result," said Luther, twenty 
 years later, at Eisleben, when quoting these expressions. 
 
 On the other hand, Luther's eneinies were quite 
 elated. "He has asked time," said they; "he will 
 retract. When at a distance he sjioke arrogantly; but 
 now his courage fails hira. . . He is vanquished." 
 
 Luther, perhaps, was the only tranquil person in 
 AVorms. A few moments after his return from the 
 diet, he wrote to the imperial councillor, Cuspianus : 
 " I write you from the midst of timiult. (meaning, prob- 
 ably, the noise of the crowd outside his hotel ;) I have, 
 within this hour, appeared before the emperor and his 
 brother. I have acknowledged the authorship, and 
 declared that to-morrow I will give my answer con- 
 cerning retractation. By the help of Jesus Christ, not 
 one iota of all my works will I retract." 
 
 The excitement of the people, and of the foreign 
 ti-oops, increased every hour. While parties were pro- 
 ceeding calmly to the business of the diet, others were 
 coming to blows in the streets. The Spanish soldiers, 
 proud and merciless, gave offence by their insolence to 
 the burghers of the town. One of these satellites of 
 Charles, finding in a bookseller's shop the papal bull, 
 with a commentary on it by HUtten, took and tore it 
 to pieces, and then trampled the fragments under his 
 feet. Others, having discovered several copies of 
 Luther's " Captivity of Babylon," carried them off and 
 tore them. The people, indignant, rushed upon the 
 soldiers, and obliged them to take flight. On another 
 occasion, a Spanish horseman, with drawn sword, was 
 seen in one of the principal streets of Worms in pur- 
 suit of a German who was fleeing before him, while 
 the people durst not interfere. 
 
 Some politicians thought they had discovered a 
 method of saving Luther. " Recant your errors in 
 
202 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 doctrine," said they to him ; " but persist in all you 
 have said against the pope and his court, and you are 
 safe." Aleauder shuddered at this advice. But Luther, 
 immoveable in his purpose, declared that he set little 
 value on a political reform, if not founded on faith. 
 
 The 18th of April having arrived, Glapio, the Chan- 
 cellor Eck, and Aleauder, met at an early hour, by 
 order of Charles V., to fix the course of procedure in 
 regard to Luther. 
 
 Luther had been for a moment overawed on the 
 evening before when he had to appear before so august 
 an assembly. His heart had been agitated at the sight 
 of so many princes, before whom great kingdoms 
 humbly bent the knee. The thought that he was goiug 
 to refuse obedience to men whom God had invested 
 with sovereign power, gave him deep concern ; and he 
 felt the necessity of seeking strength from a higher 
 source. " He who, attacked by the enemy, holds the 
 shield of faith," said he one day, " is like Perseus hold- 
 ing the head of the Gorgon, on which whoever looked, 
 that moment died. So ought we to hold up the Sou of 
 God against the snares of the devil." On this morn- 
 ing of the 18th April, he had moments of trouble, when 
 the face of God was hid from him. His faith becomes 
 faint; his enemies seem to multiply before him; his 
 imagination is overpowered. . . . His soul is like 
 a ship tossed by a violent tempest, — now plunged to 
 the depths of the sea, and again mounting up towards 
 heaven. At this hour of bitter sorrow, when he drinks 
 the cup of Christ, and feels, as it were, in a garden of 
 Gethsemane, he turns his face to the ground, and seuds 
 forth broken cries — cries which we cannot comprehend, 
 unless we figure to ourselves the depth of the agony 
 from which they ascended up to God : " God Al- 
 mighty! — God Eternal! — how terrible is the world! 
 how it opens its mouth to swallow me up ! and how 
 defective my confidence iu thee ! How weak the flesh ! 
 how powerful Satan ! If I must put my hope iu that 
 which the world calls powerful, I am undone ! . . . 
 The knell is struck, and judgment is pronounced! . . 
 O God ! — O God ! O thou, my God ! assist me against 
 all the wisdom of the world ! Do it : thou must do it. 
 . . . Thou alone ; . . . for it is not my work, 
 but thine. I have nothing to do here, — I have nothing 
 to do contending thus with the mighty of the world ! 
 I, too, would like to spend tranquil and happy days. 
 But the cause is thine; and it is just and everlasting! 
 
 Lord ! be my help. Faithful God ! immutable God ! 
 
 1 trust not in any man. That were vain. All that is 
 of man vacillates ! All that comes of man gives way! 
 O God ! O God ! dost thou not hear ? . . . My 
 God ! art thou dead 1 . . . No ; thou canst not 
 die ! Thou only liidest thyself I Thou hast chosen 
 me for this work ! I know it. Act, then, O God ! 
 . . . Stand by my side, for the sake of thy well- 
 beloved Sou Jesus Christ, who is my defence, my 
 buckler, and my fortress !" 
 
 After a moment of silence and wrestling, he con- 
 tinues thus : " Lord, where standest thou / . 
 
 my God, where art thou ? . . . Come ! come ! 
 
 1 am ready! ... I am ready to give up my life 
 for thy truth . . . patient as a lamb. For the 
 cause is just, and it is thine ! . . . I will not break 
 off from thee, either now or through eternity! . , . 
 
 And though the world should be filled with devils, 
 though my body — wliich, however, is the work of thy 
 hands — should bite the dust, be racked on the wheel, 
 cut in pieces, . . . ground to powder, . . . 
 my soul is thine. Yes, thy Word is my pledge. My 
 soul belongs to thee, and will be eternally near thee. 
 . . . Amen. . . . O God, help me ! . . . 
 Amen." 
 
 This prayer explains Luther and the Reformation. 
 History here lifts the veil of the sanctuary, and shews 
 us the secret place whence strength and courage were 
 imparted to this humble man, who was the instrumeut 
 of God in emancipating the soul and the thoughts of 
 men, and beginning a new era. Luther and the Refor- 
 mation are here seen in actual operation. We perceive 
 their most secret springs. We discover where their 
 power lay. This meditation by one who is sacrificing 
 himself to the cause of truth, is fouiul among the 
 collection of pieces relating to Luther's appearance at 
 Worms, under Number XVI., among safe-conducts, 
 and other documents of a similar description. Some 
 of his friends, doubtless, extended it, and so have pre- 
 served it to us. In my opinion, it is one of the finest 
 documents on record. 
 
 Luther, after he had thus prayed, found that peace 
 of mind without which no man can do anything great. 
 He read the Word of God ; he glanced over his writ- 
 ings, and endeavoured to put his reply into proper 
 shape. The th.m-hl tliat In; was -(.iiii;- t.i brar testi- 
 mony to Jesu- Cliri-I and Hi- W'oid. in |iirsi'iic-c of the 
 emperor a}id Ihi- I'luiiirc, iilli'd his luarl wiMi joy. The 
 moment of appearance was drawinninar ; lie «ciit up 
 with emotion to the sacred volume, which was lying 
 open on his table, put his left hand upmi it, and lifting 
 his rialit toward heaven, swore to remain faithful to [ 
 the (inspiL and to confess his faith freely, shoidd he j 
 even seal his cimfession with liis blood. After doing 
 so, lie felt still more at peace. 
 
 At four o'clock the herald preseuted himself, and 
 conducted him to the place where the diet sat. The 
 general curiosity had increased, for the reply behoved 
 to be decisive. The diet being engaged, Luther was 
 obliged to wait in the court, in the middle of an im- 
 mense crowd, who moved to and fro like a troubled 
 sea, and pressed the reformer with its waves. The j 
 doctor spent two long hours amid this gazing multi- 
 tude. " I was not used," says he, " to all these doings 
 and all this noise." It would have been a sad prepar- j 
 ation for an ordinary man. But Luther was with God. 
 His eye was serene, his features lun-uffled ; the Eternal 
 had placed him upon a rock. Night began to fall, and 
 the lann)s were lighted in the hall of the diet. Their 
 glare passed through the ancient windows and shone 
 into the com-t. Everything assumed a solemn aspect, i 
 At last the doctor was introduced. Many persons 1 
 entered with him ; for there was an eager desire to 
 hear his answer. All minds were on the stretch, wait- 
 ing impatiently for the decisive moment which now 
 approached. This time Luther was free, calm, self- 
 possessed, and shewed not the least appearance of 
 being under constraint. Prayer had produced its j 
 fruits. The princes having taken their seats, — not I 
 without difficulty, for their places were almost in- 
 vaded, — and the monk of Wittemberg again standing 
 
LUTHER'S DEFENCE BEFORE THE DIET. 
 
 203 
 
 in frout of Charles V., the chiuicellor of the Elector of 
 Treves rose up, and said : — 
 
 '•Martin Luther! you yesterday asked a delay, 
 which is now expired. Assuredly it might have been 
 denied yon, since every one ought to be sufficiently 
 instructed in matters of faith, to be able always to 
 render an account of it to whosoever asks, — ^you above 
 all, so great and able a doctor of Holy Scripture. 
 . . . Now, then, reply to tlie question of his ma- 
 jesty, who has treated you with so much mildness : Do 
 you mean to defend your books out and out, or do you 
 mean to retract some part of them?" 
 
 These words, which the cluiucellor had si)oken in 
 Latin, he repeated in German. 
 
 "Then Doctor Martin Luther," say the Acts of 
 AVorms, " replied in the most humble and submissive 
 manner, lie did not raise his voice ; he spoke not 
 with violence, but witli candour, meekness, suitable- 
 ness, and modesty, and yet with great joy and Christian 
 firmness." 
 
 " JNIost serene emperor ! illustrious princes ! gracious 
 lords!" said Luther, turning his eyes on Charles and 
 the assembly, "I this day appear linmbly liefore you, 
 according to the order which wa^ -i\rii me yesterday: 
 and by the mercies of Goil, 1 iinplMr,. v,,iii- niaicsty and 
 au-iist hi-Iiiiosscs, to listen kin.lly In thr .l.lriice of a 
 caii-r wliiili I am assured is ri,i;lil'"ii< ami li-ue. If, 
 fiMiM i;jii.ii:\ni-r, I am wanting in ilu' u-au. > and forms 
 of c'liiins, pardon me; for 1 wa^ iint lll^m.^h^ up in the 
 pahices of kings, but in ihr nli-miiiv i.f a cloister. 
 
 ••Yesterday, two qiaMi-a^ u.r>' a^kcd mo on the 
 part of liis imperial niajoly: ilir lirst, if I was the 
 antlior of the books whose titles were read ; the second, 
 if 1 was willing to recall or to defend the doctrine 
 which I have taught in them. I answered the first 
 (piestion, and I adhere to my answer. 
 
 '• As to the second, 1 have composed books on very 
 different subjects. In some, I treat of faith and good 
 >vorks in a manner so pure, simple, and Christian, that 
 my enemies even, far from finding anything to censure, 
 confess that these writings are useful, and worthy of 
 being read by the godly. The papal bull, how severe 
 soever it may be, acknowledges this. Were I then to 
 retract these, what should I do ? . . . Wretch ! I 
 should be alone among men, abandoning truths which 
 the unanimous voice of my friends and enemies 
 approves, and opposing what the whole world glories 
 in confessing. 
 
 '" In the second place, I have composed books against 
 the papacy — books in which I have attacked those 
 who, by their false doctrine, their bad life, and scanda- 
 lous example, desolate the Christian world, and destroy 
 botli body and soul. Is not the fact proved by the 
 complaints of all who fear God? Is it not evident 
 that the human laws and doctrines of the popes, entan- 
 gle, torture, martyr the consciences of the faithful ; 
 while the clamant and never-ending extortions of 
 Uome engulph the wealth and riches of Christendom, 
 and i)articularly of this illustrious kingdom ? 
 
 " Were I to retract what I have written on this sub- 
 ject, what should I do? . . . What but fortify 
 that tyranny, and open a still wider door for these 
 many and great iniquities? Then, breaking forth with 
 more fury than ever, these arrogant men would be seen 
 
 increasing, usurping, raging more and more. And the 
 yoke which weighs upon the Christian people would, 
 by my retractation, not only be rendered more severe, 
 but would become, so to speak, more legitimate ; for 
 by this very retractation, it would have received the 
 confirmation of your most serene majesty, and of all 
 the states of the holy empire. Good God! I should 
 thus lie, as it were, an infamous cloak, destined to hide 
 and ciivcr all sorts of malice and tyranny. 
 
 '•Tliii-dly, and lastly, I have written books against 
 private individuals who wished to defend Roman 
 tyranny and to destroy the faith. I confess frankly 
 that I have perhaps attacked them witli more violence 
 than became my ecclesiastical profession. I do not 
 regard myself iis a saint ; but no more can I retract 
 these books : because, by so doing, I should sanction 
 the impiety of my opponents, and give them occa- 
 sion to oppress the people of God with still greater 
 cruelty. 
 
 " Still I am a mere man, and not God ; and I will 
 defend myself as Jesus Christ did. He said •■ If I 
 have spoken evil, hear tvitness of the evil, (John xviii. 23.) 
 How much more should I, who am but dust and ashes, 
 and so apt to err, desire every one to state what he can 
 against my doctrine ! 
 
 " Wherefore, I implore you, by the mercies of God, 
 you, most serene emperor, and you, most illustrious 
 princes, and all others of high or low degree, to prove 
 to me by the writings of the prophets and the apostles 
 that I am mistaken. As soon as this shall have been 
 proved, I will forthwith retract all my errors, and be 
 the first to seize my writings and cast them into the 
 flames. 
 
 "What I have just said shews clearly, I think, that 
 I have well considered and weighed the dangers to 
 which I expose myself ; but, far from being alarmed, 
 it gives me great joy to see that the Gospel is now, as 
 in former times, a cause of trouble and discord. This 
 is the characteristic and the destiny of the Word of 
 God. I came not to send peace, but a sword, said Jesus 
 Christ, (Matt. x. 34.) God is wonderful and terrible 
 in working : let us beware, while pretending to put a 
 stop to discord, that we do not persecute the holy 
 Word of God, and bring in upon ourselves a frightful 
 deluge of insurmountable dangers, present disasters, 
 and eternal destruction. . . . Let us beware that 
 the reign of this young and noble prince, the Emperor 
 Charles, on whom, inider God, we build such high 
 hopes, do not only begin, but <nlso continue and end 
 vmder the most fatal auspices. I might cite examples 
 taken from the oracles of God," continues Luther, 
 speaking in presence of the greatest monarch in the 
 world with the noblest courage ; " I might remind you 
 of the Pharaohs, the kings of Babylon and of Israel, 
 who never laboured more effectually for their ruiu 
 than when by counsels, apparently very wise, they 
 thought they were establishing their empire. God 
 remoreth the mountains, and they Icnoiv not, (Job ix. 5.) 
 
 " If I speak thus, it is not because 1 think such great 
 princes have need of my counsels, but because I wish 
 to restore to Germany what she has a right to expect 
 from her children. Thus, commending myself to your 
 august majesty, and your serene highnesses, I humbly 
 supplicate you not to allow the hatred of my enemies 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 to bring down upon nic an indignation whicli I have 
 not deserved."' 
 
 Luther had spoken these words in German, modestly, 
 but also with much warmth and firmness. He was 
 ordered to repeat them in Latin. The emperor had no 
 liking for German. The imposing assembly which 
 surrounded tlie reformer, the noise and excitement, had 
 fatigued him. "I was covered with perspiration," says 
 ho, " heated by the crowd, standing in the midst of the 
 princes." Frederick de Thun, confidential councillor 
 of the Elector of Saxony, stationed by his master's 
 order behind the reformer, to take care that he was 
 not taken by surprise, or overborne, seeing the con- 
 dition of the poor monk, said to him : "If you cannot 
 repeat your address, that will do, doctor." But Luther, 
 having paused a moment to take breath, resumed, and 
 pronounced his address in Latin, with the same vigour 
 as at first. 
 
 "This pleased the Elector Frederick exceedingly," 
 relates the reformer. 
 
 As soon as he had cea.sed, the Chancellor of Treves, 
 the orator of the diet, said to him, indignantly: "You 
 have not answered the question which was put to you. 
 You are not here to throw doubt on what has been 
 decided by councils. You are asked to give a clear 
 and definite reply. Will you, or will you not, retract ? " 
 Luther then replied, without hesitation : " Since your 
 most serene majesty, and your high mightinesses, call 
 upon mo for a simple, clear, and definite answer, I will 
 give it ; and it is this : I cannot subject my faith either 
 to the pope or to councils, because it is clear as day, 
 that they have often fallen into error, and even into 
 great self-contradiction. If, then, I am not disproved 
 by passages of Scripture, or by clear arguments, — if I 
 am not convinced by the very passages which I have 
 quoted, and so bound in conscience to submit to the 
 Word of God, / neither can nor will retract anything, 
 for it is not safe for a Christian to speak against his 
 conscience." Then, looking around on the assembly 
 before which he was standing, and which held his life 
 in its hands, " Here I am," says he, " I cannot do 
 OTHER^nsE : God help me ! Amen." 
 
 Thus Luther, constrained to obey his faith, led by 
 his conscience to death, impelled by the noblest neces- 
 sity, the slave of what he believes, but in this slavery 
 supremely free, like to the ship tossed by a fearful 
 tempest, which, in order to save something more 
 precious than itself, is voluntarily allowed to dash 
 itself to pieces against a rock, pronounces these sublime 
 words, which have not lost their thrilling effect after 
 the lapse of three centuries ; thus speaks a monk before 
 the emperor and the magnates of the empii-e ; and this 
 poor and feeble individual, standing alone, but leaning 
 on the grace of the Most High, seems greater and 
 stronger than them all. His Word has a power against 
 which all these mighty men can do nothing. The em- 
 pire and the Church, on the one side, the obscure 
 individual on the other, have been confronted. God 
 had assembled these kings and prelates that He miglit 
 publicly bring their wisdom to nought. They have 
 lost the battle, and the consequences of their defeat 
 will be felt in all nations, and during all future ages. 
 
 1 This Bdtlvess, as well as all tho exprossioiia (jnotcd, are taken literally 
 fl-oni authentic documents. 
 
 The assembly were amazed. Several princes could 
 scarcely conceal their admiration. Tlie emperor, 
 changing his first impression, exclaimed : " The monk 
 speaks with an intrepid heart and immoveable cour- 
 age." The Spaniards and Italians alone felt discon- 
 certed, and soon began to deride a magnanimity which 
 they could not appreciate. 
 
 After the diet had recovered from the impression 
 produced by the address, the chancellor resumed : " If 
 you do not retract, the emperor and the states of the 
 empire will consider what course they must adopt 
 towards an obstinate heretic." At these words 
 Luther's friends trembled ; but the monk again said : 
 " God help me ; for I can retract nothing." 
 
 Luther then withdraws, and the princes deliberate. 
 Every one felt that the moment formed a crisis in 
 Christendom. The yea or nay of this monk was 
 destined, perhaps for ages, to determine the condition 
 of the Clinrcli and the world. It was wished to 
 fri.i;]iti'ii liiiii ; lull llic I'lTirt IkhI lioen to place him on 
 a pril-i.il in |iri-i'iiri' i.T tlir n:itinn. It was meant to 
 give inuru jjublicity tu hi.s dctVat ; and all that had been 
 done was to extend his victory. The partisans of 
 Rome could not submit to bear their humiliation. 
 Luther w;is recalled, and the orator thus addressed 
 him : " Martin, you have not spoken with the modesty 
 which became your office. The distinction you have 
 made between your books was useless, for if you 
 retract those which contain errors, the empire will 
 not allow the others to be burnt. It is extravagant 
 to insist on being refuted from Scripture, when you 
 revive heresies which were condemned by tlie universal 
 Council of Constance. The emperor, therefore, orders 
 you to say simply. Do you mean to maintain what you 
 have advanced, or do you mean to retract any part of 
 it — yes or no?" — "I have no other answer than that 
 which I have already given," replied Luther calmly. 
 He was now understood. Firm as a rock, all the 
 billows of human power had dashed against him iu 
 vain. The vigour of his eloquence, his intrepid coun- 
 tenance, the flashing of his eye, the immoveable firm- 
 ness imprinted in bold lineaments on his German 
 features, had produced the deepest impression on this 
 illustrious assembly. There was no longer any hope. 
 Spaniards, Belgians, and even Romans, were mute. 
 The monk was victorious over earthly grandeur. He 
 had negatived the Church and the empire. Charles 
 rose up, and all the assembly with him. "The diet 
 will meet to-morrow morning to hear the emperor's 
 decision," said the chancellor with a loud voice. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ViL-tory— Tumult and Oalm— Dulte Brick's Glass of Beer— Tho Elector and 
 
 .Spalatiu Message from the Emperor — Wish to Violato the Safe-con- 
 
 ■ luct— Strong Oprosition— Enthusiasm for Lvither— Voice for Concili- 
 atiim — Tfic Elector's Fear — Assemblage at Luther's Lodging— Philip 
 
 It was night, and each regained his dwelling in the 
 dark. Two imperial officers were ordered to accom- 
 pany Luther. Some persons imagining that his fate 
 
DUKE ERIC'S FLAGON OF BEER. 
 
 205 
 
 was (lociiiod, and tliat thoy were conducting him to 
 ])iis()ii, wliicli he should leave only for the scaffold, an 
 iiiiiiK'Msc tiiiiudt arose. Several n;cntlemou exclaimed: 
 •■Aio they taking him to prison?" — "No," replied 
 Luther, '-they are accompanying mo to my liotel." 
 At these words the tumult calmed. Then some 
 .Si)aniards of the emperor's household, following this 
 bold champion, hissed and jeered at him as ho ])!\ssed 
 along the streets, wliilc othcra iiowled like wild be.usts 
 depri\ed of their prey. Luther remained firm and 
 peaceful. 
 
 Such was the scene at Worms. The intrepid monk, 
 who had liitherto hurled defiance at his euoniios, spake, 
 when in tlie presence of those who had thirsted for his 
 bliiod, with calnmess, dignity, and humility. There 
 was no exaggeration, no human enthusiasm, uo anger ; 
 he was pi'acct'ul amid the strongest excitement ; modest, 
 while resisting the powers of the earth; great, in pre- 
 sence of all the princes of the world. In this we have 
 an irrefragable |iiiiiif that Liitiier was then obeying 
 God, — not folldwiiig the sii;;i;c,-;tions of his own pride. 
 In tiio hall of Woinis tiKic wiis One greater than 
 Luther and Charles. Jesus Christ has said: W/ien 
 t/ii'i/ (Iflirer you up, take no thought how or ivhat i/ou shall 
 spea/:. For it is not ye that speak. Never, perhaps, 
 was this promise so manifestly fiillillod. 
 
 A deep impression had l^in iw.nlihid on the heads 
 of the empire. Luther Iiii'I nlisri\.,l this, and it had 
 increased his courage. The suivaiits uf the pope were 
 angi y at John Eck for not having oftener interrupted 
 tli<> guilty monk. Several princes and nobles were 
 gained to a cause which was maintained with such 
 eoiivietion. In some, it is true, the impression was 
 evanescent ; but, on the other hand, several who till 
 then had concealed their sentiments, henceforth dis- 
 played great courage. 
 
 Luther had returned to his hotel, and was reposing 
 from the fatigue of the severe service in which he had 
 been engaged. Spahitiii and <ither friends were around 
 him, and all were '/wiwj: thanks to God. While they 
 were conversing, a \ ak-t eniried, bearing a silver vase 
 fidl of Eiinlieck beer. " My master," said he, present- 
 ing it to Luther, " begs you to refresh yourself with 
 this draught of beer." " What prince is it," asked 
 Luther, " who so graciously remembers me?" It was 
 old Duke Erick of Briuiswick. The reformer wiis 
 touched by the offering thus made him by so powerful 
 a prince ; one, ton, belonging to the pajial party. " His 
 highness," continued Ihr \alr|. •• w:'.^ plia-rd to taste 
 
 thirsty, poured out the duke's beer, and after drinking 
 it, said : " As Duke Erick has this day remembered 
 me, so may the Lord Jesus Christ remember him in the 
 day of his final combat." The present was in itself of 
 little value ; but Luther, wishing to shew his gratitude 
 to a prince who had thought of him at such a moment, 
 gave him what he had — a prayer. The valet returned 
 with the message to his master. The old duke, in his 
 last moments, remembered the words, and addressing a 
 young pjige, Francis de Kraram, who was standing at 
 his bedside, said to him : " Take the Gospel and read 
 it to me." The child read the words of Ciirist, and 
 the soul of the dying man was refreshed. Whosoever, 
 says the Saviour, shall give to onejof you a cup of cold 
 
 h'yrijile, verily I 
 : ,r,,rd. 
 
 water in my name, because you o 
 say viUo you, he shall in no wis,' I 
 
 The valet of the Duke of J!niii-\virk \vas no sooner 
 gone than a message from the l%lett<.r of Saxony or- 
 dered Spalatin to come to him instantly. Frederick 
 had come to the diet full of disquietude. lie thought 
 that, in presence of the emperor, Luther's coin-ago 
 might give way; and he had, accordingly, been deeply 
 mo\cd by the reformer's firmness. He was proud of 
 having taken such a man under his protection. AVhen 
 the chaplain arrived, the table was covered, and the 
 elec^tor was going to sit down to supper with his coiu't 
 — the valets having already brouglit in the vase for 
 washing the hands. The elector seeing Spalatin enter, 
 immediately beckoned him to follow, and when alone 
 with him in his bedchamber, said to him, with deep 
 emotion : " Oh ! how well Father Ltither spoke before 
 the emperor and all the states of the empire ! My only 
 fear was, that he would be too bold." Frederick then 
 formed a resolution to protect the doctor in future with 
 greater courage. 
 
 Alcauder saw the impression which Luther had pro- 
 duced. There was no time, therefore, to be lost. The 
 young emperor must be induced to act vigorously. The 
 moment was favourable, for there was immediate pros- 
 pect of war with France. Leo X., wishing to enlarge 
 his states, and caring little for the peace of Christen- 
 dom, caused tuo treaties to be secretly negotiated at 
 the same time, — the one with Charles against Francis, 
 and the other with Francis against Charles. By the 
 former he stipulated with the emperor for Parma, 
 Placenza, and Ferrara; by the latter, he stipulated 
 with the king for a part of the kingdom of Naples, of 
 which Charles was thus to be deprived. Charles felt 
 the importance of gaining over Leo, in order that he 
 might have him as an ally against his rival of France. 
 Luther was an easy price to pay for the friendship of 
 the mighty pontiff. 
 
 The day after Luther's appearance he caused a mes- 
 sage to be read to the diet, which he had written in 
 French, with his own hand. " Sprung," said he, " from 
 the Christian empergrs of Germany, from the Catholic 
 kings of Spain, the archdukes of Austria, and the dukes 
 of Burgundy, who are all illustrious as defenders of 
 the Roman faith, it is my firm purpose to follow the 
 example of my ancestors. A single monk, led astray 
 by his own folly, sets himself up in opposition to the 
 faith of Christendom. I will sacrifice my dominions, 
 my power, my friends, my treasure, my body, my 
 blood, ray mind, and my life, to stay this impiety. I 
 mean to send back the Augustine, Luther, forbidding 
 him to cause the least tumult among the people ; there- 
 after, I will proceed against him and his adherents as 
 against declared heretics, by excommunication and in- 
 terdict, and all means proper for their destruction. I 
 call upon the members of the states to conduct them- 
 selves like faithful Christians." 
 
 This address did not please everybody. Charles, 
 young and impassioned, had not observed the ordinary 
 forms ; he ought previously to have asked the opinion 
 of the diet. Two extreme views were immediately 
 declared. The creatures of the pope, the Elector of 
 Brandenburg, and several ecclesiastical princes, de- 
 manded that no regard should be paid to the safe-con- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 duct which had been given to Luther. " The Rhine," 
 paid they, " must receive his ashes, as a century ago it 
 received the ashes of John Huss." Charles, if we may 
 believe a historian, afterwards bitterly repented that he 
 had not followed this dastardly counsel. " I confess," 
 said he, towards the close of his life, " that I committed 
 a great fault in allowing Luther to live. That heretic 
 having offended a greater Master than I, even God 
 himself, I was not obliged to keep my promise to him. 
 I might, nay, I ought to have forgotten my word, and 
 avenged the insult which he offered to God ; because I 
 did not put him to death, the heresy has not ceased to 
 gain strength. His death would have strangled it in 
 the cradle."' 
 
 This horrible proposition filled the elector and all 
 Luther's friends with terror. "The execution of John 
 Huss," said the elector-palatine, " brought too many 
 calamities on Germany, to allow such a scaifold to be 
 erected a second time." " The princes of Germany," 
 exclaimed George of Saxony, himself the irreconcilable 
 enemy of Luther, " will not allow a safe-conduct to be 
 violated. This first diet, held by our new emperor, 
 will not incur the guilt of an act so disgraceful. Such 
 perfidy accords not with old German integrity." The 
 princes of Bavaria, also devoted to the Church of 
 Rome, joined in this protestation. The death scene 
 which Luther's friends liad akeady before their eyes 
 appeared to be withdrawn. 
 
 The rumour of these debates, which lasted for two 
 days, spread over the town. Parties grew warm. 
 Some gentlemen, partisans of reform, began to speak 
 strongly against the treachery demanded by Aleander. 
 "The emperor," said they, '-is a young man whom the 
 papists and bishops lead at pleasure by their flattery." 
 Pallavicini makes mention of four hundred nobles who 
 were ready to maintain Luther's safe-conduct with the 
 sword. On Saturday morning placards were found 
 posted up on the houses and public places, some against 
 Luther, and others in his favour. One of them merely 
 contained the energetic words of Ecclesiastes : Woe 
 to tliec, land, when tlnj king is a child ! Seckingen, it 
 was said, had assembled, at some leagues from Worms, 
 behiud the impregnable ramparts of his fortress, a large 
 body of knights and soldiers, and only waited the issue 
 of the affair that he might kuow how to act. The 
 popular enthusiasm, not only in Worms, but also in the 
 most distant towns of the empire, the intrepidity of the 
 knights, the attachment of several princes to the re- 
 former, all must have made Charles and the diet com- 
 prehend that the step demanded by the Romans might 
 compromise the supreme authority, excite revolts, and 
 even shake the empire. It was only a simple monk 
 that they proposed to burn ; but the princes and parti- 
 sans of Rome, taken all together, had neither power 
 nor courage enough to do it. Doubtless, also, Charles 
 v., their young emperor, had still a fear of perjury. 
 This would seem indicated by an expression which, if 
 some historians speak true, he uttered on this occasion : 
 " Were fidelity and good faith banished from the whole 
 
 1 Acconling to Llorente, the idea that Charles, toward the close of his 
 life, inclined to evangelical opinions, is a mere invention of Protestants and 
 the enemies of Philip II. This question forms a historical problem, which 
 the numerous quotations of Llorente apppcar unhappily to solve in con- 
 formity to his view. 
 
 world, they ought to find an asylum in the hearts of 
 princes." It is said he forgot this when on the brink 
 of the grave. But there were other motives which 
 might have had their influence on the emperor. The 
 Florentine Vettori, a friend of Leo X. and of Machia- 
 velli, affirms, that Charles spared Luther only that he 
 might keep the pope in check. 
 
 On the Saturday's sitting, the violent counsels of 
 Aleander were negatived. There was a feeling in 
 favour of Luther, and a wish to save the simple-hearted 
 man whose confidence in God was so affecting; but 
 there was a wish also to save the Church. The diet 
 shuddered equally at the consequences which would 
 result from the triumph and from the destruction 
 of the reformer. Proposals of conciliation were heard, 
 and it was suggested that a new attempt should be 
 made with the doctor of Wittemberg. The Arch- 
 bishop-elector of Mentz himself, the young and extra- 
 vagant Albert, more devout than courageous, says 
 Pallavicini, had taken alarm on seeing the interest 
 which the people and the nobility shewed in the Saxou 
 monk. His chaplain, Capito, who, during his residence 
 at Bi'dc, had been intimate with the evangelical priest 
 of Zurich, named Zwingle, — the intrepid defender of 
 the truth, of whom we have already had occasion to 
 speak, — ^liad also, doubtless, represented to Albert the 
 righteousness of the reformer's cause. The worldly 
 archbishop had one of those returns to Christiau senti- 
 ment which his life occasionally exhibits, and agreed to 
 go to the emperor and ask him to allow one last at- 
 tempt. But Charles flatly refused. On Monday, 22d 
 April, the princes met in a body to renew the solicita- 
 tions of Albert. "I will not depart from what I have 
 decreed," replied the oni|joror. " I will not commission 
 any person to go oflicially tn Luther." "But," added 
 he, to the great scandal nt Alciuder, "I give this man 
 three days to reflect ; during' this time any one may, as 
 an individual, give him suitable advice." This was all 
 that was asked. The reformer, thought they, elevated 
 by the solemnity of his public appearance, will yield in 
 a more friendly conference ; and, perhaps, be saved 
 from the abyss into which ho is ready to fall. 
 
 The Elector of Saxony kuew the contrary; accord- 
 ingly, he was in great fear. " If it were in my power," 
 wrote he next day to his brother, Duke John, " I would 
 be ready to support Luther. You could not believe to 
 what a degree I am attacked by the partisans of Rome. 
 If I could tell you all, you would hear very strange 
 tilings. They are bent on his ruin, and however slight 
 interest any one shews for his person, he is immediately 
 decried as a heretic. May God, who forsakes not the 
 righteous cause, bring all to a good end!" Frederick, 
 without shewing the strong affection which he felt for 
 the reformer, contented himself with not losing sight of 
 any of his movements. 
 
 It was not so with men of all ranks then in Worms. 
 Many fearlessly gave full vent to their sympathy. From 
 the Friday, a crowd of princes, counts, barons, knights, 
 gentlemen, ecclesiastics, laics, and common people, sur- 
 rounded the hotel where the reformer lodged, — they 
 came in and went out, and could not see enough of him. 
 Ho was become the man iu Germany. Even those who 
 doubted not that he was in error, were touched by the 
 nobleness of soul which had led him to sacrifice his life 
 
CONFERENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP OF TREVES. 
 
 207 
 
 at the biikling of liis coascience. With several of the 
 personages present at Worms, and forming the flower 
 of tlie na(ion, LuDier had occasionally conversations 
 full of that salt with which his sayings were always 
 sejusoned. None left liim witliout feeling animated 
 with a generous entliusiasm for the trutli. George 
 Vogler, the ])ri\atc secretary of tlic Margrave Casimir 
 of Brandenburg, writing to a friend, says: "AVhat 
 things I should have to tell you ! What conversations, 
 full of piety and kindness, Luther has had with myself 
 and otiiers ! IIow winning that man is !" 
 
 One day a young prince of seventeen came prancing 
 into the court of the hotel, — it wiis Philip, who liad 
 been reigning for two years in Hesse. Tiie young 
 landgrave was of an active and enterprising character, 
 of a wisdom beyond his j-ears, a martial spirit, and an 
 impetuous temper, seldom allowing himself to be guided 
 by any ideas but his own. Struck with Luther's ad- 
 dresses, he wislicd to have a nearer view of him. " As 
 yet, however," says Luther, in relating his visit, "he 
 was not for me." He dismounted, and without any 
 other formality, came up into the reformer's room, and 
 addressing him, said ; " Well, dear doctor, how goes 
 it?" — "Gracious lord," replied Luther, "I hope it will 
 go well." '• From what I learn," resumed the land- 
 grave, laughing, "you teach, doctor, that a wife may 
 cpiit her luisband, and take another, when the former 
 is found to be too old ! " The people of the imperial 
 court had told this story to the landgrave. The 
 enemies of the trutli never fail to circulate fabulous 
 accounts of the lessons of Christian teachers. "No, 
 my lord," replied Luther gi-avely, " let your highness 
 not speak so, if you please." Thereupon, the prince 
 briskly held out his iiand to the doctor, shook his cor- 
 dially, and said : " Dear doctor, if 3-ou are in the right, 
 may God assist you." On this he left tlie room, again 
 mounted his horse, and rode off. This was the firet in- 
 terview between these two men, who were afterwards 
 to stand at tlie iiead of tlie Reformation, and to defend 
 it, — the one with the sword of the Word, and the other 
 ■witli the sword of kings. 
 
 It was the Archbishop of Treves, Richard de Greif- 
 cnklau, who, ivith permission of Charles V., had under- 
 taken the office of mediator. Richard, who was on an 
 intimate footing with the Elector of Saxony, and a 
 good Roman Catholic, was desirous to arrange this dif- 
 Jicidt affair, and thereby at once do a service to his 
 friend and to the Church. On Monday evening, 22d 
 April, just as Luther was going to sit down to table, 
 a messenger of the archbishop came to say, that the 
 prelate wished to see him the day after to-morrow, 
 (Wednesday,) at six o'clock in the morning. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Conference with the Arcliliisliop of Treves— Welic's .ndvice to Lnther— 
 Luther's Rcplies-Priv.ito Conversation -Visit of Coehteus— Supper at 
 the Archbishop's -Attempt on the Hotel of Rhodes— A Council Pro- 
 poscd-Last Interview between Luther and the Arehbishoi)— Visit to a 
 Sick Friend— Luther Ordered to quit Worms. 
 
 That day the chaplain and the imperial herald, Sturm, 
 were both at Luther's before six o'clock in the morn- 
 
 ing. Aleander had caused Cochlocus to be called at 
 four. The nuncio had not been slow in discovering in 
 the man who had been presented to him by Capito, a 
 devoted servant of Rome, on whom he could calculate 
 as on himself. Not being able to be present at this 
 interview, Aleander wished to have a substitute at it. 
 " Be present at the Ai'chbishop of Treves," said he to 
 the Dean of Frankfort. " Do not enter into discussion 
 with Luther; but content yourself with paying the 
 closest attention to everything that is said, so as to be 
 able to bring me back a faithful report. The re- 
 former, on arriving with some friends at the house of 
 the archbishop, foimd him surrounded by the margi'avc, 
 Joachim of Brandenburg and Augsburg, several nobles, 
 deputies from free towns, lawyers, and theologians, — 
 among whom were Cochloeus and Jerome Wehe, chan- 
 cellor of Baden. The latter, an able lawyer, wished a 
 reformation in manners and discipline. He went even 
 further. " The AVord of God," said he, " which hits so 
 long been hid under the bushel, must reappear in all 
 its lustre." This conciliatory individual was entrusted 
 with the conference. Turning kindly towards Luther, 
 he said to him : '• We did not make you come in order 
 to dispute with you, but in order to give you brotherly 
 advice. You know how carefully the Scripture re- 
 quireth us to guard against the flying arrow, and the 
 devil that walketh at noon-day. Tliis enemy of the 
 human race has instigated you to publish things con- 
 trary to religion. Think of your own safety, and that 
 of the empire. Take care that those whom Jesus 
 Christ has ransomed, by His own death, from death 
 eternal, be not seduced by you, and perish for ever. 
 . . . Do not set yourself up against holy councils. 
 If we do not maintain the decrees of our fathers, there 
 will be nothing but confusion in the Church. The dis- 
 tinguished princes now listening to mc take a particidar 
 interest in your safety. But if you persist, the emperor 
 will banish you from the empire, and no place in the 
 world will be able to offer you an asylum. . . . 
 Reflect on the fate which awaits you." 
 
 "Most serene princes!" replied Luther, "I give 
 you thanks for your solicitude, for I am only a poor 
 man, and am too humble to be exhorted by such high 
 lords." Then he continued: "I have not blamed all 
 the councils, but only that of Constance ; because, in 
 condemning this doctrine of John Huss, — viz., that the 
 Christian Church is the assenib/i/ of those tcho are ^werffs- 
 tinated to salvation, — it condemned this article of our 
 creed, / believe in the hob/ Catholic Church; and the 
 AVord of God itself. My lessons, it is said, give 
 offence," added he. " I answer, that the Gospel of 
 Christ cannot be preached without offence. How, then, 
 should this fear or apprehension of danger detach me 
 from the Lord, and from this Divine Word, which is 
 the only truth ? No, rather give my body, my blood, 
 and my life!" . . . 
 
 The princes and doctors having deliberated, Luther 
 was recalled, and Wehe mildly resumed : " It is neces- 
 sary to honour princes, e\eu when they are mistaken, 
 and to make great sacrifices to charity." Then he said, 
 in a more urgent tone : " Cast yourself upon the judg- 
 ment of the emperor, and have no fear." 
 
 Luther. — "I consent, with all my heart, that the 
 emperor, the princes, and even the humblest Christian, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 shall examine and judge my books ; but on one con- 
 dition, and it is, that they take the AVord of God for 
 their standard. Men have nothing else to do but to 
 obey. My conscience is dependent upon it, and I am 
 captive under its authority." 
 
 The Elector of Brandenharg. — "I understand you 
 perfectly, doctor. You will not acknowledge any 
 judge but the Holy Scripture?" 
 
 Luther. — " Yes, my lord, exactly. That is my last 
 word." 
 
 Then the i)riiices and doctors withdrew; but the 
 worthy Archbishop of Treves could not resolve to 
 abandon his undertaking. " Come," said he to Luther, 
 as he jiassed into his private room, and, at the same 
 timt', ordered John Eck and Cochloeus, on the one side, 
 and Schurff and Amsdorft' on the other, to foUowthem. 
 "Wliy appeal incessantly to the Holy Scriptures?" 
 said Eck keenly; "out of it all heresies have sprung." 
 But Luther, says his friend Mathesius, remained im- 
 moveable, like a rock resting on the true rock., — the 
 Word of the Lord. " The pope," replied he, " is no 
 judge in things pertaining to the Word of God. Every 
 Christian must see and understand for himself how he 
 ought to live and die." The parties separated. The 
 partisans of the papacy felt Luther's superiority, and 
 attributed it to there being nobody present who could 
 answer him. " If the emperor," says Cochloeus, " had 
 acted wisely in calling Luther to Worms, he would 
 also have called theologians who might have refuted 
 his errors." 
 
 The Archbishop of Treves repaired to the diet, and 
 announced the ill success of his mediation. The sur- 
 prise of the young emperor equalled his indignation. 
 •' It is time," said he, " to put an end to this affair." 
 The archbishop asked two days more, and the whole 
 diet seconded him. Charles V. yielded. Aleander, 
 transported with rage, uttered the bitterest invectives. 
 
 While these things were passing at the diet, Cochloeus 
 was burning with eagerness to gain a victory denied to 
 prelates and kings. Though he had, from time to 
 time, thrown in a few words at the archbishops, the 
 order which he had received from Aleander had laid 
 him under restraint. He resolved to compensate him- 
 self, and had no sooner given an account of his mission 
 to the papal nuncio, than he presented himself at 
 Luther's lodging. He accosted him as a friend, and 
 expressed the grief which he felt at the emperor's reso- 
 lution. After dinner, the conversation grew animated. 
 Cochloeus pressed Luther to retract. He declined by a 
 nod. Several nobles, who were at table, had difficulty 
 in restraining themselves. They were indignant that 
 the partisans of Rome should wish not to convince tlie 
 reformer by Scripture, but constrain him by force. 
 Cochloeus, impatient under these reproaches, says to 
 Luther : '' Very well, I offer to dispute publicly with 
 you, if you renounce the safe-conduct." All that 
 Luther demanded was a public debate. What ought 
 he to do ? '.'"o renounce the safe-conduct was to be his 
 own destroyer; to refuse the challenge of Cochloeus, 
 was to appear doubtful of his cause. The guests re- 
 garded the offer as a perfidious scheme of Aleander, 
 whom the Dean of Frankfort had just left. Vollrat 
 of Watzdorff, one of the niunber, freed Luther from 
 the embarrassment of this puzzling alternative. This 
 baron, who was of a boiling temperament, indignant at 
 a snare which aimed at nothing less than to give up 
 Luther into the hands of the executioner, started up, 
 seized the terrified priest, and pushed him to the door. 
 There would even have been bloodshed, had not the 
 other guests risen up from the table, and interposed 
 their mediation between the furious baron and the 
 trembling Cochloeus, who withdrew, in confusion, from 
 the hotel of the Knights of Rhodes. 
 
 The expression had no doubt escaped the dean in the 
 heat of discussion, and was not a premeditated scheme 
 between him and Aleander to make Luther fall into a 
 perfidious snare. Cochloeus denies that it was, and we 
 have pleasure in giving credit to his testimony, though 
 it is true he had come to Luther's from a conference 
 with the nuncio. 
 
 In the evening, the Archbishop of Treves entertained 
 those who had been present at the morning conference. 
 He thought it might be a mean« of calming down their 
 minds, and bringing them nearer each other. Luther, 
 who was so intrepid and immoveable before arbiters or 
 judges, had, in pi-ivate society, a good humour and 
 gaiety, which seemed to promise anything that might 
 be asked of him. The archbishoji's chancellor, who 
 had shewn so much sternness in his official capacity, 
 joined in the attempt, and, towards the end of the 
 repast, drank Luther's health. He was preparing to 
 return the honour, — the wine was poured out, and he 
 was, according to his custom, making the sign of the 
 cross on his glass, when suddenly the glass burst in his 
 hands, and the wine was spilt upon the table. The 
 guests were in consternation. "There must be poison 
 in it," ' said some of Luther's friends, quite loud. But 
 
 1 Luther does not mention the circumstance ; but Razeburg, a friend of 
 Lutlier, and physician to the Elector Joliu Frederick, relates it in a manu- 
 script history whiclx is extant in the library of Gotha, and says he had it 
 from an eye-witness. 
 
-^ 
 
 --fi^^'L-*.. '^.^ 
 
 Wofefti^. 
 
 0m' 
 
 # , 
 
 ^ h 
 
 %ir 
 
 1^ -'V 
 
CONFERENCE AT THE HOTEL. 
 
 the doctor, without being moved, replied with a smile: 
 "Dear friends, cither this wine was not destined for 
 me, or it would have been hurtful to mo." Then he 
 calmly added : " Tlie ghiss burst, no doubt, because, in 
 washing, it had been too soon jdungcd in cold water." 
 These simjde words, in the circumstances in which tliny 
 were uttered, have some degree of grandeur, and be- 
 speak un.-dtorablc peace. We cannot suppose that the 
 Konian Catholics could have wished to poison Luther, 
 especially at the house of tiie Archbishop of Treves. 
 This repast neither estranged nor approximated the 
 parties. The reformei-'s restdution came from a higher 
 source, and could not be influenced either by the hatred 
 or the favour of men. 
 
 On Tliursday morning, (25th April,) Chancellor 
 Wciie and Doctor Tcutinger of Augsburg, imperial 
 councillor, who had shewn great affection for Luther 
 ever since his interview with Dc Vio, repaired to the 
 hotel of the Knights of Rhodes. The Elector of Sax- 
 ony sent Frederick De Thun and another of his coun- 
 cillors to be present at the conference. " Put youi-self 
 in our hands," earnestly said AVehe and Peutinger, who 
 would willingly have sacrificed everything to prevent 
 the division which was about to rend the Church. 
 "This affair will be terminated in a Christian manner; 
 we give you our word for it." — " In two words," said 
 Luther to them, " here is my answer : I renounce the 
 safe-conduct. I place in the hands of the emperor my 
 person and my life ; but the Word of God, . . . 
 never ! " Frederick Do Thun, affected, rose and said 
 to the deputies : " Is it not enough .' Is not the sacri- 
 fice great enough V' Then declaring that he would hear 
 notliing more, he took his leave. "Wehe and Peutinger, 
 hoping to have better success with tho doctor, came 
 and sat down on each side of him. "Throw yourself 
 upon the diet," said they to him. — "No," replied 
 LiUher, "for cursed be the man that inisteth in man," 
 (Jeremiah xvii. 5.) "Wehe and Peutinger redoubled 
 tiieir counsels and attacks, pressing more closely on the 
 reformer. Luther, worn out, rose up and put an end 
 to the interview, saying : " I will not allow any man 
 to set himself above the Word of God." — " Reflect 
 once more," said they to him on retiring; "we will 
 return after mid-day." 
 
 They, in fact, did return; but convinced that Luther 
 would not yield, they brought a new proposal. Luther 
 had refused to be judged first by the pope, then by the 
 emperor, then by the diet. There remained one judge 
 to whom he himself had once appealed — a general 
 council. No doubt such a proposal would have been 
 scouted by Rome ; but it was the last plank for escape. 
 The delegates offered Luther a coimcil ; and he had it 
 in his power to accept it unfettered by any precise de- 
 finition. Yeai-s might have elapsed before the difiicul- 
 ties which the calling of a council would have encoim- 
 tered on the part of the pope could have been obviated. 
 To the Reformation and the reformer a gain of years 
 would have gained everything. God and time would 
 then have done the rest. But Luther preferred the 
 straight course to every other ; he would not save him- 
 self at the expense of truth, though all that might have 
 been necessary was to disguise it by keeping silence. 
 " I consent," replied he ; " but (this was equiva- 
 lent to a refusal of the council) on condition that 
 
 tho council will judge only according to the Holy 
 Scriptures." 
 
 Peutinger and Wehe, thinking that a council could 
 not judge otherwise, hastened, overjoyed, to the arch- 
 bishop. " Dr. Martin," said they, " submits his books 
 to a council." The archbishop was going to caiTy tho 
 good news to the emperor, when some dotd)t occurring 
 to him, he sent for Luther. 
 
 Richard of Grieffenklau was alone when the doctor 
 aiTived. " Dear doctor," said the archbishop, with 
 much cordiality and kindness, " my doctors assure me 
 that you consent, without reservation, to submit your 
 cause to a council." — "My lord," replied Luther, "I 
 can bear everything, but cannot abandon the Holy 
 Scriptures." The archbishop then perceived that Weho 
 and Peutinger had not explained themselves propei'ly. 
 Never could Rome consent to a council bound to decide 
 according to Scripture. " It was just," says Pallavicini, 
 " to insist that a weak eye should read very small writ- 
 ing, and at the same time deny the use of spectacles." 
 The good archbishop sighed. " It was well," said he, 
 " I made you come. What would have become of me 
 had I immediately gone to the emperor with the news?" 
 
 Tho immoveable firmness, the stern rectitude of 
 Luther, are, no doubt, astonishing ; but they will be 
 comprehended and respected by all who know the 
 claims of God. Seldom has a nobler homage been 
 paid to the immutable Word of heaven, and that at the 
 risk of life and liberty by the man who paid it. 
 
 "Well," said the venerable prelate to Luther, "do 
 you yourself then point out a remedy." 
 
 Luther, (after a moment's silence.) — " My lord, I know 
 no other than that of Gamaliel : If this counsel or this 
 ivork be of men, it icill come to nought; but if it be ofGod^ 
 
 FRAN K FORT. 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ye cannot ovevtln-ow it, lest Iiapli/ ye be found even to fight 
 against God. Let the emperor, the electors, the princes, 
 aad the states of the empu-e, deliver this answer to the 
 pope." 
 
 Archbishop. — "At least retract some articles." 
 
 Luther. — " Provided it be not those which the Coun- 
 cil of Constance condemned." 
 
 Archbishop. — "Ah! I fear they are the very ones 
 •which will be asked." 
 
 Luther. — " Then, sooner sacrifice my body and my 
 life, — better allow my legs and arms to be cut off than 
 abandon the clear and genuine Word of God." 
 
 The archbishop at length understood Luther. " You 
 may withdraw," said he to him, always with the same 
 gentleness. " Yom* lordship," resumed Luther, " will 
 be so good as to sec that his majesty cause the safe-con- 
 duct necessary for my return to be expedited." — "I will 
 see to it," replied the good archbishop, and they parted. 
 
 So ended these negotiations. The whole empire had 
 assailed this man with the most lu-geut entreaties, and 
 the most fearful menaces, and this man had never 
 flinched. His refusal to bend under the iron arm of 
 the pope emancipated the Church, and commenced a 
 new era. The intervention of Providence was evident ; 
 and the whole presents one of those grand historical 
 scenes in which the majestic form of the Divinity 
 appears conspicuously displayed. 
 
 Luther withdi-ew in company with Spalatin, who 
 1 had arrived at the archbishop's during the course of 
 i the visit. John von IVIinkwitz, one of the Elector of 
 i Saxony's councillors, had fallen sick at "Worms. The 
 two friends repaired to his lodging, and Luther admin- 
 istered the tenderest consolation to the sick man. 
 " Adieu ! " said he to him, on leaving, " to-morrow 1 
 shall quit Worms." 
 
 Luther was not mistaken. He had not been three 
 hours returned to the hotel of the Knights of Rhodes 
 when Chancellor Eck and the chancellor of the em- 
 peror, with a notary, made their appearance. 
 
 The chancellor said to him: "Martin Luther, his 
 imperial majesty, the electors, princes, and states of the 
 empire, having exhorted you to submission again and 
 again, and in various manners, but always in vain, the 
 emperor, in his quality of advocate and defender of the 
 Catholic faith, sees himself obliged to take other stops. 
 He, therefore, orders you to retm-n to your home in the 
 space of twenty-one days ; and prohibits you from dis- 
 turbing the public peace by the way, either by preach- 
 ing or writing." 
 
 Luther was well aware that this message was the 
 first step in his condemnation. " It has happened as 
 Jehovah pleased," said he meekly. "Blessed be the 
 name of Jehovah ! " Then he added : " Before all 
 things, very hiimbly and from the bottom of my heart, 
 I thank his majesty, the electors, princes, and other 
 states of the empire, for having listened to me with so 
 much kindness. I have desired, and do desire one 
 thing only — a reformation of the Church agi'eeably to 
 Holy Scripture. I am ready to do everything, and 
 suffer everything, in humble submission to the will of 
 the empei-or. Life and death, honour and disgrace, 
 are all alike to me. I make only one reservation — the 
 preaching of the Gospel ; for, says St. Paul, the Word 
 of God cannot be bound." The deputies withdrew. 
 
 On the morning of Friday (26th April) the reformer's 
 friends and several nobles met at his lodgings. They 
 were gratified at seeing the Christian constancy which 
 he had opposed to Charles and the empire, and to 
 recognize in him the features of the ancient portrait : 
 
 They wished once more, perhaps for ever, to bid 
 adieu to this intrepid monk. Luther took a frugal 
 meal. Now he must take leave of his friends, and flee 
 far from them, under a sky surcharged with storms. 
 He wLshed to pass this solemn moment in the presence 
 of God. He lifted up his soul and blessed those who 
 were around him. Ten in the morning having struck, 
 Luther quitted the hotel with the friends who had 
 accompanied him to Worms. Twenty gentlemen on 
 horseback surrounded bis carriage. A great crowd 
 accompanied him beyond the walls. The imperial 
 herald, Sturm, rejoined him some time after at Oppen- 
 heim, and the following day they reached Frankfort. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Lullier's Departnre— Journey from 'Wonns— Luther to Cranach— I.utlier to 
 Cliailes v.— Luther with the Abbot of Hirschfekl — The Curate of 
 Eiseinch— Several Princes Leave the Diet — Cbaiies Signs Lutlier'a 
 Cuiiilemuation— The Edict of Worms— Lutlier with his Pai-ents— Luther 
 attacked and earned uff-The Ways of God— Wartburg— Lutlier a 
 Tiisoner. 
 
 LuTiiER having thus escaped from these walls of 
 Worms, wliich threatened to become his tomb, his 
 whole heart gave glory to God. " The devil himself," 
 said he, " guarded the citadel of the pope. But Christ 
 has made a large breach in it ; and Satan has been 
 forced to confess that the Lord is mightier than he." 
 
 "The day of the diet of Worms," says the pious 
 Mathesius, the disciple and friend of Luther, " is one 
 of the greatest and most glorious days given to the 
 world before its final close." The battle fought at 
 AVorms re-echoed far and wide ; and while the sound 
 travelled over Christendom, — from the regions of the 
 North to the mountains of Switzerland, and the cities 
 of England, France, and Italy, — many ardently took 
 up the mighty weapon of the Word of God. 
 
 Luther, having arrived at Frankfort on the evening 
 of Saturday, (27th April,) took advantage next day of 
 a moment of leisure — the first he had had for a long 
 time — to write a note, in a style at once playful and 
 energetic, to his friend, Lucas Cranach, the celebrated 
 painter, at Wittemberg : " Yoiu- servant, dear compeer 
 Lucas," said he to him, "I thought his majesty would 
 assemble at Worms some fifty doctors to confute the 
 monk off hand. But not at all. Are these books 
 yours ? — Yes. Will you retract them ? — No. Ah well ! 
 get you gone ! Such was the whole story. O blind 
 Germans ! how like children we act in allowing our- 
 selves to be played upon and duped by Rome ! . . . 
 The Jews must for once have their chaut, — Yo ! Yo ! 
 
LUTHER AT EISENACH. 
 
 Yo ! Uiit our iKiisovor also will come, aud tlien we 
 will sinjj Ilallclujah !^ . . . There must be silence 
 ami suffering for a short time. Jesus Christ says : 
 A Uttk ic/iih; ami ye sliutl not see me; and afjain, a little 
 while, and ye shall see me, (John xvi. IG.) I hope it will 
 bo so with me. I commend you altogether to the Eter- 
 nal. May He through Ciirist protect us against the 
 attacks of the wolves and dragons of Rome. Amen." 
 
 After writing this somewhat enigmatical letter, 
 Luther, as time was pressing, set out immediately for 
 Friodberg, whicli is six leagues from Frankfort. The 
 next day Luther again communed with himself. He 
 was desirous to write once more to Charles V., being 
 imwilliug to confound him witli guilty rebels. In his 
 letter to the emperor he clearly exjiounded the nature 
 of the obedience which is due to man, aud that whicli 
 is due to God; and the limit where the former must 
 stop and give place to the latter. In reading Luther, 
 we involuntarily call to mind the saying of the greatest 
 autocrat of modern times: "My rule ends where that 
 of conscience begins."'- '• God, who is the searcher of 
 hearts, is my witness," says Luther, " that I am ready 
 witli all diligence to obey your majesty, whether in 
 honour or disgrace, whether by life or l)y death, and 
 Avith absohitelv no exception but the Word of God, 
 from wliich man derives life. In all the affaii-s of the 
 present life, my (idolity will be immutable; for as to 
 these, loss or gain cannot at all affect salvation. But 
 in regard to eternal blessings, it is not the will of God 
 that man should submit to man. Subjection in the 
 spiritual world constitutes worehip, and should be paid 
 only to the Creator." 
 
 Luther also addressed a letter — but in German — to 
 the states of the empire. It was nearly the same in 
 substance as that to the emperor. It contained an 
 account of all that had taken i)lace at Worms. This 
 letter was repeatedly printed aud circulated all over 
 Germany. " Everywliei'e," says Cochlojus, "it excited 
 the popular indignation against the emperor and the 
 dignified clergy." 
 
 Early next day Luther wrote a note to Spalatin, 
 enclosing in it the two letters which he had written the 
 evening before, aud sent back the herald Sturm, who 
 had been won to the Gospel. Having embraced him, 
 he set out in all haste for Gruuberg. 
 
 On Tuesday, when about two leagues from Hirsch- 
 feld, he met the cliaucellor of tlie abbot-prince of this 
 town, who had conic out to receive him. Shortlj' after 
 a troop of horsemen appeared ynxh. the abbot at their 
 head. The latter leapt from his horse, and Luther 
 having alighted from his carriage, the prince and the 
 reformer embraced, and then entered Hirsclifeld. The 
 senate received them at the gates. The prmces of the 
 Church ran to meet a monk anathematized by the 
 pope, and the most distinguished among the laity 
 bowed tlie head before an individual whom the em- 
 peror had put under the ban. 
 
 " At five in the morning we will be at the chiu-ch," 
 said the prince, on rising in the eveniug from table, at 
 
 > Tlicsc cries of joy liy the Jews, at the time of tho crucifixion, represent 
 the songs of triuiiipli by tlie p:iitisan3 uf the papacy on occisiou of the 
 Ciitastiophe which is going to befall Luther; but tho reformer discovers in 
 the ilistince hallciujahs of deliverance— L. Ep. l, p. 5S9. 
 
 » Napoleon to the Protestiint deputation after his accession to tho 
 empire. 
 
 winch the reformer w;;s a guest. He even wished 
 Luther to occupy his own bed. - Next day Luther 
 preached, the abbot-prince accompanying him with 
 his suite. 
 
 In the evening Luther arrived at Eisenach, the 
 abode of his infancy. All his frienils in tlie town 
 gatiiercd round him, and begged him to preach. The 
 next day they conducted him to the church. The 
 curate made iiis appearance, attended by a notary and 
 witnesses. He came forward in great tremor, divided 
 between the fear of losing his place, and that of oppos- 
 ing the poworfid man before him. At last he said, in 
 a tone of embarrassment: "I pi-otest against the liberty 
 which you are going to take." Luther mounted the 
 pulpit, and that voice which, twenty-three years before, 
 sung in the streets of this town for bread, caused the 
 arches of the ancient church to ring with accents which 
 had begun to shake the world. After the sermon, the 
 curate, in confusion, stept softly forward to Luther. 
 Tlie notary had drawn up his instrument, the witnesses 
 had signed it, and everything was in regular order to 
 put the curate's place in safety. " Pardon me," said 
 he humbly to the doctor ; " I have done it from fear 
 of the tyrants who opprc^ss the Church." 
 
 There was, in fact, some ground to fear them. At 
 AVorms the aspect of affairs had changed. Aleander 
 seemed to reign sujireme. " Luther has nothing before 
 him but exile," wrote Frederick to his brother, Duke 
 Johu. " Nothing can save him. If God permits me to 
 return, I will have things almost incredible to tell you. 
 Not only Annas and Caiaphas, but also Pilate and 
 Herod, have leagued against him." Frederick, having 
 little wish to remain longer, left Worms. The elector- 
 palatine did the same, as did also the Archbishop- 
 elector of Cologne. Princes of less elevated rank 
 imitated them. Deeming it impossible to avert the 
 blow which was about to be struck, they preferred, 
 perhaps erroneously, to abandon the place. The 
 Spaniards, Italians, and the most ultramontane of the 
 German princes, alone remained. 
 
 The field was free, and Aleander triumphed. He 
 laid before Charles the draft of an edict, which he 
 intended should serve as the model of that which the 
 diet was to issue against the monk. The nuncio's 
 labour pleased the irritated emperor. He assembled 
 the remains of the diet in his chamber, and caused 
 Aleauder's edict to be read to them. All who were 
 present (so says Pallavicini) approved it. 
 
 The next day — the day of a great festival — the em- 
 peror w;is in the church, surrounded by the nobility of 
 his court. The religious solemnity was finished, and a 
 multitude of people filled the church, when Aleander, 
 clad in all the insignia of his rank, approached Charles 
 V. He held in his hand two copies of the edict 
 against Luther, the one in Latin, and the other in 
 German, and, kneeling down before his majesty, im- 
 plored him to append his signature and the seal of the 
 empire. It wa.s at the moment when the host had just 
 been offered, when incense filled the temple, when 
 music was still ringing under its arches, and, as it 
 were, in the presence of the Divinitj% that the destruc- 
 tion of the enemy of Rome was to be completed. The 
 emperor, assuming the most gracious manner, took the 
 pen and signed. Aleander went off in triumph, put 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the decree immediately to press, and sent it over all 
 Christendom. This fruit of the labour of Rome had 
 cost the papacy some pains. Pallavicini himself in- 
 forms us that this edict, though dated the 8th May, 
 was signed later; but was antedated, to make it be 
 supposed tliat it was executed during the time when 
 all the members of the diet were actuallv assembled. 
 
 "Wt, Chailes the Fifth," said the emperor, (then 
 follo^\ed all Ins title^,) "to all the electors, princes, 
 pi elates, and others, whom it may concern. 
 
 "The Almighty having entrusted to us, for the 
 defence of His holy faith, more kingdoms and power 
 
 than He gave to any of our 
 
 predecessors, we mean to ex- 
 ert ourselves to the utmost i> 
 prevent any heresy from ari 
 iug to pollute our holy empui 
 
 " Tlie Augustine monk, i 
 Martin Luther, though ex- 
 horted by us, has rushed, lil 
 a madman, against the In I 
 Church, and sought to desti 
 it by means of books fill. 1 
 with blasphemy. He has, \n 
 a shameful manner, insultc.l 
 the imperishable law of hoh 
 wedlock. He has striven u, 
 excite the laity to wash then' 
 hands in the blood of priests , 
 and, overturning all obedience, 
 
 has never ceased to stir up revolt, division, war, mur- 
 der, theft, and fire, and to labour completely to ruin 
 the faith of Christians. ... In a word, to pass 
 over all his other iniquities in silence, this creature, who 
 is not a man, but Satan himself under the form of a 
 man, covered with the cowl of a monk, has collected into 
 one stinking pool all the worst heresies of past times, 
 and has added several new ones of his own. . . . 
 
 " We have, therefore, sent this Luther from before 
 our face, that all pious and sensible men may regard 
 him as a fool, or a man possessed of the devil; and 
 we expect that, after the expiry of his safe-conduct, 
 effectual means will be taken to arrest his furious ran-e. 
 
 "Wherefore, under pain of incurring the punishment 
 due to the crime of treason, we forbid you to lodge the 
 said Luther so soon as the fatal term shall bo expired, 
 t<i conceal him, give him meat or drink, and lend him, 
 ]<y word or deed, publicly or secretly, any kind of 
 assistance. We enjoin you, moreover, to seize him, or 
 cause him to be seized, wherever you find him, and 
 bring him to us without any delay, or to keep him in all 
 safety until you hear from us how you are to act with 
 regard to him, and till you receive the recompense due 
 to j'our exertions in so holy a work. 
 
 " As to his adherents, you will seize them, suppress 
 them, and confiscate their goods. 
 
 "As to his writings, if the best food becomes the 
 terror of all mankind as soon as a drop of poison is 
 mixed with it, how much more ought these books, 
 which contain a deadly poison to the soul, to be not 
 only rejected, but also annihilated ! You will there- 
 fore burn them, or iu some other way destroy them 
 entirely. 
 
 "As to authors, poets, printers, painters, sellers or 
 buyers of placards, writings, or paintings, against the 
 pope or the Church, you will lay hold of their persons 
 and their goods, and treat them according to your good 
 pleasure. 
 
 " And if any one, whatever be his dignity, shall dare 
 to act in contradiction to the decree of our imperial 
 majesty, we ordain that he shall be placed under the 
 ban of the empire. 
 
 " Let every one conform hereto." 
 
 Such was the edict signed in the cathedral of Worms. 
 It was more than a Roman bull, which, though pub- 
 lished in Italy, might not be executed in Germany. 
 
LUTHER WITH HIS PARENTS. 
 
 213 
 
 The emperor himself had spoken, and fhc diet had 
 ratified Iiis decree. All the partisans of Rome sent 
 forth a sliout of triumi>h. " It is the end of the tra- 
 gedy," exclaimed they. " For my part," said Alphouso 
 Valcicz, a Spaniard at the emperor's court ; " I am 
 persuaded it is not the end, but the beginning." Valdez 
 perceived that the movement was in the Church, in the 
 people, in the age, and that though Luther should fall, 
 his cause would not fall with him. But no one dis- 
 guised to himself the imminent — the inevitable dan- 
 ger to which the reformer was exposed ; while the whole 
 tribe of the superstitious were seized with horror at the 
 thought of the incanuite Satan, whom the emperor 
 pointed out to the nation as disguised under a monk's 
 frock. 
 
 The man against whom the mighty of the earth 
 were thus forging theii- thunders, had left the church 
 of Eisenach, and was preparing to separate from some 
 of his dearest friends. He did not wish to follow the 
 road of Gotha or Erfurt, but to repaii- to the village of 
 Mora, his father's birthplace, that he might there sec 
 his grandmother, who died four months after, his uncle, 
 Henry Luther, and other relations. vScluu-ff, Jonas, 
 and Suaven, set off for Wittemberg ; Luther mounted 
 his vehicle with Amsdorff, who remained with him, 
 and entered the forest of Thuringia. 
 
 The same evening he reached the village of his 
 fathers. The poor old peasant clasped in her arms 
 this grandson who had just been shewing front to the 
 Emperor Charles and Pope Leo. Luther spent the 
 next day with his family, happy in substituting this 
 tranquil scene for the tumult at Wonn'- On the fol- 
 lowing day he resuuKd hi-> joumo, iccompinied b\ 
 Amsdoi-ff and his bi other J imc! In the«e lontl) '■pot^ 
 the reformer's lot w ii to be decided They -v^erc pTiS- 
 ing along the forest of Ihuimgn on the road to ^\ il- 
 tershauseu. As the ( iiinj;e %\ (> in i li()ll<)\v i)iit cf 
 the road, near the f 1 1 I in h f dli 1 i h Tt imc 1 
 tanco from til., cii-ll \ ill i ^ 
 
 y* 
 
 J^ kA 
 
 heard, and at that mumuuL hiu hurscniL^u, ma^kud 
 and in complete armour, rushed u]>on the travellers. 
 Luther's brother, as soon as he perceived the assailants, 
 leapt from the vehicle, and ran off at full speed with- 
 out uttering a word. The driver was for defending 
 himself. " Stop I " cried one of the assailants in a stern 
 
 voice, and rushing upon him threw him to the ground. 
 A second man in a mask seized Amsdorff, and pre- 
 vented him from coming near. Mean\\hile the three 
 other horsemen laid hold of Luther, keeping the most 
 l)rofound silence. They pulled him violently from the 
 carriage, threw a horseman's cloak upon his shoulders, 
 and placed him on a led horse. Then the other two 
 tpiitted Amsdorff and the driver, and the whole leapt 
 into then- saddles. The hat of one of them fell off, 
 but they did not even stop to lift it, and in a twinkling 
 disappeared in the dark forest with their prisoner. 
 They at first took the road to Broderode ; but they soon 
 retraced their steps by a different road, and, without 
 quitting the forest, made turnings and windings in all 
 directions, in order to deceive those who miffht attempt 
 to follow tluMi-lnu-k 
 
 T uthci littit, accustomed to hoi eback, was soon 
 ^Licome ^Mtli fitigue Being permitted to dismount 
 t I a fe\\ moments he rested neai a beech tree and 
 to k 1 di aught of frc-h \\'\{cr fi m a \ iiii;r, \\hich is 
 
 .>ull Lulled LaJ.„^.Sj„,„,j. H,= bruth.-. Jau.co. al.va^S 
 
 continuing his flight, an-ived in the evening at Walters- 
 hausen. The driver, in great alarm, had got up on his 
 vehicle, into which Amsdorff also mounted, and urging 
 on his horses, which proceeded at a rapid pace, brought 
 Luther's friend as far as Wittemberg. At "Walters- 
 
214 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 hausen, and Wittemberg, and the interjacent countiy, 
 villages, and towns, all along the road, news of Luther's 
 having been carried off were spread, — news which, 
 while it delighted some, filled the greater number with 
 astonishment and indignation. A cry of grief soon 
 resounded throughout Germany: "Luther has fallen 
 iuto the hands of his enemies ! " 
 
 After the violent combat which Luther had been 
 obliged to maintain, God was pleased to conduct him to 
 a peaceful resting-place. After placing him on the 
 brilliant theatre of Worms, where all the powers of 
 the reformer's soul had been so vigorously exerted. He 
 gave him the obscure and humiliating retreat of a pri- 
 son. From the deepest obscurity He brings forth the 
 feeble instruments by which He proposes to accomplish 
 great things, and then, after allowing them to shine for 
 a short time with great lustre on an elevated stage, 
 sends them back again to deep obscurity. Violent 
 struggles and pompous displays were not the means by 
 which the Reformation was to be accomijlishcd. That 
 is not the way in which the leaven penetrates the mass 
 of the population. The Spirit of God requires more 
 tranquil paths. The man of whom the chamj^ions of 
 Home w^ere always iu pitiless pursuit, behoved for a 
 time to disappear from the world. It was necessary 
 that personal achievements should be eclipsed, in order 
 that the revolution about to be accomplished might not 
 bear the impress of an individual. It was necessary 
 that man should retire and God alone remain, moving, 
 by His Spii-it, over the abj'ss iu which the darkness of 
 the Middle Ages was engulfed, and saying : Let tJiere be 
 light 
 
 Nightfall having made it impossible to follow their 
 track, the party carrying off Luther took a new direc- 
 tion, and about au hour before midnight arrived at the 
 foot of a mountain. The horses climbed slowly to its 
 summit, on which stood an old fortress, surrounded on 
 all sides, except that of the entrance, by the black 
 forests which cover the moLintains of Thuringia. 
 
 To this elevated and isolated castle, named the Wart- i 
 bm-g, where the landgraves of old used to conceal j 
 themselves, was Luther conducted. The bolts are 
 drawn, the iron bars fall, the gates open, and the ; 
 reformer, clearing the threshold, the bars again close | 
 
 behind him. He dismounts in the court. Burkhardt de 
 Hund, Lord of Altenstein, one of the horsemen, with- 
 di-aws ; another, John of Berlepsch, provost of Wart- 
 burg, conducts Luther to the chamber which was to be 
 his prison, and where a knight's dress and a sword were 
 lying. The three other horsemen, dependants of the 
 provost, carry off his ecclesiastical dress, and put on the 
 other which had been prepared for him, enjoining him 
 to allow his hair and beard to grow, in order that none 
 even in the castle might know who he was. The in- 
 mates of the Wartburg were only to know the prisoner 
 under the name of Chevalier Georges. Luther scarcely 
 knew himself in the di-ess which was put upon him. 
 At length he is left alone, and can turn in his thoughts 
 the strange events which had just taken place at 
 Worms, the uncertain prospect which awaits him, and 
 his new and strange abode. From the narrow windows 
 of his keep he discovers the dark, solitary, and bound- 
 less forests around, "There," says Mathesius, the 
 biographer and friend of Luther, " the doctor remained, 
 like St. Paul iu his prison at Rome." 
 
 Frederick de Thun, Philip Feilitsch, and Spalatin, 
 had not concealed from Luther, in a confidential inter- 
 view which they had with him at Woi'ms, by order of 
 the elector, that his liberty behoved to be sacrificed to 
 the wi-ath of Charles and the pope. StUl, there was 
 so much mystery iu the mode of his being earned off, 
 that Frederick was long ignorant of the place of his 
 confiuement. The grief of the friends of the Reforma- 
 tion was prolonged. Spring passed away, succeeded 
 by summer, autumn, and winter, — the sun finished his 
 annual course, and the walls of the Wartburg still con- 
 fined their prisoner. The truth is laid under interdict 
 by the diet ; its defender, shut up within the walls of a 
 strong castle, has disappeared from the stage of the 
 world, none knowing what has become of him. Alean- 
 der triumphs, and the Reformation seems lost ; . . , 
 but God reigns, and the blow which apparently threat- 
 ened to annihilate the cause of the Gospel, will serve 
 only to save its intrepid minister, and extend the light 
 of faith. 
 
 Let us leave Luther a captive in Genuany on ths 
 heights of the Wartburg, and let us see what God was 
 then doing in the other countries of Christendom. 
 
 TELLS CHAPEL. 
 
SOURCE OF THE REFOKMATION. 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 THE SWISS — 1484-1522. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 Movomruts in Svvitzciland— Soureo of the Rcrorinntion— Deinocratio t'hnr- 
 nctcr— Foreign Service— Jlorality— The Toekeubiu-g— Aa Alpine Hut— 
 A Tastorul Family. 
 
 At tho moment ■\vlicn the decree of the diet of "Worms 
 appciircd, a continually increasing movement was be- 
 ginning to shake the quiet valleys of Switzerland. The 
 voice which was heard in the plains of Upper and 
 Lower Saxony was answered from the bosom of the 
 Helvetic moimtaius by the energetic voices of its 
 jn-iests, its shejihcrds, and the citizens of its warlike 
 cities. The partisans of Rome, seized with terror, 
 exclaimed that a vast and dreadful conspii-acy was 
 everywhere formed against the Church. The friends 
 of the Gospel, tilled with joy, said, that as in spring a 
 living breath is felt from the streams which run into 
 the sea up to the mountain tops, so, throughout all 
 Christendom, the Spu'it of God was now melting the 
 ices of a long winter, and covering with verdure and 
 (lowers the lowest plains, as well as the steepest and 
 most barren rocks. 
 
 Germany did not communicate the truth to Switzer- 
 land, nor Switzerland to France, nor France to Eng- 
 land. All these couutries received it from God, just 
 as one part of the world does not transmit the light to 
 another part ; but the same shining globe communicates 
 it directly to all the earth. Christ, the dai/sprinff from 
 on /ligh, infinitely exalted above all mankind, was — at 
 the period of the Reformation, as at that of the estab- 
 lishment of Christianity — the Divine fire which gave 
 life to the world. In the sixteenth centiu-y one and the 
 same doctrine was at once established in the homes 
 and churches of the most distant and diversLtied nations. 
 The reason is, that the same Spirit was everywhere at 
 work producing the same faith. 
 
 The Reformation of Germany and that of Switzer- 
 land demonstrate this truth. Zwingle had no inter- 
 course with Luther. There was, no doubt, a link 
 between these two men ; but we must search for it 
 above the earth. He who from heaven gave the truth 
 to Luther, gave it to Zwingle. God was the medium 
 of communication between them. "I began to preach 
 the Gospel," says Zwingle, " in the year of grace, 
 151G, in other words, at a time when the name of 
 Luther had never been heard of in oiu- coimtrj'. I did 
 not learn the doctrine of Christ from Luther, but from 
 the Word of God, If Luther preaches Christ, he does 
 what I do ; that is all." 
 
 But if the different reformations, which all pro- 
 ceeded from the same Spirit, thereby acquired great 
 unity, they also received certain peculiar features, 
 coiTesponding to the different characters of the j'oople 
 among whom they took place. 
 
 We have already given a sketch of the state of 
 Switzerland at the period of the Rcfoi-mation, and will 
 only add a few words to what we have already said. 
 In Germany, the ruling principle was monarchical; in 
 Switzerland, it was democratic. In Geraiany, the 
 Reformation had to struggle with the will of princes ; 
 iu Switzerland, with the will of the people. A multi- 
 tude are more easily led away than an individual, and 
 are also more prompt in their decisions. 'I'he victory 
 over tho papacy on the other side of the Rhine, was 
 the work of years ; but on this side of it, required 
 only months or days. 
 
 In Germany, Luther's person stands forth imposingly 
 from the midst of his Saxon countrymen. He seems 
 to struggle alone in his attack on the Roman Colossus ; 
 and -wherever the battle is fought, we see his lofty 
 stature on the field of battle. Luther is, as it were, 
 the monarch of the )-evolution which is bemg accom- 
 plished. In Switzerland, several cantons are at once 
 engaged in the contest. We see a confederacy of 
 reformers, and are astonished at their numbers. No 
 doubt there is one head which stands elevated above 
 the rest ; but no one has the command. It is a repub- 
 lican magistracy, where each presents his peculiar 
 physiognomy, and exercises his separate influence. We 
 have Wittemberg, Zwingle, Ca])ito, Ilaller, OEcolam- 
 padius. Again, we have Oswald Mycouius, Leo Juda, 
 Farel, and Calviu ; and the Refonnation takes place 
 at Claris, Bale, Zurich, Berne, Neufchatel, Geneva, 
 Lucerne, Schafhausen, Appenzel, Saint Gall, and in the 
 Grisous. In the Reformation of Germany one scene 
 only is seen, and that one level, like the country 
 around ; but in Switzerland, the Reformation is 
 divided, as Switzerland itself is divided by its thousand 
 mountains. So to speak, each valley has its awak- 
 ening, and each Alpine height its gleams of light. 
 
 A lamentable period had commenced in the history 
 of the Swiss after their exploits against the dukes of 
 Bnrgimdy. Europe, which had learned to know the 
 strength of theu: arm, had brought them forth from 
 their mountains, and robbed them of their indepen- 
 dence, by employing them to decide the destiny of 
 states on battle-fields. Swiss brandished the sword 
 against Swiss on the plains of Italy and France ; and 
 the intrigues of strangers filled these high valleys of 
 the Alps, so long the abode of simplicity and peace, 
 with envy and discord. Led away by the attraction 
 of gold, sons, labourers, and servants, stole away from 
 the chalets of alpine pastures, towards the banks of the 
 Rhine or the Po. Helvetic unity was crushed under 
 the slow step of miUes loaded with gold. The object 
 of the Reformation iu Switzerland — for there too it had 
 a political aspect — was to re-establish the unity and 
 ancient vu-tues of the cantons. Its first cry was, that 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the Swiss should tear asunder the perfidious nets of 
 strangers, and embrace each other in strict union at 
 the foot of the cross. But the generous call was not 
 listened to. Eome, accustomed to pm-chase in these 
 valleys the blood which she shed, in order to increase 
 her power, rose up in wrath. She set Swiss against 
 Swiss, and new passions arose which rent the body of 
 the nation in pieces. 
 
 Switzerland stood in need of a reformation. It is 
 true there was among the Helvetians a simplicity and 
 good-nature, which the polished Italians thought ridi- 
 culous; but, at the same time, it was admitted, that by 
 no people were the laws of chastity more habitually 
 transgressed. Astrologers ascribed this to the con- 
 stellations; philosophers, to the ardent temperament 
 of this indomitable population ; and moralists, to the 
 principles of the Swiss, who regarded trick, dishonesty, 
 and slander, as much greater sins than uncleanness. 
 The priests were prohibited from marrying ; but it 
 would have been ditficult to find one of them who lived 
 in true celibacy. The thing required of them was, to 
 conduct themselves not chastely, but prudently. This 
 was one of the first disorders against which the Eefor- 
 mation was directed. It is time to trace the beginnings 
 of this new day in the valleys of the Alps. 
 
 Towards the middle of the eleventh century, two 
 hermits set out from Saint Gall, and proceeding 
 towards the mountains at the south of this ancient 
 monastery, arrived in a deserted valley about ten 
 leagues long. Towards the north, the high mountains 
 of Sentis, the Sommerigkopf, and the Old Man, sepa- 
 rate this valley from the canton of Appenzel. On the 
 south, the Kuhfivsten, with its seven heads, rises be- 
 tween it and the Wallensee, Sargans, and the Grisons, 
 while the eastern side of the valley opens to the rays 
 of the rising sun, and discovers the magnificent pro- 
 spect of the Tyrolese Alps. The two solitai-ies having 
 arrived near the source of a small river, (the Thur,) 
 built two cells. The valley gi-adually became inha- 
 bited. On the highest portion of it, 2010 feet above 
 the Lake of Zm'ich, there was formed, around a 
 church, a village named Wildhaus, or the Wild-house, 
 with which two hamlets are now connected, — viz., 
 Lisighaus, or the House of Elizabeth and Scha3uen- 
 boden. The fruits of this earth are unable to grow 
 upon these heights. A green carpet of Alpine fi-esh- 
 uess covers the whole vaUey, and rises upon the sides 
 of the mountains, above which miisses of enormous 
 rocks lift their wild grandeur towards heaven. 
 
 At a quarter of a league from the church, near Lisig- 
 haus, on the side of a path which leads into the pastures 
 beyond the river, a solitary house is still standing. The 
 tradition is, that the wood used in building it was cut 
 upon the very spot. Everything indicates that it must 
 have been erected at a very remote period. I'he walls 
 are thin. The windows have little round panes ; and 
 the roof is formed of slabs, on which stones are laid to 
 prevent the wind from can-ying them away. In front 
 of the house there is a limpid gushing spring. 
 
 In this house, towards the end of the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, lived a man, named Zwinglo, amman or bailiff of 
 the district. The family of the Zwingles, or Zwingli, 
 was ancient, and in high esteem among the inhabitants 
 of these mountains. Bartholomew, brother of the 
 
 bailiff, at first curate of the parish, and, after 1487, 
 dean of AVesen, was a person of some celebrity in the 
 district. Margaret Meili, the wife of the amman of 
 Wildhaus, and whose brother, John, was afterwards 
 abbot of the convent of Fisc.hingen in Thurgovia, had 
 already given birth to two sons, Heini and Ivlaus, 
 when, on the first day of the year 1484, seven weeks 
 after the birth of Luther, a thii-d sou, Ulrich, was born 
 in this solitary hut. Five other sons, .John, WolfganR, 
 
 IG LE S B 
 
 Bartholomew, James, Andrew, and a dauiihter, Anna, 
 were afterwards added to this Alpine family. No per- 
 son in the country was more venerated than amman 
 Zwingle. His character, his office, his numerous 
 children, made him the patriarch of these mountains. 
 He and all his sons were shepherds. No sooner did 
 the first days of May open ujion these mountains, than 
 the father and the children departed with their flocks 
 for the pastures, rising gradually from station to 
 station, and so, towards the end of July, reaching the 
 highest summits of the Alps. Then they began gra- 
 dually to redescend towards the valley; and in autumn 
 the whole population of Wildhaus return to their 
 humble huts. Sometimes, during the summer, the 
 young people who had been obliged to remain at home, 
 eager for the mountain breezes, set out in bands for 
 the chalets, uniting their voices to the melody of then- 
 rustic instruments. On their arrival on the Alps the 
 shepherds from a distance saluted them with their 
 horns and their songs, and regaled them with a feast 
 of milk. Afterwards, the joyous band, by turnings and 
 windings, descended again into the valley, moving to 
 the sound of their pipes. Ulrich, in his youth, doubtless 
 joined occasionally in this amusement. He grew up 
 at the foot of those rocks which seem eternal, and 
 whose tops reach the heavens. " I have often thought," 
 says one of his friends, " that, being brought near to 
 heaven on these sublime heights, he there contracted 
 something celestial and divine." 
 
 Tliere were long winter evenings in the cottages of 
 Wildhaus ; and then young UWch, seated at the pa- 
 ternal hearth, listened to the conversation of the baUiff 
 and the old men of the district. He heard them tell 
 how the inhabitants of the valley had formerly groaned 
 under a heavy yoke. With the old men, his heart 
 beat high at the thought of the independence which 
 the Tockenburg had acquired, and which the alliance 
 with the Swiss had secured. A patriotic feeling was 
 kindled in his breast. Switzerland became dear to 
 him ; and if any one uttered an unfavourable expres- 
 
ZWINGLB AT BAXE. 
 
 217 
 
 sion against the coufcdcratcs, the child iiistautly stood 
 up and warmly defended their cause. Diu-ing these 
 long evenings, he was often seen quietly seated at the 
 feet of his pious grandmother, with his eyes rivettcd 
 iil)0u her, listening to her IJiljle stories and devout 
 lessons, as he eagerly received them into his heart. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Yuiing Ulricli at Wescn— At Bale— At Berne— The Dominican Convent— 
 JcUer— The Apparitions- Tlie Passion of the Lay Brother— The Iinpos- 
 turo— Discovery and Punishment— Zwingle at Vienna— At Bile- Music 
 at ISAlc— Wittuuibach teaches the Gospel— Leon Juda- The Curate of 
 
 The good amnian was delighted with the happy pre- 
 sages in his son. He perceived that Ulrich would be 
 able to do something else than herd his cows on Mount 
 Sentis, singing the shepherd's song. One day he took 
 him by the hand and proceeded with him towards 
 AVeseu. He traversed the verdant ridges of the Ain- 
 mon, avoiding the wild and jjreeipitous rocks which 
 border the Lake of Walleustadt. On arriving at the 
 town, ho called upon his brother the dean, to whom he 
 entrusted the young mountaineer, in order that he might 
 ascertain what his talents were. The loading feature 
 in his character was an innate horror at falsehood, and 
 a great love of truth. He hiaiself relates that one day, 
 ■when he was beginning to reflect, the thought struck 
 him that falsehood should be punished more severely 
 than even theft ; " for," adds he, " veracity is the parent 
 of all the virtues." The deau soon loved his nephew 
 as if he had been his sou ; delighted with his sprightli- 
 ness, he entrusted his education to a schoolmaster, who 
 in a short time taught him all that he knew himself. 
 Young Uh'ich, when ten years of age, having given 
 inilications of a high order of intellect, his father and 
 his uncle resolved on sending him to Bale. 
 
 When the child of the Tockenburg arrived in this 
 celebrated city, with an integrity and purity of heart 
 which he seemed to have inhaled fi'om the pure air of 
 his mountains, but which came from a higher source, 
 a new world opened before him. The celebrity of the 
 famous Council of Bale ; the university which Pius II. 
 had founded in 14G0; the printing presses, which re- 
 vived the masterpieces of antiquity, and circulated 
 over the world the lirst fruits of the revival of letters ; 
 the residence of distinguished men, — the Wessels, the 
 AVittcmbachs, and, in particular, that prince of scholars 
 and luminaiy of the schools, Erasmus, rendered Bale, 
 at the period of the Reformation, one of the great foci 
 of light in the west. 
 
 Ulrich entered the school of St. Theodore, which was 
 taught by Gregory Binzli, a man of an affectionate and 
 gentle temper, — at this period rare among teachers. 
 Young Zwingle made rapid progress. The learned dis- 
 putes which were then fashionable among the doctors 
 of imiversities had even descended to the youth in 
 schools. Ulrich took part in them. He exercised his 
 growing strength against the chikh-en of other schools. 
 
 and was always victorious in tiiose struggles which 
 formed a kind of prelude to those by which the papacy 
 was to be overthrown in Switzerland. His success 
 excited the jealousy of rivals older than himself. The 
 school of Bale was soon outstripped by him, as tliat of 
 "Wesen had been. 
 
 Lupulus. a distinguished scholar, had just opened at 
 Urnic tlic lirst l(:u'neil school that was founded in 
 Swilzi tIuihI. 'JMu' bailiff of AVildhaus and the curate 
 of Wi'sc]! resolved to send their child thither; and 
 /winkle, iu 14'J7, quitting the smiling plains of Bale, 
 a^'aiii drew near to the high Alps, where he had spent 
 his childhood, and whose snowy tops, gilded with the 
 rays of the sun, he could see from Berne. Lupulus, a 
 distinguished poet, introduced his pupil to the sanctuary 
 of classic literature, — a sanctuary then unknown, only 
 a few of the initiated having passed the threshold. 
 The young neophyte ardently breathed an atmosphere 
 rich in the perfumes of antiquity. His intellect was 
 developed, and his style formed. He became a poet. 
 
 Among the convents of Berne, that of the Domini- 
 cans held a distinguished place. These monks were 
 engaged in a serious quarrel with the Franciscans. 
 The latter maintained the immaculate conception of the 
 virgin, while the former denied it. In every step the 
 Dominicans took, — before the rich altars which deco- 
 rated their church, and between the twelve pillars on 
 which its arches were supported, — they thought only of 
 humbling their rivals. They had observed the line 
 voice of Zwingle, and heard of his precocious intellect, 
 and thinking that he might throw lustre on their order, 
 strove to gain him. With this view they invited him 
 to remain in their convent till he shoidd make his 
 noviciate. The whole prospects of Zwingle were threat- 
 ened. The amman of Wildhaus having been informed 
 of the bait to which the Dominicans had had recourse, 
 trembled for the innocence of his son, and ordered him 
 forthwith to quit Berne. Zwingle thus escaped those 
 monastic enclosures into which Luther rushed volun- 
 tarily. What happened afterwards may enable us to 
 comprehend the imminent danger to which Zwingle 
 had been exposed. 
 
 In 1507, great excitement prevailed in the town of 
 Berne. A young man of Zurzach, named John Jetzer, 
 having one day presented himself at this same Domini- 
 can convent, had been repulsed. The poor youth, in 
 despair, had returned to the charge, holding in his hand 
 fifty-three florins and some pieces of silk. "It is all 
 I possess," said he ; " take it, and receive me into your 
 order." He was admitted on the Gth January among 
 the lay brothers. But the very first night a strange 
 noise in his cell filled him with terror. He fled to the 
 Carthusian convent, but was again sent back to that of 
 the Dominicans. 
 
 On the following night — being the eve of the feast 
 of St. Matthew — he was awoke by deep sighs, and per- 
 ceived at his bedside a tall phantom in white. "I 
 am," said a sepidcliral voice, " a soul escaped from the 
 fire of purgatory." The lay brother trembling, re- 
 plied : '• God save you ; for me, I can do nothing." 
 Then the spirit advanced towards the poor friar and, 
 seizing him by the throat, indignantly upbraided him 
 with his refusal. Jetzer, iu teiTor, exclaimed : " What, 
 then, can I do to save you ? " — " Flagellate yourself for 
 
HISTORY OP THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 eight days till the blood comes, and lie prostrate on the 
 pavement of the chapel of .St. John." So answered 
 the spirit, and disappeared. The lay brother gave in- 
 formation of the apparition to his confessor, a preacher 
 of llie convent, and by his advice submitted to the dis- 
 cipline required. The rumour soon spread throughout 
 the town that a soul had applied to the Dominicans to 
 be delivered from purgatory. The Franciscans were 
 deserted, aud every oue ran to the church to see the 
 holy man lying prostrate on the ground. The soul from 
 purgatory had intimated that he would reappear in 
 eight days. On the night appointed it, in fact, did 
 appear, accompanied by two other spu'its that were tor- 
 menting it, and howling horribly. "Scotus," said the 
 spirit, — " Scotus, the inventor of the Franciscan doc- 
 trine of the immaculate conception of the Virgin, is 
 among those who, like me, are suffering these fierce 
 pains." At this news, which soon spread over Berne, 
 the partisans of the Franciscans were still more alarmed. 
 The spirit, on disappearing, had announced a visit from 
 the Virgin herself. In fact, on the day appointed, the 
 a-stonished friar saw Mary herself appear in his cell. 
 He could not believe his eyes. She approached him 
 kindly, gave him three of our Saviour's tears, three 
 drops of His blood, a crucifix, and a letter addressed to 
 Pope Julius n., "who," said she, "was the individual 
 chosen by God to abolish the festival of her pretended 
 immaculate conception." Then, coming still closer to 
 tlic bed on whicli the friar lay, she announced, in a 
 solemn tone, that a great grace was to be conferred on 
 him, and drove a nail into his hand. The lay brother 
 uttered a loud shriek ; but Mary wrapt up his hand in 
 a piece of linen, whicli her Sou, she said, had worn 
 after His flight into Egypt. This wound was not suf- 
 ficient to make the glory of the Dominicans equal to 
 that of the Franciscans. Jetzer must have the five 
 wounds of Christ aud of St. Francis in his hands, feet, 
 aad side. The four others were inflicted, and theu, 
 after giviug him a draught, he was placed in a hall 
 Iiung with pictures representing our Saviour's passion. 
 Here, having spent whole days fasting, his imagination 
 soon became heated. The doors of the hall were then 
 thi'own o[)eu from time to time to the public, who came 
 iu crowds to contemplate, witli devout astonishment, 
 the friar with his five wouuds, stretching out his arms, 
 bending his head, aud by his positions and gestures 
 imitating the crucifixion of our Lord. Sometimes, out 
 of his wits, he foamed, and seemed about to breathe 
 his last. The wliisper went round : " He is endur- 
 ing the cross of Christ." The multitude, eager for 
 miracles, continually thronged the convent. Men 
 worthy of high esteem — among others Lupulus him- 
 self, the master of Zwingle — were overawed ; aud the 
 Dominicans, from the height of the pulpit, extolled 
 the glory which God was bestowing on their order. 
 
 This order had, for some years, felt the necessity of 
 humbling the Franciscans, and of augmenting the re- 
 spect and liberality of the people by means of miracles. 
 Berne, " a simple, rustic, and ignorant town," — as the 
 sub-prior of Berue described it to the chapter held at 
 Wirapfen on the Ncckar, — had been selected as the 
 theatre of their operations. The prior, sub-prior, 
 preacher, and purveyor of the convent, had undertaken 
 to perform the leading characters ; but they wanted the 
 
 talent necessary to perform them to the end. A new 
 apparition of Mary having taken place, Jetzer thought 
 he recognized the voice of his confessor; and having 
 said so aloud, Mary disappeared. She soon made her 
 appearance again, to censure the incredulous friar. 
 " This time it is the prior," exclaimed Jetzer, rushing 
 forward with a knife in his hand. The saintess threw 
 a pewter plate at the poor friar's head, and likewise 
 disappeared. 
 
 In consternation at the discovery which Jetzer had 
 thus made, the Dominicans tried to disencumber them- 
 selves of him by means of poison. He perceived it ; 
 and, having taken flight, disclosed the imposition. 
 They put on a good countenance, and sent deputies to 
 Rome. The pope committed the decision to his legate 
 iu Switzerland, and the bishops of Lausanne and Sion. 
 The four Dominicans being convicted, were condemned 
 to be burnt alive ; and ou the 1st May, 1509, were cou- 
 suracd by the flames, in presence of more than thirty 
 thousand spectators. The affau' made a noise through- 
 out Europe ; aud by uuveiliug one of the worst sores 
 of the Church, prepared the Reformation. 
 
 Such were the meu into whose hands Ulrich Zwingle 
 had nearly fallen. He had studied literature at Berue ; 
 he behoved now to devote himself to philosophy, and 
 with this view repaired to Vienna. A youth from St. 
 Gall, named Joachim Vadian, whose genius gave pro- 
 mise to Switzerland of a distinguished scholar and a 
 statesman ; Henri Loreti, of the canton of Glaris, com- 
 monly called Glarean, and apparently destined to shine 
 among poets ; John Ileigerlin, son of a forgemaster, 
 and hence suruamed Faber, of a versatile temper, f oud 
 of honour and glory, possessing all the quahties indica- 
 tive of a coiu'tier, — such were Ulrich's fellow-students 
 and comj^anions in the capital of Austria. 
 
 Zwingle returned to Wildhaus in 1502 ; but ou re- 
 visiting his mountains he felt that he had drunk of the 
 cup of science, and could no longer live amid the songs 
 of his brothers and the bleating of theu- flocks. He 
 was eighteen years of age, and repaired to Bale to 
 engage again in literary pm-suits ; and thus, at ouce 
 master and pupil, he taught at the school of St. Martin, 
 aud studied at the university; from this time he was able 
 to dispense with assistance fi-om his father. Shortly 
 after, he took the degree of Master of Arts. An Alsa- 
 tian, named Capito, nine years older than he, was one 
 of his best friends. 
 
 Zwingle devoted himself to the study of scholastic 
 theology; for, being called one day to combat its 
 sophisms, he behoved to explore its obscure labyrinth. 
 But the light-hearted student of the mouutaius of 
 Sentis was often seeu suddenly to shake off tlie dust of 
 the school, and, substituting amusement for his philo- 
 sophic toils, seize the lute, or the harp, or the violiu, 
 or the flute, or the tympanon, or the cornet, or the hunt- 
 ing horn, extract joyous sounds from these instruments 
 as iu the praii-ies of Lisigliaus, aud make his lodgings, 
 or the dwellings of his friends, re-echo with the airs of 
 his country, accompanying them with his voice. In 
 regard to music, he was a true child of the Tocken- 
 burg, superior to all. In addition to the instruments 
 we have already named, he played several others. An 
 enthusiast in the art, he diffused a taste for it in the 
 university, — not from any desu-e of dissipation, but be- 
 
WITTEMBACH— LEO JUDA— ZWINGLE— SCHINNER. 
 
 cause he loved tlius to relax his mind when fatigued by 
 serious study, and fit liinisclf for returning with greater 
 zeal to dilhcult labours. Koiie hud a gayer humour, a 
 more amiable disposition, or more engaging converea- 
 tion. lie was a vigorous Alpine tree, which developed 
 itself in all its gracefulness and strength, and which, 
 never having been pruned, threw out strong branches 
 in all dh-ections. The time was coming when these 
 branches would turn vigorously in the directiou of 
 heaven. 
 
 After he had forced an entrance into scholastic theo- 
 logy', he left its arid tracts fatigued and disgusted, 
 having found uothing in it but confused ideas, vain 
 babbling, vain glory, barbarism, and not one sound 
 idea of doctrine. '' It is only a loss of time," said he, 
 and waited for something better. 
 
 At this time (Xovember, 1505) arrived at B;'do 
 Thomas "Wittembach, son of a burgomaster of Bicnne. 
 Wittembach Iiad, till then, taught at Tubingen, side by 
 side with Reuclilin. lie was in the vigour of life, sin- 
 cere, pious, skilled in the liberal arts, and mathematics, 
 and well acHpuiiiited with the Holy Scriptures. Zwiuglo 
 and all the academic youth immediately flocked around 
 him. A spirit hitherto unknown animated his lectures, 
 and proplictic words escaped from his lips : " The time 
 is not distant," said he, " when scholastic theology will 
 be abolished, and the ancient doctrine of the Church 
 restored." " The death of Christ," added he, " is the 
 only ransom of our souls." The heart of Zwingle 
 eagerly received these seeds of life. At this period 
 classical studies began everyn'here to supplant the 
 scholastics of the Middle Ages. Zwingle, like his pre- 
 ceptors and friends, tlirew himself into this new course. 
 
 Among the students who followed the lessons of the 
 new teacher with the greatest enthusiasm was a young 
 man of twenty-tliree, of small stature, and a feeble 
 sickly appearance, but whose eye bespoke at once 
 gentleness and intrepidity. This was Leo Juda, son 
 of an Alsatian curate, and whose uncle had fallen at 
 Ivhodos, llgliting in defence of Christendom, under the 
 standard of the Teutonic knights. Leo and Ulrich 
 were on intimate terms. Leo played the tympanon, 
 and had a very fine voice. The joyous melodies of the 
 young friends of the arts were often heard in his lodg- 
 ings. Leo Juda, at a later period, became the colleague 
 of Zwingle, and even death could not destroy their 
 sacred friendship. 
 
 At this time the office of pastor of Glaris having be- 
 come vacant, Henri Goldli, a young courtier of the pope, 
 and gi-oom of the stable to his hoUness, obtained the 
 appointment from his master, and hastened with it to 
 Glaris. But the Glarian shepherds, proud of the anti- 
 quity of then* race, and of their battles for freedom, 
 Avere not disposed to bow implicitly to a piece of parch- 
 ment from Kome. Wildhaus is not far from Glaris ; 
 and Wesen, where Zivingle's uncle was curate, is the 
 place where the market of the district is held. The 
 reputation of the young master of arts of B;"de had 
 penetrated even into these mountains ; and the Glariaus, 
 wishing to have him for their priest, gave him a call in 
 1506. Zwingle having been ordained at Constance by 
 the bishop, preached his first sermon at Kapperswil, 
 read his first mass at AVildhaus on St. Michael's day, 
 in presence of all his relations and the friends of his 
 
 family, and towards 
 Glaris. 
 
 close of the year arrived at 
 
 CHAPTER HL 
 
 Love of War— Schlnnor— Pension from tlio Pope— The LabjTinth— Zwingle 
 in lUIy — Principle of Reform — Zwingle and Luther — Zwingle and 
 Erasmus— Zwingle and the Elders— Palis and Glaris. 
 
 Z^viNGLE immediately engaged in the zealous discharge 
 of the work which his vast parish imposed upon him. 
 Still he was only twenty-two j'cars of age, and often 
 allowed himself to be carried away by the dissipation 
 and lax ideas of his age. A priest of Rome, he was 
 like tiie other priests around him. But even at this 
 period, thougli tlie evangelical doctrine had not 
 changed his heart, Zwingle did not give way to those 
 scandals which frequently afflicted the Church. He 
 always felt the need of subjecting his passions to the 
 holy ride of the Gospel. 
 
 A love of war at this time inflamed the quiet valleys 
 of Glaris, where there were families of heroes, — tlic 
 Tschudis, the "Walas, the JEblis, whose blood had 
 flowed on the field of battle. The youth listened with 
 eagerness to the old wai-riors when they told them of 
 the wars of Burgundy and Swabia, of the battles of 
 St. James and Ragaz. But, alas! it was no longer 
 against the enemies of their liberties that these warlike 
 shepherds took up arms. They were seen, at the 
 bidding of the kings of France, of the emperor, the 
 dukes of Milan, or the holy father himself, descending 
 from the Alps like an avalanche, and rushing with the 
 noise of thunder against the troops drawn up in the 
 plain. 
 
 A poor boy, named Matthew Schinner, who was at 
 the school of Sion, in the Valais, (it was toward the 
 middle of the latter half of the fifteenth centui-}',) 
 singing before the houses, — as young Martin Luther 
 shortly after did, — heard himself called by an old man, 
 who, being struck with the frankness with which the 
 child answered his questions, said to him, with that 
 prophetic spirit with which man is said to be some- 
 times endowed when on the brink of the grave : " Thou 
 art to be a bishop and a prince." The expression sunk 
 deep into the young mendicant, and from that moment 
 boundless ambition took possession of his heart. At 
 Zm'ich and Conio, the progress he made astonished 
 his masters. Having become curate of a small parish 
 in Valais, he rose rapidly; and being sent, at a later 
 period, to ask from the pope the confirmation of a 
 bishop of Sion, who had just been elected, he obtained 
 the bishopric for himself, and girt his brow with the 
 episcopal mitre. This man, ambitious and crafty, but 
 often noble and generous, always considered any dignity 
 bestowed upon him as only a step destined to raise 
 him to some still higher dignity. Having offered his 
 services to Louis XH., and named his price, " It is too 
 much for one man," said the king. '• I will shew him," 
 replied the Bishop of Sion, offended, " that I am a man 
 worth several men." In fact, he tm-ned towards Pope 
 Julius U., who gladly received him ; and Schinner 
 succeeded, in 1510, in linking the whole Swiss con- 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 federation to the policy of this ambitious pontiff. The 
 bishop having been rewarded with a cardinal's hat, 
 smiled when he saw that there was now only one step 
 between him and the papal throne. 
 
 LAUSANNE CATHEDRAL 
 
 Schinner's eye was continually turned to the cantons 
 of .Switzerland, and as soon as he theie disceiucd any 
 man of influence, he hastened to attach him to himself. 
 The pastor of Glaris drew his attention, and Zwingle 
 soon received intimation that the pope had granted 
 him an annual pension of fifty florins, to encourage 
 him in the cultivation of letters. His poverty did not 
 allow him to purchase books ; and the money, during 
 the short time that Ulrich received it, was devoted to 
 the purchase of classical or theological works, which 
 he procured from Bale. Zwingle was now connected 
 with the cardinal, and accordingly joined the Roman 
 party. Schinner and Julius II. at last disclosed the 
 end which they had in view in these intrigues. Eight 
 thousand Swiss, mustered by the eloquence of the 
 cardinal-archbishop, passed the Alps; but famine, 
 war, and French gold, obliged them to return to their 
 mountains without glory. They brought back the 
 iisnal results of these foreign wars, — distrust, licen- 
 tiousness, party spirit, all sorts of violence and disorder. 
 Citizens refused to obey their magistrates, and children 
 their parents ; agriculture and the care of their flocks 
 were neglected ; luxury and mendicity kept pace with 
 each other; the most sacred ties were broken; and 
 the confederation seemed on the point of being dis- 
 solved. 
 
 The eyes of the young curate of Glaris were now 
 opened, and his indignation aroused. He raised his 
 voice aloud, to warn them of the abyss into which they 
 were about to fall. In 1510, he published his poem, 
 entitled "The Labyrinth." Behind the windings of 
 this mysterious garden, IMinos has hidden the Mino- 
 taur, that monster, half -man half-buU, whom he feeds 
 on the flesh of young Athenians. "The Minotaur, 
 . . in other words," says Zwingle, "sin, vice, 
 
 irreligion, and the foreign servico of the Swiss," devour 
 the sons of his countrymen. 
 
 Theseus, a man of courage, wishes to deliver his 
 country ; but numerous obstacles arrest him : — first, a 
 lion with one eye ; this is Spain and Ajrragon ; — then 
 a crowned eagle, whose throat is opened to devour it ; 
 this is the empire ; — then a cock, with his comb up, 
 and calling for battle ; this is France. The hero sur- 
 mounts aU these obstacles, gets up to the monster, 
 stabs it, and saves his country. 
 
 "So now," exclaims the poet, "men wander in a 
 labyrinth ; but having no thread to guide them, they 
 cannot regain the light. Nowhere is there any imi- 
 tation of Jesus Christ. A little glory makes us hazard 
 our life, torment our neighbour, rush into strife, war, 
 and combat. . . . One would say that the fm'ies 
 have escaped from the depths of hell." 
 
 A Theseus — a reformer, was required. Zwingle per- 
 ceived this, and thenceforth had a presentiment of his 
 mission. Not long after, he composed an allegory with ' 
 a still clearer application. 
 
 In April, 1512, the coufeduratcs arose anew at the 
 bidding of the cardinal, for the deliverance of the 
 Church. Glaris was in the foremost rank. The whole 
 popidation was brought into the field, ranged round 
 their banner with their laudaman and their pastor. 
 Zwingle behoved to march. The army passed the 
 Alps; and the cardinal appeared amidst the con- 
 federates with the presents given him by the pope, — 
 a ducal hat adorned with pearls and gold, and sur- 
 mounted by the Holy Spirit, represented under the 
 form of a dove. The Swiss escaladed the fortresses 
 and towns, svi^am rivers in the presence of the enemy, 
 unclothed, and with halberds in their hands; the 
 French were everywhere put to flight; bells and 
 trumpets resounded, and the population flocked from 
 all quarters ; the nobles supplied the army with wine 
 and fruits in abundance ; the monks and priests 
 mounted on platforms, and proclauued, that the con- 
 
ZWINGLE AND LUTHER. 
 
 221 
 
 federates were the people of God, taking vengeance on 
 the enemies of the Lord's spouse ; and the pope be- 
 coming prophet, like Caiaphas of old, gave tlio con- 
 federates the title of " Defenders of the Liberty of the 
 Church." 
 
 This sojourn of Zwinglc in Italy was not without its 
 effect in roferonco to his vocation of rofornier. On 
 ids return from this campaign he began to study 
 Greek, "in order," says he, "to be able to draw the 
 doctrine of Jesus Christ from the very fountain of 
 truth." Writing to Vadian, 23rd February, 1513, he 
 says : " I have resolved so to apply myself to tlie study 
 of Greek, that none will be able to turn me from it 
 but God. I do it not for fame, but from love to sacred 
 literature." At a later period, a wortliy priest, who 
 had been his school companion, liaving come to pay 
 him a visit, said to him : '• Master Ulricli, I am assured 
 that you are tainted with the new heresy — that you are 
 a Lutheran." " I am not a Lutheran," said Zwinglo, 
 "for I knew Greek before I heard of the name of 
 Luther." To know Greek, to study the Gospel in the 
 original tongue, was, according to Zwingle, the basis 
 of the Refoi-mation. 
 
 Zwingle did more than recognise, at this early period, 
 the great principle of evangelical Christianity — the 
 infallible authority of the Holy Scriptures. Besides 
 tliis, he understood how the meaning of the Divine 
 AV^ord ought to be ascertained. "Tliose," said he, 
 " have a very grovelling idea of the Scriptures, who 
 regard whatever seems to them at variance with their 
 own reason as frivolous, vain, and unjust. Men have 
 no right to bind the Gospel at pleasure to their own 
 sense and their own interpretation." " Zwingle raised 
 his eye to lieavon," said liis dearest friend, " unwilling 
 to have any other interpreter tlian the Holy Spirit 
 himself." 
 
 vSuch, from the commencement of his career, was 
 the man whom some have not scrupled to represent as 
 having wished to subject the Bible to human reason. 
 "Philosophy and theology," said he, "cease not to 
 raise up objections against me. I, at length, arrived 
 at this conclusion : ' We must leave all these things, 
 and seek our knowledge of God only in His Word.' 
 I began," continues he, " earnestly to supplicate the 
 Lord to give me His light ; and though I read only the 
 text of Scripture, it became far clearer to me than if I 
 had read a host of commentators." Comparing the 
 Scriptures with themselves, and explaining passages that 
 were obscure by such as were more clear, he soon had 
 a thorough knowledge of the Bible, especially the New 
 Testament. AVlieu Zwingle thus turned toward the 
 Holy Scriptures, Switzerland took her first step in the 
 RefoiTnation. Accordingl}', when he expounded the 
 Scriptures, e\ery one felt that his lessons came from 
 God, and not from man. " Work all divine ! " here 
 exclaims Oswald Myconius ; " thus was the knowledge 
 of heavenly truth restored to us ! " 
 
 Zwingle did not, however, despise the expositions of 
 the most celebrated doctors. At a later period he 
 studied Origen, Ambrose, Jerome, Augustine, Chry- 
 sostom ; but not as authorities. " I study the doctors," 
 says he, " with the same feelings with which one asks 
 a friend, 'What do you undei-stand by this?'" The 
 Holy Scripture was, according to him, the touchstone 
 
 by which the most holy of the doctors were themselves 
 to be tested. 
 
 Zwingle's step was slow, but progressive. Ho did 
 not come to the truth, like Luther, amid those tempests 
 which compel the soul to seek a speedy shelter. He 
 arrived at it by the peaceful influence of Scripture, 
 whose power gradually gains upon tlie heart. Luther 
 reached the wished-for shore across the billows of tlie 
 boundless deep ; Zwingle, by allowing himself to glide 
 along the stream. These are the two principal ways 
 by which God leads men. Zwingle was not fully con- 
 verted to God and His Gospel till the tirst period of 
 his sojourn at Zurich; yet, in 1511 or 1515, at the 
 moment when the strouL' iniin b< l'iiii to bend the knee 
 to God, praying for tlir uml. i-i;iiiiiiiig of His Word, 
 the rays of that pure liulil l>y \\lii(li ho was afterwards 
 illumined first began to gleaiu uiion him. 
 
 At this period a poem of Erasmus, iu which Jesus 
 Christ Wiis introduced addressing man as perishing by 
 his own fault, made a powerful impression on Zwingle. 
 When alone in his study, he repoatod the passage in 
 which Jesus complains that all grace is not sought 
 from Him, though He is the source of all that is good. 
 "All!" said Zwingle, "all!" And this word was 
 incessantly present to his mind. "Are there, then, 
 creatures, saints, from whom we ought to ask assist- 
 ance? No! Clirist is our only treasure." 
 
 Zwingle did not confine his reading to Christian 
 wi-itings. One of the distinguishing characteristics of 
 the sixteenth century, is the profound study of the 
 Greek and Eoman authors. The poetry of Hesiod, 
 Homer, Pindar, enraptured him ; and he has left us 
 commentaries, or characteristics, on the two last poets. 
 It seemed to him that Pindar spoke of his gods in such 
 sublime strains, that he must have had some presenti- 
 ment of the true God. He studied Cicero and Demos- 
 thenes thoroughly, and learned from them both the art 
 
222 
 
 HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of the orator aud the duties of the citizen. He called 
 Seneca a holy man. The Swiss mountaineer loved also 
 to initiate himself in the mysteries of nature, through 
 the writiugs of Pliny. Thucydides, Sallust, Livy, 
 Cresar, Suetonius, Plutarch, aud Tacitus, taught him 
 to know the world. He has been censured for his en- 
 thusiastic admimtion of the great men of antiquity, and 
 it is true that some of his observations on this subject 
 cannot bo defended. But if he honoured them so much, 
 it was because he thought ho saw in them not human 
 virtues, but the influence of the Holy Spirit. The 
 agency of God, far from confining itself to ancient 
 times within the limits of Palestine, extended, accord- 
 ing to him, to the whole world. "Plato," said he, 
 '• has also drunk at the Divine source. And if the 
 two Catos, if Camillus, if Scipio, had not been truly 
 religious, would they have been so magnanimous ? " 
 
 Zwingle diffused around him a love of letters. Seve- 
 ral choice youths were trained in his school. " You 
 offered me not only books, but also yourself," wrote 
 Valentino Tschudi, sou of one of the heroes of the wars 
 of Burgundy; and this young man, who at that time 
 had already studied at Vienna and Bale, under the 
 most celebrated teachers, adds : " I have never met 
 with any one who explained the Classics with so much 
 precision and profundity as yourself." Tschudi re- 
 paired to Paris, and was able to compare the spirit 
 which prevailed in that university with that which he 
 had found in the narrow Alpine valley, over which 
 impend the gigantic peaks and eternal snows of the 
 Dodi, the Glaruisch, the Viggis, and the Freyberg. 
 "How frivolously," says he, "the Froncli youth are 
 educated! No poison is so bad as (Ih- >o|.lii,-tir:il art 
 in which they are trained, — an art whirh >iii|.iiir^ the 
 senses, destroys the judgment, brutilics iIkj -whole num. 
 Man is thenceforth, like the echo, an empty sound. 
 Ten women coidd not keep pace with one of these 
 rhetoricians. In their prayers even they present their 
 sophisms to God, (I know the fact,) and pretend, by 
 their syllogisms, to constrain the Holy Spirit to hear 
 them." Such, then, were Paris aud Glaris, — the in- 
 tellectual metropolis of Christendom, and a village of 
 Alpine shepherds. A ray of tlie Divine Word gives 
 more light than all himian wisdom. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Zwingle in regard to Erasmus— Oswald Myoonius— The Vagrants— CEcolam- 
 liadius— Zwingle at Marignan— Zwingle and Italy— Method of Zwingle— 
 Conimeucemeut of Reform — Discovery, 
 
 A GHEAT man of this age, Erasmus, had much influence 
 on Zwingle, who, as soon as any of his writings ap- 
 peared, lost no time in procviring it. In 1514, Eras- 
 mus had arrived at Bille, and been received by the 
 bishop with marks of high esteem. All the friends of 
 letters had immediately grouped around him. But the 
 monarch of the schools had no difficulty in singling out 
 him who Avas to be the glory of Switzerland. " I con- 
 gratulate the Swiss nation," wrote he to Zwingle, 
 
 " that by yoiu' studies and your manners, both alike 
 excellent, yoxi labour to polish and elevate them." 
 Zwingle had a most ardent desire to see him. " Spani- 
 ards and Gauls went to Rome to see Titus Livy," said 
 he. He set out, and on arriving at Bale, found a per- 
 sonage of about forty years of age, of small stature, a 
 frail body, a delicate look, but a remarkably amiable 
 aud winning address. It was Erasmus. His affability 
 removed the timidity of Zwingle, while the power of 
 his intellect overawed him. "Poor," said Illrich to 
 him, " as iEschines, when each of the scholars of 
 Socrates offered a present to his master, I give you 
 what iEschines gave — I give you myself." 
 
 Among the literary men who formed the coiu-t of 
 Erasmus — the Amerbachs, the Rhenaus, the Frobe- 
 niuses, the Nessens, the Glareans — Zwingle observed 
 a youth from Lucerne, of twenty-seven years of age, 
 named Oswald Geisshiisler. Erasmus, hellonizing his 
 name, had called him Myconius. We will often desig- 
 nate him by his surname, to distinguish the friend of 
 Zwingle from Frederick Myconius, the disciple of 
 Luther. Oswald, after studj-ing first at Rothwyl with 
 Berthold Haller, a young man of his own age, next 
 at Berne, and lastly at Bide, had, in this last town, been 
 appointed rector of the school of St. Theodoret, aud 
 afterwards of that of St. Peter. The humble school- 
 master had a very limited income ; but, notwithstand- 
 ing, had married a young girl of a simplicity and purity 
 of soul which won all hearts. We have already seen 
 that Switzerland was then in a troubled state, foreign 
 wars having stirred up violent disorders, and the sol- 
 diers having brought back to their country licentious- 
 ness and brutality. One dark and cloudy winter day 
 some of these rude men, in Oswald's absence, attacked 
 his quiet dwelling. They knocked at the door, threw 
 stones, and applied the grossest expressions to his 
 modest spouse. At last they bm-st open the windows, 
 and having forced their way into the school aud broken 
 everything to pieces, made off. Oswald arrived shortly 
 after. His little boy, Felix, ran out to meet him cry- 
 ing, while his wife, unable to speak, shewed signs 
 of the greatest terror. He understood what had hap- 
 pened, and at that moment, hearing a noise in the 
 street, unable to restrain himself, he seized a musket, 
 aud pursued the villains as far as the burying-ground. 
 They retreated, intending to defend themselves. Three 
 of them rushed upon Myconius aud wounded him ; 
 and while his wound was being dressed, these 
 wretches again attacked his house, uttering cries of 
 fury. Oswald says no more of the matter. Such 
 scenes frequently occurred in Switzerland at the begin- 
 ning of the sixteenth centur}', before the Reformation 
 had softened and disciplined manners. 
 
 The integrity of Oswald Myconius, his thirst for 
 science and virtue, brought him into connection with 
 Zwingle. The rector of the school of B;lle was aUvc 
 to all that was grand in the curate of Glaris. Full of 
 humility, he shunned the praises bestowed upon him 
 by Zwingle and Erasmus. " You schoolmasters," often 
 said the" latter, "I esteem as highly as I do kings." 
 But the modest Myconius did not think so. " I only 
 crawl along the ground," said he. "From infancy I 
 had always a feeling of littleness and humility." 
 
 A preacher who had arrived at Bale about the same 
 
ZWINGLE AT l^IAEIGNAN. 
 
 time as ZwiiiD;lc was attracting attention. Of a mild 
 and pacific disposition, ho led a tranquil life; slow and 
 cirenmspcct in coiidiict, liis cliii^f pleasure was to labour 
 in his study, and ])roduce concord nnioinr Christians, 
 lie was named John Ilaussdiein, in Greel<, 0'>()lam- 
 padius, — that is, "liarht of the liuuso," — and was born 
 of wealthy parents in Franconia, a year before Zwingle. 
 His pious mother longed to consecrate to literature and 
 to God tlic old child whom He had left her. The 
 father intended liini first for a mercantile life, then 
 for law. 15ut as (lilcolampadius was returning from 
 Bologna, where he had been studying law, the Lord, 
 ■who designed to make him a lamp in the Church, 
 called him to tlie study of theology. He was preaching 
 in his native town when Cupito, who had known him 
 at Heidelberg, procured liis appointment as preacher at 
 Bfdc. There ho proclaimed Christ with an eloquence 
 which filled his hearers with admiration. Erasmus 
 admitted him to his intimacy. G^colamj)adius was en- 
 raptured with the hours which he spent in the society 
 of this great genius. "In the Holy Scriptures," said 
 the prince of literature, " one thing only ought to be 
 souglit, — viz., Jesus Christ." As a memento of his 
 friendship, he gave the young preacher the commence- 
 ment of John's Gospel. Q^colampadius often kissed 
 this ])recious pledge of affection, and kept it suspended 
 to liis crucilix. '• in order," said he, " that I may always 
 remeniber ICrasnius in my prayers." 
 
 Zwingle returned to his mountains, his mind and 
 heart full of all that he had seen and heard at Bale. 
 " 1 could not sleep," wrote he to Erasmus, shortly after 
 his return, "if I had not convei'sed for some time with 
 you. There is nothing of which I boast so much as of 
 having seen Erasmus. Zwingle had received a new 
 impidsc. Such journeys often exercise a great influ- 
 ence over the career of the Christian. The discijjles 
 of Zwingle — Valentin, Jost, Louis Peter, and vEgidius 
 Tschudi ; his friends — the landamman ^Ebli, the curate 
 Binzli of Wesen, Fridolia Brunnen, and the celebrated 
 professor Glareau — saw, with admiration, how he grew 
 in wsdom and knowledge. The old honoured him as a 
 courageous servant of his country, and faithfiU pastors 
 honoured him as a faitliful scr\ ant of the Lord. No- 
 thing was done in the district without taking his advice. 
 All the good hoped that he would one day restore the 
 ancient virtue of the Swiss. 
 
 Francis I. having mounted the throne, and being 
 desirous to vindicate the honour of the French name 
 in Italy, the jiope, in alarm, labom-ed to gain the can- 
 tons. Accordingly, in 1515, Ulrich revisited the plains 
 of Italy amid the phalanxes of his fellow-citizens. But 
 the division which French intrigues produced in the 
 army stung him to the heart. He was often seen in 
 the middle of the camp energetically, and at the same 
 time wisely, haranguing his hearers in full armour 
 ready for battle. On the 8th September, live days be- 
 fore the battle of Marignan, he preached in the public 
 square of Monza, where the Swiss soldiers who re- 
 mained true to their colours had reassembled. " Had 
 the counsels of Zwingle been followed then and after- 
 wards," says Werner Steiner of Zug, " what evils would 
 not our country have been saved ! " But all ears were 
 shut to words of concord, prudence, and submission. 
 The vehement eloquence of Cardinal Schinner electri- 
 
 fied the confederates, and hurried them impetuously to 
 the fatal field of Mai-iguan. There fell the flower of 
 the Helvetic youth. Zwingle, who had l)een unable 
 to prevent all these disasters, threw himself, for the 
 cause of Rome, into the midst of danger. His hand 
 seized the sword. Sad error of Zwingle ! A minister 
 of Christ, he more than once forgot that it was his 
 duty to fight only with spiritual weapons ; and he was 
 to see in his own person a striking fulfilment of our 
 Saviour's prophecy: He tvho takes t/te sicord skull jxrish 
 hi) the sword. 
 
 Zwingle and his Swiss had been unable to save 
 Rome. The ambassador of Venice was the first in the 
 pontifical city who received news of the defeat at 
 Marignan. lielighted, he repaired at an early hour to 
 the Vatican. The pope came out of his apartment 
 half-dressed to give him an .audience. Leo X., on 
 learning the news, did not disguise his terror. At this 
 moment of alarm he saw only Francis I., and hoped 
 only in him. " Ambassador," said he, trembling, to 
 Zorsi, " we must throw ourselves into the arms of the 
 king, and cry for mercy." Luther and Zwingle, in their 
 danger, knew another arm, and invoked another merev. 
 
 This second sojourn in Italy was not without use to 
 Zwingle. He observed the differences between the 
 Ambrosian ritual used at Milan and that of Rome. 
 He collected and compared together the most ancient 
 canons of the mass. In this way a spirit of inquiry 
 was developed in him even amid the tumult of camps. 
 At the same time the sight of his countrjnnen led av>-ay 
 beyond the Alps, and given up, like cattle, to the slaugh- 
 ter, filled him with indignation. " The flesh of the con- 
 federates," it was said, "is cheaper than that of their 
 oxen and their calves." The disloyalty and ambition 
 of the pope, the avarice and ignorance of the priests, 
 the licentiousness and dissipation of the monks, the 
 pride and luxury of prelates, the corruption and venality 
 employed on all hands to win the Swiss, being forced 
 on his view more strongly than ever, made him still 
 more alive to the necessity of a reform in the Church. 
 
 From this time Zwingle preached the Word of God 
 more clearly. In explaining the portions of the Gospel 
 and epistles selected for public worship, he alwavs 
 compared Scripture with Scripture. He spoke with 
 animation and force, and followed with his hearers 
 the same course which God was following with him. 
 He did not, like Luther, proclaim the sores of the 
 Church ; but as often as the study of the Bible sug- 
 gested some useful instruction to himself, he communi- 
 cated it to his hearers. He tried to make them receive 
 the truth into their hearts, and then trusted to it for 
 the works which it behoved to produce. " If they 
 understand what is true," thought he, " they will 
 discern what is false." This maxim is good at the 
 commencement of a reformation ; but a time comes 
 when error must be boldly stigmatized. This Zwingle 
 knew very well. "The spring," said he, "is the 
 season to sow ; " and with him it w'as now spring. 
 
 Zwingle has marked out this period (151G) as the 
 commencement of the Smss Reformation. In fact if, 
 foiu- years before, he had bent his head over the AVord 
 of God, he now raised it, and turned it towards his 
 people, to make them share in the light which he had 
 found. This forms a new and important epoch in the 
 
224 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 history of the development of the religious revolution 
 of tliose countries; but it has been erroneously con- 
 cluded from these dates, that the Reformation of 
 Zwiugle preceded that of Luther. It may be that 
 Zwingle preached the Gospel a year before Luther's 
 theses ; but Luther himself preached it four years 
 before these famous propositions. Had Luther and 
 Zwingle contined themselves merely to sermons, the 
 Reformation would not have so quickly gained ground 
 in the Church. Neither Luther nor Zwingle wa.s the 
 first monk or the first priest who jireached a purer 
 doctrine than that of the schoolmen. But Luther was 
 the first who publicly, and with indomitable courage, 
 raised the standard of truth against the empire of 
 error ; called general attention to the fundamental doc- 
 trine of the Gospel — salvation by grace ; introduced his 
 age to that new career of knowledge, faith, and life, 
 out of which a new world has arisen ; in a word, be- 
 gan a true and salutary revolution. The gi-eat struggle, 
 of which the theses of 1517 were the signal, was truly 
 the birth-throe of the Reformation, giving it at once 
 bot)i a body and a soul. Lutiier was the first 
 reformer. 
 
 (ECOLAMPADIUS. 
 
 A spirit of inquiry began to breathe on the moun- 
 tains of Switzerland. One day the curate of Glaris, 
 happening to be in the smiling district of Mollis, with 
 Adam, its curate, Bunzli, curate of Wesen, and Vara- 
 chon, curate of Kerensen, these friends discovered an 
 old liturgy, in which they read these words : " After 
 baptising the child, we give him the sacrament of 
 the Eucharist and the cup of blood." "Then," said 
 Zwiugle, "the supper was at that period dispensed 
 in our churches under the two kinds." The liturgy 
 was about two hundred years old. This was a great 
 discovery for these priests of the Alps. 
 
 The defeat at Mariguan had important results in the 
 interior of the cantons. The conqueror, Francis L, 
 
 lavished gold and flattery, in order to gain the con- 
 federates ; while the emperor besought them by their 
 honour, by the tears of widows and orphans, and the 
 blood of their brethren, not to sell themselves to their 
 murderers. The French party gained the ascendancy 
 at Glaris, which, from that time, was an uncomfortable 
 residence to Ulrich. 
 
 Zwingle, at Glaris, might perhaps have remained a 
 man of the world. Party intrigues, political questions, 
 the empire, France, or the Duke of Milan, might have 
 absorbed his whole life. Those whom God means to 
 prepare for great services, He never leaves amid the 
 turmoil of the world. He leads them apart, and places 
 them in a retreat where they commune with Him and 
 their own consciences, and receive lessons never to be 
 effaced. The Son of God himself, who in this was a 
 type of the training given to His servants, spent forty 
 days in the desert. It was time to remove Zwingle 
 from political movements, which, continually pressing 
 upon his thoughts, might have banished the Spirit of 
 God from them. It was time to train him for another 
 stage than that on which courtiers, cabinets, and 
 parties move, and where he should liave wasted powers 
 worthy of nobler employment. His country, indeed, 
 needed something else. It was necessary that a new 
 life should now come down from heaven, aud that he 
 who was to be the instrument in communicating it, 
 should unlearn worldly things, in order to learn things 
 above. The two spheres are entu-ely distinct ; a wide 
 space separates these two worlds ; and before passing 
 entirely from the one to the other, Zwingle was to 
 sojourn for a time on neutral ground, in a kind of 
 intermediate and preparatory state, to be there taught 
 of God. God, accordingly, took him away from the 
 factions of Glaris, and, with a view to this noviciate, 
 placed him in the solitude of a hermitage — confining 
 within the narrow walls of aj abbey this noble germ 
 of the Reformation, which was shortly after to be 
 transplanted to a better soil, and cover the mountains 
 with its shadow. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 lleinrad of Holienzullem-Our Laily of EinsiiUen— Calling of Zwingle— The 
 Abbot— Geroldsek— Companionship in Study— The Bible Copied— 
 Zwingle and Superstition — First Opposition to Error- Sensation — 
 Hedio— Zwingle and the Legates— The Honours of Rome— The Bishop 
 of Constance— Samson and Indulgences— Stapfcr—Chai-ity of Zwingle 
 — His Friends. 
 
 Meinrad of Hohenzollern, a German monk, about the 
 middle of the ninth century, wandering on till he came 
 between the lakes of Zurich and Wallenstadt, had 
 stopped upon a hill, resting on an amphitheatre of firs, 
 and there built a cell. Banditti imbrued their hands 
 in the blood of the saint. Tlie bloody cell was long 
 deserted ; but towards the end of the tenth century, a 
 convent and a church, in honour of the Virgin, were 
 erected on the sacred spot. On the eve of the day of 
 consecration, when the Bishop of Constance aud his 
 priests were at prayers in the church, a celestial chant, 
 proceeding from invisible voices, suddenly echoed 
 
ZWINGLE'S CALL TO EINSIDLBN. 
 
 through the cliapol. They prostrated tliemselves and 
 listened in amaze. The next day, when the bisliop 
 was going to consecrate tiie chapel, a voice repeated 
 thrice : " Stop, brotlier, stop ! God liimself has conse- 
 crated it!" It was said that Christ in person had 
 blessed it during the night ; that the chant which they 
 had heard proceeded from angels, apostles, and saints ; 
 and that the Virgin, standing upon the altar, had 
 blazed forth like a flash of lightning. A bull of Tope 
 Leo VII. forbade the faithful to question the truth of 
 this legend. Thenceforward an immense crowd of 
 pilgrims ceased not to repair to Our Lady of the Ere- 
 mites to " the Consecration of Angels." Delphi and 
 Ephesus in ancient, and Loretto in modern times, 
 alone have c([u:illcil the fame of Einsidlen. It was in 
 this strange place that, in 1.516, Ulrich Zwingle was 
 called as priest and juvacher. 
 
 Zwin~lc lu M- 
 tated not ' >n i 
 tlier ambition imi 
 avarice take^ im 
 there," s ud lit , 
 "but the intiigiie> 
 of the IiLiuh 
 Higher motiM 
 determined him 
 On the one hand 
 having moie ^oli 
 tude, moie cilm- 
 ness, and a k^a 
 extensi\ e parish, 
 he could dL\ote 
 more time to study 
 and meditation , 
 on the othti hand, 
 this plate of pil- 
 grimage would 
 give him ficilities 
 for spreading the 
 knowledge ot 
 Jesus Cliiist to 
 the remotest coun- 
 tries." 
 
 The fi lends ot 
 evange heal pi cach- 
 ing at Claris expressed deep grief. 
 
 " Wliat worse could happen to Glaris," said Peter 
 Tschudi, one of the most distinguished citizens of the 
 canton, " than to be deprived of so great a man?" His 
 parishioners, finding him immoveable, resolved to leave 
 him the title of pastor of Glaris, with part of the 
 benefice, and the means of retiu-ning when he chose. 
 
 Conrad of Eechberg, a gentleman of ancient family, 
 grave, candid, intrepid, and occasionally somewhat 
 rude, was one of the most celebrated sportsmen of the 
 district to which Zwingle was removed. He had 
 established on one of his farms a manege, in which he 
 reared a breed of horses which became celebrated in 
 Italy. Such was the abbot of Our Lady of the Ere- 
 mites. Rechberg was equally averse to the pretensions 
 i of Rome and the discussions of theologians. One day, 
 I during a visitation of the order, some observations were 
 1 made to him. " I am master here, not you," said he, 
 I somewhat rudely; '"get along." One day at table. 
 
 when Leo Juda was discussing some difficult point 
 with the administrator of the convent, the hunting 
 abbot exclaimed : " You, there, leave your disputes to 
 mo. I exclaim with David : Have pit;/ on me, God, 
 (iccordiiiij to till/ goodness, and enter not into judgment 
 ivith thij servant. I have no need to know any more." 
 
 Baron Tlieobald of Geroldsek was administrator of 
 the monastery. He was of a meek spirit, sincerely 
 ])ious, and had a great love of literature. His favourite 
 design was to form a society of well-informed men in 
 his convent; and it was for this reason he had given a 
 call to Zwngle. Eager for instruction and reading, 
 he begged his new friend to direct him. " Read the 
 Holy Scriptures," replied Zwiiii,'lo; "and that you may 
 the better understand tin m. -liniy .!( iMiue. However," 
 added he, "the time will cnm. (;iim1, by God's help, 
 it is not far off) when Chri.liiin. will ii.it srt a hidi 
 
 value either on Jerome or any other doctor, but only 
 on the Word of God." The conduct of Geroldsek gave 
 indication of his progress in the faith. He allowed 
 the nuns of a convent, dependent on Einsidlen, to read 
 the Bible in the vulgar tongue ; and, some years after, 
 Geroldsek came to live at Zurich, beside Zwingle, and 
 to die with him on the field of Cappel. The charm 
 which hung about Zwingle soon united him, iu tender 
 friendship, not only with Geroldsek, but also the chap- 
 lain Zink, the excellent OSxlin, and other inmates of 
 the abbey. These studious men, far from the noise 
 of party, joined together in reading the Scriptures, the 
 Fathers of the Church, the masterpieces of antiquity, 
 and the writings of the restorers of letters. This 
 interesting society was often enlarged by friends from 
 a distance. Among others, Capito one day arrived at 
 Einsidlen. The two old friends of Bale walked to- 
 gether over the convent and the wild scenery in its 
 neighbourhood, absorbed in conversation, examining 
 
 Q 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the Scriptures, and seeking to know the Divine will. 
 There was a point on which they were agreed, and it 
 was this : " The Pope of Rome must fall." At this 
 time Capito was more courageous than he was at a 
 later period. 
 
 Repose, leisure, books, friends, — all these Zwingle 
 had in this tranquil retreat, and he accordingly grew 
 in understanding and in faith. At this period (May, 
 1517) he commenced a work which was of great utility 
 to him. As in old times the kings of Israel wi-ote the 
 law of God with their own hand, so Zwingle, with his, 
 copied the Epistles of St. Paul. The only editions of 
 the New Testament then in existence were of large 
 size, and Zwingle wished to have one which he could 
 carry about with him.' These epistles he learned by 
 heart, as he did afterwards the other books of the 
 New, and a part of the Old Testament. Thus his 
 heart became always more attached to the sovereign 
 authority of the Word of God. He was not satisfied 
 with merely acknowledging this ; he was, moreover, 
 desirous to bring his life into true subjection to it. 
 His views gradually became more decidedly Christian. 
 The end for which he had been brought into this desert 
 was accomplished. It is no doubt true that Zurich is 
 the place where his whole soul became thoroughly 
 pervaded with Christian principle ; but even now, at 
 Einsidlen, he made decided progress in the work of 
 sanctiflcation. At Glaris he had taken part in the 
 amusements of the world ; at Einsidlen he was more 
 anxious for a life uusidlied by any taint of worldliness. 
 Beginning to have a better idea of the great spiritual 
 interests of the people, he gradually learned what God 
 designed to teach him. 
 
 Providence had also other views in bringing him to 
 Einsidlen. Here he obtained a nearer view of the 
 superstitions and abuses which had invaded the Chm-ch. 
 An image of the Virgin which was carefully preserved 
 in this monastery, had, it was said, the power of work- 
 ing miracles. Above the gate of the abbey appeared 
 this presumptuous inscription : " Here is obtained a 
 plenary remission of all sins." A multitude of jjilgrims 
 flocked to Einsidlen from all parts of Christendom, to 
 merit this grace by their pilgrimage. The church, the 
 abbey, and the whole valley were crowded with devout 
 worshippers on the festivals of the Virgin. But it was 
 especially at the grand festival of " the Consecration of 
 the Angels," that the hermitage was crowded to over- 
 flowing. Thousands of individuals of both sexes 
 clunbed the acclivity of the hill leading to the oratory, 
 singing hymns and counting their beads. These devout 
 pilgrims crowded into the church, thinking they were 
 there nearer God than anywhere else. 
 
 The residence of Zwingle at Einsidlen was, in regard 
 to the exposure of papal abuses, similar in effect to 
 Luther's visit to Rome. Zwingle's education for 
 reformer was completed at Einsidlen. God alone is 
 the source of salvation, and He is so everywhere, — 
 these were the two truths which he learned at Einsid- 
 len, and they became fundamental articles in his creed. 
 The serious impression produced on his soul soon 
 manifested itself externally. Struck with the many 
 prevailing evils, he resolved to oppose them boldly. 
 Not hesitating between his conscience and his interest, 
 
 1 This maimsciipt is extant iu the library of tlie town of Zuricli. 
 
 he stood up openly, and, in plain and energetic terras, 
 attacked the superstition of the surrounding crowds. 
 "Think not," said he from the pulpit, "that God is 
 in this temple more than in any other part of His 
 creation. Whatever be the country in which you 
 dwell, God encompasses you, and heais you as well as 
 in Our Lady of Einsidlen. Can useless works, long 
 pilgrimages, offerings, images, the invocation of the 
 Virgin or the saints, obtain the grace of God? . , 
 What avails the multitude of words in which we em- 
 body our prayers ? What avails a glossy hood — a head 
 well shaven — a long robe with its neat folds, and 
 mules caparisoned with gold ? God looks to the heart ; 
 but our heart is alienated from God." 
 
 But Zwingle wished to do more than lift his voice 
 against superstition. He wished to satisfy that eager 
 longing for reconciliation with God, felt by many 
 of the pilgrims who had flocked to the chapel of Our 
 Lady of Einsidlen. " Christ," cried he, like a John 
 Baptist iu this new wilderness of Judea, — "Christ, who 
 was once offered on the cross, is the expiatory victim, 
 who, even through eternity, makes satisfaction for the 
 sins of all believers." Thus Zwingle advanced. The 
 day when this bold sermon was heard iu the most 
 venerated sanctuary of Switzerland, the standard pre- 
 pared against Rome began to be more distinctly dis- 
 played on its mountain heights, and there was, so to 
 speak, a heaving of reform reaching even to their 
 deepest foundations. 
 
 In fact, universal astonishment seized the multitude 
 on hearing the discourse of the eloquent priest. Some 
 walked off in horror; others hesitated between the 
 faith of their fathers and the doctrine fitted to secure 
 their peace ; while several came to Jesus Christ, who 
 was thus preached to them, and finding rest to their 
 souls, took back the tapers which they had intended to 
 present to the Virgin. A crowd of pilgrims returned 
 to their homes, announcing everywhere what they had 
 heard at Einsidlen. " Christ alone saves, and saves 
 EVERYWHERE." Bauds, astonishcd at what they heard, 
 stopped short without finishing their pilgrimage. The 
 worshippers of Mary diminished from day to day. 
 Theii- offerings formed almost the whole income of 
 Zwingle and Geroldsek ; but the intrepid witness of 
 the truth felt happy to be impoverished, in order that 
 souls luight be spiritually enriched. 
 
 During the feast of Pentecost, in the year 1518, 
 among the numerous hearers of Zwingle, was a learned 
 man of meek temper and active charity, named Gas- 
 pard Hedio, doctor of theology at Bide. Zwingle 
 preached on the cm"e of the paralytic, (Luke v.,) where 
 our Saviour declares: The Son of Man /lath jiower vpon 
 earth to forgive sins, — words well fitted to strike the 
 crowd assembled in the Church of the Virgin. The 
 preacher roased, enraptured, and inflamed his audience, 
 especially the doctor from Bale. A long time after, 
 Hedio expressed his high admiration. " How beauti- 
 ful," said he, " this discourse ! how profound, weighty, 
 complete, penetrating, and evangelical ! how much it 
 reminds one of the evepyeia (energy) of the ancient 
 doctors !" From that moment Hedio admired and loved 
 Zwingle. He would fain have gone to him and opened 
 his heart ; he wandered around the abbey, but durst 
 not approach, kept back, as he expresses it, by a super- 
 
SAMSON AND INDULGENCES. 
 
 6titiou3 timidit}'. He again mounted his horse, and 
 slowly retired from Our Lady, ever and again turning 
 his head to the spot which contained so groat a trea- 
 sure, and feeling in his heart the keenest regi-et. 
 
 Tlius Zwiugle preached, loss forcibly, no doubt, than 
 Luther, but witli more moderation, and not less success. 
 lie did nothing i)rocipitately, and did not come so vio- 
 lently into collision with men's minds as the Saxon 
 reformer ; ho expected overythiug from the power of 
 truth. He displayed tlic same wisdom in his relations 
 with the heads of the Cluirch. Far from immediately 
 declaring himself their enemy, he long remained their 
 friend. They wore exceedingly indulgent to him, not 
 only because of his learning and talents, (Luther had 
 the same claims to the regard of the bishops of Mentz 
 and Brandenbui-g,) but especially because of his attach- 
 ment to the pope's political party, and the influence 
 possessed by such a man as Zwingle in a republican 
 state. 
 
 In fact, several cantons, disgusted with the service 
 of the pope, wore disposed to break with him. But 
 the legates flattered themselves they might retain 
 several of thorn by gaining Zwingle, as tliey gained 
 Erasmus, with pensions and honoiu-s. At this time 
 the legates, Enuius and Pucci, went frequently to 
 Einsidlen, where, from its proximity to the democratic 
 cantons, it was more easy to caixy on negotiations with 
 them. But Zwingle, far from sacrificing the truth to 
 the demands and offers of Rome, omitted no oppor- 
 tunity of defending the Gospel. The famous Scliiuner, 
 who had then some distm-bauce in his diocese, passed 
 some time at Einsidlou. "The whole papacy," said 
 Zwingle one day, "rests on a bad foundation. Put 
 your hand to the work, remove errors and abuses, or 
 you will sec the whole edifice crumble to pieces with 
 fearful uproar." 
 
 He spoke with the same frankness to legate Pucci. 
 Four times did he return to the charge. " With the 
 help of God," said he to him, " I will continue to 
 preach the Gospel, and this preaching will shake 
 Rome." Then he pointed out to him what was neces- 
 sary to save the Church. Pucci promised everything, 
 but did nothing. Zwingle declared that he renounced 
 the pension from the pope. The legate entreated him 
 to retain it; and Zwingle, who at that time had no 
 thought of placing himself in open hostility to the 
 head of the Chm-ch, consented for three j'cai-s to re- 
 ceive it. "But think not," added ho, "that for the 
 love of money I retrench a single syllable of the truth." 
 Pucci, alarmed, made the reformer be appointed chap- 
 lain acolyte to the pope. It was an avenue to new 
 honours. Rome thought to frighten Luther by sen- 
 tences of condemnation, and to win Zwingle by favoui-s 
 — darting her excommunications at the one, and dis- 
 playing her gold and magnificence to the other. She 
 thus endeavoured, by two different methods, to attain 
 the same end, and silence the bold lips which dared, 
 in spite of the pope, to proclaim the AVord of God in 
 Germany and Switzerland. The latter method was 
 the more skilful, but neither of them succeeded. The 
 enfranchised souls of the preachers of truth were 
 equally inaccessible' to menace and favoui-. 
 
 Another Swiss prelate, Hugo of Landonberg, bishop 
 of Constance, at this time gave some hopes to Zwingle. 
 
 He ordered a general visitation of the churches. But 
 Landonberg, a man of no character, allowed himself to 
 be led alternately by Faber, his vicar, and by an aban- 
 doned female, from whose sway ho was unable to 
 escape. He occasionally appeared to honour tlie Gos- 
 pel, and yet any one who preached it boldly was, in his 
 eyes, only a disUuber. He was one of those men, too 
 common in the Church, who, though loving truth bet- 
 tor than error, have more indulgence for error than for 
 truth, and often end by turning against those with 
 whom they ought to make common cause. Zwingle 
 applied to him, but in vain. He was to have the same 
 exi)erionce whicli Luther had, — to be convinced that it 
 was useless to invoke the heads of the Church, and 
 that tlio only method of restoring Christianity was to 
 act as a faithful teacher of tlie Word of God. Au 
 opportunity of doing so soon occuired. 
 
 In August, 1518, a Franciscan monk was seen tra- 
 velling on the heights of St. Gothard, in those lofty 
 piisses which have been laboriously cut across the steep 
 rocks separating Switzerland from Italy. Plaviug 
 come forth from an Italian convent, he was the bearer 
 of papal indulgences which he was commissioned to 
 sell to the good Christians of the Helvetic league. 
 Brilliant success, obtained under two preceding popes, 
 had signalized his exertions in this shameful traffic. 
 Companions, intended to puff off the merchandise 
 which he was going to sell, were accompanying him 
 across mountains of snow and ice coeval with the 
 world. This avaricious band — in appearance miserable 
 enough, and not unlike a baud of adventurers roaming 
 for plunder — walked in silence, amid the noise of the 
 foaming torrents wliich give rise to the Rhino, the 
 Reuss, the Aar, the Rhone, the Tessino, and other 
 rivers, meditating how they were to plunder the simple 
 population of Helvetia. Samson (this was the Fran- 
 ciscan's name) and his company fii-st arrived in Uri, 
 and there commenced their traflic. They had soon 
 done with those poor peasants, and passed into the 
 canton of Sehwitz. Hei-e Zwingle was, and here the 
 combat between these two servants of two very dif- 
 ferent masters was to take place. " I can pardon all 
 sins," said the Italian monk — the Tetzol of Switzerland. 
 " Heaven and hell are subject to my power, and I soil 
 the merits of Jesus Christ to whoever wUl purchase 
 them, by paying in cash for an indulgence." 
 
 Zwingle heard of these discourses, and his zeal was 
 inflamed. 
 
 He preached powerfidly against them. "Jesus 
 Christ, the Son of God," said he, " thus speaks : Come 
 tinto 5IE, all ye that labour and are heai'y laden, and I 
 will give you rest. Is it not, then, audacious folly and 
 insensate temerity to say, on the contrarj': 'Purchase 
 letters of indulgence ! run to Rome ! give to the monks ! 
 sacrifice to the priests ! If you do these things I will 
 absolve you from your sins ? ' Jesus Christ is the only 
 offering ; Jesus Christ is the only sacrifice ; Jesus Christ 
 is the only way." 
 
 Everybody at Schwtz began to call Samson rogue 
 and cheat. He took the road to Zug, and for this time 
 the two champions failed to meet. 
 
 Scarcely had Samson left Sehwitz when a citizen of 
 this canton, named Stapfer, a man of distinguished 
 talent, and afterward secretary of state, was with his 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 fwiiily reduced to great distress. "Alas!" said he, 
 when applying in agony to Zwingle, " I know not how 
 to satisfy my own hunger and the hunger of my poor 
 children." Zwingle knew to give where Eome knew 
 to take ; he was as ready to practise good works as to 
 combat those who taught that they were the means of 
 obtaining salvation. He daily gave liberally to Stap- 
 fer. '-It is God," said he, anxious not to take any 
 glory to himself, — "It is God who begets charity in 
 the believer, and gives him at once the thought, the 
 resolution, and the work itself. Whatever good a 
 righteous man does, it is God who does it by His own 
 power." Stapfer remained attached to him through 
 life ; and, four years after, when he had become secre- 
 tary of state, and felt wants of a higher kind, he turned 
 towards Zwingle, and said to him with noble candour : 
 " Since you provided for my temporal wants, how much 
 more may I now expect from you wherewith to appease 
 the hunger of my soul ! " 
 
 The friends of Zwingle increased. Not only at 
 Glaris, Bale, and Schwitz, did he find men of like 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Zurich— The College of Canons— Election to the Cathedral- 
 
 tions— Confession of Zwingle— The Designs of God Unfolded— Farewell 
 to Einsidlen — Arrival at Zurich — Courageous Declaration of Zwingle— 
 First Sermons— Effects— Opposition— Character of Zwingle— Taste for 
 Alusic — Arrangement of the Day — Circulation by Hawkers. 
 
 Seven centuries had elapsed since Charlemagne liad 
 attached a college of canons to this cathedral, over 
 whose school Oswald Myconius then presided. These 
 canons having degenerated from their first institution, 
 and desiring in their benefices to enjoy the sweets of 
 indolence, elected a priest to preach and take the cure 
 of souls. This situation having become vacant some 
 time after Oswald's arrival, he immediately thought of 
 his friend. What a prize it would be for Zurich ! 
 Zwingle's appearance was prepossessing. He was a 
 handsome man, of graceful address, and pleasing man- 
 ners. His eloquence had already given him celebrity. 
 
 spirit with lumselt ; in Lai thine \\a.-. the seciefary of 
 state, Schmidt ; at Zug, Colin, Miiller, and Werner 
 Steiner, his old companions in arms at Marignan ; at 
 Lucerne, Xyloctect and Kilchmeyer ; Wittembach at 
 Bienne ; and many others in many other places. But 
 the curate of Einsidlen had no more devoted friend 
 than Oswald Myconius. Oswald had quitted Biile in 
 1516, to take charge of the cathedral school at Zurich. 
 In this town there were no learned men, and no schools 
 of learning. Oswald laboured along with some well- 
 disposed individuals — among others, Utinger, notary 
 to the pope — to raise the Zurich population out of 
 ignorance, and initiate them in ancient literature. At 
 the same time he defended the immutable truth of the 
 Holy Scriptures, and declared, that if the pope or 
 emperor gave commands contrary to the Gospel, obe- 
 dience was due to God alone, who is above both 
 emperor and pope. 
 
 ^\hlle the lustie of his genius raxdo hnn conspicuous 
 among all the confederates Myconius spoke of him 
 to the provost of the chapter, Felix Fre^ , (who from 
 the appearance and talents of Zwingle •« as already pre- 
 possessed in his fa\oui ) to Utingci, an old man who 
 was held in high respect ; and to Canon Hoffman, a 
 man of an upright open disposition, who, having long 
 preached against foreign service, was favourably in- 
 clined to Ulrich. Other Zurichors had, on different 
 occasions, heard Zwingle at Einsidlen, and had returned 
 full of admiration. The election of preacher to the 
 cathedral soon set all the inhabitants of Zurich in 
 motion. Different parties were formed. Several la- 
 boured night and day for the election of the eloquent 
 j)reacher of Our Lady of the Eremites. Myconius hav- 
 ing informed his friend, — "Wednesday next," replied 
 Zwingle, " I will come and dine at Zurich, and talk 
 over matters." He accordingly arrived. A canon to 
 whom he was paying a visit, said to him : " Could you 
 coine among us to preach the Word of God?" — "I 
 could," replied he ; " but will not come unless I am 
 called." He then returned to his abbey. 
 
 This visit spread alarm in the camp of his enemies. 
 
ZWINGLE CALLED TO ZURICH. 
 
 229 
 
 Several priests were urged to apply for the vacancy. 
 A Swabian, named Laurent Fable, even preached as a 
 candidate, and the rumour went that he was elected. 
 " It is, then, quite true," said Zwingle, on learning it, 
 " that a prophet has no honour in his own country, 
 since a Swabian is prefeiTed to a Swiss. I know what 
 value to set on popular api)lausc." Zwingle immedi- 
 ately after received a letter fnmi the secretary of Car- 
 dinal Schinner, informing him that the election had not 
 taken jjlacc. But the false news which he had at first 
 received nettled the curate of Einsidlen. Knowing 
 that a person so unworthy as this Fable aspired to the 
 place, he was more desirous to obtain it for himself, 
 and wrote about it to Myconius, who next day replied : 
 " Fable will always continue a fable : my masters have 
 learned that he is already the father of six boys, and 
 possesses I know not how many benefices." 
 
 The enemies of Zwingle did not abandon their oppo- 
 sition. All, it is true, agreed in extolling his learning 
 to the skies ; but said some, " He is too fond of music ;" 
 others, "He loves the world and pleasure;" others 
 again, " In early life he was too closely connected with 
 giddy companions." There was even one individual 
 who charged him with an instance of seduction. 
 Zwingle was not without blemish. Though superior to 
 the ecclesiastics of his time, he more than once, in the 
 first years of his ministry, gave way to youthful pro- 
 pensities. It is difficult to estimate the influence of an 
 impure atmosphere on those who live in it. There 
 were in the papacy certain established irregularities, 
 allowed and sanctioned as conformable to the laws of 
 nature. A saying of iEncas Sylvius, afterwards pope 
 under the name of Pius II., gives an idea of the sad 
 state of public, morals at this period. We give it in a 
 note.' Disorder had become the rule, order the excep- 
 tion. 
 
 Oswald displayed the greatest activity in favour of 
 his friend. He exerted all his powers in defending 
 him, and happily succeeded. He went to burgomaster 
 Roust, to Hoffman, Frev, and LTtinger. He praised 
 Zwingle for his probity, honesty, and purity, and con- 
 firmed the Zurichers in the favourable opinion which 
 they had of the cui-ate of Einsidlen. Little credit was 
 given to the speeches of his adversaries. The most in- 
 fluential persons said that Zwingle should be preacher 
 at Zurich. The canons said so also, but in a whisper. 
 " Hope," wrote Oswald to him with a full heart, " for 
 I hope." At the same time he told him of the accusa- 
 tions of his enemies. Although Zwingle was not yet 
 become altogether a new man, he belonged to the class 
 of those whose conscience is awakened, and who may 
 fall into sin ; but never without a struggle, or without 
 remorse. It had often been his resolution to stand 
 alone in the midst of the world, and maintain a life of 
 holiness. But when he saw himself accused, he did 
 not pretend to boast that he was without sin. Writing 
 to Canon Utingcr, he said: "Having nobody to go along 
 with me in the resolutions which I had formed, several 
 even of those about me being offended at them, alas ! 
 I fell, and like the dog of whom St. Peter speaks, (2 
 Pet. ii. 22,) returned to my vomit. Ah ! God knows 
 with what shame and anguish I have torn up these 
 
 K)>., p. 57. 
 
 qui ngesimuni annum excessit, ncc virgii 
 
 faults from the depths of my heart, and laid them be- 
 fore Almighty God, to whom, however, I would be less 
 afraid to confess my misery than to mortal man." But 
 while Zwhigle confessed himself to be a sinner, he, at 
 the same time, vindicated himself from the most offen- 
 sive charges which were brought against him. He 
 declared that ho had ever abhorred the idea of invading 
 the sanctity of married life, or seducing innocence, — 
 vices at that time but too common. "For the truth 
 of this," says he, " I appeal to all with whom I have 
 lived." 
 
 The election took place on the 11th December, and 
 out of the twenty-four votes which were given, Zwingle 
 had seventeen. It was time that the Reformation 
 should begin in Switzerland. The chosen instrument 
 which Divine Pi-ovidence had been preparing during 
 three years in the retreat of Einsidlen, was ready, and 
 must now be translated elsewhere. God, who had 
 chosen the new university of AVittemberg, situated in 
 the heart of Germany, and under the protection of the 
 wisest of princes, to call Luther thither, made choice 
 in Switzerland of the city of Zurich, regarded as the 
 head of the confederation, there to station Zwingle, 
 and to bring him into contact not only with one of the 
 most intelligent, simple, resolute, and intrepid com- 
 munities of Switzerland, but also with all the cantons 
 which are grouped around this ancient and powerful 
 state. The hand which had taken hold of a young 
 shepherd of Sentis, and led him to the school of Wesen, 
 now brought him forward, powerful in word and in 
 deed, in the face of all, to regenerate his countrymen. 
 Zurich was about to become a focus of light to 
 Switzerland. 
 
 The day which announced the election of Zwingle 
 was to Einsidlen a day at once of joy and grief. The 
 circle which had been formed there was about to be 
 broken up by the withdrawal of its most valuable mem- 
 ber; and who could say whether superstition was not 
 going again to take possession of this ancient place of 
 pilgrimage? . . . The council of state in Schwitz 
 conveyed the expression of his sentiments to Ulrich by 
 designating him as "reverend, learned, most gracious 
 master, and good friend." "At least do you yourself 
 give us a successor worthy of you," said Geroldsek, in 
 despair, to Zwingle. — "I have got for you," replied he, 
 "a little lion, simple and wise; a man initiated in the 
 mysteries of sacred science." — "Let me have him," 
 immediately rejoined the administrator. It was Leo 
 Juda, at once tlie gentle and intrepid friend with whom 
 Zwingle had been so intimate at Bale. Leo accepted the 
 call which brought him near his dear Ulrich. Ulrich 
 took farewell of his friends, quitted the solitude of 
 Einsidlen, and arrived at that delightful spot where, 
 smiling and instinct with life, rises the town of Zurich, 
 surrounded by its amphitheatre of vine-clad hills, 
 enamelled with meadows and orchards, crowned with 
 forests, and overtopped by the lofty peaks of the Albis. 
 
 Zurich, the centre of the political interests of 
 Switzerland, where the most influential persons in the 
 nation frequently assembled, -was the place best fitted 
 to act upon the whole country, and shed the seeds of 
 truth over aU its cantons. Accordingly, the friends 
 of letters and the Bible hailed the appointment of 
 Zwingle with acclamation. At Paris, in particular, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the Swiss students, who were there in great numbers, 
 were enraptured with the news. But if Zwingle had 
 the prospect of a great victory at Zurich, he had also 
 the prospect of a severe contest. Glarean wrote him 
 from Paris : " I foresee that your learning will stir up 
 gi-eat enmity; but be of good courage, and you will, 
 like Hercules, subdue monsters." 
 
 On the 27th December, 1518, Zwingle arrived at 
 Zurich, and took up his quartei'S at the hotel of 
 Einsidlen. He received a cordial and honourable 
 welcome. The chapter immediately met to receive 
 him, and invited him to take his seat in the midst of 
 them. Felix Frey presided; the canons, friendly or 
 hostile to Zwingle, sat indiscriminately around their 
 provost. There was considerable excitement in the 
 meeting ; every one felt, perhaps without distinctly 
 acknowledging it to himself, how serious the com- 
 mencement of this ministry was likely to prove. Some 
 apprehension being entertained of the innovating spirit 
 of the young priest, it was agi-eed to set before him 
 the most important duties of his office. "You will 
 use your utmost endeavour," he was gravely told, " to 
 secure payment of the revenues of the chapter, with- 
 out neglecting the least of them. You will exhort the 
 faithfnl both from the puljiit and in the confessional, 
 to pay the first fruits and tithes, and to shew by their 
 offerings that they love the Church. You will make 
 it your business to increase the revenues which arc 
 derived from the sick, from sacrifices, and generally 
 from every ecclesiastical act." The chaister added: 
 "As to the administration of the sacraments, preaching, 
 and personal presence amid the flock, these too are 
 duties of the priest. However, in these different 
 respects, and particularly in regard to preaching, you 
 may supply your place by a vicar. You should ad- 
 minister the sacraments only to persons of distinction, 
 and after being requested. You are expressly forbid- 
 den to do it to all persons indiscriminately." 
 
 Strange rule to be given to Zwingle! Money, money, 
 still money! . . . Was it, then, for this that Christ 
 established his ministry? Still prudence tempers his 
 zeal ; he knows that we canuot all at once deposit the 
 seed in the ground, see the growth of the tree, and 
 gather its fruit. Zwingle, therefore, without explaining 
 his views on what was enjoined him, humbly expressed 
 his gratitude for the honourable appointment which he 
 had received, and stated what he calculated on being 
 able to do. " The life of Jesus," said he, " has been 
 too long hidden from the people. I will preach on 
 the whole Gospel of St. Matthew, chapter by chai)tcr, 
 following the mind of the Holy Spirit, drawing only 
 at the well-springs of Scripture, digging deep into it, 
 and seeking the luiderstauding of it by persevering 
 fervent prayer. I will consecrate my ministry to the 
 glory of God ; the praise of His only Son ; the real sal- 
 vation of souls, and their instruction in the true faith." 
 This new language made a deep impression on the 
 chapter. Some expressed joy, but the majority openly 
 disapproved. " This mode of preaching is an innova- 
 tion," exclaimed they; "this innovation will soon lead 
 to others, and where is it to stop?" Canon Hoffman, 
 in particular, thought it his duty to prevent the fatal 
 effects of a choice which he had himself patronized. 
 "This exposition of Scriptiu-e," said he, "will be more 
 
 hurtful than useful to the people." — " It is not a new 
 method," replied Zwingle, " it is the ancient method. 
 Recollect the homilies of St. Chrysostom on St. Mat- 
 thew, and of St. Augustine on St. John. Besides, I 
 will use moderation, and give none any reason to 
 complain." 
 
 Tlius Zwingle abandoned the exclusive use of frag- 
 ments of the Gospel, as practised since the days of 
 Charlemagne ; re-establishing the Scripture in its 
 ancient rights, he, from the commencement of his 
 ministry, united the Reformation to the primitive ages 
 of Christianity, and prepared a more profound study 
 of the Word of God for ages to come. But he did 
 more. The strong and independent position which he 
 took up in the face of the Church shewed that the 
 work in which he had engaged was new. The figure 
 of the reformer stood out in bold relief to the public 
 eye, and the Reformation advanced. 
 
 Hoffman, having failed in the chapter, addressed a 
 written request to the provost, to prohibit Zwingle 
 from shaking the popular belief. The provost sent 
 for the new preacher, and spoke to him with great 
 kindness. But no human power could close his lips. 
 On the 31st December, he wrote to the council of 
 Glaris, that he entirely resigned the cure of souls 
 which had hitherto been reserved for him, and gave 
 himself wholly to Zurich, and to the work which God 
 was preparing for him in this town. 
 
 On Satni-day, being new-year's-day, and also the 
 birthday of Zwingle, who had completed his thirty-fifth 
 year, he mounted the pulpit of the cathedral. A great 
 crowd, eager to see a man who had already acquired 
 so much celebrity, and to hear this new Gospel, of 
 which every one began to speak, filled the church. 
 "It is to Christ," said Zwingle, "that I wish to conduct 
 you ; to Christ, the true source of salvation. His 
 Divine Word is the only nourishment which I would 
 give to your heart and life." Then he announced that 
 to-morrow, the first Simday of the year, he would 
 begin to expound the Gospel accortling to St. Matthew. 
 Accordingly, the preacher, and a still larger audience 
 than the day before, were at their posts. Zwingle 
 opened the Gospel — the Gospel wliich had so long been 
 a sealed book — and read the first page, going over the 
 history of the isatriarchs and prophets mentioned in 
 the first chapter of St. Matthew, and expounding it in 
 such a way that all were astonished and delighted, and 
 exclaimed: "We never heard anything like this!" 
 
 He continued thus to expound St. Matthew, accord- 
 ing to the original Greek. He shewed how the whole 
 Bible found at once its exposition and its application 
 in the very nature of man. Delivering the loftiest 
 truths of the Gospel in simple language, his preaching 
 reached all classes, the learned and the wise, as well 
 as the ignorant and simple. He extolled the infinite 
 mercies of God the Father, and implored all his hearers 
 to put their confidence in Jesus Clmst alone as the 
 only Saviour. At the same time, he earnestly called 
 them to repentance; forcibly attacked the eri-ors which 
 prevailed among the people; fearlessly rebuked luxury, 
 intemperance, extravagance in dress, the oppression of 
 the poor, idleness, foreign service, and foreign pensions. 
 "In the pulpit," says one of his companions, "he spared 
 no one, pope, emperor, kings, dukes, princes, lords, not 
 
ZWINGLE'S CHARACTER. 
 
 231 
 
 even the confederates. All his cncrpry, and all the joy 
 of his heart were in God: accordingly he exhorted all 
 the inhabitants of Zurich to put their confidence in 
 Him only." "Never was man heard to speak with 
 so much authority," says Oswald Myconius, who, with 
 joy and high hopes, watched the laboui-s of his friend. 
 
 The Gospel could not be preached in vain in Zurich. 
 A continually increasing multitude of men of all 
 chisses, and more csi)ecially of the connnon people, 
 flocked to hear him. Several Zurichers had ceased to 
 attend on public worsliip. '•! derive no benefit from 
 the discourses of these priests," often exclaimed Fiisslin, 
 a poet, historian, and councillor of state; "they do not 
 preach the things of salvation ; for they do not com- 
 prehend them. I see nothing in them but covetousness 
 and voluptuousness." Henry Riiuschlin, treasurer of 
 state, one who diligently read the Scriptures, was of 
 the same opinion : " The priests," said he, met in 
 thousands at the Council of Constance ... to 
 burn the best man among them." These distinguished 
 men, led by curiosity, went to hear Zwingle's first 
 sennon. Their countenances bespoke the emotion 
 with which they followed the orator. " Glory to 
 God!" said they, on coming out; "this is a preacher 
 of the truth. He will be our Moses, to deliver us from 
 Egyptian darkness." From this moment they became 
 the reformer's intimate friends. "Powers of the 
 world," said Fiisslin, " cease to proscribe the doctrine 
 of Christ ! After Christ, the Son of God, was put to 
 death, sinners were raised up. And now, should you 
 destroy the preachers of truth, you will see their places 
 supplied by glaziers, carpenters, potters, founflers, 
 shoemakere, and tailors, who ^^ ill teach with power." 
 
 In Zurich, at the outset, there was only one shout of 
 admiration ; but when the first moment of enthusiiism 
 was over, the adversary resumed courage. "Worthy 
 persons, alarmed at the idea of a Reformation, gi\a- 
 dually drew off from Zwingle. The violence of the 
 monks, which had been veiled for an instant, reappeared, 
 and the college of canons resounded with complaints. 
 Zwingle stood immoveable. His friends, beholding his 
 courage, felt in his presence as if a man of apostolic 
 times had reappeared. Among his enemies, some 
 scoffed and jeered ; others uttered insulting menaces ; 
 but he endured all with Christian patience. "Whoso," 
 he was wont to say, " would gain the wicked to Jesus 
 Christ, must wink at many things," — an admirable 
 sayiug, which ought not to be lost sight of. 
 
 His character and general bearing towards all con- 
 tributed, as much as his discourses, to win their hearts. 
 He was at once a true Christian and a true republican. 
 The equality of mankind was not with him a mere 
 watchword ; it was written on his heart, and manifested 
 in his life. He hail neither that pharisaical pride, nor 
 that mon.istic giniffness, which are ccpially offensive to 
 the simple and the wise of the world. Men were 
 drawn towards him, and felt at ease when conversing 
 with him. Strong and mighty in the pulpit, he was 
 affable to all whom he met in the streets, or in the 
 public squares. At the places where the merchants or 
 incorporations met, he was often seen among the 
 citizens expounding the leading points of Christian 
 doctrine, or conversing familiarly with them. He gave 
 the same cordial reception to peasant and patrician. 
 
 " He invited country folks to dine with him," says one 
 of his bitterest enemies, " walked with them, spoke to 
 them of God, made the devil enter into their hearts, 
 and his writings into their pockets. He even went so 
 far, that the leading persons in Zurich visited those 
 peasants, entertained them, and walked o\er tlio town 
 with them, shewing them all sorts of attention." 
 
 He continued to cultivate music "with moderation," 
 saj's Bullinger : nevertheless the enemies of the Gospel 
 loiik advantage of it, and called him " the evan- 
 gelical fiule and lute player." Faber, having one day 
 reproacheil liiin with his fondness for music, Zwingle, 
 with noble candour, replied: "My dear Faber, you 
 know not what music is. I have, it is ti-ue, learned 
 to play on the lute, the violin, and other instruments, 
 and am able by these means to pacify little children ; 
 but you, of course, are too holy for music. Do you 
 not know that David was a skilful player on the 
 harp, and in this way drove the evil spu-it out of Saul ? 
 . . , Ah ! if you knew the sound of the heavenly 
 lute, the evil spirit of ambition and avarice by which 
 you are possessed would come out of you also." Per- 
 haps this was Zwingle's foible, though it was in a spirit 
 of cheerfulness and Christian liberty that he cultivated 
 this art, which religion has always associated with her 
 sublimest flights. He set some of his Christian jiocms 
 to music, and did not scruple sometimes to amuse the 
 youngest of his flock with his lute. He shewed the same 
 good nature to the poor. " He ate and di'ank," says 
 one of his contemporaries, "with all who invited him, — 
 he despised no one ; he was most compassionate to the 
 poor ; always firm and always joyfiU in bad as in good 
 fortune. No evil made him afraid ; his words were at 
 all times full of energy, and his heart fidl of conso- 
 lation." Thus Zwingle increased in popularity — after 
 the example of his Master, seated alternately at the 
 table of the common people, and the banquet of the 
 great, but still constantly intent on the work to which 
 God had called him. 
 
 At the same time he was an indefatigable student. 
 In the morning, till ten, he read, wrote, and translated : 
 Hebrew, in particular, engaged his attention. After 
 dinner he attended to those who had anything to tell 
 him, or any advice to ask of him : took a walk with 
 his friends, and visited his hearers. At two he resumed 
 his studies. He took a short walk after supper, and 
 afterwards ivrote letters which often occupied him tOl 
 midnight. He always stood when he studied, and did 
 not allow himself to be interrupted unless on important 
 business. 
 
 But the labours of a single individual were not 
 sufficient. A person, named Lucian, one day came to 
 him with the writings of the German refonner. He 
 had been sent by Rhenan, a learned man, then resident 
 at Biile, and indefatigable in circulating the reformer's 
 writings throughout Switzerland. Rhenan had become 
 aware that the hawking of books was an important 
 means of diffusing evangelical doctrine. Lucian had 
 travelled almost over the whole of Switzerland, and 
 knew everybody. "See," said Rhenan to Zwingle, 
 " whether this Lucian has the necessary prudence and 
 ability; if he has, let him go from town to town, burgh 
 to burgh, village to village, and even from house to 
 house, among the Swiss, with Luther's writings. 
 
232 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 especially bis exposition on the Lord's Prayer, -written 
 for the laity. The more he is known the more pur- 
 chasers will he find. But care must be taken not to 
 let bini hawk other books. If he has none but Luther's, 
 his sale of them will be the greater." Thus the humble 
 roof of many a Swiss family was penetrated with some 
 rays of light. There was one other book, however, 
 which Zwingle should have caused to be hawked with 
 those of Luther — the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Indulgences — Samson at Berne — Samson at Baden— The Dean of Brcmgarten 
 — Yoiras Henry BuJlinger — Samson and the Dean— Internal Struggles 
 of Zwingle — Zwingle against Indulgences — Samson Dismissed. 
 
 Zwingle had not long to wait for an opportunity of 
 displaying his zeal in a new vocation. Samson, the 
 famous indulgence merchant, was slowly approaching 
 Zurich. This miserable trafficker had come from 
 Schwitz to Zug, 20th September, 1518, and had re- 
 mained there three days. An immense crowd had 
 gathered round him. The poorest were the most 
 eager, so that they prevented the rich from coming 
 forward. Tiiis did not suit the monk ; accordingly, 
 one of his attendants began to bawl out to the popu- 
 lace : " Good people, do not throng so ! Let those 
 come who have money. We wUl afterwards try to 
 content those who have none." From Zug, Samson 
 and his band repaired to Lucerne ; from Lucerne to 
 
 Unterwalden ; then crossing the fertile Alps with their 
 rich valleys, passing beneath the eternal ice of Ober- 
 land, and in these spots, the grandest in Switzerland, 
 exposing their Roman meichandise, they arrived 
 neir Beine The monk via'i at first prohibited to enter 
 the town, but su 1 1 f 1 t in ilitaining an intro- 
 duction b) lUL ui t 1 I 111 lie had in his pay. 
 
 UNTERWALDEN. 
 
 Exhibiting his wares in the church of Saint Vincent, 
 he began to cry louder than ever. " Here," said he to 
 the rich, "are indulgences on parchment for a crown!" 
 " There," said he to the poor, " are indulgences on 
 ordinary paper for two farthings ! " One day, a cele- 
 brated knight, James de Stein, came up prancing on 
 I a dapple-gi-ey horse; the monk greatly admired the 
 
 horse. " Give me," says the kniglit. " an indulgence 
 for myself, for my troop of five hundred strong, for all 
 my vassals of Belp, and all my ancestors ; I will give 
 you my dapple-grey horse in exchange." It was a 
 high price for the horse, but the courser pleased the 
 
 Franciscan, and the bargain was struck. The horse 
 went to the monk's stable ; and all these souls were 
 declared for ever exempted from hell. Another day, 
 he gave a burgher, for thirteen florins, an indulgence, 
 in virtue of which his confessor was authorized to 
 
SAMSON AT BADEN. 
 
 absolve him from any species of pcrjurj-. So much 
 was Samson in repute, that Councillor May, an en- 
 lightened old man, having said something against him, 
 was obliged to go down on his knees and ask pardon 
 of the arrogant monk. 
 
 This Wits the monk's last day, and a loud ringing of 
 bells announced his immediate departure from Berne. 
 Samson was in the church standing on the steps of the 
 high altar. Canon Henry Lupulus, formerly Zwingle's 
 master, was acting as his interpreter. "When the 
 wolf and the fox rendezvous together in the field," said 
 Canon Anselm, turning to the schulthess of AValleville, 
 '• the best thing for you, worthy sir, is to put your 
 sheep and geese in safety." But the monk cared little 
 for these sarcasms, which, besides, did not reach his 
 ear. " Kneel," said he to the superstitious crowd ; 
 '■ repeat three Paters, three Are Marias, and your soils 
 will forthwith be as pure as at the moment of baptism." 
 Then all the people fell upon their knees. Samsou, 
 wishing even to outdo himself, exclaimed : " I deliver 
 from the torments of pm-gatory and hell all the spirits 
 of the (lop.nted Bernese, whatever may have been the 
 maimer and place of their death." These jugglers, like 
 those at fairs, kept their finest feat for the last. 
 
 Samsou set out with a heavy purse towards Zurich, 
 crossing Argovia and Baden. The farther on he got, 
 the monk, whose, appearance, on passing the Alps, was 
 so shaliby, prooceilcd with more pride and splendour. 
 The Bishop of Constance, irritated that Samson had 
 not employed him to legalize his bulls, had forbidden 
 all the curates of his diocese to open their churches to 
 him. At Baden, nevertheless, the curate durst not 
 long oppose his traffic. This redoubled the monk's 
 effrontery. Making the round of the burying-ground 
 at the head of a procession, he seemed to fix his eyes 
 on some object in the air, while his acolytes sung the 
 hymn for the dead, and, pretending to see souls flying 
 from the burying-gi-ouud to heaven, he exclaimed : 
 '••Ecce volant! — See how they fly!" One day an inha- 
 bitant of the place getting up into the chm'ch steeple, 
 a great number of feathers were soon seen in the air 
 falling down on the astonished procession : " See how 
 they fly!" exclaimed the wag of Baden, shaking a fea- 
 ther cushion from the steeple. Many began to laugh. 
 Samson fell into a rage, and could not be appeased till 
 he learned that the individual was subject to fits of 
 derangement. Ho left Baden in a huff. 
 
 Continuing his journey, he arrived, towards the end 
 of P'ebruary, 1519, at Bremgarten, at the solicitation 
 of the schulthess and second curate, who had seen him 
 at Baden. No individual in that district had a higher 
 reputation than DeanBuUingerof Bremgarten. Though 
 far from enlightened as to the errors of the Church and 
 the Word of God, being open, zealous, eloquent, kind 
 to the poor, and ready to do a service to the humblest, 
 he was loved by everybody. He had, in his youth, 
 formed a connection with the daughter of a councillor 
 of the place. This was the usual expedient of such of 
 the priests as were unwilling to live in general licen- 
 tiousness. Anna had borne him five sons, but this had 
 in no way lessened the respect which the dean enjoyed. 
 There was not in Switzerland a more hospitable house 
 than his. A great lover of the chase, he was seen sur- 
 rounded with ten or twelve dogs, and accompanied by 
 
 the barons of Hallwyll, the abbot Mury, and the gentry 
 of Zurich, scouring the fields and forests around. He 
 kept open table, and none of his guests was more jovial 
 than himself. When the deputies to the diet were on 
 their way to Baden, on passing through Bremgarten, 
 they failed not to take their seats at the dean's table. 
 " Bullinger," said they, " keeps court like the most 
 powerful baron." 
 
 In this house strangers remarked a child of an intel- 
 ligent countenance. Henry, one of the dean's sons, 
 from his earliest years had many narrow escapes. 
 Having been seized with the plague, preparations were 
 making for his funeral when he shewed some signs of 
 life, and was restored to his delighted pareBts. On an- 
 other occasion, a wandering beggar, having won him 
 by caresses, was carrying him off from his family, 
 when some persons in passing recogjizcd and rescued 
 him. At three years of age he could repeat the Lord's 
 prayer and the Apostles' creed. One day, having slipt 
 into the church, he got into his father's pulpit, stood 
 up gravely, and at the full stretch of his voice, cried 
 out: "I believe in God the Father," and so on. At 
 twelve he was sent to the Latin school of Emmeric, 
 his heart overwhelmed with fear ; for those times were 
 dangerous for a young boy without experience. When 
 the students of an university thought its discipline too 
 severe, they not unfrequently left it in troops, carrying 
 the children with them, and encamped in the woods, 
 from which they sent the youngest of their number to 
 beg ; or sometimes, with arms in their hands, they 
 rushed forth on the passing traveller, robbed him, and 
 then consumed their booty in debauchery. Henry was 
 happily kept from evil in this distant abode. Like 
 Luther, he gained his livelihood by singing before the 
 houses ; for his father wished to teach him to live by 
 his own shifts. He was sixteen when he opened a 
 New Testament. " I found in it," says he, " every- 
 thing necessary for man's salvation, and thenceforth I 
 laid it down as a principle, to follow the Holy Scrip- 
 tures alone, and reject all human additions. I believe 
 neither the Fathers nor myself, but explain Scripture 
 by Scripture, without adding anything or taking any- 
 thing away." God was thus preparing this young man, 
 who was one day to succeed Zwingle. He is the author 
 of the manuscript journal which we often quote. 
 
 About this time Samson arrived at Bremgarten with 
 all his train. The bold dean, undismayed by this petty 
 Italian army, prohibited the monk from vending his 
 wares in his neighbourhood. The schulthess, town- 
 clerk, and second pastor, Samson's friends, had met in 
 a room of the inn at which he had alighted, and were 
 standing quite disconcerted around the impatient monk. 
 The dean arrived. " Here are the papal bulls," said the 
 monk to him; "open your church." 
 
 The Dean. — "I will not allow the purses of my 
 parishioners to be emptied by means of letters not 
 authenticated, for the bishop has not legalized them." 
 
 The Monk (in a solemn tone.) — " The pope is above 
 the bishop. I enjoin you not to deprive your flock of 
 this distinguished gi-ace." 
 
 The Dean. — " Should it cost me my life, I wont open 
 my church." 
 
 Tlte Monk {with indignation.) — "Rebellious priest! 
 in the name of our most holy lord the pope, I pro- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 nouuce against you the greater excommunication, and 
 will not absolve you till you ransom your unheard-of 
 audacity at the price of three hundred ducats." . . 
 
 The Dean {turning on his heel and retiring.) — " I will 
 know how to answer before my lawful judges ; as for 
 you and your excommunication, I have nothing to do 
 with them." 
 
 The Monk {transported ivith rage.) — " Impudent brute! 
 I am on my way to Zurich, and will there lay my com- 
 plaint before the deputies of the confederation." 
 
 The Bean. — " I can appear there as well as you, and 
 this instant I set out." 
 
 While these things were taking place at Bremgarten, 
 Zwingle, who saw the enemy gradually approaching, 
 kept preaching vigorously against indulgences. Vicar 
 Faber of Constance encouraged him, promising him the 
 bishop's support. " I know," said Samson, while pro- 
 ceeding towards Zurich, " that Zwingle will attack me ; 
 but I will stop his mouth." Zwingle was, in truth, too 
 much alive to the value of pardou by Christ, not to 
 attack the paper indulgences of these men. Often, like 
 Luther, he trembled because of sin ; but in the Saviour 
 found deliverance from his fears. This modest but 
 brave man was advancing in the knowledge of God. 
 " When Satan frightens me," said he, " by crying to 
 me : ' You do not this, and you do not that, and yet 
 God commands them !' — immediately the soft voice of 
 the Gospel consoles me, saying: 'What thou canst not 
 do (and assuredly thou canst do nothing) Christ does 
 for thee.' Yes," continues the pious evangelist, "when 
 my heart is agonized because of my powerlessness, 
 and the feebleness of my ilesh, my spirit revives at 
 the sound of this glad news : Christ is thy innocence ! 
 Christ is thy righteousness ! Christ is thy salvation ! 
 Thou art nothing — thou canst do nothing ! Christ is 
 the Alpha and the Omega ! Christ is all, and can do 
 all ! All created things will forsake and deceive thee ; 
 but Christ, the holy and righteous One, will receive 
 and justify thee. . . . Yes," exclaims Zwingle, 
 " He is our righteousness, and the righteousness of all 
 who shall ever appear as righteous before the judgment- 
 seat of God ! " . . . 
 
 Indulgences could not stand a moment when cou- 
 fronted with such truths ; and hence Zwingle never 
 hesitated to attack them. " No man," said he, " is able 
 to forgive sins. Christ alone, very God and very man, 
 is able to do it. Go, buy indulgences ; . . . but 
 rest assured you are not at all forgiven. Those who 
 vend forgiveness of sins for money are the companions 
 of Simon Magus, the friends of Balaam, and the ambas- 
 sadors of Satan." 
 
 Dean BuUinger, still warm from his conference with 
 the monk, arrived at Zurich before him. He came to 
 complain to the diet against this shameless dealer and 
 his traffic. Envoys from the bishop had arrived for 
 tlie same purpose. They made common cause, and 
 promised to support each other. The spirit which ani- 
 mated Zwingle breathed upon this town, and the coun- 
 cil of state resolved to oppose the monk's entry into 
 Zurich. 
 
 Samson had arrived in the suburbs, and alighted at 
 an inn. One foot was already on the stirrup prepara- 
 tory to his entry, when deputies from the council 
 arrived, and while making the customary offer of wine 
 
 to him as a papal envoy, intimated to him that he 
 might dispense with appearing in Zurich. "I have 
 something to communicate to the diet in the name of 
 his holiness," replied the monk. It was a trick. 
 However, it was resolved to admit him ; but as he 
 spoke only of his bulls, he was dismissed, after being 
 compelled to retract the excommunication which he had 
 pronounced against the Dean of Bremgarten. He went 
 off in a rage, and the pope, shortly after, recalled him 
 to Italy. A car drawn by three horses, and loaded 
 with the money of which his lies had robbed the poor, 
 preceded him on the steep tracts of St. Gothard, which, 
 eight months before, he had crossed in poverty, with- 
 out style, merely the bearer of a few j)apers. 
 
 On this occasion the Helvetic shewed more firmness 
 than the Germanic diet. The reason was, because 
 no cardinals and bishops sat in it. Hence the pope, 
 deprived of these supports, dealt more gently with 
 Switzerland than Germany. In other respects, the 
 affair of indulgences, which played so important a part 
 in the Reformation of Germany, is only an episode in 
 that of Switzerland. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Tlie Labours of Zwingle— The Baths of PfefTers— God's Time— Hie Great 
 Death— Zwingle seized with the Plague— His Enemies— His Friends 
 —Convalescence— General Joy— Effect of the Plague— Myconius at 
 Lucerne— Oswald encourages Zwingle— Zwingle at B41e— Capito called 
 to Mentz— Hedio at Bile- An Unnatural Son— Preparation for B.itUe. 
 
 Zwingle did not spare himself. His many labours 
 called for some relaxation, and he was ordered to the 
 baths of Pfeffers. "Ah!" said Herus, one of the pupils 
 who lodged with him, and who thus expressed the 
 feeling of all who knew Zwingle, " had I a hundred 
 tongues, a hundred mouths, a brazen throat, as Virgil 
 expresses it; or rather, had I the eloquence of Cicero, 
 how could I express all I owe you, and all that I feel 
 at this separation?" Zwingle, however, set out and 
 reached Pfeffers through the astonishing gorge formed 
 by the impetuous torrent of the Jamina. He descended 
 into that infernal abyss, as the hermit David called it, 
 and arrived at the baths, which are perpetually agitated 
 by the dashing of the torrent, and bedewed by the 
 spray of its foaming water. Where Zwingle lodged it 
 was so dark that caudles were burnt at mid-day. He 
 was even assured by the inmates that frightful phan- 
 toms sometimes appeared in the darkness. 
 
 Even here Zwingle found opportunity to serve his 
 Master. His affability won the heart of several of 
 the patients, among others a celebrated poet, Philip 
 Ingentinus, professor at Friburg, in Brigau, who 
 thenceforward became a zealous supporter of the 
 Reformation. 
 
 God watched over His own work, and was pleased 
 to hasten it. Zwingle's defect lay in his strength. 
 Strong in body, strong in character, strong in talents, 
 he was to see all these varieties of strength broken, 
 that he might thereby become such an instrument as 
 God loves to employ. He stood in need of a baptism, 
 
ZWINGLi: ATTACKED BY THE PLAGUE. 
 
 that of adversity, infirmity, feebleness, and pain. Such 
 11 baptism Luther had received at that period of agony 
 when the eill and king passages of the convent of 
 Erfurt rosoiuided with his cries. Zwingle was to 
 reeii\ «• it by being brought into contact witli sickness 
 and <leath. Tiie heroes of this world — tlio Chai-les 
 Tweh'ths and Napoleons — have a moment which is 
 decisive of their career and their glory, and it is when 
 they all at once become conscious of their strength. 
 There is an analogous moment in the life of God's 
 heroes, but it is in a contraiy direction ; it is when 
 tiiey recognise their impotence and nothingness; thence- 
 forth they receive strength from on high. Such a 
 work as thai df «Iiich Z\viiii;le was to be the instru- 
 ment is no\rr .■i.-,'..in|ili-Iiid l.y man's natural strength; 
 it would inniii'dlal.ly -willi.r away like a tree trans- 
 planted after its fidl growtli, and when in full leaf. A 
 plant must be feeble in order to take root, and a grain 
 of corn must die in the gi-ouud before it can yield a 
 full return. God led ZwiiiL'h". and with him the work 
 of which he was the stay, lo iIm' nal.s of the gi-ave. 
 It is from among bones ami ilarknr--. and the dust of 
 the dead, that God is plea.siil tu take the instruments, 
 by moans of which He illumines, regenerates, and 
 revives the earth. 
 
 Zwingle was hidden among the immense rocks which 
 hem in the furious torrent of the Jamina, when he 
 unexpectedly learned that the plague, or as it was 
 termed, " the great death" was at Zurich. This dread- 
 ful scourge broke out in August, on St. Lawrence day, 
 lasted till Candlemas, and carried off two thousand 
 five hundred persons. The young people who lodged 
 with Zwingle had immediately left, conformably to 
 directions which he had given. His house was empty; 
 but it was to him the very moment to return. He 
 hunlrdly (luillid Pfeffers, and reappearing in the 
 lioM'iii lit lii~ ll(iek, now decimated by the plague, he 
 inuaciliaU'ly m nt to Wildhaus for his young brother, 
 Andrew, ^\ ho A\ished to attend him. From that 
 moment he devoted himself entirely to the victims of 
 this dreadful scourge. Every day he preached Christ 
 and His consolations to the sick. His friends, delighted 
 to see him safe aud sound in the midst of so many fatal 
 darts, still felt a secret alarm. Conrad Brunner, who 
 himself died of the plague a few months after, writmg 
 him from Bille, said: " Do good, but at the same time 
 remember to take care of your life." It was too late: 
 Zwingle was seized with the plague. The great 
 preacher of Switzerland was stretched on a bed from 
 which, perhaps, he was never again to rise. He com- 
 muned with himself, and turned his eye heavenward. 
 He knew that Christ had given him a sure inheritance, 
 aud disclosing the feelings of his heart in a hymn 
 remarkable for unction and simplicity, of which, not 
 being able to give the antique and expressive phrase- 
 ology, we have endeavoured to preserve the rhythm 
 and literal meaning, he exclaimed: — 
 
 My door lias oponod . . . 
 
 Death appears. 
 BIy God ! my strength 1 
 
 Dispel all fears. 
 Jesus I raise 
 
 Thy pierced arm. 
 And break the sword 
 
 That caused alami. 
 
 But if my soul, 
 In life's mid-day, 
 
 Thy voice recalls, 
 Tlieu I obey. 
 
 Ah I let me die, 
 
 1-or I am tliiue; 
 Thy 
 
 Meanwhile the disease gains ground, and this man, 
 the hope of the Church and of Switzerland, is beheld 
 by his despairing friends as about to become tlie ])rcy 
 of the tomb. His senses and strength forsake him. 
 His heart becomes alarmed, but he is still able to turn 
 towai'ds God, aud exclaims: — 
 
 My hca 
 Death is 
 
 Lo I Satan strains 
 To snatch his prey; 
 
 Canon Hoffman, sincere is his own belief, could not 
 bear the idea of allowing Zwingle to die in the errors 
 which he had preached. Accordingly he waited on 
 the provost of the chapter, and said to him : " Think 
 of the danger of his soul. Does he not give the name 
 of fantastical innovators to all the doctors who have 
 appeared for the last three hundred and eighty years 
 and more — to Alexander Hales, St. Bonaventura, 
 Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, and all the canon- 
 ists? Does he not maintain that their doctrines arc 
 the dreams which they dreamed in their cowls within 
 the walls of their cloisters? Better had it been for 
 the town of Zurich that Zwingle had, for a series of 
 years, destroyed our vintage and harvest! There he 
 lies at the brink of death! Do, I beseech you, save 
 his poor soul ! " It would seem that the provost was 
 more enlightened than the canon, and deemed it uu- 
 necessaiy to convert Zwnglc to St. Bonaventura and 
 Albert tlio Great. He was left at peace. 
 
 The whole town was in mourning. All the faithful 
 cried to God night and day, beseeching Him to restore 
 their faithf id pastor. Terror had passed from Zurich to 
 the mountains of the Tockenburg, where also the plague 
 had appeared. Seven or eight persons had perished 
 in the village, among them a servant of Nicolas, a 
 brother of Zwingle. No letter was received from the 
 reformer, and his young brother Andrew wrote: "Tell 
 mo, my dear brother, in what state you are. The 
 abbot and all our brothers desire to be remembered." 
 As the parents of Zwingle are not mentioned, it would 
 seem that they were now dead. 
 
 The news of Zwingle's illness, and even a rumour 
 of his death, spread in Sv/itzerland and Germany. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 "Alas!" exclaimed Hedio In tears, "the satety of the 
 country, the Gospel trumpet the magnanimous herald 
 of truth, is smitten with death in the flower of his Me. 
 and, so to speak, in the spring-tide of his days!" When 
 the news reached Bale the whole town was filled with 
 lamentation and mourning. 
 
 The spark of life which remained in Zwingle was, 
 however, rekindled. Though his body was still feeble, 
 his soul was impressed with the unaltered conviction, 
 that God had called him to replace the torch of His 
 Word on the candlestick of the Church. The plague 
 had abandoned its victim, and Zwingle exclaims with 
 emotion — 
 
 My God ! my Father 
 Healed by thee, 
 
 Now sin no more 
 
 Shall mark my days 
 My mouth, henceforth. 
 
 Shall sing thy praise. 
 
 The uncertain hour, 
 
 Come when it may, 
 Perchance may bring 
 
 Still worse dismay.i 
 
 But, let it come, 
 
 Withjoy I'll rise. 
 And bear my yoke 
 
 Straight to the skies. 
 
 Zwingle was no sooner able to hold the pen, (this 
 was in the beginning of November,) than he wrote to 
 his family. This gave inexpressible delight to them 
 all, especially to his young brother, Andrew, who him- 
 self died of the plague the following year, and at whose 
 death Uli'ich — to nse his own words — wept and cried 
 like a woman. At Bale, Conrad Bruuner, a friend of 
 Zwingle, and Bruno Amerbach, a famous printer, both 
 young men, were cut off after three days' illness. The 
 rumour having spread in this town that Zwingle also 
 had fallen, the whole university was in mourning. 
 " He whom God loves is perfected in the flower of his 
 life," said they. How great was there joy when 
 CoUinus, a student of Lucerne, and afterwards a mer- 
 chant in Zurich, brought word that Zwingle had 
 escaped the jaws of death ! John Faber, vicar to the 
 Bishop of Constance, long the friend, and afterwards 
 the most violent adversary of Zwingle, wrote to 
 him : " Oh my dear Ulrich, how delighted I am to 
 learn that you have escaped the jaws of cruel death ! 
 AVlieu you are in danger the Christian commonwealth 
 is threatened. The design of the Lord in these trials 
 is to urge you forward in the pursuit of eternal life." 
 
 This was, indeed, the design, and it was ac- 
 complished, though in a different way from what 
 Faber anticipated. The plague of 1519, which made 
 such fearful ravages in the north of Switzerland, was, 
 in the hand of God, a powerful means of converting a 
 gi-eat number of persons. But on none had it a greater 
 influence than on Zwingle. Hitherto he had been too 
 much disposed to regard the Gospel as mere doctrine ; 
 but now it became a great reality. He returned from 
 the gates of the grave with a new heart. His zeal was 
 
 1 Words which 
 plains of Cappel. 
 
 ; strikingly fulfilled, twelve years after, on the bloody 
 
 more active, his life more holy, his word more free, 
 Christian, and powerful. This was the period of 
 Zwingle's complete emancipation. He from this time 
 devoted himself to God. The new life thus given to 
 the reformer was communicated at the same time to 
 the Swiss Reformation. The Divine rod, the great 
 death., in passing over all their mountains, and descend- 
 ing into all their valleys, added to the sacredness of 
 the movement which was then taking place. The 
 Reformation being plunged, like Zwingle, into the 
 waters of affliction and of grace, came forth purer and 
 more animated. In regard to the regeneration of 
 Switzerland, the Gospel sun was now at its height. 
 
 Zwingle, who still strongly felt the want of new 
 strength, received it in intercourse with his friends. 
 His closest intimacy was with Myconius. They walked 
 hand in hand, like Luther and Melancthon. Oswald 
 was happy at Zui-ich. It is true, his position was 
 cramped ; but everything was softened by the virtues 
 of his modest spouse. It was of her that Glarean 
 said : " Were I to meet a young girl resembling her, I 
 would prefer her to the daughter of a king." But a 
 faithful voice was often heard disturbing the sweet 
 friendship of Zwingle and Myconius. It was that of 
 Canon Xylotect, who, calling to Oswald from Lucerue, 
 summoned him to return to his country. " Lucerne," 
 said he to him, " not Zurich, is your country. You 
 say that the Zurichers are your friends : granted ; but 
 do you know what the evening star will bring you ? 
 Serve your country. This I advise, I implore, and, if 
 I am able, command." Xylotect, not confining hun- 
 self to words, procured the appointment of Myconius 
 to the college school of Lucerne. After this Oswald 
 no longer hesitated. He saw the finger of God in the 
 appointment, and determined to make the sacrifice, 
 how great soever it might be. Who could say whether 
 he might not be an instrument, in the hand of the 
 Lord, to diffuse the doctrine of peace in warlike 
 Lucerne? But how painful the separation between 
 Zwingle and Myconius ! They parted in tears. Ulrich 
 shortly after wrote to Oswald : " Your departure has 
 been as serious a loss to the cause which I defend, as 
 that which is sustained by an array in battle array 
 when one of its wings is destroyed. Ah 1 I now am 
 aware of all that my Myconius was able to do, and 
 how often, without my knowing it, he maintained the 
 cause of Christ." 
 
 Zwingle felt the loss of his friend the more, because 
 the plague had left him in a state of great feebleness. 
 Writing on the 30th November, 1519, he says: "It 
 has weakened my memory and wasted my intellect." 
 When scarcely convalescent, he had resumed all his 
 labours. " But," said he, " in preaching, I often lose 
 the thread of my discourse. I feel languid in all 
 my members, and somewhat as if I were dead.' 
 Moreover, Zwuigle, by his opposition to indulgences, 
 had excited the wi-ath of their partisans. Oswald 
 strengthened his friend by letters which he wrote him 
 from Lucerne. And did he not also receive pledges of 
 assistance from the Lord, in the protection which He 
 gave to the Saxon champion who was gaining sucli 
 important victories over Rome? "AYhat think you," 
 said Myconius to Zwingle, " of the cause of Luther ? 
 For my part, I have no fear either for the Gospel or 
 

 
 
 
 ZWINGLE AT BALE. 237 
 
 
 for him. If God does not protect His tnith, who will 
 
 with indignation against the priests, raised a tumult in 
 
 
 protect it? All that I ask of the Lord is, not to with- 
 
 the town. Hedio was proposed as his successor; but 
 
 
 
 draw His aid from those who hold nothing dearer than 
 
 some objected to his youth, while others said : " He is 
 
 
 
 His Gospel. Continue as ymi havo biLmn, ntnl an 
 
 his pupil." "Truth bites," said Ile.lio: "it is not ad- 
 
 
 
 abundant recompense awaits \(. 11 in lM:n.ii." 
 
 varilaueous to offend lim deli, at.! ears bv telliiiir it. 
 
 
 
 Tiic visit of an old «»»%>mbii»^bs»^^«i««j»imjv'- ''V*««««fflw-/w //•? 
 
 
 friend helped to console ,§>illltj|lmli[|;;!i:;';iiitMi."> '"'lu.' 'A.-J^ ■ '^KBHSj^jS^^KUlt^^ 
 
 
 the of |||||Hli|M|H||ii^^ 
 
 
 
 who ^^^^^^^^HUj^^^^^^MsMi ^H^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^HhI 
 
 
 
 1 been at H^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^V^ 1^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^|B^HU| 
 
 
 
 succeeded ^^^^^^^^^^^^^■tUlin, ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 the Dean the ^^^^^^^^^^^^^H^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^Hi 
 
 
 
 arrived ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H|^^y^£U4 ."-II^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B 
 
 
 
 first ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H^^HHbi^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H^ 
 
 
 
 the 1520; ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Hjj^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 he, ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H^^^^^^^^^^^Hj^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 to ^^^^^^^^^^^H^^H^^^^^^^^^H^^^^^I^^H^^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 to Brde |^^^^^^^^^^^^9^^^^^H|k ** ' ^^H^hSI^I^^^I 
 
 
 
 common ^^^^^^^^^^^^H^^^^^^^^^ffi|^|k „ wV l^HkiBl^^H^^^I 
 
 
 
 
 
 bore fruit. l^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^m^^^HHS^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 "Oh, mjdcarZwingle!" PS^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^UaB^^H|^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 wrote to ^p|^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^HHH^«^, ^B^^^^H^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 a period, ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H^B^^^^^^^B '^[^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 "never will I forget you. 9^^^|^^^^^^^^^^^^|BH^^BhJ|K < ) bI^^^^^^^^^^^^I 
 
 
 
 The binds |^b|^P|^^^^^^^^^^^^^^|^^^^^^H^^^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 good- H|^^H^S^^^^^^^^^^^H^^^^^^^^H||hB^^^^^^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 H^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^HnSBH^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B 
 
 
 
 stay you ^^^^BH||^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H||yBHH^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 — a ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^BJBB^^tomBS^^^^^^^B 
 
 
 
 petty liv- ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^HB^^r^^^^ ^P^^^^^^^^^H 
 
 
 
 without ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H^^ !^^mt- (S^Sffil ^mH^^^^H 
 
 
 
 learning or merit, and of ^^^^^^K^^^K^Bj^KBg^^^B^^uBmBm^S^i^mw' ^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 
 
 humble station! What ^^^HH^^^^I1!9^8V^^H[^H^Km||^K1 
 wins me is the elegance ^ ~-^, '^^^^^^^^^^iffB^^^BHi^' 
 
 
 
 of your manners, and ^^^^^^HL ' """' *"'"' 1 1 F^BJIJji^^^l^^BE Jf* 
 
 
 
 that indescribable meek- ^^^^^B^ ij/lk ' ^M ^^^^^^HP^ M 
 
 
 
 with you ^^^^^^W ^H JHr Wk,i^K^^^BBL 1 #1 ' «&1 
 
 
 
 subdue all hearts, even ^^^^HP ^B HU^P^^^^I^ '' rmj^'^^C^ W^^'' 
 
 
 
 stones,if Imaysospcak." ^^^^^|k^ HI ^H^^^B^^^HSn^ '*f ^^/jMI' Y 
 
 
 
 But Zwingle's visit was H^^^^H^' Aj ^^^^ ^S^SlK^l^^^^Bm li < * •JCfflB .^J^ 
 
 
 
 still more iisefid to his Bj^^^BLj^^B^Sfcb^a^'g'^H^BEi^B^^^g dMjUMHEjJMB^ 
 
 
 
 old friends. Capito, ^^^^^^H^^^^^^^^efflK|5^^|||^J9Pl^^^^^^plfi^|^^^GflH^HI 
 
 
 
 Hedio, and others, were ^^^^^|^^^^^HHb^^^^<II^ -' Hi^fljI^^^^lN ^^IBHKhK' 
 electrified by the power ^^^^^^^W|^^!pM" nf if' JBJnjijjiia imK^^K^W " m. "^"^^W/^i 
 of his eloquence. The ^K^K^KI^MAl^^^jjJ^g^lJMtBKfl^]^^^ ^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 former commencing in ^^^^^HmRiT^T" , . '^il^ " t,A^] ^'JM^... >— 
 
 
 
 Bale the work which J^P^^W-IL. J_ H^s^^^g^^ .^itfj^ W» . ^ ^;^ 
 Zwingle was doing at W^ ^rtSlHilHHl^f^ "" "iJ^^JlM^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 Zurich, began to ex- WjEl , ^jtffll^lHB^ ' '"^bHIB 
 
 
 
 pound the Gospel of St. "^"^illiBnlHHH^ <- >'' "^^H^W 
 
 
 
 Matthew before an audi- MlMHiR^IPPSIir "^f^^ ^^^^ 
 
 
 
 tory which continued to - llfftPJi^K!lPW3PTOlR»SS!ffl <r^-^^:^^^^'^ 
 
 
 
 increase. The doctrine ""^^ ^ 
 
 
 
 of Christ penetrated and inll lined ill Hl iit^ llii po>i Ic Jvo nnttu, nothing -will tuin me fiom the straight 
 
 
 
 received it joyfuUy, aud wuh acclamation hailed the 
 
 pith" '1 he monk> redoubled then cffoits. "Believe 
 
 
 
 revival of Christianity. It -n a» the auroia of the Refoi - 
 
 not those," exelauucd the_y frum the pul[jit, •• who say 
 
 
 
 mation. Accordingly a conspiracy of monks and priests 
 
 that the sum of Christian doctrine is found in the 
 
 
 
 was soon formed against Capito. It was at this time 
 
 Gospel, and in St. Paul. Scotns has done more for 
 
 
 
 that Albert, the young cardinal-archbishop of Mentz, 
 
 Christianity than St. Paul himself. All the learning 
 
 
 
 who felt desirous of attaching a man of so much learn- 
 
 that has ever been spoken or printed, has been stolen 
 
 
 
 ing to his person, called him to his court. Capito, seeing 
 
 from Scotus. All that has been done since, by men 
 
 
 
 the difficulties which were thrown in his way, accepted 
 
 eager for fame, has been to throw in some Greek and 
 
 
 
 the invitation. The people were moved, and, turning 
 
 Hebrew terms, which have only darkened the matter." 
 
 
 _ 
 
 
238 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 The tumult increased ; and there was reasou to fear 
 that, ou Capito's departure, it would become still more 
 serious. "I will be almost alone," thought Hedio ; 
 " poor I, to struggle with these formidable monsters." 
 Accordingly he invoked the assistance of God, and 
 wrote to Zwingle. " Inflame my corn-age by writing 
 often. Learning and Christianity are now placed be- 
 tween the hammer and the anvil. Luther has just been 
 condemned by the universities of Louvain and Cologne. 
 If ever the Church was in imminent danger, it is at 
 this hour." 
 
 Capito left Bale for Mentz 28th April, and Hedio 
 succeeded Jiim. Not content with the public assemblies 
 in the church, at which he continued his exposition of 
 St. Matthew, he proposed, in the month of June, as he 
 wrote Luther, to have private meetings in his own 
 house, to give more thorough evangelical instruction to 
 those who might feel the want of it. This powerful 
 metliocl of communicating the truth, and exciting in 
 tlio faithful an interest and zeal in Divine things, could 
 not fail then, as it never does, to awaken opposition in 
 the men of the world, and in domineering priests, both 
 of Avhoni, though from different motives, are equally 
 desirous that God should be worshipped only within 
 the precincts of a particular building. But Hedio was 
 invincible. 
 
 At the same period when he formed this good reso- 
 lution at Bale, there arrived at Zurich one of those 
 characters who often emerge, like impure froth, fronl 
 the vortex of revolutions. 
 
 Senator Grebel, a man of great influence in Zurich, 
 had a sou named Conrad, a youth of remarkable 
 talents, and a relentless enemy of ignorance and super- 
 stition, which he attacked with cutting satire. He was 
 boisterous, violent, sarcastic, and bitter in his expres- 
 sion, without natural affection, given to debauchery, 
 always talking loudly of his own innocence, while he 
 could see nothing but what was wrong in others. We 
 speak of him here because ho is afterwards to play a 
 melancholy part. At this period Vadian married a 
 sister of Conrad ; and Conrad, who was studying at 
 Paris, where his misconduct had deprived him of the 
 use of his limbs, desiring to be present at the marriage, 
 appeared suddenly about the beginning of June amidst 
 his family. Tlie poor father received the prodigal son 
 with a gentle smile, his fond mother with tears. The 
 tenderness of his parents made no change on his un- 
 natural heart. His kind and unhappy mother having, 
 some time after, been brought to the gates of death, 
 Conrad wrote his brother-in-law, Vadian : " My mother 
 is recovered ; she again rules the house, sleeps, awakes, 
 grumbles, breakfasts, scolds, dines, makes a racket, 
 sups, and is perpetually a burden to us. She runs, 
 cooks, re-cooks, sweeps the house, toils, kills herself 
 with fatigue, and will shortly bring on a relapse." 
 
 Such was the man who, at a later period, pretended 
 to lord it over Zwingle, and who took the lead among 
 fanatical Anabaptists. Divine Providence, perhaps, 
 allowed such characters to appear at the period of the 
 Reformation, that their disorders might the better 
 bring out the wise. Christian, and orderly spirit of the 
 reformers. 
 
 Everything announced that the battle between the 
 Gospel and the papacy was about to commence. " Let 
 
 us stu- up the temporizers,'' wrote Hedio to Zu.'ich ; 
 " the peace is broken, let us arm our hearts, — the 
 enemies we shall have to combat are most fierce." 
 Myconius wrote in the same strain to Ulrich, who, 
 however, answered then- warlike appeals with admir- 
 able meekness. "I should like," said he, "to gain 
 these obstinate men by kindness and good offices, 
 rather than overcome them by violence and disputation. 
 That they call our doctrine (which, however, is not 
 ours) a doctrine of the devil, is nothing more than 
 natural. It proves to me that we are indeed the am- 
 bassadors of Christ. The devQs cannot be silent in 
 His presence." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Tlie Two Reformers— The Fall of Slan— Expiation of the Gotl-Man— No 
 Jlerit in Works— Objections Refuted— Power of Love to Christ— Elec- 
 tion — Christ alone Master— Effects of this Preaching — Despondency 
 and Courage— First Act of the Magistrate— Church and State— Attaclis 
 — Galster. 
 
 Though desirous to follow the path of meekness, 
 Zwingle was not idle. Since his illness his preaching 
 had become more profound and enlivening. More than 
 two thousand persons in Zurich had received the Word 
 of God into their heart, made profession of the evan- 
 gelical doctrine, and were themselves able to announce 
 it. 
 
 Zwingle's faith was the same as Luther's, but more 
 the result of reasoning. Luther advances with a bound ; 
 Zwingle owes more to clearness of perception. Luther's 
 writings are pervaded with a thorough personal convic- 
 tion of the benefits which the cross of Christ confers 
 upon himself; and this conviction, glowing with heat 
 and life, is the soul of all he says. The same thing, 
 doubtless, exists in Zwingle, but in an inferior degree. 
 He had looked more to the Christian system as a whole, 
 and admired it particularly for its beauty, for the light 
 which it sheds into the human mind, and the eternal 
 life which it brings to the world. The one is more the 
 man of heart, the other more the man of intellect; 
 and hence it is that those who do not experimentally 
 know the faith which animated these two great disciples 
 of the Lord, fall into the gi-ossest error, making the 
 one a mystic and the other a rationalist. The one is 
 more pathetic, perhaps, in the exposition of his faith, 
 and the other more philosophical ; but both believe 
 the same truths. They do not, however, look at all 
 secondary questions from the same point of view; but 
 that faith which is one, — that faith which quickens and 
 justifies its possessor, — that faith which no confession, 
 no article of doctrine can express, — is in the one as in 
 the other. The doctrine of Zwingle has often been so 
 much misrepresented, that it seems proper here to give 
 an account of what he preached at this time to the 
 increasing crowds who flocked to the cathedi-al of 
 Zurich. 
 
 The fall of Adam Zwingle regarded as the key to 
 man's history. "Before the fall," said he one day, 
 " man had been created with a free will, so that he was 
 
ZWINGLE'S DOCTRINE. 
 
 able, if he chose, to keep the law; his nature was pure, 
 being as yot untainted by the malady of sin ; his life 
 was in his own hand. But wishing to be equal to God, 
 ho died, . . . and not he only, but every one of 
 his descendants. All men being dead in Adam, none 
 can bo recalled to life until the Spirit, who is God him- 
 self, raise them from death." 
 
 The people of Zurich who listened eagerly to this 
 j)owcrful orator, were saddened when he set before 
 them the sinful state into which human nature has 
 fallen ; but soon after hoard words of joy, and learned 
 to know the remedy which is able to recall nnui to lifo. 
 " Christ, very man and very God," said the eloquent 
 voice of this shepherd, — son of the Tockcnbm-g, — 
 " lias piu'chased for us a redemption which will never 
 terminate. The eternal God died for us. His passion, 
 then, is eternal, — it brings salvation for ever and ever, 
 — it ;\p|ieases Divine justice for ever in favour of all 
 those who lean upon this sacrifice with finn and im- 
 moveablo faith." "Wlierever sin cxisls;," exclaimed 
 the reformer, "death must noc-sui ily Mipirvcne. 
 Christ had no sin, there was no guilr in His moiiili, and 
 yet He died ! Ah ! it was because lie died iu uiir stead. 
 He was pleased to die in order to restore us to life ; 
 and as He had no sins of His own, the Father, who is 
 full of mercy, laid the burden of our sins upon Him." 
 The Cin-istiau orator continued: "Since the will of 
 man rebelled against the supreme God, it was neces- 
 sary — if eternal order was to be re-established, and 
 man saved — that the human will should be made sub- 
 ject in Christ to the Divine will." He often repeated, 
 that it was for the faithful people of God that the 
 expiatory death of Jesus Christ had been endured. 
 
 Those in the city of Zurich who were eager for sal- 
 vation found rest on hearing these good news. But 
 old errors still remained, and these it was necessary to 
 destroy. Setting out from this great truth of a salva- 
 tion wliich is the gift of God, Zwingle forcibly dis- 
 coiu-sed against the pretended merit of human works. 
 "Since eternal salvation," said he, "proceeds solely 
 from the merits and death of Jesus Christ, the merit 
 of our works is nothing better than folly, not to say 
 rash impiety. Could we have been saved by our 
 works, it had not been necessary for Jesus Christ to 
 die. All who have ever come to God, came to Him by 
 the death of Jesus Christ." 
 
 Zwingle perceived the objections which some of his 
 hearers felt against these doctrines. Some of them 
 called upon him and stated them. He mounted the 
 pulpit and said : " People, more ciu'ious, perhaps, than 
 pious, object that this doctrine makes men giddy and 
 dissolute. But of what consequence are the objections 
 or fears wliich human curiosity may suggest ? Who- 
 soever believes in Jesus Christ is certam that every- 
 thing which comes from God is necessarily good. If, 
 then, the Gospel is of God, it is good. And what other 
 power would be capable of implanting among men in- 
 nocence, truth, and love ? O God i most compassionate, 
 most just. Father of mercies!" exclaimed he in the 
 overflowing of his piety, "with what love hast thou 
 embraced us — us thy enemies ! With what great and 
 certain hopes. hast thou inspired us — us who should 
 have known nothing but despair ; and to what glory 
 hast thou in thy Son called our littleness and nothing- 
 
 ness ! Thy purpose in tliis ineffable love is to con- 
 strain us to yield thee love for love!" 
 
 Then, dwelling on this idea, he shewed that love to 
 the Redeemer is a more powerful law than the com- 
 mandments. " The Christian," said he, " delivered 
 from the law depends entirely on Christ. Christ is 
 his reason, his counsel, his righteousness, and whole 
 salvation. Christ lives in him and acts in him. 
 Christ alone guides him, and he needs no other guide." 
 And, making use of a comparison adapted to his hearers, 
 he added : "If a government prohibits its citizens, 
 under pain of death, from receiving pensions and 
 presents at the hands of princes, how gentle and easy 
 this law is to those who, from love to theii- country 
 and to liberty, would, of their own accord, refrain 
 from so culpable a proceeding; but, on the contrary, 
 how tormenting and oppressive it feels to those wlio 
 think only of their own interest! Thus the righteous 
 man lives joyful in the love of righteousness, whereas 
 the imrighteous walks groaning under the heavy weight 
 of the law which oppresses him." 
 
 In the cathedral of Zurich was a considerable num- 
 ber of veteran soldiers who felt the truth of these 
 words. Is not love the mightiest of legislators? Is 
 not everything that it commands instantly accomplish- 
 ed? Does not He whom we love dwell in our heart; 
 and does it not of itself perform what He enjoins? 
 Accordingly Zwingle, waxing bold, declared to the 
 people of Zurich that love to the Redeemer was alone 
 capable of making man do things agreeable to God. 
 "Works done out of Jesus Christ are not useful," said 
 the Christian orator. " Since everything is done of 
 Him, in Him, and by Him, what do we pretend to 
 arrogate to ourselves? Wherever faith in God is, 
 there God is; and wherever God is, there is a zeal 
 which presses and urges men to good works. Only 
 take care that Christ be in thee and thou in Christ, 
 and then doubt not but He will work. The life of the 
 Christian is just one continued work, by which God 
 begins, continues, and perfects in man everything that 
 is good." 
 
 Struck with the grandeur of this Divine love, which 
 existed from eternity, the herald of gi-ace raised his 
 voice to all the timid or irresolute. " Can you fear," 
 said he, "to approach the tender Father who has 
 chosen you? Why has He chosen us in His grace? 
 Why has He called us? Why has He drawn us? 
 Was it that we might not dare to go to Him?" . . 
 
 Such was the doctrine of Zwingle. It was the 
 doctrine of Christ himself. "If Luther preaches 
 Christ, he does what I do," said the preacher of Zm-ich. 
 " Those who have been brought to Christ by him are 
 more numerous than those who have been brought by 
 me. But no matter! I am unwilling to bear any 
 other name than that of Christ, whose soldier I am, 
 and who alone is my head. Never was a single scrap 
 written by me to Luther, or by Luther to me. And 
 why? In order to shew to all how well the Spirit of 
 God accords with himself, since, without having heard 
 each other, we so harmoniously teach the doctrine of 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 Thus Zwingle preached with energy and might. 
 The large cathedral could not contain the crowds 
 of hearers. All thanked God that a new life was 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 bednuing to animate the lifeless body of the Church. 
 Swiss from all the cantons, brought to Zurich either 
 by the diet or by other causes, being touched by this 
 new preaching, carried its precious seeds into all the 
 Helvetic valleys. One acclamation arose from moun- 
 tains and cities. Nicolas Haceu':, writing from Lucerne 
 to Zurich. f:ivs: '-Swii/i il iml li i- hitlu-rlo uiven birth 
 
 upside down. He thought it impossible that anything 
 new should appear without something of an opposite 
 nature being immediately displayed. When a hope 
 sprang up in his heart, a fear immediately sprang up 
 beside it. Still, he soon raised his head. " The life 
 of man here below," said he, " is a war ; he who desires 
 to obtain glory must attack the world in front, and, 
 like David, make this haughty Goliath, who seems so 
 proud of his stature, to bite the dust. The Church," 
 said he, like Luther, "has been acquired by blood, and 
 must be renewed by blood. The more numerous the 
 defilements in it, the more must we arm ourselves, like 
 Hercules, in order to clean out these Augean stables. 
 I have liltle fear for Luther, ' added he, "even should 
 he be thundered asranist by the bolts of this Tnpiter " 
 /^\In 1 tiodinnr 1 nt i loc and i puioltnthe 
 
 ^j^««*ii^^ i 
 
 to "^tipios Cxsais, ml liiili I ul In u lI> 
 
 pioduced two men -(^ho hid tlit knoT\ ledge of Jcsus 
 Christ, and could nourish men's hearts, not with -n ain 
 disputes, but with the Word of God. Now that 
 Divine Providence gives Switzerland Zwingle for its 
 orator, and Oswald Myconius for its teacher, virtue 
 and sacred literature revive among us. O happy 
 Helvetia! could you but resolve at length to rest from 
 all your wars, and, already so celebrated, become still 
 more celebrated for righteousness and peace!" "It 
 was said," wrote Myconius to Zwingle, " that your 
 voice could not be heard three yards off. But I now 
 see it was a falsehood; for all Switzerland hears you." 
 " Yon possess intrepid courage," wrote Hedio to him 
 from Bale; "I will foUow you as far as I am able." 
 " I have heard you," said Sebastian Hofmeister of 
 Schaifhausen, writing to him from Constance. "Ah, 
 would to God that Zurich, which is at the head of our 
 happy confederation, was delivered from the disease, 
 and health thus restored to the whole body!" 
 
 But Zwingle met with opponents as well as admirers. 
 " To what end," said some, " does he intermeddle with 
 the aifairs of Switzerland?" "Why," said others, 
 " does he, in his religious instructions, constantly re- 
 peat the same things ? " Amid all these combats the 
 soul of Zwingle was often filled with sadness. All 
 seemed to be in confusion, as if society were turned 
 
 papal guard, n man ot -ou.l iniiiin-, 1,nt completely 
 ignorant, had obtained his benefice by carrying a hal- 
 berd. True to his soldier habits, he spent the day and 
 part of the night in jovial company, while Staheh, his 
 vicar, was indefatigable in fulfilling the duties of his 
 office. Zwingle invited the young minister to his house. 
 " I have need of Swiss help," said he to him ; and from 
 this moment Staheli was his fellow-labourer. Zwingle, 
 Stiiheli, and Luti, afterwards pastor of Winterthur, 
 lived under the same roof. 
 
 The devotedness of Zwingle was not to pass unre- 
 warded. The Word of God, preached with so much 
 energy, could not fail to produce fruit. Several magis- 
 trates were gained, experiencing the Word to be their 
 consolation and their strength. The council, grieved 
 at seeing the priests, and especially the monks, shame- 
 lessly delivering from the pulpit whatever came into 
 their he^ads, passed a resolution, ordering them not to 
 advance anything in their discourses " that they did 
 not draw from the sacred sources of the Old and New 
 Testaments." It was in 1520 that the civil power thus 
 interposed, for the first time, in the work of the Refor- 
 mation ; acting as a Christian magistrate, say some, — 
 since the first duty of the magistrate is to maintain the 
 
MARTYRDOM OF GALSTER. 
 
 Word of God, and defend the best interests of the citi- 
 zens ; depriving the Ciuirch of its liberty, say others, — 
 by subjecting it to secular power, and giving the signal 
 for the series of evils which have since been engendered 
 by the connection between Church and State. We will 
 not give any opinion here on this great controversy, 
 Avhich, in our day, is carried on with so much warmth 
 in several countries. It is sufficient for us to point out 
 its commencement at the period of the Reformation. 
 But there is another thing also to be pointed out, — the 
 act of these magistrates was itself one of the effects 
 produced by the preaching of the Word of God. At 
 this period the Reformation in Switzerland ceased to 
 be the work of private individuals, and began to be in- 
 cluded within the national domain. Born in the heart 
 of a few priests and literary men, it extended, rose, and 
 took up elevated ground. Like the waters of the ocean, 
 it gradually increased till it had overflowed an immense 
 extent. 
 
 The monks were confounded ; they were ordered to 
 preach nothing but the Word of God, and the greater 
 part of them had never read it. Opposition provokes 
 opposition. The resolution of the council became the 
 signal of more violent attacks on the Reformation. 
 Plots began to be formed against the curate of Zurich. 
 His life was in danger. One evening, when Zwingle 
 and his vicars were quietly conversing in their house, 
 some citizens arrived in great haste, and asked: "Are 
 your doors well bolted ? Be this night on your guard." 
 " Such alarms were frequent," adds Stiiheli ; " but wc 
 were well armed, and a guard was stationed for us in 
 the street." 
 
 In other places means still more violent were resorted 
 to. An old man of Schaffhausen, named Galster, a 
 
 m^<^ 
 
 man of piety, and of an ardour rare at his period of life, 
 happy in the light which he had found in the Gospel, 
 laboured to communicate it to his wife and children. 
 His zeal, perhaps indiscreet, openly attacked the re- 
 lics, priests, and superstitions with which this canton 
 abounded. He soon became an object of hatred and 
 terror even to his own family. The old man, penetrat- 
 ing their fatal designs, left his home broken-hearted, 
 
 and fled to the neighbouring forest. There he lived 
 several days subsisting on whatever he could find, when 
 suddenly, on the last night of the year 1520, torches 
 blazed in all directions through the forest, and the cries 
 of men and the barking of dogs re-echoed under its 
 dark shades. The council had ordered a hunt in the 
 woods to discover him. The dogs scented him out, and 
 the unhappy old man was dragged before the magis- 
 trate. He was ordered to abjure his faith, but remained 
 immoveable, and was beheaded. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A New Combataut— The Reformer of Berne— Zwingle Encourages HaUer— 
 Tlie Gospel at Lucerne— Oswald Persecuted— Preaching of Zwingle— 
 Henry Bullinger and Ceroid of Knonau— Rubli at Bile— Tlie Chaplain 
 of the Hospital- War in Italy— Zwingle against Foreign Service. 
 
 The year — the first day of which was signalized by this 
 bloody execution — had scarcely commenced when 
 Zwingle was waited on, in his house at Zurich, by a 
 young man, of about twenty-eight years of age, tall 
 in stature, and with an exterior which bespoke can- 
 dour, simplicity, and diffidence. He said his name 
 was Berthold HaUer. Zwingle, on hearing the name, 
 embraced the celebrated preacher of Berne with that 
 affability which made him so engaging. HaUer, born 
 at AJdingen in Wurtemberg, had first studied at Rot- 
 weil under Rubellus, and afterwards at Pforzheim, 
 where Simler was his teacher, and Melancthon his fel- 
 low-student. The Bernese, who had already distin- 
 guished themselves by arms, at this time resolved to 
 invite literature into the bosom of their republic. 
 Rubellus and Berthold, not twenty-one years of age, 
 repaired thither. Sometime after, the latter was ap- 
 pointed canon, and ultimately preacher of the cathedi-al. 
 The Gospel which Zwingle preached had extended to 
 Bcine, HaUer believed, and thenceforth longed to see 
 the distinguished man whom he now looked up to as 
 his father. He went to Zurich after Myconius had 
 iiiMounced his intended visit. Thus met HaUer and 
 /u ingle. The former, a man of great meekness, un- 
 bobomed his griefs; and the latter, a man of might, 
 inspired him with courage. One day Berthold said to 
 Aw ingk : " My spirit is overwhelmed. ... I am 
 not able to bear all this injustice. I mean to give up 
 the pulpit and retire to Bale beside Wittembach, and 
 ih(ie occupy myself exclusively with sacred literature." 
 Vh ' " replied Zwingle, " I, too, have my feeUngs of 
 ikspondency, when unjust attacks are made upon me; 
 but Christ awakens my conscience, and urges me on by 
 His terrors and His promises. He alarms me when 
 He says : Whoso shall be ashamed of me before men, of 
 him will I be ashamed before my Father; and He sets my 
 mind at ease when He adds : Whoso shcdl confess me be- 
 fore men, him will I confess before my Father. My dear 
 Berthold, rejoice ! Our name is written in indelible 
 characters in the register of citizenship on high. I am 
 ready to die for Christ. Let your wild cubs," added 
 he, " hear the doctrine of Jesus Christ, and you will see 
 
242 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATIOX. 
 
 them become tame.' But this task miist be performed 
 with great gentleness, lest they turn again and rend 
 you." HaUer's courage revived. " My soul," said he 
 to Zwingle, "is awakened out of its sleep. I must 
 preach the Gospel. Jesus Christ must again be estab- 
 lished in this city, from which he has been so long 
 exiled." Thus the torch of Berthold was kindled at 
 the torch of Zivingle ; and the timid HaUer threw him- 
 self into the midSt of the ferocious bears, who, as 
 Zwingle expresses it, " were gnashing their teeth, and 
 seeking to devour him." 
 
 It was in another part of Switzerland, however, that 
 persecution was to begin. Warlike Lucerne came for- 
 ward, like a foe in full armour couching his lance. In 
 this canton, which was favourable to foreign service, a 
 martial spirit predominated, and the leading men knit 
 their brows when they heard words of peace fitted to 
 curb their warlike temper. Meanwhile, the writings 
 of Luther having found their way into the town, some 
 of the inhabitants began to examine them, and were 
 horrified. It seemed to them that an infernal hand 
 had traced the lines ; their imagination was excited, 
 their senses became bewildered, and their rooms seemed 
 as if filled with demons, flocking around them, and 
 glaring upon them with a sarcastic smUe. They hastily 
 closed the book, and dashed it from them in dismay. 
 Oswald, who had heard of these singular visions, did 
 not speak of Luther to any but his most intimate friends, 
 and contented himself with simply preaching the Gos- 
 pel of Christ. Nevertheless, the cry which rtmg 
 through the town was : "Luther and the schoolmaster 
 (Myconins) must be burnt." "I am driven by my 
 adversaries like a ship by the raging billows," said 
 Oswald to one of his friends. One day in the begin- 
 ning of the year 1520, he was unexpectedly summoned 
 to appear before the councU, and told : " Your orders 
 are, not to read the writings of Luther to your pupils, 
 not to name him in their presence, and not even to 
 think of him." The lords of Lucerne pretended, it 
 seems, to have a very extensive jurisdiction. Shortly 
 after, a preacher delivered a sermon against heresy. 
 The whole audience was moved, and every eye was 
 turned on Myconius ; for whom but he coiild the 
 preacher have in his eye ? Oswald kept quietly in his 
 seat, as if the matter had not concerned him. But on 
 leaving the church, as he was walking with his friend, 
 Canon Xylotect, one of the councillors, stUl under 
 great excitement, passed close to them, and passionatelj- 
 exclaimed : " Well, disciples of Luther, why don't you 
 defend your master V They made no answer. " I 
 live," said Myconius, " among fierce wolves ; but I have 
 this consolation, that the most of them are without 
 teeth. They would bite if they could ; but not being 
 able, they bark." 
 
 The senate assembled : for the people began to be 
 tmnultuous. " He is a Lutheran I " said one of the 
 coTmciUors : " he is a propagator of new doctrines !" said 
 another: "he is a seducer of youth!" said a third. 
 " Let him appear ! let him appear I " The poor school- 
 master appeared, and again listened to prohibitions 
 and menaces. His unsophisticated soul was torn and 
 overwhelmed. His gentle spouse could only console 
 him by shedding tears. "Every one is rising up 
 1 There is a beir in tte arms of the tQvra of Btme. 
 
 against me," exclaimed he in his agony. " Assailed by 
 so many tempests, whither shall I turn, or how shall 
 I escape ? . . . Were it not for Christ, I wotdd 
 long ago have fallen under these assaults." "What 
 matters it," wrote Doctor Sebastian Hofmeister of 
 Constance to him. " whether Lucerne chooses to keep 
 you or not ? The whole earth is the Lord's. Everv 
 land is a home to the brave. Though we should be 
 the most wicked of men, our enterprise is just, for we 
 teach the Word of Christ." 
 
 While the truth encountered so many obstacles at 
 Lucerne, it was victorious at Zurich. Zwingle was 
 incessant in his labours. Wishing to examine the 
 whole sacred volume in the original tongues, he zeal- 
 ously engaged in the study of Hebrew, under the 
 direction of John Boschenstein, a pupU of Eeuchlin. 
 But if he studied Scriptiu-e, it was to preach it. The 
 peasants who flocked to the market on Friday to dis- 
 pose of their goods, shewed an eagerness to receive the 
 Word of God. To satisfy their longings, Zwingle had 
 begun, in December, 1520, to expound the Psalms 
 every Friday after studying the original. The refor- 
 mers always combined learned with practical labours — 
 the latter forming the end. the former only the means. 
 They were at once students and popular teachers. 
 This tinion of learning and charity is characteristic 
 of tlie period. In regard to his services on Sunday, 
 Zwingle, after lecturing from St. Matthew on the life 
 of our Saviour, proceeded aftewards to shew from the 
 Acts of the Apostles how the Gospel was propagated. 
 Thereafter he laid do-mi the rules of the Christian 
 life according to the Epistles to Timothy; employed 
 the Epistle to the Galatians in combating doctrinal 
 errors ; combined with it the two Epistles of St. Peter, 
 in order to shew to the despisers of St. Paul that both 
 apostles were animated by the same spirit ; and con- 
 cluded with the Epistle to the Hebrews, in order to 
 give a full display of the benefits which Christians 
 derive from Jesus Christ, their sovereign priest. 
 
 But Zwingle did not confine his attention to adults ; 
 he sought also to inspire youth with the sacred flame 
 by which his o\\ti breast was animated. One day, in 
 1521, while he was sitting in his study reading the 
 Fathers of the Church, taking extracts of the most 
 striking passages, and carefully arranging them into a 
 large volume, his door opened, and a young man en- 
 tered, whose appearance interested him exceedingly. 
 It was Henry Bullinger, who was retorning from Ger- 
 many, and impatient to become acqmiinted with the 
 teacher of his country, whose name was already famous 
 in Christendom. The handsome youth fixed his eye 
 tirst on Zwingle, and then on the books, and felt his 
 vocation to do what Zwingle was doing. Zwingle 
 received him with his usual cordiality, which won aU 
 hearts. This first visit had great influence on the 
 future life of the student, who was on his retm^n to 
 the paternal hearth. Another youth had also won 
 Zwingle's heart : this was Gerold Meyer of £nonau. 
 His mother, Anna Eeinhardt, who afterwards occupied 
 an important place in the reformer's life, had been a 
 great beauty, and was stUl distinguished for her virtues. 
 John Meyer of Knonau, a youth of a noble family, 
 who had been brought up at the court of the Bishop of 
 Constance, had received a strong passion for Anna, 
 
GEROLD VON KNONAU. 
 
 243 
 
 who, however, belonged to a plebeian fainil}'. Old 
 Meyer of Knonau had refused his consent to their 
 marriage ; and after it took pUicc, disinherited his son. 
 In 1513, Anna was left a widow, with a son and two 
 daughters, and devoted herself entirely to the education 
 of her poor orphans. The grandfather was inexorable. 
 One day, however, the widow's niaid-servaut, having 
 in her arms young Gerold, then a beautiful sprightly 
 child of three years of age, stopped at the fish market, 
 when old Meyer, who was looking out at a window, 
 observed him, and, continuing to gaze after him, asked 
 to wliom that beautiful lively child belonged. " It is 
 your son's child," was the answer. The heart of the 
 old man was moved — the ice immediately melted — all 
 was forgotten, and he clasped in his arms the widow 
 and children of his son. Zwiugle loved, as if he had 
 been his own son, the noble and intrepid youth Ger- 
 old, who was to die in the flower of his age, side by 
 side with the reformer, with his sword in his hand, 
 and surroimded, alas ! with the dead bodies of his 
 enemies. Thinking that Gerold would not be able to 
 prosecute his studies at Zurich, Zwingle, in 1521, sent 
 him to Bale. 
 
 Young Knonau did not find Hedio, the friend of 
 Zwingle, there. Capito being obliged to accompany 
 the Archbishop Albert to the coronation of Charles Y., 
 had procured Hedio to supply his place. Bi'de having 
 thus, one after another, lost her most faithfid preachers, 
 the Church there seemed forsaken ; but other men 
 appeared. Fom- thousand hearers squeezed into the 
 church of "William Eoubli, curate of St. Alban. He 
 attacked the mass, purgatory, and the invocation of 
 saints ; but this turbulent man, who was eager to draw 
 the public attention upon himself, declaimed more 
 against error than in support of truth. On Corpus 
 Christi day he joined the public procession; but in 
 place of the cnstomarv relics, caused the Holy Scrip- 
 tures to be carried before him, splendidly bound, and 
 bearing this inscription: "The Bible; this is the 
 true relic, the others are only dead bones." Courage 
 adorns the servant of God ; affectation disgraces him. 
 The work of an evangelist is to preach the Bible, and 
 not to make a presumptuous display of it. The enraged 
 priests accused Eoubli before the council. A mob 
 immediately gathered in Cordelier Square. " Protect 
 our preacher," said the citizens to the council. Fifty 
 ladies of distinction interceded in his behalf; but 
 Eoubli was obliged to quit B;'de. At a later period he 
 took part, like Grebel, in Anabaptist disorders. The 
 Reformation, in the course of its development, ever}'-- 
 where threw off the chaff which mingled with the 
 good grain. 
 
 At this period a modest voice was heard from the 
 humblest of the chapels, clearly proclaiming the evan- 
 gelical doctrine. It was that of young Wolfgang 
 AVissemberger, son of a councillor of state, and chap- 
 lain of the hospital. All in Bale who felt new reli- 
 gious wants, attached themselves to the gentle chaplain, 
 preferring him to the presumptuous Eoubli. AYolfgaug 
 began to read the mass in German. The monks 
 renewed their clamour, but this time they failed, and 
 Wissemberger continued to preach the Gospel ; " for," 
 says an old chronicler, "he was a burgess, and his 
 father a councillor." This first success of the Eefor- 
 
 mation in Bille, while it was tiie prelude of still greater 
 success, at the same time tended greatly to promote 
 the progress of the work throughout the confederation. 
 Ziu'ich no longer stood alone. Learned Bale began to 
 be charmed with the new doctrine. The foundations 
 of the new temple were enlarged. The Eeformation in 
 Switzerland obtained a fuller development. 
 
 The centre of the movement WiW, however, at Zurich. 
 But, to the deep grief of Zwingle, important political 
 events occurred in 1521, and iu some measure dis- 
 tracted men's minds from the preaching of the Gospel. 
 Leo X., who had offered his alliance at once to Charles 
 Y. and Francis I., had at last declared for the emperor. 
 War between the two rivals was on the point of break- 
 ing out in Italy. The French general Lautrec had 
 said : " There will be nothing left of tlie pope but his 
 ears." This bad jest increased the pontiff's anger. 
 The King of France claimed the aid of the Swiss can- 
 tons ; all of which, with the exception of Zurich, had 
 formed an alliance with him : he obtained it. The 
 pope flattered himself he would gain Ziu'ieh ; and the 
 Cardinal of Sion, ever given to intrigue, and confident 
 in his ability and his finesse, hastened thither to obtain 
 soldiers for his master. But from his old friend Zwingle 
 he encountered a vigorous opposition. He was indignant 
 that the Swiss should sell their blood to strangers ; and 
 his imagination figured to itself the swords of the 
 Zuriehers under the standard of the pope and the em- 
 peror in the plains of Italy, crossing the swords of the 
 confederates united under the colours of France. At 
 such scenes of fratricide his patriotic and Christian 
 soul shuddered with horror. Thundering from the 
 pulpit, he exclaimed : "Would you rend and overthrow 
 the confederation? . . . We attack the wolves 
 which devour our flocks, but offer no resistance to 
 those who prowl around seeking to devom- men. 
 . . . Ah! it is not without cause that these hats 
 and mantles are of scarlet. Shake their robes, and 
 ducats and crowns will tumble out of them; twist 
 them, and you wiU see the blood of your brother, your 
 father, yoiu- son, and your dearest friend trickling 
 down from them." The energetic voice of Zwingle 
 was heard in vain. The cardinal with the red hat suc- 
 ceeded; and two thousand seven hundred Zuriehers 
 set out under the command of George Berguer. 
 Zwingle was heart-broken. Still, however, his influ- 
 ence was not lost. For a long time the banners of 
 Zurich were not again to be unfurled, and pass the 
 gates of the town iu the cause of foreign powers. 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 Zwingle against the Precepts of Maa — Fermentation during Lent — Truth 
 advances during Combat— The Deputies of the Bishops— Accusation 
 before the Clergy and Council — Appeal to the Great Council — The 
 Coadjutor and Zwingle— Decree of the Grand Council— State of Matters 
 
 —Attack by Hoffman. 
 
 Torn in his feelings as a citizen, Zwingle devoted 
 himself with new zeal to the preaching of the Gospel, 
 urging it with growing energy. "I will not cease," 
 said he, " to labour to restore the ancient unity of the 
 
244 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Church of Christ." He bcgaa the year 1522 by 
 shewing what difference there is between the precepts 
 of tlie Gospel and the precepts of men. Tlie season 
 of Lent having arrived, he raised his voice stUl more 
 loudly. After laying the foundation of the new edifice, 
 he wished to clear away the rubbish of the old. "For 
 I four years," said he to the multitude assembled in the 
 ' cathedral, " you, with ardent thirst, received the holy 
 doctrine of the Gospel. Enkindled by the flames of 
 charity, fed with the sweets of heavenly manna, it is 
 impossible to have still any relish for the sad element 
 of human traditions." Then attacking compulsory 
 I abstinence from flesh for a certain time, he exclaimed 
 I in his bold eloquence : " There are some who pretend 
 that it is an evil, and even a great sin, to eat flesh, 
 although God never forbade it; and yet do not consider 
 [ it a crime to sell human flesh to the foreigner, and 
 drag it to slaughter." The friends of foreign service 
 who were present were fiUed with indignation and rage 
 ; at these bold words, and vowed not to forget them. 
 I While preaching thus forcibly, Zwingle still con- 
 j tinned to say mass ; he observed the usages established 
 I by the Church, and even abstained from meat on the 
 forbidden days. He was persuaded that the first thing 
 necessary was to enlighten the people. But certain tur- 
 bulent spirits did not act with so much wisdom. Eoubli, 
 who had become a refugee at Zurich, allowed himself to 
 be carried away by the impulse of an extravagant zeal. 
 The old cui-ate of St. Alban, a Bernese captain, and 
 Conrad Huber, a member of the great council, often 
 met at the house of the last to eat meat on Friday and 
 Saturday, and made a boast of it. The question of 
 abstinence was the engrossing topic. An inhabitant 
 I of Lucerne, who had come to Zurich, said to one of 
 1 his friends there : "You do wrong in eating flesh during 
 Lent." The friend answered : "Y'ou Lucerne folks also 
 take the liberty of eating it on the forbidden days." 
 The inhabitant of Lucerne rejoined: "We have pur- 
 chased it from the pope." The friend : "And we from 
 the butcher. If it is a question of money, the one is 
 surely as good as the other." The council — a com- 
 plaint having been lodged against the transgressors of 
 the ecclesiastical ordinances— asked the advice of the 
 curates. Z■^^^ngle answered that the act of eating meat 
 every day was not blameable in itself; but that it 
 ought to be abstained from so long as competent 
 authority had not given any decision on the point. 
 The other members of the clergy concurred in this 
 opinion. 
 
 The enemies of the truth took advantage of this 
 favourable circumstance. Their influence was on the 
 wane. Victory was on the side of Zwingle. It was 
 necessary, therefore, to make haste and strike a deci- 
 sive blow. They unportuned the Bishop of Constance. 
 " Zwingle," exclaimed they, " is the destroyer of the 
 flock, and not its shepherd." 
 
 Ambitious Faber, the old friend of Zivingle, had 
 returned, full of zeal for the papacy, from a visit which 
 he had just paid to Rome. From the inspiration of 
 this proud city the first troubles of Switzerland were 
 to proceed. It was necessary that there should be a 
 decisive struggle between evangelical truth and the 
 representatives of the pontiff. It is especially when 
 attacked that the truth manifests its whole power. 
 
 Under the shade of opposition and persecution, Chris- 
 tianity at first acquired the power which overthrew her 
 enemies. God was pleased, in like manner, to conduct 
 His truth through difficult paths at the period of revival 
 which we now describe. The priests then, as in the 
 days of the apostles, assailed the new doctrine. But 
 for their attacks it might, perhaps, have remained 
 obscurely hid in some faithful souls. But God watched 
 over it to manifest it to the world. Opposition struck 
 out new paths for it, launched it on a new career, and 
 fixed the eyes of the nation upon it. It was like a 
 breath of wind scattering far and wide seeds which 
 might otherwise have remained inert in the spots on 
 which they fell. The tree destined to shelter the Hel- 
 vetic population was indeed planted in the bosom of 
 then- valleys, but storms were necessary to strengthen 
 the roots and give full development to the branches. 
 The partisans of the papacy, seeing the fire which was 
 slowly burning in Zurich, threw themselves upon it to 
 extinguish it, and thereby only caused its flames to 
 spread. 
 
 On the afternoon of the 7th April, 1522, three eccle- 
 siastic deputies from the Bisliop of Constance were 
 seen entering the town of Zurich. Two of them had 
 a stern and angry, the third, a gentle expression of 
 countenance. It was the coadjutor of the Bishop 
 Melchior Battli, Doctor Brendi, and John Vanner, 
 preacher of the cathedral, an evangelical man, who, 
 diu'ing the whole affair, remained silent. It was night 
 when Luti called in haste on Zwingle, and said: 
 "Oflicers from the bishop have arrived; a great blow 
 is preparing ; all the partisans of ancient customs are 
 in motion. A notary has called a meeting of all the 
 priests at an early hour to-morrow morning, in the 
 hall of the chapter." 
 
 The assembly of the clergy having accordingly met 
 next day, the coadjutor rose and delivered a speech, 
 which seemed to his opponents full of violence and 
 pride. He affected, however, not to mention Zwingle 
 by name. Some priests who had been recently gained 
 to the Gospel, and were still irresolute, were terrified; 
 their pale cheeks, their silence, and their sighs, shewed 
 that they had lost all courage. Zwingle rose and 
 delivered a speech which closed the mouths of his 
 adversaries. At Zurich, as in the other cantons, the 
 most violent enemies of the new doctrine were in the 
 Lesser Council. The deputation, defeated before the 
 clerg}', carried their complaints before the magistrates. 
 Zwingle was absent, and there was no reply to be 
 dreaded. The result appeared decisive. The Gospel 
 and its defenders were on the point of being condemned 
 without a hearing. Never was the Reformation of 
 Switzerland in greater danger. It was going to be 
 stifled in the cradle. The councillors in favour of 
 Zwingle appealed to the Great Council. It was the 
 only remaining plank for escape, and God employed it 
 to save the cause of the Gospel. The Two Hundred 
 were convened. The partisans of the papacy used 
 every means to exclude Zwingle, who, on the other 
 hand, did all he could to gain admission. As he him- 
 self expresses it, he knocked at every door, and left 
 not a stone unturned; but all in vain! "The thing is 
 impossible," said the burgomasters ; " the Council has 
 decreed the contrary." " Then," relates Zwingle, " I 
 
APPEAL TO THE GREAT COUNCIL. 
 
 remained quiet, nud with deep sighs carried the matter 
 before Ilim who hears the groaning of the prisoner, 
 supphcating Ilim to defend His own Gospel." The 
 patient resigned waiting of the servants of God is 
 never disappointed. 
 
 On the Uth April the Two Hundred assembled, 
 '•■\Ve wish to have our pastors here," immediately 
 exclaimed the members who were in favour of the 
 Reformation. The Lesser Council resisted; but the 
 Great Council decided that the pastors should be 
 present to hear the charge, and answer it if they 
 thought fit. The deputies from Constance were intro- 
 duced, and then the tlircc curates of Zurich: Zwingle, 
 Engelliard, and old Rijschli. 
 
 After the parties thus brought face to face had for 
 some time eyed each other, the coadjutor rose. " Had 
 his heart and his head been equal to his voice," says 
 Zwingle, '-he would, in sweetness, liavo surjjassed 
 Apollo and Orpheus, and in force the Gracchi and 
 Demosthenes." 
 
 '•The civil constitution," said the champion of the 
 papacy, " and Christianity itself, are threatened. Men 
 have appeared teaching new, offensive, and seditious 
 doctrines." Then, after speaking at gi-eat length, he 
 fixed his eye on the assembled senate, and said: 
 "Remain with the Church! — remain in the Church! 
 Out of it none can be saved. Ceremonies alone can 
 bring the simple to the knowledge of salvation; and 
 the pastors of the fiocks have nothing else to do than 
 to explain their meaning to the people." 
 
 As soon as the coadjutor had finished his speech, he 
 and his party were preparing to leave the coimcil-haU, 
 when Zwingle said to him warmly: "Mr. Coadjutor, 
 and you who accompany him, remain, I pray you, till 
 I have defended myself." 
 
 The Coadjutor. — "AV'e are not employed to dispute 
 with any man whatever." 
 
 Zwingle. — " I mean not to dispute, but to explain to 
 you, without fear, what I have taught up to this hour." 
 
 Burgomaster Jioust to the Deputies of Constance. — " I 
 pray you listen to the curate's reply." 
 
 The Coadjutor. — "I too well know the man with 
 whom I would have to do. Ulrich Zwingle is too 
 violent for any man to dispute with !" 
 
 Zwingle. — " When did it become the practice to at- 
 tack an innocent man so strongly, and afterwards refuse 
 to hear him ? In the name of our common' faith, — in 
 the name of the baptism which both of us have re- 
 ceived, — in the name of Christ, the author of salvation 
 and life, — listen to me. If you cannot as deputies, at 
 least do it as Christians." 
 
 After firing a volley info the air, Rome retired with 
 hasty steps from the field of battle. The reformer 
 only asked to speak, and the agent of the papacy 
 thought only of flight. A cause thus pleaded Avas 
 already gained on the one side, and lost on the other. 
 The Two Hundred could not contain their indignation ; 
 a murmur burst forth in the assembly. The burgo- 
 master again pressed the deputies. They felt ashamed, 
 and silently resumed their seats. Then Zwingle said : 
 _ " The coadjutor speaks of seditious doctrines subver- 
 sive of civil laws. Let him know that Zurich is quieter, 
 and more obedient to the laws, than any other town in 
 Switzerland ; and this all good citizens attribute to the 
 
 Gospel. Is not Christianity the most powerful safe- 
 guard of justice among a people ? What are cere- 
 monies good for, unless it be to sully the face of Christ 
 and Christians? Yes, there is another method than 
 these vain observances to bring simi)le people to the 
 knowledge of the truth — a method which Christ and 
 the apostles followed in the Gospel itself ! Have no 
 dread of its not being comprehended by the people ! 
 AVhoever believes comprehends. The people can be- 
 lieve, and therefore can comprehend. This is a work 
 of the Divine Spirit, and not of human reason. For 
 the rest, he who does not find forty days sufficient, may, 
 for me, if he likes, fast every day in the year ! All I 
 ask is, that nobody be compelled to do so, and that, for 
 neglect of the minutest observance, the Zurichers be 
 not accused of separating from tiie communion of 
 Christians." . . . 
 
 " I did not say so," exclaimed the coadjutor. " No," 
 said his colleague, Dr. Brendi ; " he did not say it." 
 But the whole senate confirmed the assertion of Zwingle, 
 who continued : 
 
 "Worthy citizens, let not this accusation move you! 
 The foundation of the Church is that rock, that Christ 
 who gave Peter his name, because he confessed Him 
 faithfully. In every nation whosoever believeth with 
 the heart in the Lord Jesus Christ is saved. This is 
 the Church out of which no man can be saved. As to 
 us ministers of Christ, to explain the Gospel and follow 
 it, is the whole of our duty. Let those who live by 
 ceremonies make it their business to explain them." 
 This was to touch the sore part. 
 
 The coadjutor blushed aud said nothing. The Two 
 Hundred adjourned, and afterwards, the same day, 
 decided that the pope and cardinals should be requested 
 to explain the controverted point ; and that, in the 
 meantime, flesh should not be eaten diu-ing Lent. This 
 was to leave matters on the old footing, and answer 
 the bishop in such a way as to gain time. 
 
 This struggle had advanced the work of the Refor- 
 mation. The champions of Rome and of the Refor- 
 mation had been in presence of each other, and before 
 the eyes of the whole community, and the advantage 
 had not been on the side of the pope. This was the 
 first engagement in what was to be a long and severe 
 campaign, and to exhibit many alternations of grief 
 and joy. But a first victory at the outset gives courage 
 to the whole army, and fills the enemy with dismay. 
 The Reformation had obtained possession of a territory 
 of which it was not again to be deprived. If the coun- 
 cil deemed it necessary to proceed with some degree of 
 caution, the people loudly proclaimed the defeat of 
 Rome. "Never," said they, in the exultation of the 
 moment, — " never will they be able to reassemble their 
 beaten and scattered troops." " You," said they to 
 Zwingle, " have, with the spirit of St. Paul, attacked 
 these false apostles and their Ananias, — their whited 
 walls. . . . The utmost the satellites of Antichrist 
 can now do is to gnash their teeth against you 1 " 
 Voices were heard from the centre of Germany joy- 
 fully proclaiming " the gloiy of reviA-ing theology." 
 
 At the same time, however, the enemies of the Gos- 
 pel mustered their forces. If they were to strike there 
 was no time to be lost, for it would soon be beyond the 
 reach of their blows. Hoffman laid before the chapter 
 
246 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATIOX. 
 
 a long accusation against the reformer. ""Were the 
 curate even able," said he, "to prove by -mtnesses 
 what sins, what irregularities have been committed by 
 ecclesiastics in such a convent, such a street, such a 
 tavern, it would still be his duty not to give any names. 
 Why does he give out (it is true I have scarcely ever 
 heard him myself) that he alone di-aws his doctrine at 
 the fountain-head, and that others search for it only in 
 sinks and puddles ? Is it not impossible, seeing the 
 diversity of spirits, for all to preach the same thing?" 
 
 Zwingle defended himself at a full meeting of the 
 chapter, scattering the accusations of his opponents, 
 " as a bull with liis horns tosses straw into the air." 
 The affair which had appeared so serious, ended in 
 laughter at the canon's expense. But Zwingle did not 
 stop here; on the 16th April he published a treatise 
 " On the Free Use of Food." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Grief and Joy in Geraiany — Amljush against Zwingle — Mandate of the 
 Bisliop— Archeteles— The Bishop Addresses the r>iet— Prohibition to 
 Attaclithc Monks— Declaration of Zwingle— The Nuns of CEttnbach- 
 Zwingle's Address to Schwitz. 
 
 The reformer's immoveable firmness delighted the 
 friends of truth, and particularly the evangelical 
 Christians of Germany, so long deprived, by the cap- 
 tivity of the "Wartburg, of the mighty apostle who had 
 first raised his head in the bosom of the Church. 
 Pastors and faithful jieople, now exiled by the inexor- 
 able decree which the papacy had obtained at "Worms 
 from Charles V., found an asylum in Zurich. Nesse, 
 the professor of Frankfort, whom Luthc^r visited when 
 on his way to Worms, in a letter to Zwingle, says : 
 ■' Oh! how I am delighted to learn with what authority 
 you preach Christ ! vSpeak words of encouragement to 
 those who, by the cruelty of wicked bishops, are obliged 
 to flee far from our churches in sorrow." 
 
 But the adversaries of the Eeformation did not con- 
 fine their cruel plots against its friends to Germany. 
 Scarcely an hour passed at Ziuich in which the means 
 of getting rid of Zwngle were not under consideration. 
 One day he received an anonymous letter, which he 
 immediately communicated to his two vicars. It said : 
 " Snares environ you on every side, mortal poison is 
 ready to deprive you of life. Eat only in your own 
 house, and of bread baked by your own cook. The 
 walls of Zm-ich contain men who are plotting your ruin. 
 Tlie oracle which revealed this to me is truer than that 
 of Delphi. I am on your side : you will yet kuow me." 
 
 The day following that on which Zwingle received 
 this mysterious letter, at the moment when Stiiheli was 
 going to enter tlie church of Eau, a chaplain stopped 
 him and said: '"Make all haste and quit the house of 
 Zwingle — a catastrophe is preparing." Fanatics, in 
 despair of being able to arrest the Reformation by 
 word, armed themselves with the poniard. When 
 mighty revolutions are accomplished in society, assas- 
 sins are often thrown up from the impure dregs of the 
 agitated jjopulation. God guarded Zwingle. 
 
 While murderers saw their plots defeated, the legi- 
 timate organs of the papacy again began to agitate. 
 The bishop and his councillors were determined to 
 renew the war. From every quarter information to 
 this effect reached Zwingle, who, leaning on the Di\-ine 
 promise, exclaimed, with noble confidence: "I fear 
 them ... as a lofty shore fears the threatening 
 waves . . . a-vv ra ©fij;, with God," added he. On 
 the 2d May, the Bishop of Constance published an 
 order in which, without naming cither Zurich or 
 Zwingle, he complained of the attempts of artful per- 
 sons to renew the condemned doctrines, and of discus- 
 sions by the learned and the ignorant, in all places, on 
 the most solemn mysteries. John Yanner, the preacher 
 of the cathedral of Constance, was the first that was 
 attacked. "I would rather," said he, "be a Christian 
 with the hatred of many, than abandon Christ for the 
 friendsliip of the world." 
 
 But it was at Zm-ich that the gi-owing heresy required 
 to be crushed. Faber and the bishop knew that 
 Zwingle had several enemies among the canons, and 
 they were desirous to tiu-n this hatred to account. 
 Toward the end of May, a letter from the bishop 
 arrived at Zurich addressed to the provost and his 
 chapter. '• Sons of the Church," said the prelate, 
 " let them perLsh that will perish ; but let no one sever 
 you from the Chm-ch." At the same time the bishop 
 urged the canons to prevent the false doctrines, engen- 
 dered by pernicious sects, from being preached and 
 discussed, whether in private or in public. When this 
 letter was read in the chapter all eyes were tm-ned up- 
 on Zwingle, who, understanding what was meant, said : 
 "I see you think that this letter concerns me; have 
 the goodness to put it into my hand, and by the help 
 of God I will answer it." 
 
 Z^v^ngle did reply in his *' Archeteles," a word which 
 signifies the beginning mid end ; "for I hope," said he, 
 " that this first answer will also be the last." He 
 spoke in it in very respectful terms of the bishop, and 
 attributed all the attacks of his enemies to some in- 
 triguers. " What, then, have I done ? " said he ; "I 
 have called all men to the knowledge of their maladies; 
 I have laboured to bring them to the true God and to 
 His Son Jesus Christ. With that view I have em- 
 ployed not captious exhortations, but words simple and 
 true, such as the sous of Switzerland can comprehend." 
 Then, passing from the defensive and becoming the as- 
 sailant, he finely adds: "Julius Ca;sar, feeling himself 
 mortally wounded, endeavoured to di-aw up the folds 
 of his robe, that he might fall in a becoming manner. 
 The fall of your ceremonies is at hand ; act so, at least, 
 that they may fall decently, and that in every place 
 hght may be quickly substituted for darkness." 
 
 This was all that the bishop gained by his letter to 
 the chapter of Zurich. Now, therefore, that friendly 
 remonstrances were vain, it was necessary to strike 
 more decisive blows. Faber and Landenberg turned 
 in another direction — towards the diet, the national 
 council. There deputies from the bishop arrived to 
 state that their master had issued an order, prohibiting 
 all the priests of his diocese from innovating in matters 
 of doctrine ; but that his authority being disregarded, 
 he now wished the aid of the heads of the confeder- 
 ation to assist him in bringing the rebellious to obedi- 
 
ZWINGLE'S DECLARATION. 
 
 247 
 
 encc, and defend iiig the true and ancient faith. The 
 enemies of the Reformation -were in a majority in tliis 
 fii-st assenilily of the nation, which a short time before 
 had issued a decree, prohibiting the preaching of all 
 ' priests ^\ hose discourses, as it was expressed, jiroduccd 
 discord anioii;j; the people. This decree of tiie diet, 
 I which thus, for the first time, took up the question of 
 I tlic Reformation, liad no result; but now having deter- 
 mined on vigorous measures, this body summoned 
 before it Urban AVeiss, pastor of Fcilispach, near 
 : Baden, whom public rumour charged with preaching 
 the new faith, and rejecting the old. AVciss was 
 I respited for some time on the intercession of several 
 I individuals, and on bail for a hundred florins, offered 
 I by his parishioners. 
 
 I But the diet had taken its part, and having just 
 I given proof of it, the priests and monks began evcry- 
 ' where to resume courage. At Zurich — even after 
 I the first decree — they had begun to behave more im- 
 j pcriously. Several members of council were in the 
 practice, morning and evening, of visiting the three 
 convents, and even taking their victuals there. The 
 monks laboured to indoctrinate their kind table com- 
 panions, and xu-ged them to procure a decree of the 
 government in their favour. "If Zwingle won't be 
 silent," said they, "we will cry louder still!" The 
 diet had taken part with the oppressors. The council 
 of Zurich knew not what to do. On the 7th of June, 
 it issued an order forbidding auy one to preach against 
 the monks ; "but scarcely was tlie order resolved upon, 
 than," says the chronicle of BuUinger, " a sudden noise 
 was heard in the council chamber, and made every one 
 look at his neighbour." Peace was not re-established. 
 The war waged from the pulpit waxed hotter and 
 hotter. The council named a deputation, who called 
 the pastors of Zm-ich and the readers and preachers of 
 the convents to meet them in the provost's house ; 
 after a keen discussion the burgomaster enjoined the 
 two parties not to preach anything which might inter- 
 rupt concord. " I cannot accept this injunction," said 
 Zwingle ; " I mean to preach the Gospel freely and 
 unconditionally, in conformity to the resolution pre- 
 viously adopted. I am bishop and pastor of Zurich ; 
 it is to me that the care of souls has been entrusted. 
 It was I that took the oath, not the monks. They 
 ought to yield, not I. If they preach lies, I will con- 
 tradict them, and that even in the pulpit of their own 
 convent. If I myself preach a doctrine contrary to the 
 Holy Gospel, then I ask to be rebuked, not only by the 
 chapter, but by any citizen whatever ; and moreover, 
 to be punished by the council." "We," said the 
 monks — "we demand to be penuitted to preach the 
 doctrines of St. Thomas." The committee of the coun- 
 cil having deliberated, ordered that Thomas, Scotus, 
 !iud the other doctors, should be let alone, and nothing 
 preached but the Holy Gospel. Thus the truth had 
 once more gained the victory. But the wrath of the 
 partisans of the papacy increased. The ultramontane 
 canons could not conceal their anger. They imperti- 
 nently eyed Zwingle in the chapter, and by their Icjoks 
 seemed to demand his life. 
 
 Zwingle was not deterred by their menaces. There 
 was one place in Zurich where — thanks to the Domi- 
 nicans — the light had not yet penetrated ; this was the 
 
 nunnery of CEteubach. The daughters of the first 
 families of Zurich there took the veil. It seemed un- 
 just that these poor females, confined within the walls 
 of their monastery, should alone be excluded from 
 hearing the Word of God. The Great Council ordered 
 Zwingle to repair to it ; and the reformer having 
 mounted a pulpit which had hitherto been given up to 
 the ])oininieans, preached "on the clearness and cer- 
 tainty of the Word of God." He, at a later period, 
 published this remarkable discourse, which was not 
 without fruit, and irritated the monks still more. 
 
 A oircumstaucc occurred to augment this hatred, 
 and give it a place in many other hearts. The Swiss, 
 headed by Stein and Winkelreid, had just experienced 
 a bloody defeat at Bicoque. They had rushed impet- 
 uously on the enemy; but the artillery of Pescara and 
 the lancers of that Freundsbcrg whom Luther had 
 met at the door of the hall of Worms, had thrown 
 down both leaders and colours, whole companies fall- 
 ing and (li~:i)i|i.;niiiL' lit ipiiee. Winkelreid and Stein, 
 Muliiirii.l)ir-l,;ir|i-. r,n„.|..u..iis,Tschudis,andPfyffers, 
 were lel't mi i\\f liaith-iirld. Schwitz especially had 
 been mown dciuii. Tiio bloody wrecks of this dreadful 
 conflict had returned to Switzerland, spreading mourn- 
 ing at every step. A wail of grief had resounded 
 from the Alps to the Jura, and from the Rhone to the 
 Rhine. 
 
 But none had felt a deeper pang than Zwuigle. He 
 immediately sent an address to Schwitz, dissuading its 
 citizens from foreign service. " Your ancestors," said 
 he to them, with all the warmth of a Swiss heart, 
 " forgot their enemies in defence of their liberties ; but 
 they never put Christians to death in order to gain 
 monej". These foreign wars bring iunimierable cala- 
 mities on our country. The scourges of God chastise 
 our confederacy, and Helvetic freedom is on the eve 
 of being lost between the selfish caresses and the mortal 
 hatred of foreign princes. Zwingle went hand in hand 
 with Nicolas Flue, and renewed the entreaties of that 
 man of peace. This exhortation having been presented 
 to the assembly of the people of Schwitz, had such an 
 effect, that a resolution was passed to desist prospec- 
 tively for twenty-five years from capitulation. But 
 the French party soon succeeded in getting the gene- 
 rous resolution rescinded, and Schwitz was thence- 
 forth the canton most decidedly opposed to Zwingle 
 and his works. The very disasters which the partisans 
 of foreign capitulation brought upon their country, 
 only increased the hatred of those men against the 
 bold minister who endeavoured to rescue his country 
 from all this misfortune and all this disgrace. Thus 
 throughout the confederation a party, which daily grew 
 more and more violent, was formed against Zurich and 
 Zwingle. The customs of the Church and the prac- 
 tices of the recruiters being at once attacked, they 
 made common cause in resisting the impetus of reform, 
 by which their existence was threatened. At the same 
 time external enemies multiplied. JNot merely the 
 pope, but other foreign princes also vowed inextin- 
 guishable hatred to the Reformation, because it was 
 aiming to deprive them of those Helvetic halberds, to 
 Vhich their ambition and their pride owed so many 
 triumphs. But the cause of the Gospel had still God 
 on its side, and the best among the people : this was 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 sufficient. Besides, individuals from different countries, 
 exiled for their faith, were led by the hand of Provi- 
 dence to give Switzerland their aid. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A French Monk— He teaches in Switzerland— Dispute between the Monk 
 and Zwingle — Discourse of the Leader of the Johannites— The Carnival 
 at Beme— The Eaters of the Dead— The Sknll of St. Anne— Appenzel— 
 The Grisons— Murder and Adultery— Marriage of Zwingle. 
 
 On Saturday, the 12th July, there was seen entering 
 the streets of Zurich a monk, tall, thin, stiff, gaunt, 
 clad in a grey cordelier frock, and mounted upon an 
 ass. He had the look of a foreigner, and his bare feet 
 almost touched the gi-ound. He .nrrivcd thus by the 
 road from Avignon. lie did not know one word of 
 
 German, but by means of Latin succeeded in making 
 himself understood. Francis Lambert (this was his 
 name) asked for Zwingle, and delivered him a letter 
 from Berthold Haller. "The Franciscan father," 
 wrote the Bernese curate, "who is no less than the 
 apostolic preacher of the general convent of Avignon, 
 has, for nearly five years, been teaching Christian 
 truth : he has preached in Latin to our priests at 
 Geneva, at Lausanne in presence of the bishop, at 
 Friburg, and finally at Berne. His subjects were, the 
 Church, the priesthood, the sacrifice of the mass, the 
 traditions of the Roman bishops, and the superstitions 
 of the religious orders. It seemed to me wonderful to 
 hear such things from a cordelier and a Frenchman — 
 circumstances, both of which, as you know, imply a 
 host of superstitions. The Frenchman himself related 
 to Zwingle how the writings of Luther, having been 
 discovered in his cell, he had been obliged to take 
 a Iiasty loavp of Avignon; how he had first preached 
 thr (li.-iifl ni (;.inv;i, and thereafter at Lausanne. 
 
 Zwingle, overjoyed, gave the monk access to the 
 church of Notre Dame, assigning him a seat in the 
 choir near the high altar. Lambert here delivered four 
 sermons, in which he forcibly attacked the eiTors of 
 Rome; but in the fourth, he defended the invocation 
 of the saints and the Virgin. 
 
 " Brother, you are in error," immediately exclaimed 
 an animated voice. It was the voice of Zwingle. 
 Canons and chaplains thrilled with joy when they saw 
 a quarrel rising between the Frenchman and the here- 
 tical curate. " He has attacked you," said they all to 
 Lambert : " demand a public discussion." The man of 
 Avignon did so, and at ten o'clock on the morning of 
 the 12th of July the two chaplains met in the hall of 
 the canons. Zwingle opened the Old and New Testa- 
 ment in Greek and Latin : he discussed and lectured 
 
 till two. Then the French monk, clasping his hands, 
 and raising them towards heaven, exclaimed : " I thank 
 thee, O God, that thou hast, by this illustrious instru- 
 ment, given me such a clear knowledge of the truth ! 
 Henceforth," added he, turning towards the assembly, 
 "in all my distresses I will invoke God only, and 
 leave off my beads. To-morrow I resume my journey. 
 I go to Bale to see Erasmus of Rotterdam, and thence 
 to AVittemberg to see the monk Martin Luther." He 
 accordingly remounted his ass and set out. We will 
 again meet with him. He was the first exile from 
 France, for the cause of the Gospel, who appewed in 
 Switzerland and Germany, — a modest forerunner of 
 many thousands of refugees and confessors. 
 
 Myconius had no such consolation. On the con- 
 trary, he saw Sebastian Hofmeister, who had come 
 
THE CARNIVAL AT BERNE. 
 
 from Constance to Lucerne, and there boldly preached 
 the Gospel, obliged to quit the city. Then Oswald's 
 grief increased. The moist climate of Lucerne dis- 
 agreed with him. lie was wasted by fever ; and the 
 physicians declared, that if he did not change his resi- 
 dence he would die. Writing to Zwingle, he says: 
 " There is no place I should like better to be than be- 
 side yourself, and no place worse than at Lucerne. 
 Men torture, and the climate consumes me. My dis- 
 ease, some say, is the punishment of my iniquity. Ah ! 
 it is vain to speak, vain to act ; everything is poison to 
 them. There is One in heaven on whom alone my hope 
 depends." 
 
 This hope was not vain. It was towards the end of 
 ]\Iarch, and the feast of the Annunciation was at hand. 
 Tiie evening before there was a great solemnity in 
 commemoration of a fire which, in 1340, had reduced 
 the greater part of the town to ashes. Multitudes 
 from the surrounding districts had flocked into Lucerne, 
 and several hundreds of priests were then assembled. 
 Some distinguished orator was usually employed to 
 preach on this great occasion. Conrad Schmidt, com- 
 mander of the Johannites, arrived to discharge the 
 duty. An immense crowd thronged the church. What 
 was the general astonishment on hearing the comman- 
 der lay aside the pompous Latin to which they had 
 been accustomed, and speak in good German, so that 
 all could comprehend him, enforce with authority and 
 holy fervour the love of God in sending His Son, 
 eloquently prove that external works cannot save, and 
 that the promises of God are truly the power of the 
 Gospel. " God forbid," said the commander to his 
 astonished audience, " that we should receive a chief 
 so full of lies as the Bishop of Rome, and reject Jesus 
 Christ. If the Bishop of Rome dispenses the bread of 
 the Gospel, let us receive him as pastor, but not as 
 head ; and if he does not dispense it, let us not receive 
 him in any way whatever." Oswald was unable to re- 
 strain his joy. " What a man!" exclaimed he ; "what 
 a discourse ! what majesty! what authority! what over- 
 flowing of the Spirit of Christ !" The impression was 
 general. To the agitation which filled the town suc- 
 ceeded a solemn silence ; but all this was transient. 
 When nations shut their ears against the calls of God, 
 these calls are diminished from day to day, and soon 
 cease. Thus it was at Lucerne. 
 
 At Berne, while the truth was preached from the 
 pulpit, the papacy was attacked at the merry-makings 
 of the people. Nicolas Manuel, a distinguished lay- 
 man, celebrated for his poetical talents, and advanced 
 to the first offices in the state, indignant at seeing his 
 countrymen pillaged by Samson, composed carnival 
 dramas, in wliich, with the keen weapon of satire, he 
 attacked the avarice, pride, and luxury of the pope and 
 the clergy. On the Shrove Tuesday " of the lords," 
 (the clergy were at this time the lords, and began Lent 
 eight days before the common people.) all Berne was 
 engrossed with a drama or m_ystery, entitled, " The 
 Eaters of the Dead," which young boys were going to 
 perform in the street of La Croix. The people flocked 
 to it in crowds. In regard to the progi-ess of art, these 
 dramatic sketches of the beginning of the sixteenth 
 centur}' are of some interest ; but we give them here 
 with a very different view. We would have been bet- 
 
 ter pleased not to have had to quote squibs of this 
 description on the part of tlie Reformation, for truth 
 triumphs by other arms. But the historian does not 
 make his facts. lie must give them as he finds them. 
 At length, to the delight of the eager crowds as- 
 sembled in the streets of La Croix, the repi<esentation 
 began. The pope is seen clad in gorgeous robes, and 
 seated on a throne. Ai-ound him stand his courtiers, 
 his body-guards, and a promiscuous band of priests of 
 high and low degree ; behind are nobles, laymen, and 
 mendicants. A funeral train shortly appears ; it is a 
 ricii farmer on the way to his last home. Two of his 
 relatives walk slowly in front of the cofTm with napkins 
 in their hand. The train having arrived in front of 
 tlic pope, the bier is laid down at his feet, and the 
 drama begins : — 
 
 First Relativk, in a toiic of deep grief. 
 Oh noble army of the sainted host^ 
 
 Talte pity on our doleful pliclit; 
 Our cousin, our illustrious boast, 
 
 From life, alas ! has taken flight. 
 
 Second Relative. 
 Expense we grudge not; cheerfully we'll pay 
 For priests, monks, and nuns, in costly array : 
 Yea, one hundred crowns we *11 freely devote 
 If, thereby, exemption may surely be bought 
 From purgatory, that dread scourge 
 With which our frightened souls they ui-ge. 
 
 Tin; Sacristan, breaking off from the land surroundine[ the pope, pud 
 running hastily to Ctoate Robert Ever-More. 
 Something to drink. Master Curate, I crave ; 
 A farmer of note now goes to his grave. 
 
 The Ci'RATE. 
 One ! — nay you must tell me of ten : 
 My thirst will ne'er be quenched till then. 
 Life flourishes when mortals die. 
 For death to me brings jollity. 
 
 The Sacristan. 
 Ah ! could it shorten mankind's breath, 
 I 'd ring a merry peal for death I 
 No other trade succeeds so well 
 As tolling out life's parting kneU, 
 
 The Ccrate. 
 But does the bell of death the portals draw 
 Of heaven's wide gate? I cannot, may not say. 
 Wliat boots it? to my house it brings 
 Both fish and flesh, and all good things. 
 
 The Curate's Niece. 
 'Tis well ; I, too, anon will claim my share. 
 This day this soul must pay to me my fare — 
 A robe, white, red, and grcn, a flowered damas, 
 A pretty kerchief likewise for my eyes at mass. 
 
 Cardinal High-Pride, adonwd with a red hat, and close by the pope. 
 If death brought us no heritage. 
 
 K , nvy fired* 
 
 Y' , u blood gr 
 
 Tl .lethaf. 
 
 T... ,., ..-quired. 
 
 Bishop Wolf-bellv. 
 
 In papal rites I '11 live and die. 
 
 And clothe me in silk embroidery 
 
THE HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Ih foray or chase I 'II take my jileasurc, 
 
 And eat and diiuk in ample measure. 
 
 Had I been priest in days of yore, 
 
 A peasant's dress I then had wore. 
 We once were shepherds, but now we reign kings, 
 For a shepherd I '11 pass 'mong the lambkins, poor things . 
 
 "Wlien the wool of the flock shall be gathered by me. 
 
 We truly are wolves, yet we 're shepherds of sheep ; 
 
 They must feed us, or death is the best they shall reap. 
 
 His Holiness forbids to marry; 
 
 This yoke the wisest ne'er could carry — 
 
 But then ! when priests do cross the score, 
 
 The scandal only swells my store. 
 
 And makes my train extend the more. 
 
 Nought I refuse, e'en farthings tell, 
 
 A monied priest may have a belle ; 
 
 Four florins a-year will wipe it away. 
 
 Does an infant appear? — it^.ain he must pay. 
 
 On two thousand florins I reckon each year ; 
 
 "Were they chaste, I should starve on a pittance, I fear. 
 
 Tlien hail to the pope ; on my knees I adore 
 
 And swear in his faith to live evermore; 
 
 His ehvirch I '11 defend, and till death I avow. 
 
 He alone is the god before whom I will bow. 
 
 The Pope. 
 The people now at length believe 
 That priests can all their sins reprieve 
 At pleasure— that to them is given 
 Full power to shut or open heaven. 
 Preach loudly, every high decree. 
 Of hun, the conclave's majesty. 
 Then, we are Itings, the laity slaves : 
 But if the Gospel standard waves 
 We're lost; for nowhere does it say. 
 Make sacrifice, let priests have pay. 
 The Gospel course for us would be. 
 To live and die in poverty. 
 Instead of steeds to mark my state. 
 And chariots on my sons to wait, 
 A paltry ass must needs supply 
 A seat for sacred majesty. 
 No, I cannot take such legacy ; 
 I '11 thunder at such temerity. 
 Let us but wIU— the world will nod. 
 And nations adore us as God. 
 Sbghting their rights, I mount my throne, 
 And partition the world among my own. 
 Vile laity must keep far aloof. 
 Nor dare to enter our blest roof, 
 To touch our tribute, or our gold. 
 Holy water e'en let them hold. 
 
 Wc will not continue this literal translation of 
 Manuel's drama. The agony of the clergy on learning 
 the efforts of the reformers, and their rage against 
 those who threatened to interfere with their irregu- 
 larities, are painted in lively colours. The dissolute 
 mannei's of which this piece gave so vivid a represen- 
 tation, were too common not to strike the spectator 
 with the truth of the pictm-e. The people were ex- 
 cited. Many jibes were heard as they retired from the 
 play in the street of La Croix ; but some who took the 
 mutter more seriously, spoke of Christian liberty and 
 papal despotism, and contrasted the simplicity of the 
 Gospel with the pomp of Rome. The contempt of the 
 people was soon displayed iu the public streets. On 
 Ash Wednesday the indulgences were promenaded 
 through the town amid satirical songs. In Berne, and 
 
 throughout Switzerland, a severe blow had been given 
 to the ancient edifice of the papacy. 
 
 Some time after this representaUon, auolher comedy 
 was acted at Berne ; but there was no fiction in it. The 
 clergy, council, and corporation, had assembled in front 
 of the Up)jer Gate, waiting for the skull of St. Anne, 
 which the famous knight, Albert of Stein, had gone to 
 fetch from I/yons. At length Stein appeared, holding 
 the holy relic wrapt in a covering of silk. As it 
 passed, the Bishop of Lausanne knelt down before it. 
 This precious skull — the skull of the Virgin's mother — 
 is carried in procession to the church of the Domi- 
 nicans, and, amid the ringing of bells, enters the 
 church, where it is placed with great solemnity on the 
 altar consecrated to it, behind a splendid grating. But 
 amid all this joy a letter arrives from the abbot of the 
 convent of Lyons, where the relics of the saint were 
 deposited, intimating that what the monks had sold to 
 the knight was a profane bone, taken at random from 
 the burying ground. The trick thus played off on the 
 illustrious city of Berne, filled its citizens with deep 
 indignation. 
 
 The Reformation was making progress in other 
 parts of Switzerland. In 1521, AYalter Klarer, a 
 young man of Appenzel, retiu-ned to his native canton 
 from the university of Paris. Luther's writings fell 
 into his hands, and, in 1522, he preached the evan- 
 gelical doctrine with all the ardour of a young convert. 
 An innkeeper, named Rausberg, a wealthy and pious 
 man, and a member of the council of Appenzel, opened 
 his house to all the friends of truth. Bartholomew 
 Berweger, a famous captain, who had fought for 
 Julius n. and for Leo X., having at this time returned 
 from Rome, began forthwith to persecute the evan- 
 gelical ministers. One day, however, remembering 
 how much vice he had seen at Rome, he began to read 
 the Bible, and to attend the sermons of the new 
 preachers ; his eyes were opened, and he embraced 
 the Gospel. Seeing that the crowds could not be 
 contained iu the churches, he proposed that they 
 should preach in the fields and the public squares, 
 and, notwithstanding of keen opposition, the hills, 
 meadows, and mountains of Appenzel, thenceforward 
 often echoed with the glad tidings of salvation. 
 
 The reformed doctrine, ascending the Rhine, made 
 its way as far as ancient Rhfetia. One day a stranger 
 from Zurich crossed the river, and waited on the 
 saddler of Flasch, the frontier village of the Grisons. 
 Christian Anhorn, . the saddler, listened in astonish- 
 ment to the language of his visitor. " Preach," said 
 the whole village to the stranger, who was called 
 James Burkli. He accordingly took his station in 
 front of the altar. A number of persons arrived, with 
 Anhorn at their head, and stood round to defend him 
 from a sudden attack while he preached the Gospel. 
 The rumour of this preaching spread far and wide ; 
 and, on the following Sunday, an immense crowd 
 assembled. Shortly after, a great proportion of the 
 inhabitants of the district desired to have the Lord's 
 Supper dispensed to them according to its original 
 institution. But one day the tocsin suddenly sounded 
 in Mayenfeld ; the people ran in alarm ; and the 
 priests, after pointing out the danger which threatened 
 the Church, hastened,, at the head of the fanatical 
 
ZWINGLE'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 population, to Flasch. Anhorn, wlio was working in 
 the field, astoni-rlicd at hearing the sound of bells at so 
 unusual an hour, hastened home and concealed 13urkli 
 in a Jeep hole dug in his cellar. The house was by 
 this time surrounded ; the door was forced open, nnd 
 the heretical preacher everywhere searched for in vain. 
 At length the persecutors withdrew. 
 
 The Word of God spread over the extent of the ten 
 Jm-isdictions. The curate of Mayenfekl, on returning 
 from Rome, to which he had fled, infuriated at the 
 success of the Gospel, exclaimed, '• Home has made me 
 evangelical!" and became a zealous reformer. The 
 Reformation soon extended to the league of " the 
 house of God." "Oh!" exclaimed Salandronius to 
 Vadian, "if you but saw liow the inhabitants of the 
 mountains of Khajtia cast far from tbem the yoke of 
 the Babylonish captivity ! " 
 
 Shocking disorders hastened the day when Zurich 
 nnd the neighbouring districts were to shake off the 
 yoke. A married schoolmaster, wishing to become a 
 priest, obtained his wife's consent, and they separated. 
 The new curate was unable to keep his vow of celibacy; 
 but not to outrage his wife's feelings, quitted the place 
 where she lived, and, having taken up his residence in 
 the diocese of Constance, formed a licentious connec- 
 tion. His wife hastened to the place. The poor priest 
 took compassion on her, and dismissing the person who 
 had usurped her rights, took back his lawful spouse. 
 The procurator-fiscal forthwith drew up a charge 
 against him ; the vicar-general began to move ; the 
 council of the consistory deliberated . . . and the 
 c\u-ate was ordered to abandon his wife or his benefice. 
 The ])oor wife left the house weeping bitterl}-, and her 
 rival returned in triumph. The Church declared itself 
 satisfied, and thenceforth let the adulterous priest 
 alone. 
 
 Shortly after, a curate of Lucerne eloped with a 
 maiTied woman, and lived with her. The husband 
 went to Lucerne, and taking advantage of the priest's 
 absence, brought away his wife. While returning they 
 were met by the seducer, who immediately attacked 
 the injured husband, and gave him a wound of which 
 he died. All good men felt the necessity of re-estab- 
 lishing the divine law, which declares marriaije honour- 
 able ill (ill. The evangelical ministers had taught that 
 the law of celibacy was of merely human origin, im- 
 posed by Roman pontiffs in opposition to the Word of 
 God, which, when describing a true bishop, represents 
 him as a husband and father, (1 Tim. iii. 2 and 4.) 
 They saw at the same time, that of all the abuses 
 which had crept into the Church, none had caused 
 more numerous vices and scandals. They considered 
 it not only as a thing lawful, but as a duty in the 
 sight of God to withdraw from its authority. Several 
 of them, at this time, returned to the ancient practice 
 of apostolic times. Xylotect was married. Zwingle 
 also married at this period. No lady was more 
 respected in Zurich than Anna Reinhard, widow of 
 Meyer of Knonau, the mother of Ceroid. From the 
 arrival of Zwingle she had been one of his most atten- 
 tive hearers: she lived in his neighbourhood, and he 
 observed her piety, modesty, and fondness for her 
 children. Young Gcrold, who had become, as it were, 
 l-i.-'' adopted son, brought him into closer connection 
 
 with his mother. The trials already endured by this 
 Christian woman, who was one day to be the most 
 cruelly tried of all the women whose history is on 
 record, had given her a gravity which made her evan- 
 gelical virtues still more prominent. She was now 
 about thirty-five years of ago, and her own fortune 
 amounted only to four hundred florins. It was on her 
 that Zwingle, on looking out for a companion for life, 
 turned his eye. He felt how sacred and intimate the 
 conjugal union is. He tei-med it "a most holy alliance." 
 " As Christ," said he, " died for His people, and gave 
 himself to them entirely, so ought husband and wife 
 to do, and suffer everything for each other." But 
 Zwingle, when he took Anna Reinhard to wife, did 
 not immediately publish his mamage. This was un- 
 doubtedly a culpable weakness in a man otherwise so 
 resolute. The light which he and his friends had 
 acquired on the subject of celibacy was not generally 
 diffused. The weak might have been offended. He 
 feared that his usefulness in the Church might be 
 paralyzed if his man'iage were made public. He 
 sacrificed part of his happiness to these fears — fears 
 to which, though respectable perhaps, he should have 
 been superior.' 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 How Truth TriuDiiihs— Society at Einsidlen— Request to tlie Bishops— To 
 tlie Confederates— The Men of Einsidlen Separate— A Seeue in a Con- 
 vent—A Dinner by Myconius— The Strength of the Refonnerc— Effect 
 of the Petitions to Lucerne— The Council of the Diet— Haller at the 
 Town-House— Friburg— Destitution of Oswald— Zwingle Comforts him 
 — Oswald quits Lucerne — First Severity of the Diet — Consternation of 
 the Brothera of Zwingle— His Resolution- The Future— The Prayer 
 of Zwingle. 
 
 Meanwhile still higher interests occupied the friends 
 of truth. The diet, as we have seen, urged by the 
 enemies of the Reformation, had ordered the evan- 
 gelical preachers to desist from preaching the doctrines 
 which troubled the people. Zwingle felt that the 
 moment for action had arrived, and with the energy 
 which characterized him, called a meeting of the 
 ministers of the Lord, the friends of the Gospel, at 
 Einsidlen. The strength of Christians is neither in 
 carnal weapons, nor the flames of martyrdom ; it is 
 in a simple, but unanimous and intrepid profession of 
 these great truths to which the world must one day be 
 
 1 Biogi-aphei-s, most respectable historians, and all the authors who have 
 copied tliem, place Zwingle's man-iage two years later, viz., in April, 1524. 
 Without going at length into the reasons which satisfy nic that this is a 
 mistake, I will merely indicate the most decisive proofs. A letter from 
 Zwingle's friend, Myconius, 22nd July, 1522, says : " I'ak cum ■uxorc qmm 
 /idciMimf ,"— " All happiness to you and your wife 1" Another letter from 
 the same friend, written towards the close of this year, has the words, '■ VaU 
 cum uxorc." The contents of the letters prove that they are correctly dated_ 
 But what is still stronger, is a letter of Bucer, from Strasburg, at the time 
 when the marriage was made public, 14th April, 1524, (the date of the year 
 is wanting, but it is clcariy 1524.) This letter contains several pass-lges 
 which shew tliat Zwingle had been for some time married. Tlie learned 
 editors of the letters of Zwingle ask : "May not Zwingle have already bL-en 
 secretly married to Anna Rcinh.ard!"— Zw. Ep., p. 210. This seems to nie 
 not a matter of doubt, but a well ascertained historical fact. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 subjugated. In particular, God calls upon tliose who 
 serve Him to hold these heavenly doctrines promi- 
 nently forth in presence of the whole people, without 
 being dismayed by the clamom- of adversaries. Those 
 truths are able of themselves to secure their triumph, 
 and as of old with the ark of God, idols cannot stand 
 in their presence. The time had come when God 
 willed that the great doctrine of salvation should be 
 confessed in Switzerland. It was necessary that the 
 Gospel standard should be planted on some eminence. 
 Providence was going to draw humble, but intrepid 
 men out of unknown retreats, that they might bear a 
 striking testimony in i>i-csriiro of the nation. 
 
 - ,^^ 
 
 Towards the end of June and the beginning of July, 
 1522, pious ministers were seen proceeding in all 
 directions towards the celebrated chapel of Einsidleu 
 on a new pilgrimage. From Ai-t, in the canton of 
 Schwitz, came its curate, Balthasar Trachsel ; from 
 "Weiuingen, near Baden, curate Stiihcli ; from Zug, 
 Werner Steiner; from Lucerne, canon Kilchmeyer; 
 from Uster, curate Pfister; from Hougg, near Zurich, 
 curate Stumpff; from Zurich itself, canon Fabricius, 
 chaplain Schmidt, the preacher of the hospital, Gros- 
 mann, and Zwingle. Leo Juda, curate of Einsidleu, 
 most cordially welcomed all these ministers of Jesus 
 Christ to the ancient abbey. Since the time when 
 Zwingle took up his residence in it, this place had been 
 a citadel of truth, and a hotel of the just. In like 
 manner had thirty-three bold patriots, resolved to 
 break the yoke of Austria, met two hundi-ed years 
 before in the solitary plain of Grutli. The object of 
 the meeting at Einsidleu was to break the yoke of 
 human authority in the things of God. Zwingle pro- 
 posed to his friends to present earnest addresses to the 
 cantons, and to the bishop, praying for the free 
 preaching of the Gospel, and, at the same time, for 
 the abolition of compulsory celibacy, the source of so 
 many irregularities. The proposal was imanimously 
 adopted. Ulrich had himself prepared the addresses. 
 That to the bishop was first read. It was dated 2nd 
 July, 1522, and signed by all the evangelists we have 
 mentioned. The preachers of the truth in Switzer- 
 land were united in cordial affection. Many others, 
 besides, sympathized with the party at Einsidleu : such 
 were Haller, Myconius, Hedio, Capito, CEcolampadius, 
 Sebastian Meyer, Hoffmeister, and Vanner. This 
 harmony is one of the finest traits in the Swiss Refor- 
 
 mation. These excellent persons always acted as one 
 man, and remained friends till death. 
 
 The men of Einsidleu were aware that it was only 
 by the power of faith that the members of the confed- 
 eration, divided by foreign enhstments, could become 
 one body. But their views were carried higher. 
 " The celestial doctrine," said they to their ecclesi- 
 astical head, in the address of 2nd July, " that truth 
 which God, the Creator, has manifested by His Son 
 to the human race now plunged in evil, has been long 
 veiled from our eyes by the ignorance, not to say the 
 malice of certain men. But God Almighty has re- 
 solved to re-estabhsh it in its primitive condition. 
 Jom jourself to those who demand that the multi- 
 tude ot the faithful retm-n to their head, who is Christ. 
 For our part, we have resolved to promulgate His 
 Gospel with indefatigable perseverance, and at same 
 time with such wisdom that none can complain. 
 Favour this enterprise ; astonishing, perhaps, but not 
 1 v&h. Be like Moses on the march at the head of the 
 people coming out of Egypt ; and overthrow the ob- 
 stacles which oppose the triumphant progress of truth." 
 
 After this warm appeal the evangelists met at Eiu- 
 ' idlen came to celibacy. Zwingle had no longer any 
 demand to make on this head for himself, having al- 
 itady one answering the description given by Paul of 
 ^\ hat a minister's wife ought to be — grave, sober, faith- 
 ful in all things, (1 Tim. iii. 2.) But he thought of his 
 biethren, whose consciences were not yet, like his, 
 emantipated from human ordinances. He sighed, 
 moreover, for the time when all the servants of God 
 might live openly, and witlmut fear, in the bosom of 
 their own family, keeping thrlr c/nhlri :i, says the apostle, 
 in subjection, ivith all graviii/, (1 Tini. iii. 4.) "You 
 are not ignorant," said the men of Einsidleu, "that 
 hitherto chastity has been deplorably violated by the 
 priests. When, on the consecration of the servants of 
 the Lord, he who speaks for all is asked: 'Are those 
 whom you present righteous V — he answers : ' They 
 arc righteous.' ' Are they learned ? — They are learned.' 
 But when he is asked : ' Ai-e they chaste?' — he answers : 
 ' As far as human weakness permits.' Everything in 
 the New Testament condemns licentiousness ; every- 
 thing in it sanctions marriage." Then follows the 
 quotation of a great number of passages. " Where- 
 fore," they continued, "we implore you by the love of 
 Christ, by the liberty which He has purchased for us, 
 by tlie misery of so many weak and wavering souls, 
 by die wounds of so many ulcerated consciences, 
 by everything human and Divine ; . . . allow 
 that which was rashly done to be wisely repealed, lest 
 the majestic edifice of the Church fall with fearful 
 uproar, and drag boundless ruin after it. See with 
 what storms the world is threatened. If wisdom inter- 
 pose not, it is all over with the priesthood." 
 
 The petition to the confederation was of greater 
 length. The band of Einsidleu, addressing the con- 
 federates, thus conclude : " Honoured Sirs, — We are all 
 Swiss, and you are our fathers. There are some among 
 us who have shewn themselves faithful in combat, in 
 l)lague, and other calamities. It is in the name of 
 true chastity that we speak to you. Who knows not 
 that we could satisfy sensual appetite far better by not 
 submitting to the laws of a legitimate union ? But it 
 
THE CONFEDERATION OF EINSIDLEN. 
 
 is necessary to put an end to the scandals which afflict 
 the Church of Christ. If the tyranny of the Roman 
 pontiff wouUl oppress us, fear nothin;!, brave heroes ! 
 The autiiority of the Word of God, the rights of Chris- 
 tian liberty, and the sovereign power of grace, guard 
 around us. AVe have tiie same country, we have the 
 same faith, we are Swiss, and tlie valour of our illus- 
 trious ancestors always manifested its power by an in- 
 domitable defence of those oppressed by injustice." 
 
 Thus in Einsidleu itself, in this old rampart of super- 
 stition, which is still, in our day, one of the most 
 famous sanctuaries of Roman supei-stition, Zwingle and 
 his friends boldly raised the standard of truth and free- 
 dom. They appealed to the heads of the State and the 
 Church. They fi.\ed their theses, like Luther, both on 
 the gate of the episcopal palace, and on that of the 
 national council. The friends met at Einsidlen parted 
 calm, joyful, full of hope in that God to whom they 
 had committed their cause. Some passing near the 
 battle-lield of Morgarten, others over the chain of the 
 Albis, and others again by different valleys or moun- 
 tains, all returned to their posts. " There was truly 
 something grand in these times," says Henry Bullinger, 
 " in men thus daring to put themselves forward, rally- 
 ing around the Gospel, and exposing themselves to all 
 dangers. But God defended them so, that no evil 
 reached them; for God preserves His people at all 
 times." It was, indeed, something grand : it was a 
 great step in the progress of the Reformation, one of 
 the brightest days of religious revival in Switzerland. 
 A holy confederation was formed at Einsidlen. Humble 
 and courageous men had seized the sword of the Spirit, 
 which is the AVord of God, and the shield of faith. 
 The gauntlet was thrown down, and the challenge 
 given, not by a single man, but by men of different 
 cantons, ready to sacrifice their lives. It only remained 
 to await the battle. 
 
 Everything announced that it was to be fierce. Five 
 days after, (7th July,) the magistracy of Zurich, wish- 
 uig to give some satisfaction to the Roman party, sum- 
 moned before them Conrad Grebel and C'laus Hottin- 
 ger, two of those extreme men who seemed desirous to 
 go beyond the bounds of a wise Reformation. "AVe 
 forbid you," said Burgomaster Roust, " to speak against 
 the monks or on controverted points." At these words 
 a loud noise was heard in the chamber, says an ancient 
 chronicle. God was so manifestly in favour of the 
 work, that people were everywhere anticipating signs 
 of His interposition. All present looked around in 
 astonishment, without being able to discover the cause 
 of this mysterious circumstance. 
 
 But indignation was carried to its greatest height in 
 convents. Every meeting held in them, whether for 
 discipline or festivity, witnessed some new attack. One 
 day, when a great festival was celebrated in the con- 
 vent of Fraubrunn, the wine having got into the heads 
 of the guests, they began to shoot the most envenomed 
 arrows at the Gospel. AA^hat especially excited the 
 rage of these priests and monks was the evangelical 
 doctrine, that in the Christian Church there ought to 
 be no sacerdotal caste above believers. Only one 
 friend of the Reformation, a simple layman, — Macrin, 
 schoolmaster at Soleure, — was present. He at first 
 shunned the contest by changing his seat to another 
 
 table. But at last, no longer able to endure the furious 
 invectives of the guests, he stood up boldly, and ex- 
 claimed : " Yes, all true Christians are priests, and 
 offer sacrifice according to the words of St. Peter, You 
 are a royal j)nestlioo(l." At these words one of tiie 
 most intrepid bawlers, the Dean of Burgdorff, a tall, 
 stout man, with a stentorian voice, uttered a loud laugh : 
 "You little Greeks and school rats! l''ou a royal 
 priesthood ! . . Beautiful priesthood ! . . Men- 
 dicant kings ! . . . priests without prebends and 
 benefices!" And instantly all the priests and monks 
 fell with one accord on the impudent laic. 
 
 But it was in Lucerne that the bold step of the men 
 of Einsidlen was to produce the strongest sensation. 
 The diet had met in this town, and complaints arrived 
 from all quarters against the rash preachers who were 
 preventing Helvetia from quietly selling the blood of 
 her sons to the stranger. On the 22d July, as Oswald 
 Myconius was entertaining Canon Kilehmeyer, and 
 several other friends of the Gospel, at dinner, a boy, 
 sent by Zwingle, knocked at the door. He was the 
 bearer of the two famous petitions from Einsidlen, and 
 of a letter from Zwingle, which requested Oswald to 
 circulate them in Lucerne. "My advice is, that the 
 thing be done quietly, by degrees, rather than all at 
 once ; but, for the love of Christ, it is necessary to for- 
 sake everything, even wife." 
 
 Thus the crisis approached in Lucerne, — the shell 
 had fallen, and could not but burst. The guests read 
 the petitions. " May God bless this beginning," said 
 Oswald, looking up to heaven ; and then added : " This 
 prayer must, from this moment, be the constant occu- 
 pation of our hearts." The petitions were forthwith 
 circulated, perhaps with more ardour than Zwingle 
 had requested. But the moment was singular. Eleven 
 individuals, the flower of the clergy, had placed them- 
 selves in the breach, — it was necessary to enlighten 
 men's minds, to fix the irresolute, and gain over the 
 most influential members of the diet. 
 
 Oswald, in the midst of this labour, did not forget 
 his friend. The young messenger had told him of the 
 attacks which Zwingle had to endure from the monks 
 at Zurich. AYriting him the same day, he says : " The 
 truth of the Holy Spirit is invincible. Armed with the 
 shield of the Holy Scriptures, j-ou have remained con- 
 queror, not in one combat only, nor in two, but in 
 three, and the fourth is now commencing. . . Seize 
 those powerfid weapons which are harder than dia- 
 mond ! Christ, in order to protect His people, has 
 need only of His AYord. Y'our struggles give indomit- 
 able courage to all who have devoted themselves to 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 At Lucerne the petitions did not produce the result 
 anticipated. Some pious men approved of them, but 
 these were few in number. Several, fearing to com- 
 promise themselves, were unwilling either to praise or 
 blame. " These folks," said others, " will never bring 
 this affair to a good end!" All the priests murmured, 
 grumbled, and muttered between their teeth. As to 
 the people, they were loud against the Gospel. A rage 
 for war was awakened in Lucerne after the bloody de- 
 feat of Bicoque, and engrossed all thoughts. Oswald, 
 who was an attentive observer of these different impres- 
 sions, felt his courage shaken. The evangelical futui-e 
 
254 
 
 HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ■which he had anticipated for Lucerne and Switzerland 
 seemed to vanish. " Our people," said he, uttering a 
 deep sigh, "are blind to the things of heaven. In 
 regard to the glory of Christ there is no hope of the 
 Swiss." 
 
 Wrath prevailed, especially in the council and the 
 diet. The pope, France, England, and the empire, all 
 around Switzerland, was in agitation after the defeat 
 of Bicoque, and the evacuation of Lombardy by the 
 French under Lautrec. AVere not political interests at 
 that moment complicated enough before these eleven 
 men came with their petitions to mingle religious ques- 
 tions with them ? The deputies of Zurich alone were 
 favourably disposed to the Gospel. Canon Xylotect, 
 afraid for his own life, and that of his wife, — he had 
 married into one of the first families in the country, — 
 had refused, with tears of regret, to repair to Einsidlen, 
 and sign the addresses. Canon Kilchmeyer had shewn 
 greater courage. He, too, had everything to fear. 
 " Condemnation threatens me," he wi'ites to Zwingle, 
 on the 13th August; "I await it without fear." . . 
 As he was writing these words, an officer of the coun- 
 cil entered the room, and cited him to appear next day. 
 " If they put me in irons," said he, continuing his let- 
 ter, " I claim your help ; but it wUl be easier to trans- 
 port a rock from oiu- Alps than to move me a flnger's- 
 breadth from the Word of Jesus Christ." The regard 
 which was deemed due to his familj^, and the resolu- 
 tion which they had taken to let the storm fall upon 
 Oswald, saved the canon. 
 
 Berthold Haller, probably because he was not a 
 Swiss, had not signed the petitions. But full of cour- 
 age, he, like Zwingle, expounded the Gospel according 
 to Matthew. A vast crowd filled the cathedi-al of 
 Berne. The Word of God operated more powerfully 
 on the people than Manuel's dramas. Haller was sum- 
 moned to the town-house ; the people accompanied 
 their good-natured pastor, and remained around the 
 spot. The council was divided. "This concerns the 
 bishop," said the leading men. " The preacher must 
 be handed over to my lord of Lausanne." The friends 
 of Haller trembled at these words, and told him to 
 withdraw as quickly as possible. The people flocked 
 round, and accompanied him to his house, where a 
 great number of burghers remained in arms, prepared 
 to make a rampart of their bodies in defence of their 
 humble pastor. The bishop and council were over- 
 awed by this energetic demonstration, and Haller was 
 saved. Haller was not the only combatant at Berne. 
 Sebastian Meyer at this time refuted the pastoral letter 
 of the Bishop of Constance, and, in particular, the foi-- 
 midable charge, " that the Gospellers teach a new doc- 
 trine; but that the old doctrine is the true." "To be 
 ■\\'rong for two thousand years," said Meyer, " is not to 
 be right for a single hour ; otherwise the heathen ought 
 to have adhered to their belief. If the most ancient 
 doctrines must carry the day, fifteen hundred years are 
 more than five hundred years, and the Gospel is more 
 ancient than the ordinances of the pope." 
 
 At this period the magistrates of Friburg intercepted 
 letters addressed to Haller and Meyer by a canon of 
 Friburg, named John Hollard, a native of Orbe. They 
 imprisoned, then deposed, and at last banished him. 
 John Vannius, a chorister in the cathedral, shortly 
 
 after embraced the evangelical doctrine; for in the 
 Christian warfare one soldier no sooner falls than an- 
 other takes liis place. " How could the muddy water 
 of the Tiber," said Vannius, " subsist beside the pure 
 water which Luther has drawn from the spring of St. 
 Paul." But the chorister's mouth was also closed. 
 Myconius wrote to Zwingle : " Scarcely will you find in 
 Switzerland men more averse to the Gospel than the 
 Friburgers." 
 
 Lucerne ought to have been stated as an exception. 
 This Myconius knew. He had not signed the famous 
 petitions; but his friends had, if he had not, and a 
 victim was required. The ancient literature of Greece 
 and Rome began, thanks to him, to shed some light in 
 Lucerne ; numbers arrived from different quarters to 
 attend the learned professor ; and the friends of peace 
 were charmed with sounds sweeter than those of hal- 
 berds, swords, and cuirasses, which alone had hitherto 
 resounded in the warlike city. Oswald had sacrificed 
 everything for his country. He had quitted Zurich 
 and Zwingle ; he had lost his health ; his wife was pin- 
 ing ; his son was in childhood ; if even Lucerne rejected 
 him he could nowhere hope for an asylum. But no 
 matter, factions have no pity, and the thing which 
 ought to excite their compassion stimulates their rage. 
 Herbenstein, burgomaster of Lucerne, an old and vali- 
 ant warrior who had gained a distinguished name in 
 the wars of Swabia and Burgundy, followed up the 
 deposition of the teacher, and wished to banish from 
 the canton, with himself, his Greek, his Latin, and his 
 Gospel. He succeeded. On coming out of the Coun- 
 cil, after the sederunt at which Myconius had been 
 deposed, Herbenstein met the Zurich deputy, Berguer. 
 " We are sending you back your schoolmaster," said 
 he to him, ironically; "get a good lodging for him." 
 " We wont let him sleep in the open air," immediately 
 replied the courageous deputy. But Berguer promised 
 more than he could perform. 
 
 The news given by the burgomaster were but too 
 true, and were soon intimated to the unhappy My- 
 conius. He is deposed and banished ; and the only 
 crime laid to his charge, is that of being a disciple of 
 Lutlier. He looks all around, but nowhere finds a 
 shelter. He sees his wife, his son, and himself, all 
 three feeble and sickly, exiled from their country ; and 
 Switzerland, all around, agitated by a whirlwind which 
 breaks and destroys everything that stands in its way. 
 " Here," said he, then, to Zwingle, " is poor Myconius 
 banished by the Council of Lucerne. . . Whither 
 shall I go ? I know not. . . . Assailed yourself 
 by these furious storms, how could you shelter me ? I 
 cry, then, in my distress to that God who is tlie first in 
 whom I hope, who is ever bountiful, ever kind, and 
 who never calls upon any to seek His face in vain. 
 May He supply my wants ! " 
 
 Thus spoke Oswald; and he was not obliged to wait 
 long for a word of consolation. There was one in 
 Switzerland inured to the battles of the faith. Zwingle 
 drew near to his friend, and comforting him, thus ex- 
 pressed himself : " The blows by which men attempt to 
 overthrow the house of God are so violent, and the as- 
 saults which they make upon it so frequent, that not 
 only do the wind and rain beat upon it, as our Saviour 
 predicted, (Matt. vii. 27,) but the hail and the thunder. 
 
MYCONIUS BANISHED FROM LUCERNE. 
 
 Had I not perceived the Lord guiding the ship, I should, 
 h)ng ere now, have cast the helm into the sea ; but I 
 see Ilini amid the tempest, strengthening tiie tackling, 
 arranging the yards, stretching the sails, — what do I 
 say? — commanding the very winds. . . . Should 
 I not, then, be a coward, unworthy of the name of a 
 man, if I abandoned my post and fled to a shameful 
 death ? I confide entirely in His sovereign goodness. 
 Let Ilim goxern, transport, hasten, retard, ])recipitate, 
 arrest, break down, let Him even plunge us to the bot- 
 tom of the abyss, we fear nothing. We are vessels 
 which belong to Him. He can use us as He pleases, 
 for honour or disgrace." After words thus full of 
 faith, Zwingle contiinies : "As to your case, this is my 
 opinion. Present yourself before the council, and there 
 deliver an address worthy of Christ and of yourself, — 
 that is to say, jn'oper to touch and not to irritate men's 
 Iiearts. Deny that you arc a disciple of Luther, de- 
 clare that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ. Let 
 your pupils surrouud you, and let them speak ; and if 
 all this does not succeed, come to yom- friend, come to 
 Zwingle, and consider our home as your own fireside." 
 
 Oswald, strengthened by these words, followed the 
 noble coimsel of the reformer ; but all his efforts were 
 useless. The witness to the truth behoved to quit his 
 country. His enemies in Lucerne were so loud against 
 him, that the magistrates would not allow any one to 
 give him an asylum. Broken-hearted at the sight of 
 so much enmity, the confessor of Jesns Clu'lst ex- 
 claimed: "All that now remains for me is to beg from 
 door to door, to sustain my miserable life." Shortly 
 after, the friend and most powerful assistant of Zwingle, 
 the first man in Switzerland who had imited literary 
 instruction with the love of the Gospel, the reformer of 
 Lucerne, and, at a later period, one of the leaders of 
 the Helvetic cimrch, was obliged, with his sickly wife 
 and little boy, to quit this ungrateful city, where, out 
 of all his family, the only one who had received the 
 Gospel was a sister. He crossed its ancient bridges, 
 and bade adieu to those mountains which seem to rise 
 from the bosom of the Lake of AValdstetten up to the 
 clouds. Canons Xylotect and Kilchmeyer, the only 
 friends whom the Reformation yet numbered among 
 his countrymen, followed shortly after. And at the 
 moment when this poor man, with two feeble com- 
 panions, whose existence depended on him, with his 
 eye turned towards its lake, and shedding tears for his 
 deluded couutr)-, took leave of those sublime scenes 
 which had surroimded his cradle, the Gospel itself 
 took leave of Lucerne, and Rome reigns in it to this 
 day. 
 
 Shortly after the diet itself, whicli \va- n^.enilded at 
 Baden, stung by the petitions of Eii,>i.ll.ii. (\\liich, be- 
 ing printed, produced a great sensatinn.) anil urged by 
 the Bisiiop of Constance to strike a blow at innovations, 
 had recourse to measures of persecution, ordered the 
 authorities of the villages to bring before it all priests 
 and laymen who should speak against the faith, seized, 
 iu its impatience, on the evangelist who happened to 
 be nearest at hand, L^rban Weiss, pastor of Filispach, 
 who had been previously released on caution, made him 
 be brought to Constance, and then gave him up to the 
 bishop, by whom he was long kept in prison. '• Thus," 
 says the chi-onicle of Bullinger, '• the persecution of the 
 
 Gospel by the confederates commenced, and that at 
 the instigation of the clergy, who have at all times 
 delivered Jesus Christ to Herod and Pilate." 
 
 Zwingle was not to escape his share of trial. Blows 
 to which he was most sensible were then struck at him. 
 The rumour of his doctrines and his contests had 
 passed Santis, penetrated the Tockeuburg, and reached 
 the heights of Wildhaus. The pastoral family from 
 whom the reformer had sprung were moved. Of the 
 four brothers of Zwingle, some bad continued peace- 
 fully to occupy themselves with their mountain toils ; 
 whilst others, to the great grief of their brother, had 
 quitted their flocks and served foreign princes. All 
 were alarmed at the news which rumour brought as 
 far as their chalets. Tliey already saw their brother 
 seized, dragged perhaps to Constance to his bishop, and 
 a pile erected for him at the same place which had 
 consumed the body of John Huss. These proud shep- 
 herds could not bear the idea of being called the 
 brother of a heretic. Tiicy wrote to Ulrich, describing 
 their sorrow and their fears. Zwingle replied : " So 
 long as God permits, I will perform the task which He 
 has entrusted to me, without fearing the world and its 
 proud tyrants. I know the worst that can happen to 
 me. There is no danger, no misfortune, which I have 
 not long carefully weighed. My own strength is mere 
 nothingness, and I know the power of my enemies ; but 
 I know also that I can do everything through Christ 
 strengthening me. Were I silent, some other would 
 be constrained to do what God now does by me, and I 
 would be punished by God. Cast far from you all 
 your anxiety, my dear brothers. If I have a fear, it 
 is that I have been gentler and more easily persuaded 
 than is suitable for this age. What shame, you say, 
 will be cast on all our family if you are burut, or put 
 to death in some other way ! dearly beloved breth- 
 ren ! the Gospel derives from the blood of Christ this 
 wondrous nature, that the most violent persecutions, far 
 from arresting, only hasten its progress. Those only 
 are true soldiers of Christ who fear not to bear in their 
 body the wounds of thcii- Master. All my labours 
 have no other end than to make men know the treasures 
 of happiness which Clirist has acquired for us, in order 
 that all may flee to the Father through the death of 
 His Son. If His doctrine offends you, your anger can- 
 not stop me. You are my brothers, — yes, my own 
 brothers, — the sons of my father, and the offspring of 
 the same mother ; . . . but if you were not my 
 brethi'en in Christ, and in the work of faith, my grief 
 would be so extreme that nothing could equal it. 
 Adieu. I will never cease to be your true brother, 
 provided you do not yourselves cease to be the bretliren 
 of Jesus Christ." 
 
 The confederates seemed to rise against the Gospel 
 as one man. The petitions of Einsidleu had been the 
 signal. Zwingle, concerned for the lot of his dear 
 Myeonius, saw in this misfortune only the beginning 
 of calamity. Enemies in Zurich, enemies abroad, — a 
 man's own relatives becoming his enemies, — a furious 
 opposition on the part of monks and priests, — violent 
 measures of the diet and the councils, — rude, perhaps 
 bloody, assaults on the part of the partisans of foreign 
 service, — the highest valleys of Switzerland, the cradle 
 of the confederation, sending forth phalanxes of in- 
 
256 
 
 HISTORY OF THE BEFORMATION. 
 
 viacible soldiers to save Rome, and, at the sacrifice of 
 life, annihilating the growing faith of the sons of the 
 EeformatioD, — such was the prospect at which the 
 penetrating mind of the reformer shuddered when he 
 beheld it in the distance. ^Vliat a prospect ! Was not 
 the work, scarcely well begun, on the point of being 
 destroyed? Zwingle, thoughtful and agitated, spread 
 all his anguish before kis God. "0 Jesus!" said he, 
 
 upon thee, as thou hast begun, so to finish. If in any- 
 thing I have built up improperly, beat it down with 
 thy mighty hand. If I have laid some other founda- 
 tion beside thine, let thy powerful arm overthrow it. 
 O most beloved vine, of which the Father is the vine- 
 dresser, and of which we are the branches, forsake 
 not thy offspring. For thou hast promised to be with 
 us, even to the end of the world!" 
 
 "}ousceho\\ waked men and bHsphemeis stun the 
 eiis ot thy pLoplc with then cues Thou knowe^t 
 that from my infancy i have hated disputes, and yet, 
 in spite of myself, thou hast ceased not to urge me on 
 to the combat. . . . "Wherefore, I confidently call 
 
 It MT! on the 22ud of August, 1522, that Ulrich 
 Zwingle, the rcformei of bwitzerlind when he saw 
 violent storms descending from the mountains on the 
 frail barque of faith, thus expressed the troubles and 
 hopes of his soul in the presence of his God. 
 
PROGRESS OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 FIRST REFORMS.— :521-1522. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 rroiO*es8 of the Refoniiation — NVw Period — Advantages of Luthei'd Cap- 
 tivity—Agitation of Germany— Mehncthon and Lutljor— Eutlmsi- 
 
 Four years had elapsed since an ancient doctrine had 
 again been preached in the Church. The great doc- 
 trine of salvation bi/ grace, formerly published in Asia, 
 Greece, and Italy, by Paul and his brethren ; and 
 again, after several centuries, discovered in the Bible 
 by a monk of AVittemberg, had echoed from the plains 
 of Saxony to Rome, Paris, and London ; and the lofty 
 mountains of Switzerland had repeated its energetic 
 accents. The fountains of truth, liberty, and life, had 
 been again opened to humanity. Crowds had repaired 
 thither and quaffed with joy; but those who had 
 pressed forward and taken the draught, had preserved 
 their former appearance. All within was new, and 
 yet all without seemed to have remained as before. 
 
 The constitution of the Church, its ritual, and disci- 
 pline, had not undergone any change. In Saxony, at 
 Wittemberg even, in every place where the new ideas 
 had penetrated, the papal worship gravely continued 
 its pomp ; the priest at the foot of the altar, in offering 
 the host to God, seemed to produce an ineffable trans- 
 formation; monks and nuns entered convents to un- 
 dertake obligations that were to bind them for ever ; 
 pastors lived not as heads of families; brotherhoods 
 assembled; pilgrimages were performed; the faithful 
 hung up their votive offerings on the pillars of chapels ; 
 and all ceremonies, even to the most insignilicant for- 
 mality of the sanctuary, were celebrated as before. 
 There was a new doctrine in the world, but it had not 
 given itself a new body. The language of the priest 
 formed a striking contrast to the proceedings of the 
 priest. He was heard thundering from the pulpit 
 against the mass, as an idolatrous worship ; and then 
 seen descending and taking his place before the altar, 
 to celebrate this pompous ceremony with scrupulous 
 exactness. Everywhere the new Gospel resounded 
 beside the ancient ritual. The priest himself did not 
 perceive the strange inconsistency; and the people who 
 listened with acclamation to the bold discoiu-ses of the 
 new preachers, devoutly observed their ancient customs 
 as if they were never to abandon them. At the domes- 
 tic hearth and in social life, as in the house of God, 
 everything remained the same. There was a new 
 faith in the world, but not new works. The season 
 of spring had appeared, but winter seemed still to hold 
 nature in chains ; no flowers — no leaves — nothing ex- 
 ternal gave indication of the new season. But these 
 appearances were illusory; a potent, though hidd 
 
 was ab-eady circulating beneath, and on tin 
 changing the world. 
 
 of ! 
 
 To this course — a course fraught with wisdom — the 
 Reformation perhaps owes its triimii)lis. Prior to the 
 actual accompHshment of any revolution, there must 
 be a revolution in thought. The inconsistency already 
 alluded to did not even strike Luther at the first 
 glance. He seemed to consider it quite natural that, 
 while men were receiving his writings with enthusi- 
 asm, they should at the same time remain devotedly 
 attached to the abuses which these writings attacked. 
 It might even be thought that he had traced out his 
 plan beforeliaad, and resolved to produce a change of 
 minds before introducing a change of forms. This, 
 however, were to ascribe to him a wisdom, tlie honour 
 of which belongs to a higher source. He executed a 
 plan which was not of his own devising. These mat- 
 ters he was able, at a later period, to acknowledge and 
 comprehend ; but he had not imagined them, and ac- 
 cordingly had not regulated them. God took the lead ; 
 Luther's part was to follow. 
 
 Had Luther begun with an external reform : had he, 
 immediately after he had spoken, attempted to abolish 
 monastic vows, the mass, confession, and the existing 
 forms of worship, he should undoubtedly have en- 
 countered the keenest opposition. Man must have 
 time before he can adapt himself to great revolutions. 
 Luther was by no means the violent, imprudent, rash 
 innovator, that some historians have represented.' The 
 people, seeing nothing changed in the routine of their 
 devotions, committed themselves without distrust to 
 their new leader. They were even astonished at the 
 attacks directed against a man who left them their 
 mass, beads, and confessor ; and attributed these 
 attacks to the grovelling jealousy of obscure rivals, 
 or the cruel injustice of powerful adversaries. Mean- 
 while Luther's ideas aroused the minds of men, im- 
 proved their hearts, and so undermined the ancient 
 edifice, that it soon fell of its own accord, without any 
 human hand. Ideas do not act instantaneously; they 
 make their way in silence, like water which, filtering 
 behind rocks, detaches them from the mountain on 
 which they rest ; all at once the work done in secret 
 manifests itself ; and a single day suffices to display 
 the work of several years, perhaps several ages. 
 
 A new era in the Reformation commences. The 
 truth is already re-established in doctrine, and doctrine 
 is now going to re-establish the truth in all the forms 
 of the Church and of society. The agitation is too 
 great for men's minds to remain fixed and immoveable 
 at the point at which they have arrived. On those 
 dogmas which have been so powerfully shaken, depend 
 customs which are beginning to give way, and which 
 must disappear along with them. There is too much 
 courage and life in the new generation to feel under 
 
THE HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 constraint in the presei^ce of erroi- Sacraments, ritual, 
 hierarchy, vows, constitution, domestic life, public life, 
 all are about to be modified. The ship which has been 
 slowly and laboriously built, is about to leave the dock, 
 and be launched on the vast ocean. We shall have to 
 follow its track across numerous perils. 
 
 The captivity of the Wartburg separates these two 
 periods. Providence, which designed to give a mighty 
 impulse to the Reformation, had prepared its progress 
 by leading him who was selected to be the instrument 
 of it into profound retirement. For a time the work 
 seemed buried with the workman ; but the seed must 
 be deposited in the earth in order to produce fruit; and 
 fi"om the prison which seemed destined to be the re- 
 former's tomb, the Reformation is going to come forth 
 to make new conquests, and rapidly diffuse itself over 
 the whole world. 
 
 Hitherto the Reformation had been concentrated in 
 the person of the reformer. Ilis appearance before 
 the Diet of Worms was, undoubtedly, the sublimest 
 moment of his life. His character then appeared 
 almost exempt from blemish ; and hence it has been 
 said, that if God, whc^ hid the reformer during ten 
 months within the walls of the Wartburg, had, at that 
 moment, withdrawn him for ever from the eye of the 
 world, his end would have been a kind of apotheosis. 
 But God wills not an apotheosis for His servants; and 
 Luther was preserved to the Church, in order that he 
 might shew by his very faults that the faith of Chris- 
 tians must be founded on the Word of God alone. He 
 was abruptly transported far fi'om the scene where the 
 great revolution of the sixteenth century was in course 
 of accomplishment ; the truth which he had for four 
 years so powerfully preached continued, in his absence, 
 to act upon Christendom ; and the work, of which he 
 was only a feeble instrument, thenceforth bore not the 
 impress of a man, but the seal of God himself. 
 
 Germany was moved by the captivity of Luther. 
 The most contradictory reports circulated throughout 
 her provinces. Mens minds were more agitated by the 
 absence of the reformer than they would have been by 
 his presence. Here it was affirmed that friends, who 
 had come from France, had set him in safety on the 
 other bank of the Rhine. There it was said that 
 assassins had put him to death. Even the smallest vil- 
 lages were anxious for information about Luther ; the 
 passing traveller was interrogated, and groups assem- 
 bled in the market-place. Sometimes an unknown 
 orator gave the people an animated narrative of the 
 manner in which the doctor had been carried off ; he 
 shewed the barbarous horsemen binding fast the hands 
 of their prisoner, hastening at full speed, dragging him 
 on foot behind them, wearing out his strength, shutting 
 their ears to his cries, causing the blood to spring from 
 his fingers. " The dead body of Luther," added he, 
 " has been seen pierced with wounds." Then cries of 
 grief were heard. "Ah!" said the multitude, "no 
 more shall we see, no more shall we hear, the noble- 
 minded man whose voice stirred our hearts." The 
 friends of Luthei-, muttering wrath, swore to avenge his 
 death. Women and children, the lovers of peace, and 
 the aged, looked forward with alarm to new struggles. 
 Nothing could equal the terror of the partisans of 
 Rome. The priests and monks, thinking themselves 
 
 sure of victory, because one man was dead, at first had 
 been unable to conceal their joy, and had raised their 
 heads with an insulting air of triumph ; but now they 
 would gladly have fled far away from the wrath and 
 threats of the people. These men who, while Luther 
 was at liberty, had given free vent to their fury, 
 trembled now that he was captive. Aleander especially 
 was in consternation. " The only means of safety now 
 left us," wrote a Roman Catholic to the Archbishop of 
 Mentz, " is to kindle torches and make a search for 
 Luther over the whole world, in order to restore him 
 to the wishes of the nation." It might have been said 
 that the reformer's ghost, all pale, and clanking its 
 chains, had appeared to spread terror and demand ven- 
 geance. The general exclamation was : " Luther's 
 death will cause torrents of blood to flow I " 
 
 Nowhere were the minds of men more deeply agitated 
 than at Worms itself ; energetic measures were pro- 
 posed both among people and princes. Ulrich von 
 Hiitten and Hermann Busch filled the country with 
 their plaintive songs and warlike cries. Charles V. 
 and the nuncios were loudly accused. The nation 
 took up the cause of the poor monk, who, by the power 
 of his faith, had become its chief. 
 
 At Wittemberg his colleagues and friends, Melauc- 
 thon especially, were at first astounded with grief. 
 Luther had imparted to this young scholar the trea- 
 sures of that sacred theology which had thenceforth 
 completely filled his soul. It was Luther who had 
 given substance and life to the purely intellectual cul- 
 ture which Melancthon had brought to Wittemberg. 
 The profundity of the reformer's doctrine had struck 
 the young Hellenist, and his courage in maintaining 
 the rights of the eternal Word against all human 
 authority had filled him with enthusiasm. He had 
 been associated with him in his work ; he had seized 
 the pen, and in that admirable style which he had de- 
 rived from the study of antiquity, had successfully, and 
 with a powerful hand, lowered the authority of the 
 Fathers and the authority of councils before the sove- 
 reign Word of God. 
 
 The decision which Luther had in action Melancthon 
 had in science. Never were more diversity and more 
 unity exhibited in two individuals. " Scripture," said 
 Melancthon, " imparts to the soul a holy and marvel- 
 lous delight. It is a heavenly ainbrosia." "The Word 
 of God," exclaimed Luther, " is a sword, a war, a 
 destruction ; it springs upon the children of Ephraim 
 like the lioness in the forest." Thus, in Scripture, the 
 one saw a power of consolation, and the other an ener- 
 getic opposition to the corruption of the world. Both 
 held it to be the greatest thing on earth, and hence 
 they understood each other perfectly. " Melancthon," 
 said Luther, " is a miracle — all now acknowledge this. 
 He is the most formidable enemy of Satan and the 
 schoolmen, for he knows their folly, and the Rock 
 which is Christ. This little Greek surpasses me even 
 in theology; he will be as useful to you as many 
 Luthers." And he added, that he was ready to aban- 
 don au opinion if Philip did not approve of it. Me- 
 lancthon, on his part, full of admiration for the know- 
 ledge which Luther had of Scripture, placed him far 
 above the Fathers of the Church. He had a wish to 
 excuse the pleasantries for which Luther was some- 
 
NEWS OF LUTHER'S SAFETY. 
 
 times upbraided, and compared him to a vessel of clay 
 containing precious treasure under a coarse covering. 
 "I will take good care not to blame him for them in- 
 considerately," said he. 
 
 But these two souls, so intimately united, are now 
 separated. Tiiese two valiant soldiers can no longer 
 marcli together for the deliverance of the Church. 
 I.uther has disappeared, and is, perhaps, lost for over. 
 The consternation of AVittemberg was extreme ; it 
 might have been likened to an army standing, with 
 sullen and downcast look, over the bloody remains of 
 the general wlio was leading them on to victory. 
 
 Suddenly intelligence the most gratifying was re- 
 ceived. '• Our dearly beloved father lives!" exclaimed 
 Melancthon in the joy of his heart; " take courage and 
 be strong." But grief soon resumed the ascendancy. 
 Luther w;is alive, but in prison. The edict of Worms, 
 with its cruel prescriptions, had been circulated by 
 thousands throughout the empire, and even in the 
 mountains of the Tyrol. Could the Reformation avoid 
 being crushed by the iron hand which lay upon it? 
 Melancthon's gentle spirit sank within him while he 
 uttered a cry of grief. 
 
 But above the hand of man a more powerful hand 
 was at work, — God himself deprived the formidable 
 edict of its force. The German princes, who had 
 always sought to humble the power of Rome in the 
 empire, trembled on seeing the alliance of the emperor 
 with the pope, and feared lest it should result in the 
 destruction of all their liberties. Accordingly, though 
 Ciiarles, on his passage through the Low Countries, 
 smiled ironically as he saluted the flames which some 
 flatterers and fanatics were kindling in the public 
 places with the writings of Luther, these writings 
 were read in Germany with constantly increasing 
 avidity; and every day new pamphlets appeared to 
 support the Reformation, and make new assaults on 
 the papacy. The nuncios were disconcerted out of 
 measure on seeing that the edict, which had cost them 
 so much injustice, produced so little effect. "The ink 
 of the emperor's signature," said some with bitterness, 
 " was scarcely dry before the decree itself was every- 
 where torn in pieces." . , . The people become 
 more and more attached to the wondrous man who, 
 unawed by the thunders of Charles and the pope, had 
 confessed his faith with the courage of a martyr. '• He 
 offered to retract," observed others, " if he was refuted ; 
 but none ventured to undertake the refutation. Ls not 
 this a proof tliat what he teaches is true?" Accord- 
 ingly, at Wittembcrg and throughout the empire, the 
 first movement of alarm was succeeded by a movement 
 of enthusiasm. Even the Archbishop of Mentz, seeing 
 how strongly the sympathy of the people was expressed, 
 did not venture to give permission to the Cordeliers to 
 preach against the reformer. The university, which 
 seemed on the eve of destruction, raised its head. 
 There the new doctrines were too well established to 
 be shaken by Luther's absence. In a short time the 
 academic halls could scarcely contain the crowds of 
 hearers. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Lutlior In th9 Wartburg— Object of hia Captivity— Asonles—Slcknoss— 
 Labour of Luthei-— On Confession— To Latoraus— Wnlks. 
 
 MEANWini-E Knight George (this was Luther's name 
 in the "Wartburg) lived solitary and unknown. '-If 
 you saw me," wrote he to Melancthon, '-you would 
 take me for a knight, and would scarcely be able to 
 recognize me." Luther at first took some repose, en- 
 joying a leisure which he had never tasted till this 
 time. He moved freely within the fortress, but could 
 not go beyond its walls. All liis wants were supplied, 
 and he had never been better treated. Many thoughts 
 filled his soul, but none could trouble him. He cast 
 his eyes alternately to the surrounding forests, and 
 raised them towards heaven: "A singular captive!" 
 exclaimed he, "captive both with and against my 
 will." 
 
 "Writing to Spalatiu, he says : " Pray for me ; your 
 prayers are the only thing I want. I give myself no 
 concern with all that is said and done with regard to 
 me in the world. At length I am at rest." . . . 
 This letter, as well as several others of the same 
 period, is dated from the isle of Patmos. Luther 
 compared the Wartburg to the celebrated island to 
 which the anger of the Emperor Domitian banished 
 the Apostle John. 
 
 The reformer reposed, amid the dark forests of 
 Thuringia, from the violent struggles which had agi- 
 tated his soul. Here he studied Christian truth, not 
 for disputation, but as a means of regeneration and 
 life. The commencement of the Reformation behoved 
 to be polemical ; new times demanded new exertions. 
 After rooting up the thorns and brambles, it was 
 necessary to sow the seed peacefully in men's hearts. 
 Had Luther been obliged incessantly to fight new bat- 
 tles, he could not have accomplished a lasting work in 
 the Church. By his captivity he escaped a danger 
 which might perhaps have destroyed the Reformation, 
 — that of always attacking and destroying, without 
 ever defending and building up. 
 
 This humble retreat produced a result still more 
 precious. Raised, as it were, upon a pedestal by his 
 countrymen, he was within a step of the abyss ; and a 
 moment of giddiness might have sufficed to throw him 
 headlong into it. Some of the first agents in the 
 Reformation in Germany and Switzerland were 
 dashed to pieces against the rock of spiritual pride 
 and fanaticism. Luther was a man very subject to 
 the infirmities of our nature, and he did not entirely 
 escape these dangers. Still the hand of God delivered 
 him from them for a time, by suddenly withdrawing 
 him from intoxicating triumphs, and consigning him 
 to the depth of an unknown retreat. His soul there 
 communed with itself near to God; it was there 
 bathed in the waters of adversity; his sufferings, his 
 humiliations, constrained him, at least for a time, to 
 walk with the humble; and the principles of the 
 Christian life thencefortli were developed in his soul 
 with new energy and freedom. 
 
 Luther's quiet was not of long duration. Seated on 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the walls of the Wartburg, he speut whole days ab- 
 sorbed in profound meditation. Sometimes the Church 
 presented herself to his mind, and displayed all her 
 miseries before him. At other times, turning his eye 
 upwards with hope towards heaven, he exclaimed: 
 How, Lord, couldst thou hare made all men in vain? 
 (Ps. Ixxxix. 48.) At other times, again abandoning 
 this hope, he was downcast, and exclaimed: "Alas, 
 there is no one, in the last day of His wrath, who can 
 stand as a wall before the Lord to save Israel ! " . . 
 
 Then retm-ning to his own destiny, he feared lest he 
 should be accused of having abandoned the field of 
 battle ; and the idea afflicted his soul. " I would far 
 rather," said he, " be laid on burning coals, than stag- 
 nate here half-dead." 
 
 Next, transporting himself in imagination to Worms 
 and Wittemberg to the midst of his enemies, he regret- 
 ted that he had yielded to the counsels of his friends, 
 instead of remaining in the world, and offering his 
 breast to the fury of men. " Ah ! " said he, " there is 
 nothing I desire more than to present myself before 
 my cruel enemies." 
 
 Still some sweet thought arose, and gave a truce to 
 these agonies. All was not torment to Luther ; from 
 time to time his agitated spirit found some degree of 
 calmness and consolation. After the assurance of 
 Divine aid, his greatest solace in his grief was the 
 remembrance of Melancthon. " If I perish," wrote he 
 to him, " the Gospel will lose nothing ; you will suc- 
 ceed me as Elisha did, with a double measure of my 
 spirit." But calling to mind Philip's timidity, he cried 
 to him aloud : " Minister of the Word ! guard the walls 
 and towers of Jerusalem until the adversary strike you. 
 We are still standing alone on the field of battle : after 
 me they will next assail you." 
 
 The thought of this last attack which Rome was 
 going to make on the rising Church, threw him into 
 new anxiety. The poor monk, a solitary prisoner, 
 had violent wrestling with himself. But suddenly he 
 obtained a glimpse of his deliverance. It occurred to 
 him that the attacks of the papacy would arouse the 
 nations of Germany, and that the soldiers of the Gos- 
 pel, proving victorious, would surround the Wartburg. 
 and give liberty to the prisoner. " If the pope," said 
 he, " lays hands on all who are for me, there will be 
 a commotion in Germany; the more haste he makes to 
 crush us, the more speedy will be the end both of him 
 and his. And I . . . will be restored to you. 
 God is awakening many minds, and stirring up the 
 nations. Let our enemies only seize om- cause in 
 their arms, and try to strangle it ; it will grow under 
 their grasp, and come forth ten times more for- 
 midable." 
 
 But sickness brought him down from those heights 
 to which his courage and his faith had elevated him. 
 He had already suffered much at Worms ; and his ill- 
 ness increased in solitude. He could not digest the 
 food of the Wartburg, which was somewhat less 
 homely than that of his convent: it was necessary 
 to retm-n to the poor fare to which he had been accus- 
 tomed. He passed whole nights without sleep. An- 
 guish of mind was added to bodily suffering. No work 
 is accomplished without pain and self-denial. Luther, 
 alone upon his rock, endured in his powerful nature a 
 
 passion which the emancipation of humanity rendered 
 necessary. "Seated at night in my chamber," says 
 he, "I sent forth cries like a woman in travail — torn, 
 wounded, and bleeding." Then, interrupting his com- 
 plaints, and impressed with the thought that his 
 sufferings were benefits from God, he gratefully ex- 
 claims : " Thanks be rendered unto thee, O Christ, in 
 that thou hast been pleased not to leave me without 
 the precious relics of thy holy cross ! " He soon be- 
 comes indignant at himself, and exclaims: "Infatuated, 
 hardened creature that I am ! How grievous ! I pray 
 little, I wrestle little with the Lord, I do not groan for 
 the Church of God. Instead of being fervent in spirit, 
 my passions only are inflamed ; I remain in sloth, sleep, 
 and indolence." Then, not knowing to what tliis state 
 should be ascribed, and accustomed to expect every- 
 thing from the affection of his brethren, he exclaims, 
 in the desolation of his soul : " O my friends ! is it 
 because you forget to pray for me that God is thus 
 estranged from me ? " 
 
 Those about him, as well as his friends at Wittem- 
 berg and in the elector's court, were uneasy and 
 alarmed at this state of suffering. They trembled to 
 think, that a life snatched from the scaffold of the 
 pope and the sword of Charles V. should sadly wane 
 and vanish away. Can the Wartburg be destined to 
 be the tomb of Luther? "I fear," said Melancthon, 
 "that the grief which he feels for the Church wiU be 
 his death. A torch has been kindled by him in Israel : 
 if it is extinguished, what hope will be left us ? Would 
 to God I were able, at the cost of my miserable life, to 
 detain in the world one who is its brightest ornament." 
 " Oh ! what a man ! " he exclaims, as if he were on the 
 borders of the tomb ; " we have not duly appreciated 
 him." 
 
 What Luther called the unbecoming indolence of his 
 prison, was labour almost above man's utmost strength. 
 "I am here every day," said he, (14th May,) "in idle- 
 ness and luxury, (referring, doubtless, to his fare, 
 which at first was not quite so coarse as he had been 
 accustomed to.) I read the Bible in Hebrew and 
 Greek ; I am going to write a discourse in German on 
 auricular confession ; I will continue the translation of 
 the Psalms, and compose a collection of sermons as 
 soon as I get from Wittemberg what I require. I 
 write without intermission ; " and yet these were only 
 a part of Luther's labours. 
 
 His enemies thought that if he was not dead, at all 
 events his voice would not again be heard ; but their 
 joy was of short duration, and the world was not left 
 long in doubt whether he were alive. A multitude of 
 writings, composed in the Wartburg, appeared in rapid 
 succession, and the cherished voice of the reformer was 
 everywhere received with enthusiasm. Luther pub- 
 lished at once works fitted to edify the Church, and 
 polemical treatises which interrupted the too hasty joy 
 of his enemies. For nearly a year he instructed, ex- 
 horted, rebuked, and thundered from his mountain-top ; 
 and his adversaries, confounded, asked whether there 
 were not some supernatural mystery in this prodigious 
 activity. "He could not rest," says Cochteus. 
 
 The ouly mystery was, the imprudence of the parti- 
 sans of Rome. They hastened to avail themselves of 
 the edict of Worms to give a mortal blow to the Refor- 
 
LUTHER'S PROMENADES AND HUNTING EXCURSIONS. 
 
 mation ; wlulc Luther, condemned, placed under the 
 ban of the empire, and shut up in the Wartburg, stood 
 forth to defend sound doctrine, a,s if he had been still 
 free and victorious. It was in the confessional espe- 
 cially that the priests strove to rivet the chains of 
 their deluded parishioners ; and accordingly confession 
 was the object of Luther's first attack. " They found," 
 says he, " on the words of St. James : Confess i/our sins 
 one to another. Singular confession ! He says, one to 
 another; whence it should follow, that confessors ought 
 also to confess to their penitents ; that every Christian 
 should, in his turn, be pope, bishop, priest ; and that 
 the pope himself should confess to all." 
 
 Scarcely had Luther finished this small work than 
 he began another. Latomus, a theologian of Louvain, 
 already celebrated for his opposition to Reuchlin and 
 Erasmus, had attacked the views of the reformer. In 
 twelve days Luther's refutation was ready, and it is one 
 of his masterpieces. He vindicates himself from the 
 charge of wanting moderation. '• The moderation of 
 the age," says he, " is to bend the knee before sacrile- 
 gious pontiffs, impious sophists, and address them as 
 gracious lord ! excellent master ! Then, when you have 
 done so, you may put to death whomsoever you please ; 
 overturn the world, nay, you will still be a moderate 
 man. Far from me be this moderation. I like better 
 to be frank and deceive nobody. The shell, perhaps, 
 is hard, but the kernel is sweet and tender." 
 
 Luther's health continuing to decline, he thought of 
 quitting the Wartburg. But how was he to do it? 
 To appear in public was to risk his life. The back of 
 the mountain, on which the fortress stood, was travei-sed 
 by numerous paths, the sides of which were bordered 
 with tufts of strawbeiTies. The massy gate of the 
 castle was opened, and the prisoner ventured, not with- 
 out fear, stealthily to gather some of the fruit. He 
 became bolder by degrees, and began to survey the sur- 
 rounding country in his knight's dress, ind itten led 1 \ 
 a guard of the castle, a blunt but tin U\ itli\ ni ii 
 One day having entered in inn 
 he threw aside his sword -(^ huh 
 enciunbered him, and i \n to- 
 wards some book which hip 
 pened to be lying. Nature w is 
 stronger than prudence His 
 attendant trembled, fearing th It 
 a proceeding so unusual in i 
 warrior would be regaided vj 
 a proof that the doctor was not 
 a true knight. On anothei 
 occasion the two warriors de- 
 scended into the convent ot 
 Reinhardsbruun, where Lu- 
 ther had slept a few months 
 before, on his way to Worms 
 Suddenly a friar allowed a sign 
 of surprise to escape from him 
 Luther is recognised. Ilia it 
 tendant perceives it, and, drag- 
 ging him off in all haste, they 
 gallop away far from the con- 
 vent, before the poor friar has 
 time to recover from his as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 Tiio chivalric life of the doctor occasionally partook 
 strongly of the theological. One day the nets are pre- 
 jiared, the gates of the fortress are thrown open, and 
 the dogs, with long flapping ears, rush forth. Luther 
 had wished to taste the pleasures of the chase. The 
 hunters soon become animated, the dogs dart along, 
 and drive the brown hares among the brushwood. In 
 tlic midst of the turmoil the Chevalier George, stand- 
 ing motionless, had his mind filled with serious thoughts ; 
 at the sight of the objects around him his heart is 
 bursting with grief. " Is it not," said he, " an image 
 of the devil who arouses his dogs, — in other words, tlic 
 bishops, those messengers of Antichrist, — and hounds 
 them on in pursuit of poor souls?" A young hare had 
 just been caught, and Luther, happy to save it, wraps 
 it carefully in his cloak, and places it under a bush. 
 Before he proceeds many steps the dogs scent out tlie 
 poor creature and kill if. Luther, attracted by the 
 noise, utters a cry of grief ; " O pope ! " says he ; " and 
 thou, Satan ! it is thus you strive to destroy even those 
 souls which have been already saved from death I" 
 
 CHAPTER UI. 
 
 TIk; Kefonuation Beaius— Marriagt of Fddkirchen— Marriage of Jlonks- 
 Theses— Writes against Monachism— Luther Coases to be a Monlt. 
 
 AViiiLE the doctor of Wittemberg, dead to the world, 
 was relaxing himself by these sports in the environs of 
 the Wartburg, the work was advancing as of itself ; 
 the Reformation had commenced. No longer confin- 
 ing itself to doctrine, it energetically advanced into act. 
 Bernard Feldkirchen, pastor of Kemberg, who, under 
 the direction of Luther, had first attacked the errors of 
 Rome -i^T ilso the fir t to throw off the yoke of hei 
 in tituti 11 Ho mmi 1 
 
 ENTRANCE HALl 
 
 iRTBURG. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 The German character delights iu domestic life and 
 the joys of home ; accordingly, of all the ordinances of 
 the papacy, that of forced celibacy had produced the 
 worst consequences. The imposition of this law on the 
 heads of the clergy had prevented the fiefs of the 
 Church from becoming hereditary. But when ex- 
 tended by Gregory VII. to the lower clergy, it had led 
 to deplorable results. Many priests had evaded the 
 obligations imposed on them by shameful irregularities, 
 and brought hatred and contempt on their order ; while 
 those who had submitted to Hildebraud's law felt in- 
 wardly indignant against the Chxu-ch, because at the 
 same time that it gave its high dignitaries so much 
 power, wealth, and worldly enjoyment, it forced humble 
 ministers, who were, however, its most useful supports, 
 to sacrifices altogether contrary to the Gospel. 
 
 " Neither popes nor councils," said Feldkirchen and 
 another pastor named Seidler, who followed his example, 
 " can impose on the Church an ordinance which endan- 
 gers soul and body. The obligation to maintain the 
 law of God constrains us to violate the traditions of 
 men." The re-establishment of marriage iu the six- 
 teenth century was an act of homage to the moral law. 
 The ecclesiastical authority, taking alarm, immediately 
 launched its decrees against the two priests. Seidler, 
 who was in the territories of Duke George, was given 
 up to his superiors, and died in prison. But the Elector 
 Frederick refused to give up Feldkirchen to tlie Arch- 
 bishop of Magdebourg. " His highness," said Spalatin, 
 "has no wish to act as a police officer." Feldkirchen, 
 therefore, though he had become a husband and a father, 
 continued pastor of his flock. 
 
 The first emotion of the reformer on learning these 
 things was to give expression to his joy. " I admire 
 this new husband of Kemberg, who fears nothing, and 
 hastens iuto the midst of the tumult." Luther was 
 convinced that priests ought to marry. But this ques- 
 tion led to another — the marriage of monks ; and here 
 Luther had to maintain one of those internal combats 
 of which his whole life was composed ; for every refor- 
 mation must be effected by an intellectual struggle. 
 Melancthon and Carlstadt, the one a layman and the 
 other a priest, thought that the liberty of entering into 
 the bonds of marriage ought to belong to monks as well 
 as to priests. Luther, a monk, did not think so at first. 
 One day the governor of the Wartburg having brought 
 him some theses of Carlstadt on celibacy: "Good 
 God!" exclaimed he, "will om- Wittembergers give 
 wives to monks even?" . . . The idea astonished 
 and confounded him; his mind was troubled. The 
 liberty which he claimed for others, he rejected for 
 himself. "Ah !" exclaimed he with indignation, "at 
 all events they will not force me to take a wife." This 
 saying is, doubtless, unknown to those who pretend 
 that Luther effected the Eeformation in order that he 
 might be able to marry. Seeking the truth honestly, 
 not through passion, he defended whatever presented 
 itself to him as true, though it might be contrary to his 
 system as a whole. He moved in a mixture of truth 
 and error, waiting the time when all error would fall 
 and truth alone remain. 
 
 There was, in fact, a great difference between the two 
 questions. The marriage of the priests did not put an 
 end to the priesthood; on the contrary, it alone could 
 
 restore the secular clergy to the respect of the people ; 
 but the marriage of monks was the destruction of 
 monachism. The question, then, was to determine 
 whether it was necessary to break up and disband the 
 mighty army which the popes held under their com- 
 mand? "The priests," wrote Luther to Melancthon, 
 " are appointed of God, and consequently are free in 
 regard to human commandments. But the monks have 
 voluntarily chosen celibacy, and therefore are not free 
 to withdraw themselves from the yoke of their own 
 choice." 
 
 The reformer behoved to advance and carry this 
 new position of the adversary by means of a new 
 struggle. He had already put under his feet many 
 abuses of Eome and Eome itself ; but monachism was 
 still standing. Monachism, which of old carried life 
 into so many deserts, and which, after traversing many 
 centuries, now filled so many cloisters with indolence, 
 and often with luxury, seemed to have personified itself 
 and come to defend its rights in the castle of Thuringia, 
 where was to be decided, iu the conscience of a single 
 man, the question of its life or its death. Luther 
 wrestled with it. Sometimes he was on the point of 
 overcoming it, and sometimes he was on the point of 
 being overcome. At length, unable any longer to 
 maintain the combat, he prostrated himself in prayer 
 at the feet of Jesus Christ, and exclaimed : " Instruct 
 us ! deliver us ! In thy mercy establish us iu the liberty 
 which belongs to us, for certainly we are thy people." 
 
 He had not to wait for deliverance : an important 
 revolution was produced in the reformer's mind ; and 
 it was again the doctrine of justification by faith that 
 gave him the victory. This weapon, before which had 
 fallen, in the mind of Luther and of Christendom, in- 
 dulgences, the discipline of Home, and the pope himself, 
 also effected the downfall of the monks. Luther saw 
 that monachism and the doctrine of salvation by grace 
 were iu flagrant opposition, and that monastic life was 
 founded entirely on the pretended merits of man. 
 Thenceforth, convinced that the glory of Jesus Christ 
 was at stake, he heard a voice within incessantly 
 repeating, "Monachism must fall." "So long," said 
 he, " as the doctrine of justification continues in the 
 Church unimpaired, no man will become a monk." 
 This conviction always acquired more strength in his 
 heart; and in the beginning of September, he sent 
 " to the bishops and deacons of the Church of Wittem- 
 berg " the following theses, which formed his declara- 
 tion of war against monastic life : — 
 
 " Whatsoever is not of faith is sin, (Rom. xiv. 23.) 
 
 " Whosoever makes a vow of virginity, chastity, or 
 service to God without faith, makes an impious and 
 idolatrous vow, and makes it to the devil himself. 
 
 " To make such vows, is to be worse than the priests 
 of Cybele, or the vestals of the heathen ; for the monks 
 pronounce their vows in the idea that they are to be 
 faithful and saved by them; and what ought to be 
 ascribed solely to the mercy of God, is thus attributed 
 to the merit of works. 
 
 " Such convents shoiUd be completely overturned, as 
 houses of the devil. 
 
 " There is only one order which is holy and produces 
 holiness, and that is Christianity or faith. 
 
 " Convents, to be usefid, should be schools, in which 
 
LUTHER REJECTS MONACHISM. 
 
 children might be triiined to man's estate ; whereas they 
 are Iioiises iu wliich full grown men again become 
 children, and so continue ever after." 
 
 Wc see that at this period Luther would still have 
 tolerated convents as houses of education; but his 
 attacks on these establishments soon became more en- 
 ergetic. The immorality of cloisters, and the shame- 
 ful practices which prevailed in them, were vividly 
 present to his mind. " I am desirous," wrote he to 
 Spalatin on the 11th November, "to deliver young 
 people from the infernal flames of celibacy." Then he 
 wrote a treatise against celibacy, and dedicated it to 
 his father. "Are you desirous," said he, in his dedi- 
 cation to the old man of Mansfeld, — " are you still 
 desirous to snatch nie from monasticism? You arc 
 entitled to do so, for you are still my father, and I am 
 still your son. But it is no longer necessary; God has 
 gone before you, and snatched me from it by His own 
 power. What matters it whether I continue or lay 
 aside the tonsure and monk's hood I Is it the hood — 
 is it the tonsure, that makes a monk? All thimjs are 
 yours, says St. Paul, and you are Christ's. I belong 
 not to tlie hood, but the hood to me. I am a monk, 
 and yet not a monk ; I am a new creature, not of the 
 pope, but of Jesus Christ. Christ alone, and without 
 any intermediate person, is my bishop, my abbot, my 
 prior, my lord, my father; and I know no other. 
 What matters it to me though the pope should con- 
 demn and butcher me? He will not be able to bring 
 me forth from the tomb to do it a second time. The 
 great day is approaching when the kingdom of abomi- 
 nations will be overthrown. Would to God we were 
 worthy of being butchered by the pope. Our blood 
 would cry to Heaven against him ; and thus his judg- 
 ment would be hastened, and his end brought near." 
 
 The transformation had been produced in Luther 
 himself ; he was no longer a monk. This change was 
 not the result of external causes of human passions, of 
 carnal precipitancy. There had been a struggle in it. 
 Luther had at first been arrayed on the side of 
 monachism ; but truth also had entered the lists, and 
 monachism had been vanquished. The victories which 
 passion gains are ephemeral, whereas those of truth 
 are durable and decisive. 
 
 CH^VJPTER IV. 
 
 Archbishop Albert— The Idol of Halle— Luther appears— Terror at the 
 Court— Luther to the Archbishop— The Archbishop's Reply— Joachim 
 of Brandenburg. 
 
 While Luther was thus making preparation for one of 
 the greatest revolutions which was to be effected in the 
 Church, and while the Refonnation was beginning to 
 act so powerfully on tlie state of society in Christen- 
 dom, the partisans of Rome, blinded as those usually 
 are who have long been in possession of power, ima- 
 gined that because Luther was iu the Wartburg, the 
 Reformation was for ever dead and buried ; and that 
 henceforth they would be able, in peace, to resume 
 their ancient practices, after being momentarily dis- 
 
 turbed by the monk of Wittemberg. Albert, the 
 Archbishop-Elector of Mentz, was one of those feeble 
 spirits, who, when all things are equal, are in favour 
 of truth ; but as soon as their interest is thrown into 
 the balance, are ready to array themselves on the side 
 of error. The great point with him was, that his 
 court should be as brilliant as that of any prince in 
 Germany; his equipage as rich, and his table as well 
 supplied ; and to this end the traffic in indulgences 
 contriI)uted admirably. Hence, no sooner had the 
 decree condemning Luther and the Reformation issued 
 from the imperial chancery, than Albert, who was then 
 with his court at Halle, assembled the indulgence mer- 
 chants, who were still in alarm at the preaching of the 
 reformer, and tried to eucourage thcin by such words 
 as these : " Fear no more ; we have reduced him to 
 silence ; let us again begin to clip the flock ; the monk 
 is captive ; he is under lock and key, and will this 
 time be dexterous indeed if he again comes to disturb 
 us." The market was opened anew, the merchandise 
 exhibited, and the churches of ILalle resoimded once 
 more with the harangues of the quacks. 
 
 But Luther was still alive, and his voice was power- 
 ful enough to pierce the walls and bars behind which 
 he had been hid. Nothing could inflame his indig- 
 nation to a higher degree. What ! the fiercest battles 
 have been fought ; he has faced all dangers ; the truth 
 has come off victorious ; and yet men dare to trample it 
 under their feet as if it had been vanquished ! . . . 
 The doctrine which has already once overthrown this 
 criminal traffic will again be heard. '• I shall have no 
 rest," wrote he to Spalatin, " till I have attacked the 
 idol of Mentz, and its prostitutions at Halle. 
 
 Luther forthwith set to work ; he gave himself little 
 concern about the inysteriousness with which it was 
 sought to envelope his residence in the Wartburg. 
 Elijah in the desert forges new thunderbolts against 
 impious Ahab. On the 1st November, he finished a 
 tract Against the New Idol of Halle. 
 
 The archbishop received intelligence of Luther's 
 design. Apprehensive and frightened at the thought, 
 he, about the middle of October, sent two officials of 
 his court — Capito and Auerbach — to Wittemberg to 
 lay the storm. " It is necessary," said they to Melanc- 
 thon, who most courteously received them, — " it is ne- 
 cessary for Luther to moderate his impetuosity." But 
 Melancthon, though mild himself, was not one of those 
 who imagine that wisdom consists iu ahvavs yielding, 
 always equivocating, always holding one's peace. "It 
 is God himself who calls him," replied he; "and our 
 age stands in need of an acrid and pungent salt." 
 Capito then turned to Jonas, and endeavoured through 
 him to act upon the court, at which intelligence of 
 Luther's design had already arrived, and produced the 
 greatest consternation. "What!" said the courtiers, 
 " revive the flames which there has been so much 
 difficulty in extinguishing ! Luther can only be saved 
 by allowing himself to be forgotten ; and here he is 
 setting himself in opposition to the first prince of the 
 empire." "I wont allow Luther," said the elector, 
 " to write against the Archbishop of Mentz, and there- 
 by disturb the public peace." 
 
 Luther felt indignant when these words were re- 
 ported to him. It is not enough to imprison his body; 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 they must also chain his mind, and truth herself. 
 Do they imagine that he conceals himself from fear, 
 and that his retii-emeut is an acknowledgment of de- 
 feat? He, on the contrary, maintains that it is a 
 victory. Who, then, at Worms, dared to rise up 
 against him and to contradict the truth ? Accordingly, 
 when the prisoner of the Wartburg had read the chap- 
 lain's letter, which made him aware of the prince's 
 sentiments, he threw it from him, determined not to 
 reply to it. But he could not long refrain, and he 
 again lifted the letter. " Tlie elector will not permit ! " 
 . . . wrote he to Spalatin ; " and I will not suffer 
 the elector not to permit me to write. . . . Sooner 
 ruin you for ever — ^}-ou, the elector — the whole world. 
 If I have resisted the pope, who is the creature of your 
 cardinal, why should I yield to his creature? It is 
 really good to hear you say, that the public peace must 
 not be disturbed, while you aUow others to disturb the 
 eternal peace of God. It will not be so, O prince. I 
 send you a tract which I had already prepared against 
 the cardinal before I received your letter. Hand it 
 to Jlelancthon." , . . 
 
 The perusal of this manuscript made Spalatin tremble. 
 He again represented to the reformer how imprudent 
 it would be to publish a work which would compel the 
 imperial government to lay aside its apparent ignorance 
 of Luther's fate, and to punish a prisoner who dared 
 to attack the first prince of the empire and the Chm-ch. 
 If Luther persisted in this design, peace was again dis- 
 turbed, and the Reformation perhaps lost. Luther 
 consented to delay the publication of his treatise ; he 
 even allowed Melancthon to erase the strongest pas- 
 sages. But indignant at the timidity of his friend, he 
 wrote to the chaplain : " He lives, He reigns — the Lord 
 in whom you court folks believe not, at least if He 
 does not so accommodate His works to your reason, 
 that there is no longer occasion to believe anything." 
 He forthwith resolved on writing du-ectly to the elector- 
 cardinal. 
 
 It is the whole episcopate that Luther brings to his 
 bar in the person of the primate of Gei-many. His 
 words arc those of an intrepid man, burning with zeal 
 for the truth, and under a consciousness of speaking in 
 the name of God himself. 
 
 Writing from the depth of the retreat in which he 
 was concealed, he says : " Your electoral highness has 
 again set up in Halle the idol which devours the silver 
 and the souls of poor Christians. Y''ou think, perhaps, 
 that I am off the field, and that his imperial majesty 
 will easily stifle the cries of the poor monk. . . . 
 But know that I will discharge the duty which Chris- 
 tian charity imposes on me, without fearing the gates 
 of hell ; and a fortiori, without fearing the pope, bishops, 
 and cardinals. 
 
 " Wherefore, my most humble prayer is, that your 
 royal highness will call to mind the commencement of 
 this affair, and how one small spark produced a fear- 
 ful conflagration. Then, also, the whole world felt 
 secm-e. The thought was — the poor mendicant who is 
 disposed, single-handed, to attack the pope, is too feeble 
 for such a work. But God interposed, and has given 
 the pope more toil and anxiety than he ever had since 
 he seated himself in the temple of God, to domineer 
 over the Church. The same God still lives — let no man 
 
 doubt it. He knows how to withstand a cardinal of 
 Mentz, were he even supported by four emperors ; for 
 He loves, above all things, to bow down the lofty cedars 
 and humble proud Pharaohs. 
 
 "Wherefore, I hereby give your highness to wit, 
 that if the idol is not cast down, I must, in obedience 
 to the command of God, publicly attack your highness, 
 as I have attacked the pope himself. Let yoiu* high- 
 ness act upon this notice ; I expect a prompt and good 
 answer within a fortnight. Given in my desert, Sunday 
 after St. Catherine's day, 1521, by your electoral high- 
 ness's humble and devoted, Martin Ldthee." 
 
 This letter was sent to AYittemberg, and from Wit- 
 temberg to Halle, where the cardinal-elector then 
 resided ; no attempt was made to stop it in its course, 
 as it was foreseen what a storm such an audacious pro- 
 ceeding would have called forth. But Melancthon 
 accompanied it with a letter to the prudent Capito, 
 with a view to bring this difficult affair to a good ter- 
 mination. 
 
 We cannot say what were the feelings of the young 
 and feeble archbishop on receiving the reformer's let- 
 ter. The tract announced Against the Idol of Halle, was 
 like a sword suspended over his head. At the same 
 time, what rage must have been kindled in his heart 
 by the insolence of this peasant's son, this excommuni- 
 cated monk, who dared to hold such language to a 
 prince of the house of Brandenburg, the primate of the 
 German Church ! Capito implored the archbishop to 
 satisfy the monk. Terror, pride, conscience, whose 
 voice he could not stifle, produced a fearful struggle 
 in Albert's soul. At length, dread of the tract, and it 
 may be also remorse, carried the day. He humbled 
 himself, and gathered together whatever he thought 
 fitted to appease the man of the Wartburg : scarcely 
 had the fortnight elapsed, when Luther received the 
 following letter, which is still more astonishing than 
 his formidable epistle : — 
 
 " My dear Doctor, — I have received and read your 
 letter, and taken it in good part. But I believe that 
 for a long time the motive which led you to write me 
 such a letter has not existed. I wish, with God's 
 help, to conduct myself as a pious bishop and a Chris- 
 tian prince, and I acknowledge that I stand in need of 
 the grace of God. I deny not that I am a sinful man, 
 one who may sin and be mistaken, one even who sins 
 and is mistaken every day. I know well, that without 
 the grace of God I am useless and filthy mire, like other 
 men, if not more so. In reply to your letter, I did not 
 wish to conceal from you this gracious disposition ; for, 
 from the love of Christ, I am more than desirous to 
 shew you all sorts of kindness and favour. I know 
 how to receive a Christian and fraternal reprimand. 
 
 "With my own hand, Albert." 
 
 Such was the language held to the excommunicated 
 of the Wartbiu-g by the Elector-archbishop of Mentz 
 and Magdebourg, whose office it was to represent and 
 maintain in Germany the constitution of the Church. 
 Had Albert, in writing it, obeyed the generous inspira- 
 tions of his conscience, or his servile fears? In the 
 former view, this letter is noble ; in the latter, it deserves 
 contempt. We prefer supposing that it proceeded from 
 a good emotion in his heart. Be this as it may, it 
 shews the immense superiority of the servant of God 
 

 r^r-.f^^ 
 
TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE. 
 
 over earthly graudeur. While Luther, single, captive, 
 and condemned, found indomitable courage in his 
 faith, the archbishop cardinal-elector, surrounded by 
 all the power and favour of the world, trembled in his 
 chair. This contrast is constantly displayed, and it 
 furnishes a key to the strange enigma with which we 
 arc presented in the history of the Reformation. The 
 CMirislirtii is not called to sum up his forces, and make 
 an enumeration of his means of victory. The only 
 thing which ought to give him any concern is, whether 
 the cause which he maintains is, indeed, that of God ; 
 and whether his sole aim is the glory of his Master, 
 lie has, doubtless, an examination to make, but it is 
 wholly spiritual; the Christian looks to the heart, and 
 not to the arm ; to the justice of the cause, and not to 
 its strength. And when once this question is decided, 
 his path is marked out. He must advance boldly, even 
 should it be against the world and all its hosts, in the 
 unwavering conviction that God himself w^ll fight for 
 him. 
 
 The enemies of the Reformation thus passed from 
 extreme rigour to extreme feebleness. They had al- 
 ready done so at "Worms, and these abrupt transitions 
 arc ever appearing in the war which error makes upon 
 truth. Every cause destined to give way is affected 
 with an inward dissatisfaction, which makes it vacil- 
 lating and dubious, and pushes it by turns from one 
 extreme to the other. Far better were consistency 
 and energy. It might be, that thereby the fall would 
 be ])recipitated ; but at all events when it did come it 
 would come gloriously. 
 
 The Elector of Brandenburg, Joachim I., a brother 
 of Albert, gave an example of this decision of charac- 
 ter which is so rare, especially in our own age. Im- 
 moveable in his principles, firm in his actions, knowing 
 when necessary to resist the will of the pope, he op- 
 posed an iron hand to the progress of the Reformation. 
 At Worms he had insisted that Luther should not be 
 heard, and even that he should be punished as a heretic, 
 notwithstanding of his safe-conduct. No sooner was the 
 edict of "Worms issued than he ordered it to be rigor- 
 ously executed in all his states. Luther was able to 
 estimate a character thus energetic, and distinguishing 
 Joachim from his other opponents, said : " "We can still 
 pray for the Elector of Brandenburg." The spirit of 
 the prince seemed to have been communicated to his 
 subjects. Berlin and Brandenburg long remained com- 
 pletely closed against the Reformation. But what was 
 received slowly was kept faithfully, while countries 
 which then received the Gospel with joy — Belgium, 
 for instance, and AYestphalia — were soon to abandon 
 it. Brandenburg, the last of the German states to 
 enter on the i)aths of faith, was, at a later period, to 
 take its place in the foremost ranks of the Reformation. 
 
 Luther did not receive the letter of the cardinal- 
 archbishop without some suspicion of its having been 
 dictated by hypocrisy, or in compliance with the coun- 
 sels of Capito. He was silent, however, contenting 
 himself with a declaration to the latter, that so long as 
 the archbishop, who wiis scarcely capable of managing 
 a small parish, would not lay aside the mask of the 
 cardinalate and pomp of the episcopate, and become a 
 simple minister of the Word, it was impossible he could 
 be in the way of salvation. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Translation of the Bible— Wants of the Church— Principles of thtt Reforma- 
 tinii— Alarm at Court — Luther to the Archbishop— Temptations of the 
 Devil — ConUcinuation of the Sorbonnc — Melancthon's Reply — Visit to 
 Wiltemberg. 
 
 WniLE Luther was thus combating error, as if ho had 
 still been upon the field of battle, ho was at work in 
 his retreat as if he were a stranger to everything that 
 was taking place in the world. The moment had 
 arrived when the Reformation was to pass from the 
 speculations of theologians into common life ; and yet 
 the great instrument by which this transaction was to 
 be effected was not yet in existence. This wondrous 
 and mighty engine, destined to assail the edifice of 
 Rome from all quarters, with bolts which would de- 
 molish its walls, to lift off the enormous weight under 
 which the papacy held down the half-suffocated Church, 
 and give to humanity itself an impulse which it should 
 retain to the latest ages, was to come forth from the 
 old castle of the Wartburg, and enter the world with 
 the reformer the very day when his captivity should 
 temiinate. 
 
 The farther the Church was removed from the 
 period when Jesus Christ, the true Light of the world, 
 dwelt in it, the more need she had of the lamp of the 
 Word of God, which was to transmit the brightness of 
 Jesus Christ unimpaired to the latest ages. But this 
 Divine Word was then unknown to the people. At- 
 tempts at translation — from the Vulgate in 1477, 1490, 
 and 1518 — had succeeded ill, were almost unintelligible, 
 and, from their high price, beyond the reach of the 
 people. It had even been prohibited to give the Bible 
 to the Germanic Church in the vulgar tongue. Be- 
 sides, the number of those able to read was inconsider- 
 able, so long as there was no work in the German 
 tongue of deep and universal interest. 
 
 Luther was called to give the Scriptures to his 
 country, Italy. The same God who withdrew St. 
 John to Patmos, there to write His Revelation, had 
 shut up Luther in the Wartburg to translate His 
 Word. This great work, which it would have been 
 difficult for him to undertake amid the distractions and 
 occupations of Wittemberg, was destined to establish 
 the new edifice on the primitive rock, and bring back 
 Christians, after so many ages of scholastic subtleties, 
 to the pure and primary source of redemption and 
 salvation. 
 
 The wants of the Church pleaded strongly; they 
 demanded this great work ; and Luther was to be 
 trained by his own deep experience for the perform- 
 ance of it. In fact, he had found in faith that 
 spiritual repose which his agitated conscience and 
 monastic ideas had long made him seek in his own 
 merit and holiness. The doctrine of the Church — viz., 
 scholastic theology, knew nothing of the consolations 
 which faith gives ; but these were forcibly announced 
 in Scripture, and there he found them. Faith in the 
 Word of God had made him free. By means of it he 
 felt himself emancipated from the dogmatical authority 
 of the Church, its hierarchy, its traditions, scholastic 
 opinions, powerful prejudices, and all tyranny of man. 
 
2G6 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOKMATION. 
 
 The numerous and powerful links -which had for ages 
 chained and bound Christendom, were broken, de- 
 stroyed, and scattered in fragments around him ; and 
 he nobly raised his head, free of everything save the 
 Word. This independence of men, this submission to 
 God, which he had learned in the Holy Scriptures, he 
 wished the Church to possess. But in order to accom- 
 plish this, it was necessary to give her back the reve- 
 lation of God. It was necessary that a mighty hand 
 should throw back the ponderous gates of that arsenal 
 of the Word of God in which Luther himself had 
 found his armour, aud that those vaults and ancient 
 halls which no foot had traversed for ages, should be 
 again opened wide to the Christian people for the 
 day of battle. 
 
 Luther had already translated different portions of 
 the Holy Scriptures : the seven penitential Psalms had 
 been his first labour. Jesus Christ, John Baptist, and 
 the Reformation, alike began with the doctrine of re- 
 pentance, which is the beginning of renovation iu the 
 individual and iu the race. These essays had been 
 received with avidity ; all wished for more ; and this 
 call from the people was to Luther a call from 
 God himself. He formed the design of responding to 
 it. He was a captive behind high walls. True ! He 
 will employ his leisure in transferring the Word of 
 God into the language of his peojjle. This Word will 
 shortly descend with him from the Wartburg ; it will 
 circulate among the population of Germany, and put 
 them in possession of spiritual treasures — treasures 
 like them shut up within the hearts of a few pious 
 men. '"Let this single book," exclaims he, "be in all 
 tongues, in all hands, before all eyes, in all ears, and 
 in all hearts." Admirable words! which a distin- 
 guished society for translating the Bible into the 
 languages of all nations, is now, after tliree centuries, 
 engaged in carrying into effect. "The Scripture, 
 without any commentary," says he on another occa- 
 sion, "is the sun from which aU teachers receive 
 light." 
 
 Such are the principles of Christianity and of the 
 Keformation. According to those venerable words, we 
 are not to take the Fathers in order to throw light on 
 Scripture, but Scripture to throw light on the Fathers. 
 The reformers and the apostles held up the Word of 
 God alone for light, just as they hold up the sacrifice 
 of Christ alone for righteousness. To attempt to mix 
 up human authority with this absolute authority of 
 God, or human righteousness with this perfect righ- 
 teousness of Christ, is to corrupt Christianity in its two 
 foundations. Such are the two fundamental heresis 
 of Rome, heresis, moreover, which some teachers would 
 fain introduce, though, doubtless, iu a modified form, 
 into the bosom of the Reformation. 
 
 Luther opened the Greek test of the evangelists and 
 apostles, and undertook the difiicult task of making 
 these inspired teachers speak his mother tongue, — an 
 important epoch iu the history of the Reformation, 
 which was thenceforth no longer in the hand of the 
 reformer. The Bible came forward ; Luther drew 
 back ; God shewed himself, and man disappeared. 
 The reformer has placed the book in the hands of his 
 contemporaries. Every one can now listen to God 
 himself. As for Luther, he from this time mingles 
 
 in the crowd, and takes his place among those who 
 come to draw at the common fountain of light and 
 life. 
 
 In the translation of the Holy Scriptures Luther 
 found, in abundance, that consolation and strength 
 which were most necessary to him. Sick, isolated, 
 saddened by the efforts of his enemies, and the errors 
 of some of his partisans, seeing his life wasting away 
 in the gloom of this old castle, he had many fearful 
 combats to maintain. In those times there was an 
 inclination to transfer to the visible world the struggles 
 which the soul maintains with its spiritual foes. The 
 lively imagination of Luther easily gave a bodily shape 
 to the emotions of his heart ; while the superstition of 
 the Middle Ages had still some hold upon his intellect, 
 so that in this respect it may be said of him, as has 
 been said of Calvin in the punishment of heretics — he 
 had a remnant of popery.' In Luther's idea, Satan 
 was not merely an invisible, though real being: he 
 thought that this enemy of God appeared to man as he 
 had appeared to Jesus Christ. Although the authen- 
 ticity of several of the accounts given on this subject 
 in the " Table Talk " and elsewhere, is more than 
 doubtful, the historian is bound to point out this foible 
 in the reformer. Never did these dark ideas assail 
 him more than in the solitude of the Wartburg. He 
 had defied the devil at Worms in the days of his 
 strength; but now all the power of the reformer 
 seemed broken, and his glory tarnished. He Wiis 
 thrown aside. Satan was victorious in his turn, aud 
 Luther, in the anguish of his spirit, thought he saw 
 him raising his gigantic figure before him, pointing his 
 threatening finger, triumphing with bitter and in- 
 fernal leer, and gnashing his teeth in frightful rage. 
 One day among others, it is said, when Luther was 
 working at his translation of the New Testament, lie 
 thought he saw Satan, who, di-eadfuUy terrified at this 
 work, kept teazing him, and turning round and round 
 him like a liou about to pounce upon his prey. Luther, 
 frightened and irritated, seized his inkstand, aud threw 
 it at the head of his enemy. The figiu-e vanished, and 
 the inkstand struck against the wall." 
 
 Luther's residence in the Wartburg began to be in- 
 supportable. He felt indignant at the pusillanimity of 
 his protectors. Sometimes he remained a whole day 
 absorbed in silent and profound meditation, and came 
 out of it only to exclaim : " Oh that I were at Wittem- 
 berg!" At length he could hold out no longer; there 
 has been enough of political management ; ho must sec 
 his friends again, — hear them and speak to them. 
 True 1 he runs the risk of falling into the hands of his 
 enemies ; but nothing can stop him. Towards the end 
 of November, ho secretly quits the AYartburg, and sets 
 out for Witteraberg. 
 
 A new storm had just burst upon him. Tiic Sor- 
 bonne had at length broken silence. This celebrated 
 school of Paris, the first authority in the Church after 
 the pope, the ancient and venerable fountain whence 
 theological dogmas had sprung, had just issued its 
 verdict agaiust the Reformation. 
 
 1 JI. Michelet, in his " Mdmoires de Luther," devotes more than thiity 
 pages to different accounts of the apparition of the devil. 
 
 2 Tlie lieeper of tlie Wartburg is stiU careful to shew the traveller tlie 
 mark made by Luther's iukstauiL 
 
LUTHER VISITS WITTEI^IBERG. 
 
 The following arc some of the propositions which it 
 condemned. Luther had said : " God always pardons 
 and remits sins gratuitously, and asks nothing of us in 
 return, but only to live in future according to His 
 will." lie had added: "Of all mortal sins the most 
 mortal is this, for any one to believe that he is not 
 gudty before God of mortal and damnable sin." lie 
 had further said: "To burn heretics is contrary to the 
 will of the Holy Spirit." 
 
 To all these propositions, and many others which 
 were quoted, the faculty of theology replied: "Heresy! 
 anathema ! " 
 
 But a young man of twenty-four, of small statin-e, 
 modest, and unostentatious, dared to take up the 
 gauntlet which had been thrown down by the first 
 sciiool in tlie world. It w\as well known at AVittem- 
 bcrg what view ought to be taken of these pompous 
 condemnations ; it was known that Rome had yielded 
 to the suggestion of the Dominicans ; and that the 
 Sorbonne was dragged along by two or three fanatical 
 doctors, who were designated at Paris by derisive 
 nicknames. Accordingly, Melancthon, in his apology, 
 did not confine himself to the defence of Luther, but 
 with the boldness which characterizes his writings, 
 carried the assault into the camp of his adversaries. 
 "You say he is a Manichean! — a Montanist! — let fire 
 and ilame repress his folly! Which, pr.ay, is Montanist? 
 Luther, who wishes men to believe in the Holy Scrip- 
 tures, or yourselves, who will have thorn to believe the 
 views of men rather than the Word of God." 
 
 To attribute more to man's word than to the Word 
 of God, was in fact the heresy of Montaucs, as it is 
 still that of the pope, and of all those who set the 
 hierarchical authority of the Church, or the internal 
 inspiration of mysticism, above the positive declaration 
 of the Sacred Writings. Accordingly, the young mas- 
 tor of arts, who had said : " I will lose my life sooner 
 than my faith," did not stop there. He accused the 
 Sorbonne of having obscured the Gospel, extingnished 
 faith, and substituted a vain philosophy for Christianity. 
 After the work of Melancthon, the position of the 
 question was changed ; he proved to demonstration 
 that heresy was at Paris and Rome, and catholic truth 
 at Wittemberg. 
 
 Meanwhile Luther, giving himself little concern with 
 the condemnation of the Sorbonne, repaired in his 
 knight's dress to the university seat. On the way 
 difl'crent reports reached him, that a spirit of impatience 
 and independence was manifesting itself among his 
 adherents, and he was grieved to the heart. At length 
 he arrived at Wittemberg without having been recog- 
 nised, and stopped at the house of Amsdorff. Fortli- 
 with all his friends were secretly summoned, Melancthon 
 especially, who had often said: "If I must be deprived 
 of him I prefer death." On their arrival, what a 
 meeting ! — what joy ! The captive of the Wartburg, 
 seated amidst them, enjoys all the sweets of Cliristiau 
 friendship. He learns the progress of the Reformation, 
 and the hopes of his brethren; and overjoyed at what 
 he sees and heai-s, prays, gives thanks, and then, after 
 a short delay, returns to the Wartburg. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 New Reforms— Gabriel ZwiUing on the Mass— The Uuivcrsity— The Elector 
 — Moiiaeliism attacked— Emancipation of tlio Monks— Disturbances— 
 Cliaptir of tlie Augustincs- Tlio Mass .mil Carlstadt— First SupiKT— 
 Iinportance of the Mass in tbe Roman System. 
 
 Li.TUEis's joy was well founded — the Reformation was 
 then advancing at an immense pace. Feldkirclien, 
 alwaj's in the advanced guard, had first mounted to 
 the assault: the main body was now shaken, and the 
 power which carried the Reformation from doctrine 
 which it had purified, into worship, common life, and 
 the constitution of tlic Church, now manifested itself 
 by a new explosion, still more formidable to the papacy 
 than the former had been. 
 
 Rome, disencumbered of the Reformer, thought she 
 had done with heresy. But in a short time all was 
 changed. Death precipated the man who had laid 
 Luther under interdict from the pontifical throne. 
 Disturbances arising in Spain, obliged Charles V. to 
 repair beyond the Pyrenees. AVar broke out between 
 this prince and Francis I., and, as if this had not been 
 enough to occupy the emperor, vSolyman advanced into 
 Hungary. Charles, attacked on all sides, saw himself 
 constrained to forget the monk at Worms, and his 
 religious innovations. 
 
 About the same time the vessel of the Reformation, 
 which, driven in all directions by contrary winds, had 
 wellnigh foundered, righted, and floated fir-mly on the 
 waves. 
 
 It was in the Augustine convent of Wittemberg that 
 the Reformation broke out. We must not be surprised 
 at this: the Reformer was no longer there; but no 
 power could banish the spirit which had animated 
 him. 
 
 For some time the church in which Luther so of- 
 ten preached had resounded with strange doctrines. 
 Gabriel Zwilling, the preacher of the convent, a monk 
 full of zeal, preached with ardour in favour of the 
 Reformation. As if Luther, whose name was every- 
 where proclaimed, had become too powerful and too 
 illustrious, God selected feeble and obscure individuals 
 to commence the Reformation which Luther had pre- 
 pared. " Jesus Christ," said the preacher, " instituted 
 the sacrament of the altar as a memorial of His death, 
 not to make it an object of adoration. To adore it is 
 real idolatry. The priest who communicates alone, 
 commits a sin. No prior is entitled to compel a monk 
 to say mass alone. Let one, two, or three officiate, 
 and let all the others receive the sacrament in both 
 kinds." 
 
 Such was the demand of Friar Gabriel, and these 
 bold words were listened to with approbation by the 
 other friars, especially by those who came from the 
 Low Countries. Being disciples of the Gospel, why 
 should they not in everything conform themselves to 
 its commands? Had not Luther himself, in the month 
 of August, written to Melancthon: "Never more from 
 this time will I say a private mass 1" Thus the monks, 
 those soldiers of the hierarchy, set free by the Word 
 of God, boldly took part against Rome. 
 
 At Wittemberg they expcrieaced an obstinate resist- 
 
268 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 ance on the part of the prior. Eecollectiug that all 
 things ought to be done in order, they yielded, still 
 declaring that to maintain the mass Avas to oppose the 
 Gospel of God. 
 
 The prior had carried the day: one had proved 
 stronger than all. It might therefoi-e be supposed that 
 the movement of the Augustines had only been one of 
 those freaks of insubordination of which convents were 
 so often the theatre. But it was in reality the Spirit 
 of God that was then agitating Christendom. An 
 isolated cry sent forth from the recess of a monastery 
 found a thousand echoing voices; and that which it 
 was wished to keep confined within the walls of a 
 convent, came forth and assumed a distinct shape in 
 the very heart of the city. 
 
 LA SORBONNE, PARIS 
 
 A rumour of the dissensions of the monks was soou 
 noised in the town. The citizens and students of the 
 University took part either for or against the mass. 
 The electoral court was alarmed. Frederick, in aston- 
 ishment, sent his chancellor Pontanus to Wittemberg, 
 with orders to tame the monks, by putting them, if 
 necessary, on bread and water; and on the 12th 
 October, at seven in tlie morning, a deputation of pro- 
 fesssors, of whom Molancthou was one, repaired to the 
 convent to exhort the monks not to make any innova- 
 tion, or at least to wait. On this all their zeal revived : 
 unanimous in their belief, with the exception of the 
 prior, who combated them, they appealed to the Holy 
 Scriptures, to the intelligence of the faithful, and the 
 consciences of theologians, and two days after returned 
 a written declaration. 
 
 The teachers now examined the question more 
 closely, and perceived that truth was on the side of 
 the monks. They went to convince, but were them- 
 selves convinced. "What were they to do? Their 
 consciences spake aloud; their distress continually in- 
 
 creased: at last, after long hesitation, they adopted a 
 bold resolution. 
 
 On the 20th October, the university gave in their 
 report to the elector. " Let your electoral highness," 
 said they to him, after exposing the errors of the mass, 
 — " let your electoral highness abolish all abuses, lest 
 Christ, on the day of judgment, upbraid us as He once 
 did Capernaum." 
 
 It is no longer some obscure monks who speak; but 
 that university which all sober men have hailed for 
 years as the national school. The very means employed 
 to stifle the Reformation are going to contribute to its 
 extension. 
 
 Melancthon, with the boldness which he shewed in 
 speculation, published fifty-five propositions with a 
 view to enlighten the public mind. 
 
 "Just," says he, "as to look at a crucifix is not to 
 do a good work, but simply to contemplate a sign 
 which reminds us of the death of Christ. 
 
 " As to look at the sun is not to do a good work, 
 but simply to contemplate a sign which reminds us of 
 Christ and His Gospel. 
 
 " So to partake of the table of the Lord, is not to do 
 a good work, but simply to make use of a sign which 
 reminds us of the grace given us by Christ. 
 
 "But herein is the difierence: the symbols invented 
 by men simply recall what they signijfy, whereas the ! 
 signs given by God not only recall the things, but also 
 make the heart sure of the will of God. 
 
 "As the sight of a cross does not justify, so the 
 mass does not justify. 
 
 " As the sight of a cross is not a sacrifice for our 
 own sins or for those of others, so the mass is not a 
 sacrifice. 
 
 " There is only one sacrifice, only one satisfaction — 
 Jesus Clu-ist. Out of Him there is none. 
 
 "Let the bishops who do not oppose the impiety of 
 the mass be anathema." 
 
 Thus spake the pious and gentle Philip. 
 
 The elector was in consternation. His wish had 
 been to repress some young monks, and, lo ! all the 
 university, with Melancthon himself, rise up in their 
 defence. To wait appeared to him to be iu all things 
 the surest means of success. He had no taste for 
 sudden reforms, and wished every opinion to have full 
 opportunity of shewing itself. "Time," thought he, 
 " throws light on all things, and brings them to matur- 
 ity." And yet the Reformation advances in spite of 
 him, with rapid steps, and threatens to carry everything 
 along with it. Frederick used all his efforts to arrest 
 it. His authority, the weight of his character, the 
 arguments which appeared to him most decisive — every- 
 thing was put in requisition. He sent a message to 
 the theologians: "Don't be in a haste; you are too few 
 in number to carry out such a reformation. If it is 
 founded on the holy Gospel, others will perceive it, 
 and the whole Chui'ch will concur with you in abolish- 
 ing these abuses. Speak, debate, preach as much on 
 these subjects as you please; but preserve ancient 
 customs." 
 
 Such was the struggle which took place on the 
 subject of the mass. The monks had gone up coura- 
 geously to the assault; the theologians, for a moment 
 undecided, had soon supported them. The prince and 
 
MONACHISM ATTACKED. 
 
 his miuisters alone defended the place. It has been 
 said that the Reformation was effected by the power 
 and authority of the elector; but so far from this, the 
 assailants were obliged to retire at tlie venerated voice 
 of Frederick, and the mass was saved for some days. 
 
 Jloreover, the hottest of the assault had already 
 been directed to another point. Friar Gabriel con- 
 tinned his fervid harangues in the chureli of the 
 Angustiuos. It was against Monachism itself that he 
 now directed those redoubled blows. If the mass con- 
 stituted tlie strength of the Romish doctrine, Mouacli- 
 isni constituted the strength of the hierarchy. Those, 
 therefore, M'orc the two first positions which required 
 to be carried. 
 
 '• Nobody," exclaimed Gabriel, according to the prior's 
 account, — " nobody in convents observes the command- 
 ments of God ; nobody can be saved under the monk's 
 cowl ; every man in a cloister must have entered it in 
 the name of the devil. Vows of chastity, poverty, and 
 obedience, are contrary to the Gospel." 
 
 These strange addresses were reported to the prior, 
 who took good care to keep away from the church, 
 that he might not hear them. 
 
 " Gabriel," it was also said, " wishes eveiy means to 
 be taken to empty cloisters." If monks are met in the 
 street, it is proper, according to him, to pull them by 
 the frock, and point the finger at them ; and if mockery 
 docs not succeed in making them quit the convent, 
 they must be violently hunted out of it. " Break open, 
 destroy, throw down the monasteries," said he, "so 
 that not a vestige of them may remain ; and on the site 
 which they have so long occupied let it be impossible 
 to find any one of the stones which served to shelter so 
 much idleness and superstition." 
 
 The monks were astonished ; their consciences told 
 them that what Gabriel said was only too true, — that 
 the life of a monk was not conformable to the will of 
 God, and that none was enabled to dispose of them 
 but themselves. 
 
 Thirteen Augustines left the convent at once, and, 
 laying aside the di-ess of their order, assumed common 
 clothes. Those of them who had some education at- 
 tended the lectures in the university, that they might 
 one day become useful to the Church ; and those whose 
 minds were little cultivated, sought to gain their living 
 by working with their own hands, according to the in- 
 junction of the apostle, and the example of the worthy 
 biu"ghers of Wittemberg. One of them, who was ac- 
 quainted with the trade of carpenter, entered with the 
 corporation, and resolved to marry. 
 
 If Luther's entrance into the convent of the Augus- 
 tines of Erfurt was the first germ of the Reformation, 
 the departure of these thirteen monks from tlie convent 
 of the Augustines of Wittemberg was a sign that it was 
 beginning to take possession of Christendom. For 
 thirty years Erasmus had been exposing the uselessness, 
 the follies, and vices of the monks ; and with him all 
 Europe had laughed or felt indignant. But it was no 
 longer au affair of sarcasm. Thirteen spirited and 
 brave men again appeared in the midst of their fellow- 
 men to render themselves useful to society, and fulfil 
 the orders of God. The marriage of Fcldkirchen had 
 been the first defeat of the hierarchy — the emancipa- 
 tion of these thirteen Augustines was the second. 
 
 Monadiisni, which had been formed the moment the 
 Church commenced her period of bondage and error, 
 behoved to fall the moment she recovered liberty and 
 truth. 
 
 This bold proceeding caused a general fermentation 
 in Wittemberg. Admiration was felt for the men who 
 came to sliare in the common toils, and they were re- 
 ceived as brethren. At the same time cries were 
 heard against those who persisted in remaining idly hid 
 behind the walls of a monastery. The monks who 
 adhered to the prior trembled in their cells; and he, 
 carried away by the universal movement, discontinued 
 the celebration of low mass. 
 
 The smallest concession at so critical a moment could 
 not but hasten the progress of events. This order by 
 the prior caused a very lively sensation in the town 
 and the university, and produced a sudden explosion. 
 Among the students and citizens of Wittemberg were 
 some turbulent men, whom the least excitement stirs 
 up and hurries into culpable disorders. They were in- 
 dignant at the idea that low mass, which was suspended 
 even by the superstitious prior, should still be said in 
 the parish church ; and on Tuesday, the 3d December, 
 when mass was about to be chanted, they made a sud- 
 den rush towards the altar, carried off the books, and 
 drove away the priests. The council and the univer- 
 sity were indignant, and met to punish the authors of 
 these misdeeds. But the passions, when once roused, 
 are not easily calmed. The Cordeliers had not taken 
 part in the reform movement of the Augustines. The 
 next day some students put up a tlu-eatening placard 
 on the door of their monastery; thereafter, forty stu- 
 dents entered their cliurch, and, without proceeding to 
 actual violence, mocked the monks, who, in conse- 
 quence, did not venture to say mass except in the choir. 
 Towards evening the fathers received intimation to be 
 upon their guard. " The students," it was said, " in- 
 tended to attack the monastery!" . . The monks, 
 in alarm, not knowing how to defend themselves 
 against these real or supposed attacks, hastily peti- 
 tioned the council to defend them. Some soldiers were 
 sent ; but the enemy did not appear. The university 
 caused the students who had taken part in these dis- 
 turbances to be arrested. They were discovered to be 
 students from Erfurt, already marked for insubordina- 
 tion. University penalties were inflicted on them. 
 
 Still, it was felt necessary carefully to examine the 
 lawfulness of monastic vows. A chapter, consisting of 
 the Augustines of Thuringia and Misnia, met at Wit- 
 temberg in the month of December. Their views 
 coincided with Luther's. They declared, on the one 
 hand, that monastic vows were not sinful ; but, on the 
 other, that they were not obligatory. '• In Christ," 
 said they, " there is neither laic nor monk ; every one 
 is free to quit the monastery, or to remain in it. Let 
 him who departs not abuse his liberty; let him who 
 remains obey his superiors, and tiiat from love." Then 
 they abolished mendicancy and masses said for money; 
 they also decreed that the most learned among them 
 should apply themselves to the teaching of the Word 
 of God, and that the others should support their breth- 
 ren by the work of their hands. 
 
 The question of vows thus seemed determined; but 
 that of the mass remained undecided. The elector con- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 tinned to oppose the torrent, and protected an institu- 
 tion -n-hich was still standing in every part of Christen- 
 dom. The orders of an indulgent prince were unable, 
 however, long to restrain men's minds. The brain of 
 Carlstadt especially fermented amid tlie general fer- 
 mentation. Full of zeal, honesty, and iutrepidity, and 
 ready, like Luther, to sacrifice everything for the truth, 
 he had less wisdom and moderation than the reformer. 
 He was not free from a love of vain-glory; and, with a 
 decided inclination to go to the bottom of every ques- 
 tion, he had little judgment and little clearness in his 
 ideas. Luther had drawn him from the midst of the 
 schoolmen, and turned him towards the study of Scrip- 
 ture ; but Carlstadt had not patience to study the 
 original tongues, and had not perceived, like his friend, 
 the full sufficiency of the "Word of God. Accordingly, 
 he was often seen to fasten on the most singular inter- 
 pretations. So long as Luther was at his side, the 
 superiority of the master kept the scholar within due 
 bounds. But Carlstadt was now at liberty; and this 
 little man, of sallow tint, who had never been con- 
 spicuous for eloquence, was heard at the university and 
 the church, especially in Wittemberg, giving eager ex- 
 pression to ideas which, though sometimes profound, 
 were often euthusiastic and extravagant. " What 
 folly," exclaimed he, " to think that the Eeformation 
 should be left to the agency of God alone ! A new 
 order of things begins. The hand of man must inter- 
 pose. Woe to him who stays behind, and will not 
 mount the breach in the cause of the mighty God." . . 
 
 The words of the archdeacon communicated to others 
 the impatience which animated himself. Following 
 his example, individuals who were sincere and straight- 
 forward exclaimed : " All that the popes have ordained 
 is impious. Let us not become accomplices in these 
 abominations by allowing them to subsist. What is 
 condemned by the Word of God must be abolished in 
 Christendom, whatever be the ordinances of men. If 
 the heads of the State and Church will not do their 
 duty, let us do ours. Let us renounce negotiations, 
 conferences, theses, and debates, and have recourse to 
 the true remedy for all these evils. There must be a 
 second Elijah to destroy the altars of Baal." 
 
 The re-establishment of the Last Supper at this 
 moment of fermentation and enthusiasm, doubtless, 
 could not exhibit the solemnity and sacredness of its 
 institution by the Son of God the evening before His 
 death, and almost at the foot of His cross. But if God 
 now made use of feeble, and, perhaps, passionate men, 
 it was still His hand which re-established the feast of 
 His love in the bosom of His Church. 
 
 As early as the month of October, Carlstadt, with 
 twelve of his friends, had secretly celebrated the Lord's 
 Supper, agreeably to its original institution. The Sun- 
 day before Christmas he intimated from the pulpit that, 
 on the feast of the Circumcision, being New-year's- 
 day, he would dispouse the Supper imder the two kinds 
 of bread and wine to all who should present themselves 
 at the altar; that he would omit all useless ceremonies; 
 atid in celebrating this mass would not put on either 
 cope or chasuble. 
 
 The council, in alarm, requested Councillor Beyer 
 to prevent so great an irregularity. On this Carlstadt 
 resolved not to wait for the time he had appointed. 
 
 On Christmas, 1521, he preaches in the parish church 
 on the necessity of abandoning the mass, and receiving 
 the sacrament under the two kinds. After sermon he 
 descends to the altar, pronounces the words of conse- 
 cration in German, then turning to the people, who 
 were all attention, he says in a solemn tone : " Whoso- 
 ever feels the bm'deu of his sins, and is hungering and 
 thirsting for Divine grace, let him come and receive 
 the body and blood of the Lord." Afterwards, with- 
 out raising the host, he distributes the bread and wine 
 to all, saying: "This is the cup of my blood, the blood 
 of the new and everlasting covenant." 
 
 Different sentiments pervaded the audience. Some, 
 feeling that new grace from God was given to the 
 Church, came to the altar under deep emotion and in 
 silence. Others, attracted particularly by the novelty, 
 approached with agitation and a certain degree of im- 
 patience. Only five communicants presented them- 
 selves at the confessional. The others simply took part 
 in the public confession of sins. Carlstadt gave general 
 absolution to all, enjoining no other penitence than 
 this: " Sin no more." At the close they sang the hymn, 
 Lamh of God. 
 
 No opposition was made to Carlstadt ; these reforms 
 had already obtained the public consent. The arch- 
 deacon dispensed the Supper again on New-year's-day; 
 then on the following Sunday; and thereafter the 
 ordinance was regularly observed. Einsidlen, one of 
 the elector's councillors, having iipbraided Carlstadt 
 with seeking his own glory rather than the salvation 
 of his hearers: "Mighty sir," replied he, "there is no 
 death that can make me abandon Scripture. The 
 Word has come to me so readily. . . . Woe to me 
 if I preach not." Carlstadt married soon after. 
 
 In the month of January, the town council of Wit- 
 temberg and the university regulated the celebration 
 of the Supper in accordance with the new form. At 
 the same time, the means were taken into consideration 
 of restoring the moral influence of religion ; for the 
 Reformation behoved to re-establish simultaneously 
 faith, worship, and manners. It was decreed that 
 mendicants, whether lay or not, shbuld no longer be 
 tolerated ; and that in each street a pious man should 
 be charged to take care of the poor, and cite scanda- 
 lous offenders before the university or the council. 
 
 Thus fell the mass, the principal bulwark of Eome; 
 thus the Reformation passed from doctrine to worship. 
 Three ages before, the mass and transubstantiation had 
 been definitively established, and thereafter everything 
 in the Church had taken a new direction, — the general 
 tendency being to give glory to man and reverence to 
 the priest. The holy sacrament had been worshipped ; 
 feasts had been instituted in honour of the greatest 
 miracles ; the adoration of Mary had obtained an im- 
 portant place ; the priest who, in his consecration, 
 received the strange power of " making the body of 
 Christ," had been separated from the laity, and had 
 become, according to Thomas Aquinas, a mediator be- 
 tween God and man ; celibacy had been proclaimed as 
 an inviolable law ; auricular confession had been im- 
 posed on the people, and the cup taken from them ; for 
 how could humble laity be placed on the same level with 
 priests entrusted with the most august ministry? The 
 mass was an insult to the Son of God ; it was opposed 
 
SPURIOUS REFORM. 
 
 STl 
 
 to the perfect grace of His cross, and the spotless glory 
 of His eternal kingdom. But if it degraded our Lord, 
 it exalted the priest whom it invested with the extra- 
 ordinary power of reproducing in his hands, at will, 
 his sovereign Creator. The Church appeared hence- 
 forth to exist, not in order to prcacli the Gospel, but 
 simply to reproduce Christ corporeally in the midst of 
 her. The pontiff of Rome, whose most humble ser- 
 vants at pleasure created the body of God himself, 
 sat as God in the temple of God, and ascribed to him- 
 self a spiritual treasure, out of which he drew unlimited 
 indulgences for the pardon of sins. 
 
 Such were the gross errors which, together with the 
 mass, had for three centuries been imposed on the 
 Church. The Reformation, in abolishing this human 
 institution, abolished all these abuses. The act of the 
 Archdeacon of Wittemberg was therefore one of high 
 consequence. The sumptuous festivals which amused 
 the people, the worship of Mary, the pride of the 
 priesthood, the power of the pope, all tottered with 
 the mass. Glory was withdrawn from the priests and 
 restored to Jesus Christ. The Reformation thus took 
 an immense step in advance. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Sputions Reform — The New Prophets— The Prophets at TTittemberg- 
 JUlriiicthon— The Elector— Luther, Carlstadt, and Images— Disorders 
 
 —Luther Sent for— He Hesitates not— Dangers. 
 
 Still men under the influence of prejudice might 
 have been unable to see in the work which was being 
 accomplished, more than the effect of vain enthusiasm. 
 Facts themselves behoved to prove the contrary, and 
 demonstrate that there is a wide space between a 
 Reformation founded on the Word of God and a giddy 
 fanaticism. 
 
 When a great religious fermentation takes place in 
 the Church, some impure elements always mingle with 
 the manifestation of the truth. One or more false 
 reforms proceeding from man rise to the surface, and 
 serve as a testimony or countersign to true reform. 
 Thus, in the days of Christ, several false messiahs 
 attested that the true Messiah had appeared. The 
 Reformation of the sixteenth century could not bo 
 accomplished without exhibiting a similar phenomenon. 
 The place where it appeared was the little town of 
 Zwickau. 
 
 There wore some men who, excited by the great 
 events which then agitated Christendom, aspired to 
 direct revelations from the Deity, instead of simply 
 seeking sanctilication of heart, and who pretended 
 they had a call to complete the Reformation which 
 had been feebly sketched by Luther. '"What use is 
 there," said thev, " in attaching oneself so strictly to 
 the Bible 1 Tlie Bible ! always the Bible ! Can the 
 Bible speak to us? Is it not insufficient to instruct 
 us? Had God designed to teach us by a book, would 
 He not have sent a Bible from heaven ? It is by the 
 Spirit only that we can be illumined. God himself 
 speaks to us. God himself reveals to us what we 
 
 ought to do, and what wc ouglit to say." Thus, like 
 the partisans of Rome, these fanatics attacked the fun- 
 damental principle on which the whole Reformation 
 rests, — the sufficiency of the Word of God. 
 
 A simple weaver, named Nicolas Storcli, announced 
 that the angel Gabriel had appeared to him during the 
 night, and after having communicated to him things 
 which he could not yet reveal, had said to him : 
 '•Thou, thou shalt sit upon my throne." An old 
 student of Wittemberg, named Mark Stubncr, joined 
 Storch, and forthwith abandoned his studies, having, 
 as he said, received the gift of interpreting the Holy 
 Scriptures immediately from God. Mark Thomas, 
 also a weaver, .added to their number; and a new 
 adept, Thomas Munzer, a man of a fanatical spirit, 
 gave a regular organization to this new sect. Storch, 
 wishing to follow the example of Christ, chose among 
 his adherents twehe apostles and seventy-two disciples. 
 All of these openly announced — as a sect in our days 
 has done — that apostles and prophets are at length 
 restored to the Church of God. 
 
 Shortly after the new prophets, pretending to walk 
 iu the footsteps of those of ancient times, delivered 
 their messsgo. " Woe ! woe ! " said they. '• A Church 
 governed by men so corrupt as the bishops, caunot be 
 the Church of Christ. The wicked rulers of Christen- 
 dom will ere long be overthrown. Iii five, six, or 
 seven years, universal desolation will burst forth. 
 The Turk will seize upon Germany; all the priests, 
 even those who are married, will be put to death. No 
 wicked man, no sinner, will be left alive ; and after the 
 earth shall have been purified by blood, God will set 
 up His kingdom in it ; Storch will be put in possession 
 of supreme authority, and will commit the government 
 of the nations to saints. Henceforth there will be 
 only one faith and one baptism. The day of the Lord 
 is at hand, and wc are touching on the end of the 
 world. Woe! woe! woe!" Then, declaring that the 
 baptism received in infancy was of no value, the new 
 prophets invited all men to come and receive the true 
 baptism at their hands, as a sign of introduction into 
 the new Church of God. 
 
 These discourses made a strong impression on the 
 people. Some pious souls were moved at the idea that 
 prophets were restored to the Church ; and all who 
 loved the marvellous, threw themselves into the arms 
 of the eccentric men of Zwickau. 
 
 But scarcely had this old heresy, which had formerly 
 existed in the times of Jlontanism, and in the jNIiddle 
 Ages, again found followers, than it encountered a 
 powerfuf opponent in the Reformation. Nicolas 
 Hausmann, to whom Luther bore this fine testimony, 
 " What we teach, he practises," was pastor of Zwickau. 
 This good man did not allow himself to be led astray 
 by the pretensions of the false prophets. He laid an 
 arrest on the innovations which Storch and his adher- 
 ents wished to introduce, and in this his two deacons 
 concurred with him. The fanatics, repulsed by the 
 ministers of the Church, plunged into another excess. 
 They formed assemblies, in which revolutionary doc- 
 trines were professed. The people were excited, and 
 disturbances broke out; a priest, who was carrj'ing 
 the holy sacrament, was assailed with volleys of stones. 
 The civil authority interposed, and threw the most 
 
272 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 yioleiit iuto prison. Indignant at this proceeding, and 
 impatient to justify themselves and state their com- 
 I^laint, Storch, Mark Thomas, and Stubner, repaired 
 to Wittemberg. 
 
 They arrived on the 27th December, 1521. Storch 
 walJied in front with the bearing and mien of a trooper. 
 Mark Thomas and Stubner followed him. The dis- 
 quiet which prevailed in Wittemberg favoured their 
 designs. The students and burghers, deeply moved, 
 and already in a state of fermentation, were a soil well 
 fitted for the new prophets. 
 
 Thinking themselves sure of their support, they im- 
 mediately repaired to the professors of the imiversity, 
 in order to obtain a testimony in their favour. " We," 
 said they, "are sent by God to instruct the people. 
 We hold familiar converse with the Lord ; we know 
 things to come ; in a word, we are apostles and pro- 
 phets, and we appeal for the fact to Doctor Luther." 
 This strange language astonished the professors. 
 
 " Who ordained you to preach ? " asked Melancthon 
 of Stubner, his old student, who had lodged in his 
 house. — "Our Lord God." "Have you written any 
 books?" — "Our Lord God has forbidden me." Me- 
 lancthon is moved, astonished, and alarmed. 
 
 " There are extraoi-dinary spirits in these men," says 
 he ; " but what kind of spirits ? Luther alone can de- 
 termine. On the one hand, let us beware of extinguish- 
 ing the Spir-it of God; and on the other, of being 
 seduced by the spirit of the devil." Storch, who was 
 of a restless temper, soon quitted Wittemberg. Stub- 
 ner remained. Animated with an ardent spirit of 
 proselytism, he went up and down the town, speaking 
 sometimes to one, and sometimes to another. Several 
 acknowledged him as a prophet of God. He applied 
 particularly to a Swabian, named Cellarius, a friend of 
 Melancthon, who kept a school, in which he instructed 
 a great number of young people in literature, and who 
 soon became a firm believer in the mission of the new 
 ajjostles. 
 
 Melancthon became the more uncertain and per- 
 plexed. The visions of the new prophets did not dis- 
 turb him so much as their new doctrine on baptism. 
 It seemed to him agreeable to reason, and he considered 
 it a subject worthy of examination ; " for," said he, 
 "it is not right either to admit or reject anything 
 lightly." 
 
 Such is the spirit of the Reformation. Melancthon's 
 hesitancy and anxiety are proofs of the uprightness of 
 his heart, and, perhaps, do him more honour than a 
 systematic opposition could have done. 
 
 The elector, whom Melancthon named " the lamp of- 
 Israel," was also hesitating. Prophets and apostles in 
 the electorate of Saxony, as formerly at Jerusalem! 
 " This is au important affair," said he ; " and as a lay- 
 man I cannot comprehend it. But sooner than act 
 against God, I will take my staff in my hand and quit 
 my tlirone." 
 
 At last he desired his councillors to say to the pro- 
 fessors that they had enough of trouble on their hands 
 at Wittemberg ; that, in all probability, the pretensions 
 of the men of Zwickau were only a delusion of the 
 devil, and that the wisest course seemed to be to let 
 the whole affair go off ; that nevertheless, in every case 
 where his electoral highness saw the will of God 
 
 clearly, he would not take counsel either of brother or 
 mother, but would be ready to suffer everything for 
 the cause of truth. 
 
 Luther in the Wartburg was apprised of the agita- 
 tion which prevailed at the court and at Wittemberg. 
 Strange men had appeared, and it was difficult to say 
 whence their message came. He instantly perceived 
 that God had permitted these sad events to humble His 
 servants, and urge them by trials to make greater 
 endeavours after sanctification. 
 
 " Your electoral highness," wrote he to Frederick, 
 " for many years made search for relics in all countries. 
 God has listened to your desires, and sent you a cross 
 quite entire, with nails, spears, and scourges. . . . 
 Grace and prosperity to the new relic ! . . . Only 
 let your highness extend your arms without fear, and 
 allow the nails to sink into your flesh ! . , I always 
 expected that Satan would send us this sore plague." . 
 
 But at the same time nothing appeared to him more 
 urgent than to secure others in the liberty which he 
 claimed for himself. He had not two weights and two 
 measures. "Beware," wrote he to Spalatin, "of 
 throwing them into prison ; let not the prince embrue 
 his hands iu the blood of these new prophets." Luther 
 was far before his age, and even before several other 
 reformers, on the subject of religious liberty. 
 
 Circumstances continued to become more serious at 
 Wittemberg. 
 
 Carlstadt rejected several of the doctrines of the new 
 prophets, and in particidar their auabaptism ; but there 
 is in religious enthusiasm something contagious, from 
 which a head like his could not easily defend itself. 
 No sooner had the men of Zwickau arrived at AYittem- 
 berg than Carlstadt quickened his pace in the prosecu- 
 tion of violent reforms. "It is necessary," said he, 
 " to make an assault on all impious customs, and over- 
 turn them in one day." Calling to mind all the pas- 
 sages of Scripture against images, he declaimed with in- 
 creasing energy against the idolatry of Rome. " They 
 bow and crouch before these idols," exclaimed he ; 
 " they kindle tapers to them, and present offerings to 
 them. . . . Let us arise and pluck them from their 
 altars!" 
 
 These words did not soimd in vain in the ears of the 
 people. They entered the churches, carried off the 
 images, broke them iu pieces, and burnt them. It 
 would have been better to wait till their abolition had 
 been legally determined ; but it was thought that the 
 tardiness of the leaders was compromising the Refor- 
 mation itself. 
 
 Shortly, to hear these enthusiasts, there were no 
 longer any true Christians in Wittemberg save those 
 who did not confess, who assailed the priests, and ate 
 flesh on forbidden days. Any one suspected of not 
 rejecting all the observances of Rome as inventions of 
 the devil, was a worshipper of Baal. "It is neces- 
 sary," exclaimed they, " to form a Church composed 
 only of saints." 
 
 The citizens of Wittemberg presented certain articles 
 to the council for their adoption. Several of these 
 articles were conformable to evangelical morality. In 
 particular, they asked that all places of public amuse- 
 ment should be shut. 
 
 But Carlstadt soon went still farther ; he began to 
 
VANDALISM— MOURNFUL CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 despise learning ; and the old professor was licard from 
 his chair counselliug his students to return lo their 
 liomes, resume the hoe, hold the plough, and quietly 
 cultivate the ground, since it was by the sweat of his 
 brow that mau was to eat bread. George Jlohr, mas- 
 ter of the school-boys at Wittemberg, led astray by the 
 same crotchet, called from his school window to the 
 assembled citizens, to come and take away their child- 
 ren. What was the use of making them study ? Storch 
 and Stubner had never been at the university, and yet 
 they were prophets. la preaching the Gospel, there- 
 fore, a citizen was worth as much, perhaps worth more, 
 than all the teachers of the world. 
 
 Thus arose doctrines in direct opposition to the 
 Kefonnation, which the revival of letters had prepared. 
 It was with the armour of theological science that 
 Luther had attacked Rome ; and yet the enthusiasts of 
 Wittemberg, like the fanatical monks whom Erasmus 
 and Reuchlin had combated, pretended to trample all 
 human knowledge under their feet. Should Vandalism 
 come to be established, the hope of the world was lost. 
 A new invasion of barbarism would quench the light 
 which God had again kindled in Christendom. 
 
 The effects of these strange harangues were soon 
 seen. Men's minds were prejudiced, agitated, turned 
 aside from the Gospel ; the university was disorganized, 
 and the students, becoming demoralized, were dispersed, 
 — the governments of Germany recalling such as be- 
 longed to them. Thus the men who wished to reform, 
 and give life to everything, were proceeding in a course 
 of destruction. " One last effort more," exclaimed the 
 friends of Rome, who were everywhere resuming cour- 
 age, — "one last effort more, and all will be gained!" 
 
 The only means of saving the Reformation was a 
 prompt suppression of the excesses of the fanatics. But 
 who could doit? Melancthon? He was too young, 
 too feeble, too much agitated himself by these strange 
 apparitions. The elector? He was the most pacific 
 man of his age. To build the castles of Altenburg, 
 Weimar, and Coburg ; to adorn the churches with the 
 fine paintings of Lucas Cranach ; to perfect the music 
 of his chapels ; to promote the prosperity of his univer- 
 sity; to render his people happy; to stop in the midst 
 of the children whom he met playing on the road, and 
 distribute little presents among them, — such were the 
 sweetest occupations of his life. And now, as he ad- 
 vanced in life, would he come to close quarters with 
 fanatics, and oppose violence to violence ? How could 
 the good, the pious Frederick resolve to do so ? 
 
 Accordingly, the evil continued, and none appeared 
 to arrest it. Luther was away from Wittemberg. 
 Trouble and ruin had invaded the city. The Reforma- 
 tion had seen an enemy arise in its bosom, more for- 
 midable than popes and emperors, and now stood on 
 the brink of the precipice. 
 
 "Luther! Luther!" was the universal cry at Wit- 
 temberg. The burghers urgently called for him ; the 
 professors long for his counsels ; the prophets them- 
 selves appealed to him. All implored him to return. 
 
 We can conceive what was passing in the mind of 
 the reformer. All the severities of Rome were nothing 
 in comparison of the distress which now afflicted his 
 soul. The enemies of the Reformation were coming 
 forth from her own bosom. She was tearing her own 
 
 vitals ; and the doctrine, which alone gave peace to his 
 agitated heart, was becoming an occasion of fatal disas- 
 ter to the Church. 
 
 Ho had said : " If I knew that my doctrine was hurt- 
 ful to man, to any one simple obscure man, (this it 
 cannot be, since it is the Gospel itself,) I would sooner 
 die ten times tlian not retract it." 
 
 And now a whole town, and this town Wittemberg, 
 was falling into error. The doctrine was no way to 
 blame ; but from all quarters of Germany voices were 
 raised to accuse him. Sorrows keener than any he 
 had ever felt now assailed, and new temptations 
 agitated him. " Can this, then," he asked himself, 
 " be the end to which the work of the Reformation was 
 to lead ? " But ho repels these doubts. God began, 
 and God will accomplish. " I creep and keep drag- 
 ging on towards the grace of the Eternal," exclaims 
 he, " and entreat that His name may remain attached 
 to this work, that if anything impure has mingled with 
 it. He would remember that I am but a sinful man." 
 
 The account sent to Luther of the inspiration of the 
 new prophets, and their sublime converse with God, 
 did not shake him for one moment. He knew the 
 depths, the agonies, and humiliations of the spiritual 
 life. At Erfurt and Wittemberg he had had experi- 
 ence of the power of God — experience which did not 
 allow him to believe so easily that God should appear 
 to the creature, and hold converse with him. " Ask 
 them," wrote he to Melancthon, "if they have experi- 
 enced those spiritual tortures, those creations of God, 
 those deaths and hells which accompany a true regene- 
 ration. And if they tell you only of enjoyment of 
 what they call tranquil impressions of devotion and 
 piety, believe them not, even should they pretend to 
 have been carried to the third heaven. Christ, in 
 order that He might arrive at His glory, behoved to 
 pass through death ; so must the believer pass through 
 the anguish of sin before he arrive at peace. Would 
 you know the time, the place, the manner, in which 
 God speaks with men ? Listen : He has broken all my 
 bones like a lion; I am rejected before His face, and my 
 sold is humbled to the loicest hell. No ! the Divine 
 Majesty (as they term it) does not speak to man so 
 directly that mau can visibly behold it; for no man, 
 says He, can see me and live." 
 
 But the conviction that the prophets were deluded 
 only served to augment Luther's grief. Is it true, 
 then, that the great doctrine of salvation by grace has 
 so soon lost its attractions, that men turn aside from 
 it to attach themselves to fables? He begins to expe- 
 rience that the work is not so easy as he had at first 
 supposed. He stumbles over this first stone which the 
 wanderings of the human mind have placed in his 
 path. Distressed and in anguish, he is willing, at the 
 cost of his life, to take it out of the way of his people, 
 and determines on returning to Wittemberg. 
 
 Many were the dangers which then threatened him. 
 The enemies of the Reformation were confident of de- 
 stroying it. George of Saxony, whose wish was neither 
 for Rome nor AVittemberg, had written, 16th October, 
 1.521, to Duke John, the elector's brother, advising him 
 to join the ranks of the enemies of reform. "Some," said 
 he, " deny the immortality of the soul. Others (and 
 they are monks) drag the relics of St. Anthony with 
 
274 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 tinkling bells and swine, and cast them into the mire. 
 And all this comes of Luther's doctrine! Entreat your 
 brother the elector either to punish the impious authors 
 of these innovations, or publicly to declare what his 
 ultimate intentions are. The whitening of our locks 
 warns us that we are cbawiug near the last stage of 
 life, and urge us to put an end to all these evils." 
 
 After this George departed to take his seat in the 
 imperial government established at Nuremberg, and 
 immediately on his arrival used every means he coiUd 
 to induce the adoption of severe measm-es. In fact 
 this body, on the 21st January, issued an edict, com- 
 plaining bitterly that the priests said mass without 
 being clothed in the sacerdotal dress, consecrated the 
 holy sacrament in German, dispensed it without receiv- 
 ing the necessary confessions, placed it in the hands of 
 laics, and did not even trouble themselves to inquire 
 whether or not those who came forward to take it had 
 broken their fast. 
 
 The imperial government accordingly called upon 
 the bishops to search out and rigorously punish all the 
 innovators who might be found within their respective 
 dioceses. The bishops hastened to comjily with these 
 orders. 
 
 Such was the moment which Luther chose to re- 
 appear upon the scene. He saw the danger; he fore- 
 saw immense disasters. "In the empire," said he, 
 "there will soon be a tumult, which will drag, pell 
 meli, princes, magistrates, and bishops. The people 
 have eyes: they neither will nor can be led by force. 
 Germany will swim in blood. Let us place ourselves 
 in the breach, and save our coimtry in this great and 
 terrible day of the Lord." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Dep.irture from the Wartbiirg — New Positioa — Luther and Primitive Ca- 
 tholicism—Meeting at the Black Bear— Luther to the Elector— Return 
 to Wittemterg— Discourses at Wittemberg— Charity— The Word— How 
 the Reformation was efTected— Faith in Chris^-EfTect— Didymus— Carl- 
 stadt— The Prophets— Conference with Luther— End of the Struggle. 
 
 Such was Luther's thought, but he saw a still more 
 pressing danger. At Wittemberg, the fire, far from 
 being extinguished, was becoming more violent from 
 day to day. From the heights of the Wartburg Luther 
 could discover in the horizon the signs of devastation — 
 frightful blazes darting up suddenly into the air. Is 
 not he the only one who can bring assistance in this 
 extremity? Will he not throw himself into the midst 
 of the flames, to extinguish the conflagration? In vain 
 do his enemies prepare to strike the last blow; in vain 
 does the elector implore him to continue in the Wart- 
 burg, and prepare his defence for the next diet. He 
 has something more important to do — he has to defend 
 the Gospel itself. " More serious news reach me from 
 day to day," writes he. "I am preparing to depart; 
 circumstances demand it." 
 
 In fact, on the morning of the 3rd of March, he 
 rises with the determination to quit the Wartburg for 
 ever. He bids adieu to its old towers and gloomy 
 
 forests, — crosses the walls where the e.'ccommunication 
 of Leo X. and the sword of Charles V. were unable to 
 reach him, and descends the mountain. The world 
 which extends at his feet, and in which he is going to 
 re-appear, will perhaps raise a death-cry against him. 
 But no matter: he advances joyfully, for it is in the 
 name of the Lord that he is rejoining the society of his 
 fellow-men. 
 
 Time had moved onward. Luther came out of the 
 AVartburg for a different cause from that for which he 
 had entered it. He had entered as the assailant of 
 ancient tradition and ancient doctors; he left it as a 
 defender of the doctrine of the apostles against new 
 adversaries. He had entered as an innovator and 
 assailant of the ancient hierarchy; he came out as its 
 preserver, and for the defence of the Christian faith. 
 Till now, Luther had only one aim in his work, viz., 
 the triumph of justification by faith; with this weapon 
 he had struck down powerful superstitions. But if 
 there had been a time to pull down, there behoved also 
 to be a time to build up. Behind those ruins with 
 which his arm had strewed the ground — behind those 
 tattered letters of indulgences — those broken tiaras and 
 torn cowls — behind all the abuses and errors of Eome, 
 which lay in confused heaps on the field of battle, he 
 discerned and exhibited the primitive Catholic Church, 
 re-appearing always the same, and coming forth, after 
 a long trial, with its immutable doctrines and heavenly 
 accents. He knew how to distinguish between it and 
 Rome : he hailed it and embraced it with joy. Luther 
 did not, as he has been falsely accused, bring a novelty 
 into the world. He did not build up an edifice for 
 the future that had no connection with the past. He 
 discovered and brought to light the old foundation, 
 overgrown with thorns and brambles, and merely 
 continuing the structure of the temple, built on the 
 foundation which the apostles had laid. Luther under- 
 stood that the ancient and primitive Church of the 
 apostles required, on the one hand, to be re-built, in 
 opposition to the papacy, which had so long oppressed 
 it; and on the other, to be defended against enthusiasts 
 and unbelievers, who pretended not to see it, and who, 
 making no account of all that God had done in times 
 past, wished to begin a work entirely new. Luther was 
 no longer exclusively the apostle of a single doctrine, 
 — that of justification, though he always reserved the 
 first place for it; — he became the apostle of the whole 
 Christian system ; and while believing that the Church 
 consists essentially of the whole body of the saints, he 
 by no means despised the visible Church, but recognised 
 the assembly of all who are called as the kingdom of 
 God. Thus a great change now took place in Luther's 
 soul, in his theology, and in the work of renovation 
 which God was accomplishing in the world. The 
 hierai'chy of Rome might perhaps have m-ged the 
 reformer into an extreme: the sects which then raised 
 their heads so boldly helped to bring him to the proper 
 medium. His residence in the Wartburg divides the 
 history of the Reformation into two periods. 
 
 Luther was trotting along the road to Wittemberg 
 on the second day of his journey, which was Shrove 
 Tuesday. Towards evening a dreadfid storm arose 
 and inundated the roads. Two young Swiss, who were 
 proceeding in the same du-ectiou, hastened on in order 
 
MEETING AT THE BLACK BEAR. 
 
 275 
 
 to take shelter in the town of Jena. They had studieil 
 at Bale, but were on then" way to Wittcmberg, attracted 
 by tlio great celebrity of its university. Travelling on 
 foot, fatigued, and cb-euched. .John Kosskr of St. Gall 
 and his companion quiokeueil their paco. Tlio town 
 was in the full giiiety of the carnival: dances, nias- 
 cpierades, and noisy feasts occupied all the inhabitants 
 of Jena ; and when the two travellers arrived, every inn 
 was occupied. At last the Black Bear, in front of the 
 town gate, was mentioned to them. Jaded and out of 
 spirits, they sadly repaired to it. The host received 
 them kindly, and they sat down near the door opening 
 into the public room, without presuming to enter, being 
 ashamed of the state into which the storm had put 
 them. At one of the tables sat a solitary individual 
 in the dress of a knight; his head was covered with a 
 red cap, and his underdress was covered by the skirts 
 of his doublet; his right hand rested on tlie pommel of 
 his sword, while his left held it by the hilt. A book 
 was open before him, and he seemed to be reading with 
 great attention. At the noise made by the two youths, 
 he raised his head, saluted them courteously, and in- 
 vited them to como forward and take a seat at table 
 with him; then offering them a glass of beer, and 
 referring to their accent, he said to them: "You are 
 Swiss I see ; but of what canton?" — " St. Gall." '• If 
 you are going to Wittemberg you will find a country- 
 man there, Doctor Schurff." Encouraged by this kind 
 rtC('j)tion, they asked: "Sir, are you not able to tell us 
 where Jlartin Luther now is?" — "I know for certain," 
 replied the knight, " that Luther is not at Wittemberg; 
 but is to be soon. Philip Melancthon is there. Study 
 Geeek and Hebrew, that you may have a good undei"- 
 standing of the Holy Scriptures." — " If God spares our 
 lives," replied one of the youths of St. Gall, "we shall 
 not return home till we have seen and heard Doctor 
 Luther, for it is on account of him we have undertaken 
 this long journey. We know that he wishes to over- 
 throw the priesthood and the mass; and as our parents 
 have, from our infancy, intended us for priests, we 
 would fain know on what he bottoms his enterprise." 
 The knight was silent for a moment, and then said: 
 "Where have you studied hitherto'?" — "At Bale." 
 "Is Erasmus of Rotterdam still there? — what is he 
 about?" They answered these questions, and there was 
 a now pause. The two Swiss knew not wliat to think. 
 " Is it not a strange thing," said they, " that this knight 
 talks to us of Schurff, Melancthon, and Erasmus, and 
 of the necessity of studying Greek and Hebrew?" 
 " Dear friends," said the stranger abruptly, " what is 
 thought of Luther in Switzerland?" — " Sir," replied 
 Kessler, "opinions differ, as everywhere else; some 
 cannot extol him sufRciently; others condemn him as 
 an abominable heretic." — "Ah! the priests, no doubt," 
 said the stranger. 
 
 The knight's affability had put the two students at 
 their ease. They longed eagerly to know what book 
 he was reading at the moment of their arrival. The 
 knight had closed it and laid it down near him. Kess- 
 ler's companion was at length emboldened to take it 
 up. AVhat was the astonishment of the two youths ? 
 The Psalms in Hebrew. The student immediately 
 laid down the book, and wishing to make his indis- 
 cretion be forgotten, said: "I would willingly give 
 
 one of my fingers to know this language." — "This you 
 wUl certainly do," replied the stranger, " if you take 
 the trouble to learn it." 
 
 Some moments after, Kessler heard himself called 
 by the host. The poor young Swiss feared something 
 was wrong ; but the host whispered to him : " I per- 
 ceive you have a great desire to see and hear Luther ; 
 very well, he is sitting beside you." Kessler, talcing it 
 for a joke, said : " Ah, host, you want to hwix me." 
 " It is he, certainly," replied the host, " only don't let 
 it be seen that you know who he is." Kessler gave no 
 answer, and returned to the table, burning with eager- 
 ness to repeat what he had heard to his companion. 
 But how was he to do it ? At last it occurred to him 
 to lean forward as if he were looking to the door, 
 when, being close to his friend's ear, he whispered to 
 him : " The host assures me that this is Luther." " He 
 perhaps said Hlitten," replied his companion; "you 
 may have misunderstood him." — " It is quite possible," 
 replied Kessler ; " the host may have said Hiitten : the 
 two sounds are not imlike ; I may have mistaken the 
 one for the other." 
 
 At this moment the trampling of horses was heard 
 iu front of the hotel ; and two merchants, who wished 
 to pass the night there, entered the room. After tak- 
 ing off their spurs, and laying aside their cloaks, one 
 of them put down on the table beside him an unbound 
 volume, which immediately caught the eye of the 
 knight. " What book is that ? " said he. — " An expo- 
 sition of some gospels and epistles by Doctor Luther," 
 replied the merchant : " it has just appeared." — " I 
 shall soon have it," replied the knight. 
 
 The host, at this moment, announced supper. The 
 two students, fearing the expense of a repast in com- 
 pany with the chevalier Ulrich Von Hiitten and the 
 rich merchants, took the host aside, and begged him to 
 give them something by themselves. "Along, my 
 friends," replied the host of the Black Bear, " take 
 your seat at table beside this gentleman ; I will charge 
 moderately." " Come," said the knight, " I will settle 
 the charge." 
 
 Diu-ing the repast the stranger knight made niany 
 simple and edifying observations. The merchants and 
 students were rivetted, and paid more attention to his 
 conversation than to the dishes that were served up. 
 "Luther must either be an angel from heaven, or a 
 devil of hell," said one of the merchants in the 
 course of the conversation ; and then added : "I would 
 willingly give ten florins to meet Luther and be able 
 to confess to him." 
 
 When the supper was ended the merchants rose up, 
 and the two Swiss remained alone with the knight, 
 who, taking a large glass of beer, lifted it and said 
 gravely, according to the custom of the country: 
 " Swiss, one glass more for thanks." As Kessler was 
 going to take the glass, the stranger put it down and 
 presented him with one filled with wine : " You are 
 not accustomed to beer," said he. 
 
 He then rose up, threw a military cloak on his 
 shoulders, shook hands with the students, and said to 
 them : " When you arrive at AVittemberg, give my 
 compliments to Doctor Jerome Schurff." — "Willingly," 
 replied they; "but from whom shall we say?" — "Say 
 simply," replied he, " He who is coming salutes you." 
 
276 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 On this he walked out, leaving them in admiration at 
 his courtesy and meekness. 
 
 Luther — for it was indeed he — continued his jour- 
 ney. Be it remembered, he had been put under the 
 ban of the empire ; whosoever met him and recog- 
 nised him might lay hands upon him. But at the 
 moment when he was executing an enterprise which 
 exposed him to every risk, he discoursed gaily with 
 those whom he met on his way. 
 
 It was not because he was under any illusion. Ho 
 saw the future big with storms. " Satan," said he, 
 " is transported with rage, and all around me meditate 
 death and hell. I advance, nevertheless, and throw 
 myself in the way of the emperor and the pope, having 
 none to defend me save God in heaven. On the part 
 of man, power has been given to every one to slay me 
 wheresoever I am found. But Christ is the Lord of 
 all ; if it is His will that I be slain, so be it ! " 
 
 The same day, being Ash- Wednesday, Luther arrived 
 at Borna, a small town near Leipsic. Feeling that he 
 ought to give notice to his prince of the bold step 
 which he was going to take, he wrote him the follow- 
 ing letter from the Conductor Tavern, where he had 
 alighted : — 
 
 " Grace and peace from God our Father, and from 
 the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 "Most serene Elector! gracious lord! — what has 
 happened at Wittemberg, to the great shame of the 
 Gospel, has filled me with such grief, that if I were 
 not certain of the truth of our cause, I would have 
 despaired of it. 
 
 " Your highness knows — or if not, please to be in- 
 formed — I received the Gospel not from men, but 
 from heaven, by our Lord Jesns Christ. If I have 
 asked for conferences, it was not because I had doubts 
 of the truth, but from humility, and for the purpose 
 of winning others. But since my humility is turned 
 against the Gospel, my conscience now impels me to 
 act in a different manner. I have yielded enough to 
 your highness in exiling myself during this year. The 
 devil knows it was not from fear I did it. I would 
 have entered Worms though there had been as many 
 devils in the town as there were tiles on the roofs. 
 Now Duke George, with whom your highness tries so 
 much to frighten me, is far less to be feared than a 
 single devil. Had that which has taken place at Wit- 
 temberg taken ])lace at Leipsic, (the duke's residence,) 
 I would instantly have mounted my horse and gone 
 thither, even though (let your highness pardon the 
 expression) for nine days it should have done nothing 
 but rain Duke Georges, and every one of them been 
 nine times more furious than he is. What is he think- 
 ing of in attacking me ? Does he take Christ, my 
 Lord, for a man of straw? The Lord be pleased to 
 avert the dreadful judgment which is impending over 
 him! 
 
 " It is necessary for your highness to know that I 
 am on my way to AVittemberg, luider a more powerful 
 protection than that of an elector. I have no thought 
 of solicitating the assistance of your highness ; so far 
 from desiring your protection, I would rather give you 
 mine. If I knew that your highness could or would 
 protect me, I would not come to Wittemberg. No 
 sword can give any aid to this cause. God alone must 
 
 do all without human aid or co-operation. He who 
 has most faith is the best protector. Now, I observe 
 that your highness is still very weak in the faith. 
 
 " But since your highness desires to know what to 
 do, I will answer with all humility. Your electoral 
 highness has already done too much, and ought to do 
 nothing at all. God does not wish, and cannot toler- 
 ate either your cares and labours, or mine. Let your 
 highness, therefore, act accordingly. 
 
 " In regard to what concerns myself, your highness 
 must act as elector. You must allow the orders of his 
 imperial majesty to be executed in your towns and 
 rural districts. You must not throw any difficulty in 
 the way, should it be wished to apprehend or slay me ; 
 for none must oppose the powers that be save He who 
 established them. 
 
 "Let your highness, then, leave the gates open, and 
 respect safe-conducts, should my enemies themselves, 
 or their envoys, enter the states of your highness in 
 search of me. In this way you will avoid all em- 
 barrassment and danger. 
 
 " I have written this letter in haste, that you may 
 not be disconcerted on learning my arrival. He with 
 whom I have to deal is a different person from Duke 
 George. He knows me well, and I know something 
 of Him. 
 
 "Borna, the Conductor Hotel, Ash-Wednesday, 1522. 
 " Your electoral highness's most humble servant, 
 "Martin Luther." 
 
 Thus Luther was drawing near to Wittemberg. He 
 wrote to the prince ; but not to apologize. Immoveable 
 confidence filled his heart. He saw the hand of God 
 in the cause, and this sufficed him. Never, perhaps, 
 was the heroism of faith more conspicuously displayed. 
 One of the editions of Luther's works has on the mar- 
 gin these words: "This is a marvellous pi-oduction of 
 the third and last Elias." 
 
 On Friday, the 7th March, Luther again entered 
 Wittemberg, having been five days in coming from 
 Eisenach. Professors, students, citizens, all gave full 
 utterance to their joy. They had recovered the pilot 
 who alone could bring off the ship from the shallows 
 on which it had been cast. 
 
 The elector, who was with his court at Lochau, was 
 much affected on reading Luther's letter. He felt 
 desirous to defend him before the diet, and wrote to 
 Schurff: "Let him send me a letter explaining his 
 motives for returoing to Wittemberg ; and let him say 
 also in it that he returned without my permission." 
 Luther agreed to do so. 
 
 " I am ready," wrote he to the prince, " to endure 
 the displeasure of your liighness and the anger of the 
 whole world. Are not the inhabitants of Wittemberg 
 my brood? Has not God entrusted them to me? 
 And am not I bound to expose myself to death for 
 them ? I fear, moreover, the breaking out in Germany 
 of some great revolution by which God will punish our 
 country. Let your highness be well assured that the 
 decision in heaven has been very different from that at 
 Nuremberg." This letter was written the very day of 
 Luther's arrival. 
 
 The next day, being the eve of the fii-st Sunday of 
 Lent, Luther repaired to the house of Jerome Schurff, 
 where Melancthon, Jonas, Amsdorff, and Augustine 
 
LUTHER'S SERMON AT WITTEMBERG. 
 
 2V7 
 
 Schurff, were met. Luther eagerly asked them many 
 questions; auil they were informing him of all that liad 
 taken jilace, when it was announced that two foreign 
 students wished to speak to Doctor Jerome. On ap- 
 pearing in the midst of this meeting of doctors, the two 
 youths of St. Gall were at first abashed; but they soon 
 recovered on perceiving among them the knight of the 
 Black Bear, who immediately went up to them, ac- 
 costed them as old acquaintances, smiled to them, and 
 pointing with his finger to one of the doctors, said: 
 "That is Philip Melancthon, of whom I spoke to you." 
 In honour of the meeting at Jena, the two Swiss spent 
 the whole day with the doctors of Wittembcrg. 
 
 One great thought occupied the reformer, and made 
 him forget the joy he felt at being again in the midst 
 of his friends. No doubt the theatre on which he now 
 appeared was obscure; it was in a small town of 
 Saxony that he was going to raise his voice, and yet 
 his undertaking had all the importance of an event 
 which was to influence the destinies of the world. 
 Many nations and many ages were to feel its effects. 
 The point to be determined was, whether this doctrine, 
 which he had drawn from the Word of God, and 
 which was destined to exert so powerful an influence 
 on the future progress of humanity, would be stronger 
 than the principles of destruction which threatened its 
 existence ; whether it was possible to reform without 
 destroying, and to pave the way for further progress 
 without destroying that already made. To silence 
 fanatics in the first heat of enthusiasm ; to master a 
 whole niultitudc broken loose; to calm them down, and 
 bring them back to order, peace, and truth ; to break 
 the force of this impetuous torrent which was tlu-eaten- 
 ing to throw down the rising edifice of the Reforma- 
 tion, and scatter its wrecks around : such was the work 
 for which Luther had retiu-ned to Wittemberg. But 
 would his influence be sufficient ? This events only 
 could determine. 
 
 The soul of the reformer shuddered at the thought 
 of the combat which awaited him. He stood up like 
 a lion goaded on to battle, and shaking his bushy mane : 
 '•Now is the time," said he, "to trample Satan under 
 foot, and combat the angel of darkness. If our adver- 
 saries retire not of their own accord, Christ will con- 
 strain them. "We are the masters of life and death, 
 we who believe in the Master of life and death." 
 
 •But at the same time the impetuous reformer, as if 
 subdued by a higher power, refused to make use of the 
 anathemas and thunders of the Word, and became a 
 lumiblo pastor, a meek shepherd of souls. " It is by 
 the Word," said he, "that we must fight; by the Word 
 overturn and destroy what has been established by 
 violence. I i\m unwilling to employ force against the 
 superstitious or the unbelieving. Let him who believes 
 approach ; let him who believes not stand aloof. None 
 ought to bo constrained. Liberty is of the essence of 
 faith." 
 
 Tlie next day was Sabbath ; aud on that day, in the 
 church, in the pulpit, the people were again to behold 
 the teaclier whom for nearly a year the Wartburg had 
 concealed from every eye. The news spread in Wit- 
 temberg: Luther is returned — Luther is going to preach. 
 These news, passing from mouth to mouth, were in 
 themselves a powerful diversion to the notions by 
 
 which the people had been led astray. The hero of 
 AVorms is going again to appear. Crowds press for- 
 ward from all directions ; and on Sabbath morning 
 the church was filled with an attentive and excited 
 audience. 
 
 Luther divines the feeling of his hearers ; he mounts 
 the pulpit, and there stands in presence of the flock 
 whom he was wont to lead like one gentle sheep, but 
 who had now broken loose and assumed the appearance 
 of an untamed bull. His discourse is simple, yet dig- 
 nified, replete at once with force and mildness. He 
 might have been described as a tender parent just 
 returned to his children, inquiring how they have be- 
 haved, and telling tlioni kindly of what he had heard 
 respecting thcni. He candidly acknowledges the pro- 
 gress which they had nuule in the faith. Having thus 
 prepared and gained their minds, he continues in the 
 following terms : — 
 
 " But there must be more than faith — there must be 
 charity. AVhen a man with a sword in his hand is by 
 himself, it is of no consequence whether or not he 
 keeps it in the scabbard ; but if he is in the midst of a 
 crowd, he must act in such a manner as not to hurt 
 any one. 
 
 "How does a mother do with her child? At first 
 she gives it milk, and thereafter the most easily digested 
 food. AVere she to begin by giving it flesh and wine, 
 what would the I'esult be ? . . . 
 
 " So ought we to do with our brethren. Have you 
 had enough of the breast, ray friend? — very well; 
 allow your brother to have it as long as you have had 
 it yourself. 
 
 "Behold the sun. . . . There are two things 
 he gives us — light and heat. There is no king so 
 powerful as to be able to interrupt his rays: they come 
 to us in a straight line ; but the heat radiates and trans- 
 fuses itself in all directions. Thus faith ought to be 
 like light, straight aud inflexible ; but charity should, 
 like heat, radiate in all directions, and bend to meet 
 all the wants of our brethren." 
 
 Luther having thus prepared his heai'ers, comes to 
 still closer quarters. 
 
 " The abolition of the mass, you say, is conformable 
 to Scripture. Agreed. But what order, what decorum i 
 have you observed ? You ought to have presented I 
 fervent prayers to the Lord ; you ought to have applied 
 to constituted authority, which, in that case, might 
 have been able to perceive that the work was of 
 God." . . . 
 
 Thus spake Luther. The bold man who had at 
 Worms withstood the princes of the earth, produced a 
 powerful impression by these words of wisdom and 
 peace. Carlstadt and the prophets of Zwickau, who 
 for some weeks had been so high and mighty, and who 
 had agitated and lorded it over Wittemberg, became 
 dwarfs when placed beside the prisoner of the Wart- j 
 burg. 
 
 "The mass," he continues, "is a bad thing, — God is 
 inimical to it, — it must be abolished ; and I could wish 
 that over the whole world it were supplanted by the 
 supper of the Gospel. But let nobody be driven from 
 it by violence. The afffcir must be committed to God. 
 His Word must act, not we. And -why! you will say. 
 Because I do not hold the hearts of men in my hand. 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 as the potter does the clay. We have a right to speak, 
 but not to act. Let us preach — the rest belongs to 
 God. If I employ force, what shall I obtain? Gri- 
 mace, appearances, apishness, human ordinances, hypo- 
 crisy. . . . But there will be no sincerity of heart, 
 no faith, no charity. Any work in which these three 
 things are wanting, wants everything, and I would not 
 give a pin for it. 
 
 " The first thing to be gained from people is their 
 heart, and for this it is necessary to preach the Gospel. 
 Then the Word will descend on one heart to-day, and 
 on another to-morrow, and operate in such a way that 
 each will withdraw from the mass, and abandon it. 
 God does more by His mere "Word than you and I and 
 all the world could do by uniting our utmost strength. 
 God takes possession of the heart; and when the heart 
 is taken everything is taken. 
 
 " I do not say this in order to re-establish the mass. 
 Since it is down, let it, in God's name, so remain. 
 But was the matter gone about as it ought to have 
 been ? Paul, having one day arrived at Athens, a 
 great city, found altars erected to false gods. He went 
 from one to another, viewed them all, aud touched 
 none. But he quietly repaired to the market-place, 
 and declared to the people that all their gods were only 
 idols. His words took possession of their hearts, and 
 the idols fell without being touched by Paul. 
 
 " I wish to speak, to preach, to -(vrite ; but I wish 
 not to constrain any one, for faith is a voluntary mat- 
 ter. See what I have done ! I have withstood the 
 pope, indulgences, and the papists ; but without tumult 
 and violence. I have put forward the Word of God, 
 have preached, have written ; but this is all I have 
 done. Aud while I was asleep, or seated in a friendly 
 way at table with Amsdorff and Melancthon, convers- 
 ing with them over a pot of Wittemberg beer, the 
 Word which I had preached overthrew the papacy, 
 assailing it more effectually than was over done by 
 prince or emperor. I have done nothing — the Word 
 alone has done all. Had I chosen to appeal to force, 
 perhaps Germany might have been bathed in blood. 
 But what would have been the consequence? Ruin 
 and desolation to soul and body. I therefore remained 
 quiet, and allowed the Word itself to have free coiu-se 
 in the world. Do you know what the devil thinks 
 when he sees recourse had to force in order to spread 
 the Gospel among men ? Seated, with his arms across, 
 behind the flames of hell, Satan, with malignant leer 
 and frightful smile, says: 'Ah! how sagely these fools 
 are playing my game !' But when he sees the Word 
 running and wrestling alone on the field of battle, then 
 it is he feels uueasy, and his knees tremble ; he mut- 
 ters, and swoons with terror." 
 
 Luther again appeared in the pulpit on Tuesday; his 
 powerful eloquence again resounded in the midst of a 
 deeply impressed audience. He preached successively 
 on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sab- 
 bath. He passed in review the destruction of images, 
 the distinction of meats, the observances at the Supper, 
 the i-estoration of the cup, and the abolition of confes- 
 sion. He shewed that those poiuts were still more in- 
 different than the mass, and that the authors of the 
 disorders which had taken place at Wittemberg had 
 grossly abused their liberty. He gave utterance alter- 
 
 nately to accents of Christian charity and to bursts of 
 holy indignation. 
 
 In particular, he inveighed forcibly against those 
 who communicated thoughtlessly at the Lord's Supper. 
 "What makes the Christian," said he, "is not the 
 external eating ; but the internal aud spiritual eating 
 which is produced by faith, and without which all 
 forms whatsoever are only show and vain grimace. 
 Now this faith consists in firmly believing that Jesus 
 Christ is the Son of God ; that being ladened with our 
 sins and iniquities, aud having borne them upon the 
 cross, He is himself the sole, the all-powerful expia- 
 tion ; that He is now continually in the presence of 
 God ; that He reconciles us with the Father, and has 
 given us the sacrament of His body, in order to con- 
 firm our faith in this ineffable mercy. If I believe 
 these things God is my defender; with Him I defy 
 sin, death, hell, devils, — they cannot do me any harm, 
 nor even ruffle a hair of my head. This spiritual 
 bread is the consolation of the afflicted, the cure of the 
 sick, the life of the djdng, the food of the hungry, and 
 the treasure of the poor. He, then, who is not sorry 
 for his sins, ought not to come to this altar: what 
 would he do there? Ah! let ovu" conscience accuse us, 
 let our hearts be torn at the thought of our faults, and 
 we will not approach the holy sacrament with so much 
 rashness." 
 
 Crowds ceased not to fill the temple ; numbers even 
 flocked from the neighbouring towns to hear the new 
 Elias. Capito, among others, came and spent two 
 days at Wittemberg, and heard two of the doctor's 
 sermons. Never had Luther and the chaplain of Car- 
 dinal AJbert been so much of one mind. Melancthon, 
 the magistrates, the professors, and all the people, were 
 overjoyed. Schurff, delighted at this issue of an affair 
 which promised to be so serious, hastened to acquaint 
 the elector, to whom he wrote, Friday, loth March, 
 (the day on which Luther had delivered his sixth dis- 
 course :) " What joy the return of Doctor Martin 
 diffuses among us ! His discoiu-ses, by the help of 
 Divine grace, are daily bringing back our poor erring 
 souls into the way of truth. It is clear as the sun that 
 the Spirit of God is in him, and that by His special 
 appointment he has returned to Wittemberg." 
 
 In fact, these discourses are models of popular elo- 
 quence, though not of the sort which aroused men's 
 minds in the days of Demosthenes, or even Savonarola. 
 The task which the orator of Wittemberg had to per- 
 form was more difficult. It is easier to rouse a wild 
 beast than to calm its fury. The thing required was 
 to appease a fanatical multitude ; to tame passions 
 which had been let loose; and this Luther did. In 
 his eight discourses, the reformer did not allow a single 
 painful allusion to escape, — a single word calculated to 
 offeud the authors of the disturbances. But the more 
 moderate, the stronger he was ; the greater the 
 delicacy towards those who had gone astray, the more 
 he avenged insulted truth. How could the oeople of 
 Wittemberg resist his powerful eloquence ? The dis- 
 courses which recommend moderation are usually attri- 
 buted to moderation, policy, or fear. Here there was 
 nothing of the kind. Luther appeared before the 
 people of Wittemberg, braving the excommunication 
 of the pope and the proscription of the emperor. He 
 
CONFERENCE WITH THE PROPHETS. 
 
 279 
 
 returned, tlioiijrh forbidden by tlic elector, who de- 
 clared liis inability to defend him. Even at "Worms 
 Luther had not shewn more courage. lie was con- 
 fronting the most threatening dangers, and accordingly 
 his voice was not disregarded. This man who braved 
 the scaffold was entitled to exhort others to submis- 
 sion, lie may boldly preach obedience to God, who, 
 in doing so, exposes himself to every kind of perse- 
 cution from man. At Luther's preaching objections 
 vanished, tumult was appeased, sedition ceased its 
 clamour, and the citizens of Witteraberg returned to 
 their quiet homes. 
 
 Gabriel Didymus, an Augustine monk, and the one 
 who had been most enthusiastic, had not lost a word 
 spoken by the reformer. '• Dont you think Luther an 
 admirable teacher?" asked a hearer under deep emo- 
 tion. " Ah !" replied Gabriel, '"methinks I hear the 
 voice not of a man, but an angel." Shortly after he 
 openly acknowledged his error. " He has become 
 another man," said Luther. 
 
 The same effect was not at first produced on Carl- 
 stadt. Despising study, and affectedly visiting the 
 workshops of mechanics, that he might there get a 
 knowledge of the Scriptures, he felt hurt when he saw 
 his work crumbling to pieces before the appearance of 
 Luther. In his eyes this was e(iuivalent to an arrest 
 laid on the Reformation itself. Accordingly he had 
 always a depressed, gloomy, and discontented look. 
 He, however, sacrificed his self-love, to peace, sup- 
 pressed his vindictive feelings, was reconciled, appar- 
 ently at least, with his colleague, and shortly after 
 resumed his course at the university. 
 
 The principal prophets happened not to be at Wit- 
 temberg when Luther arrived. Nicolas Storch had 
 been scouring the country; and Mark Stubuer had 
 quitted the hospitable roof of Melancthon. It may be 
 their prophetical spirit had vanished, and they had 
 neither voice nor answer, from the moment they learned 
 that this new Elias was bending his steps towards this 
 new Carmel. The old schoolmaster, Cellarius, had 
 been left alone. Meanwhile, Stubner, having been 
 informed that the sheep of his flock were dispersed, 
 returned in all haste. Those who had remained faith- 
 ful to the '"heavenly prophesy," gathered round their 
 master, relating Luther's discourses to him, and asking 
 with uneasiness what they were to think. Stubner 
 exhorted them to remain fii-m in their faith. "Let 
 him shew himself," exclaimed Cellarius, — "let him 
 grant us a conference — let him allow us to explain our 
 doctrine, and we shall see." . . . 
 
 Luther had little inclination to meet with these men ; 
 he knew that there was in them a violent, impatient, 
 haughty spirit, which could not endure warnings, how- 
 ever charitably given, and who claimed submission to 
 their every word as a sovereign authority. Such are 
 the enthusiasts of all times. Still, as an interview 
 was asked, the doctor could not refuse it. Besides, it 
 might be useful to the simple ones of the flock to un- 
 mask the imposture of the prophets. The conference 
 took place. Stubner spoke first, and explained how 
 he proposed to renew the Church and change the 
 world. Luther listened with great calmness. "No- 
 thing that you have said," replied he, at length, 
 gravely, "rests on the Holy Scriptures. It is all 
 
 fable." At tliese words Cellarius loses all self-pos- 
 session ; he raises his voice, gesticulates like a madman, 
 stamps and strikes the table that was before him ; gets 
 into a passion, and exclaims that it is an insult to pre- 
 sume to speak thus to a man of God. Then Luther 
 resumes : " St. Paul declares that the proofs of his 
 apostleship were manifested by miracles : prove yours 
 by miracles." — "AVe shall," replied the prophets. 
 "The God wliom I worship," replied Luther, "will 
 keep a bridle hand on your gods." Stubner, who had 
 remained more calm, fixing his eyes on the refoi-mer, 
 said to him with an air of inspiration : " Martin Luther, 
 I am going to declare to you what is now passing in 
 your soul. You are beginning to think that my doc- 
 trine is true." Luther, after a few moments' silence, 
 replied: "The Lord rebuke thee, Satan." At these 
 words all the prophets are transported. "The Spirit! 
 the Spirit!" they exclaim. Luther, with that cool 
 disdain, and that cutting, yet familiar language, which 
 was one of his characteristics, says : " I care not a fig 
 for your spirit." The clamour is redoubled. Cellarius 
 was especially violent. He raged, roared, and foamed. 
 Not a word more could be heard. At length the pro- 
 phets withdrew, and the same day quitted Wlttem- 
 berg. 
 
 Thus Luther had accomplished the work for which 
 he had left his retreat. He had withstood fanaticism, 
 and chased from the bosom of the renovated Church 
 the enthusiasm and disorder which were trying to 
 invade it. If with one hand the Keformatiou over- 
 threw the musty decretals of Rome, with the other it 
 repelled the pretensions of the mystics, and secured 
 the living and immutable Word of God in possession 
 of the ten-itory which it had conquered. The char- 
 acter of the Reformation was thus well established. 
 It behoved constantly to move between these two 
 extremes, equally distant from the convulsive throes 
 of fanatics and the lifeless state of the papacy. 
 
 A population aroused, misled, and broken loose from 
 all restraint, is appeased, becomes calm and submissive, 
 and the most perfect tranquillity is restored to a city 
 which, a few days before, was like a raging sea. 
 
 Complete liberty was, moreover, established at Wit- 
 temberg. Luther continued to reside in the convent, 
 and to wear the monastic dress ; but every one was 
 free to do other^rise. Communicants, in taking the 
 Supper, might content themselves with a general, or 
 ask a particular absolution. One established principle 
 was to reject nothing but what was opposed to a clear 
 and formal declaration of the Holy Scriptures. This 
 was not indifference. On the contrary, religion was 
 thus brought back to what constitutes its essence. 
 Religious sentiment was drawn away from accessory 
 forms when it had been wellnigh lost, and again placed 
 on its true basis. Thus the Reformation was saved, 
 and doctrine could continue to be developed in the 
 Church in accordance with charity and truth. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Translation of the New Testament— Faith and Scripture— Opposition- 
 Importance of Luther's Publication— Need of a Systematic Exposition 
 — Melancthon's " Common Places "—Original Sin— Salvation— Free-will 
 — EU'ect of the " Common Places." 
 
 No sooner was tbe calm re-established than the refor- 
 mer turned towards his dear Melancthon, and asks his 
 assistance in putting the finishing hand to the version 
 of the New Testament which he had brought from the 
 Wartburg. Melancthon, as early as 1519, had laid 
 down the grand principle, that the Fathers ought to be 
 explained according to Scripture, and not Scripture 
 according to the Fathers. Continuing thoroughly to 
 investigate the writings of the New Testament, he felt 
 at once enraptured with their simplicity, and struck 
 with their profundity. "Here only," was the open 
 declaration of one so familiar with all the philosophers 
 of antiquity — " Here only is found the true food of the 
 soul." Hence he gladly responded to Luther's invita- 
 tion, and thereafter the two friends spent many long 
 hours together in studying and translating the inspired 
 Word. Often did they interrupt their laborious re- 
 searches to give vent to their admu-ation. "Reason 
 thinks," said Luther, "Oh! if I could only once hear 
 God! — to hear Him I would run to the end of the 
 world. . . . Listen, then, O man, my brother! 
 God, the creator of heaven and earth, is 
 speaking to you." 
 
 The printing of the New Testament was begun and 
 carried on with unexampled zeal. It seemed as if the 
 workmen themselves felt the importance of the work 
 which they were preparing. Three presses were 
 employed, and ten thousand sheets were printed daily. 
 
 At length, on the 21st September, appeared the com- 
 plete edition of three thousand copies, in two volumes, 
 folio, with this simple title: " The New Testament — 
 German — Wittemberg." It bore no human name. 
 Every German coiUd thenceforth procm-e the Word of 
 God for a moderate sum.' 
 
 The new translation, written in the very spirit of 
 the sacred books, in a language still recent, and dis- 
 plaj-ing its many beauties for the first time, seized, 
 enraptured, and deeply impressed the humblest of the 
 people, as well as the most elevated classes. It was a 
 national work ; it was the people's book ; it was more, 
 it was truly the Book of God. Even enemies could 
 not withhold their approbation of this admirable work, 
 while some indiscreet friends of the Reformation, 
 struck with the beauty of the work, imagined that 
 they beheld in it a second inspiration. This translation 
 did more to propagate Christian piety than all the 
 other writings of Luther. The work of the sixteenth 
 century was thus placed on a basis which could not be 
 shaken. The Bible given to the people brought back 
 the human mind, which for ages had been wandering 
 in the tortuous labyrinth of scholastics, to the divine 
 source of salvation. Accordingly, the success of the 
 work was prodigious. In a short time all the copies 
 were disposed of. A second edition appeared in 
 December; and in 1533, seventeen editions of Luther's 
 
 1 A florin and a-half, about half-a-crown sterlins. 
 
 New Testament had been printed at Wittemberg ; 
 thirteen at Augsburg; twelve at Bale; one at Erfurt; 
 one at Grimma; one at Leipsic; thirteen at Strasburg. 
 . . . Such were the mighty engines which lifted 
 and transformed the Church and the world. 
 
 The first edition of the New Testament was still at 
 press when Luther engaged in the translation of the 
 Old Testament. This work, begun in 1522, was 
 prosecuted without interruption. It was published in 
 parts as it was finished, in order more rapidly to satisfy 
 the impatience which was manifested in all quarters, 
 and make it more easy for the poor to purchase it. 
 
 From Scripture and faith, two sources, which, in 
 substance, are only one, evangelical life flowed, and is 
 still diffused in the world. These two principles 
 combated two fundamental errors; faith was opposed 
 to the Pelagian tendency of Catholicism ; Scripture, to 
 the tradition and authority of Rome. Scripture led to 
 faith, and faith led back to Scripture. " Man cannot 
 do any meritorious work : the free grace of God, which 
 he receives by faith in Christ, alone saves him." Such 
 was the doctrine proclaimed in Christendom ; aud the 
 tendency of this doctrine was to urge Christians to the 
 study of Scripture. In fact, if faith in Christ is every- 
 thing in Chi-istianity — if the practices and ordinances 
 of the Church are nothing — what we ought to adhere 
 to is not the teaching of the Church, but the teaching 
 of Jesus Christ. The tie which unites to Christ will 
 become all in all to the believer. What cares he for 
 the external tie which unites him to an external 
 Church enslaved to human opinions? . . . Thus, 
 as the doctrine of the Bible had urged Luther's con- 
 temporaries towards Jesus Christ, so the love which 
 they had for Jesus Christ in its turn urged them 
 towards the Bible. They returned to Scripture, not, as 
 is imagined in our da}', from a philosophical principle, 
 from a feeling of doubt, or longing for investigation, 
 but because they found in it the Word of Him whom 
 they loved. " You have preached Christ to us," said 
 they to the reformer, " enable us now to hear His 
 own voice." And they eagerly laid hold of the sheets 
 which were delivered to them as they would a letter 
 come down from heaven. 
 
 But if the Bible was thus joyfully received by those 
 who loved Christ, it was repulsed with hatred by those 
 who preferred the traditions and practices of men. 
 Violent persecution awaited this work of the Reformer. 
 On hearing of Luther's publication, Rome trembled. 
 The pen which transcribed the sacred oracles was the 
 realization of that which the Elector Frederick had 
 seen in his dream, and which, reaching as far as the 
 Seven Hills, had caused the tiara of the papacy to totter. 
 The monk in his cell, and the prince on his throne, 
 sent forth a cry of rage. Ignorant priests shuddered 
 at the thought that every citizen, erery peasant even, 
 would now be in a condition to debate with them on 
 sacred subjects. The King of England denounced the 
 work to the Elector Frederick, and Duke George of 
 Saxony. But, previous to this, as early as November, 
 the duke had enjoined all his subjects to deliver every 
 copy of Luther's New Testament into the hands of the 
 magistrates. Bavaria, Brandenburg, Austria, all the 
 states devoted to Rome, issued similar decrees. In 
 some towns a sacrilegious pile was erected, and the 
 
rUBLICATIOX OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 2S1 
 
 books were burnt in the market-place. Thus, in the 
 sixteenth century, Rome renewed the attempts by 
 which Paganism had tried to destroy the religion of 
 Jesus Christ at the moment when the empire was 
 escaping from priests and their idols. But who can 
 arrest the triumphant progress of the Gospel? " Even 
 since my prohibition," wrote Duke George, " several 
 thousand copies have been sold and read in my states." 
 
 God, in diffusing His AVord, made use of the very 
 hands which were endeavouring to destroy it. The 
 Catholic theologians, seeing it impossible to suppress 
 the reformer's work, published the New Testament 
 in a translation of their own. It was Luther's transla- 
 tion, with occasional corrections by the editors. No 
 objection was made to the reading of it. Rome knew 
 not as yet that, wherever the "Word of God is estab- 
 lished, her power is iu danger. Joachim of Branden- 
 burg gave full permission to his subjects to read any 
 translation of the Bible, Latin or German, provided it 
 came not from "Wittcmbcrg. The inhabitants of 
 Germany, those of Brandenburg in particular, thus 
 made a rapid advance in the knowledge of the truth. 
 
 The publication of the New Testament constitutes 
 an important epoch in the Reformation. If the mar- 
 riage of Feldkirchcn was the first step in passing from 
 doctrine to practice, if the abolition of monastic vows 
 was the second, if the establishment of the Lord's 
 Supper was the third, the publication of the New 
 Testament was perhaps the most important of all. It 
 effected a complete change in society — not only in the 
 l)resbytery of the priest, the cell of the monk, and the 
 service of the Church, but also in the mansions of the 
 great, and the dwellings both of the citizens in towns, 
 and of the rural population. When the Bible began to 
 be read in the households of Christendom, Christendom 
 was changed. There were thenceforth new customs, 
 new manners, new conversations, a new life. With 
 the publication of the New Testament the Reformation 
 came forth from the school and the Chiu-ch, and took 
 possession of the firesides of the people. 
 
 The effect produced was immense. The Christianity 
 of the primitive Church, brought forth by the publica- 
 tion of the Holy Scriptures from the oblivion into 
 which it had fallen for ages, was thus presented to the 
 eyes of the nation ; and this fact is suflicicnt to justify 
 the attacks which had been made upon Rome. The 
 humblest individuals, provided they knew the German 
 alphabet, women, and mechanics, (this is the account 
 given by a contemporary, a great enemy of the Refor- 
 mation.) read the New Testament with avidity. 
 Carrying it about with them, they soon knew it by 
 heart, while its pages gave full demonstration of the 
 perfect accordance between the Reformation of Luther 
 and the Revelation of God. 
 
 Still, it was only by piecemeal that the doctrine 
 of the Bible and of the Reformation had, till then, 
 been established. Some one truth had been established 
 iu this writing, and some one error attacked in that. 
 The remains of the ancient edifice, and the materials 
 of the new, lay scattered in confusion over a large space 
 of ground; but the new edifice itself w;is stUl wanting. 
 The publication of the New Testameut was fitted to 
 supply this want. The Reformation, on receiving this 
 work, could say: There is my system! But as every 
 
 person is ready to maintain that the system he holds is 
 that of the Bible, the Reformation behoved to give a 
 systematic form to what she had found iu Scripture. 
 This Melancthon did in her name. 
 
 He had advanced with cautious but sure steps iu his 
 theological career, and had always boldly published the 
 results of his inquiries. So early as 1520, he had 
 declared, that in several of the seven sacraments he saw 
 only an imitation of Jewish ceremonies; and, in the 
 infallibility of the pope, only an arrogant pretence, 
 equally at variance with Scripture aud common sense. 
 " To combat these dogmas," said he, " we have need 
 of more than oue Hercules.'' Thus, Melancthon had 
 arrived at the same point with Luther, though by a 
 calmer aud more scientific path. The moment had 
 arrived when it behoved him, in his turn, to make a 
 confession of his faith. 
 
 Iu 1521, during Luther's captivity, his celebrated 
 work, "On the (Jommon Places of Theology," had 
 presented Christian Europe with a body of doctrine 
 solidly based, and admirably proportioned. A simple 
 and majestic system was exhibited to the astonished 
 view of the new generation. The translation of the. 
 New Testament vindicated the Reformation to the 
 common people: the " Common Places " of Melancthon 
 vindicated it to the learned. 
 
 The Christian Church was fifteen centuries old, and 
 no similar work had yet appeared. Abandoning the 
 ordinary methods of scholastic theology, Luther's friend 
 at length presented Christendom with a theological 
 system derived solely from Scriptm-e, and exhibiting a 
 spirit of life and intellect, a force of truth and sim- 
 plicity of expression in striking contrast with the subtle 
 and pedantic systems of the schools. The most philo- 
 sophical minds aud the strictest theologians alike agreed 
 in admiring it. 
 
 Erasmus described the work as a host set in admir- 
 able array against the pharisaical tjTanny of false 
 teachers ; and, while declaring that he did not agree 
 with the author on all points, he added, that though 
 he had always loved him, he never loved him so much 
 as after reading this work. " So true is it," says Cal- 
 vin, at a later period, iu introducing the work to 
 France, " that, in treating Christian doctrine, the 
 greatest simplicity is the gi-eatest virtue." 
 
 But none was so much overjoyed as Luther. This 
 work was, through life, the object of his admiration. 
 Those isolated sounds which, in the deep emotiou of 
 his soul, his quivering hand had drawn from the harp 
 of the prophets and apostles, were here arranged in 
 enrapturing harmony. Those scattered stones, which 
 he had laboriously quarried out of the sacred volume, 
 were now formed into a majestic building. Hence, he 
 invariably recommended the reading of this work to 
 the youths who came to prosecute their studies at Wit- 
 tcmbcrg, saying to them: " If you would be theologians, 
 read Melancthon." 
 
 According to jNIelancthon, a deep conviction of the 
 misery to which man has been reduced by sin, is the 
 basis on which the structure of Christian theology must 
 be reared. This incalculable calamity is the primary 
 fact, the generating idea iu theological science, the 
 characteristic which distinguishes it from all sciences 
 which have reason only for their instrument. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 The Christian theologian, probing to the very bot- 
 tom of man's heart, explained its laws and mysterious 
 attractions, as the philosopher of a later period ex- 
 plained the laws and attractions of bodies. " Original 
 siu," said he, " is an inclination born with us, a kind 
 of impulse which is pleasing to ns, a kind of force 
 which draws us into sin, and which has been trans- 
 mitted by Adam to all his posterity. As there is in 
 fire a native force which carries it upward, as there is 
 in the magnet a natural power to attract steel, so there 
 is in man a primary force disposing him to evil. I 
 acknowledge that Socrates, Xenocrates, and Zeno, dis- 
 played constancy, temperance, and chastity, — these 
 shadows of virtue existed in impure minds, they pro- 
 ceeded from the love of self, and hence they must be 
 regarded not as genuine virtues, but as vices." These 
 words may seem harsh ; but they are so only when we 
 misapprehend Melancthon's meaning. None was more 
 disposed than he to recognise in the heathen virtues 
 deserving of human esteem ; but he laid down this 
 great truth, that the sovereign law given by God to all 
 His creatures is, to love Him above all things. Now, if 
 man, in doing what God commauds, does it, not from 
 love to God, but from love to self, will God approve 
 of bis presuming to prefer himself to His infinite 
 Majesty? and will there be nothing vicious in an act 
 containing indirect rebellion against His supremacy? 
 
 The theologian of Wittcmberg afterwards shews how 
 man is saved from this wretchedness. "The apostle," 
 says he, " calls you to contemplate the Son of God on 
 the right hand of His Father as a powerful Mediator 
 who intercedes for us ; and He asks you to be assured 
 that yom* sins are forgiven, and that you are accounted 
 righteous, and received by the Father for the sake of 
 His Son, offered as a victim on the cross." 
 
 What makes this first edition of the "Common 
 Places " particidarly remarkable, is the manner in which 
 the theologian of Germany speaks of free will. He 
 perceives, perhaps, still more clearly than Luther had 
 done, — being more of a theologian tlian he, — that this 
 doctrine could not be separated from that which con- 
 stituted the essence of the Reformation. The justifica- 
 tion of man before God, proceeds only from faith : 
 this is the first point. This faith is produced in man's 
 heart only by the grace of God : this is the second 
 point. Melancthon is well aware that, by conceding 
 to man any natural ability to believe, the great doc- 
 trine of grace established in the first point, will be 
 destroyed in the second. He had too much discrimina- 
 tion and knowledge of the Scx'iptures to be mistaken 
 in so weighty a matter. But he went too far. In- 
 stead of confining himself within the limits of the reli- 
 gious question, he takes up the metaphj'sical question, 
 maintaining a fatalism, which might cause God to be 
 regarded as the author of evil, and which, consequently, 
 has no foundation in Scripture. "All that happens," 
 said he, " happening necessarily according to Divine 
 predestination, it is evident that our will has no liberty." 
 
 But the object which Melancthon had especially in 
 view, was to present theology as a system of godliness. 
 The schoolmen had frittered doctrine away until they 
 deprived it of life. The reformer's task, therefore, 
 was to bring it back to life. In subsequent editions, 
 Melancthon saw the necessity of giving a clear exposi- 
 
 tion of doctrine. But the case was somewhat different 
 in 1521. " To know Christ," said he, " is to know Ilis 
 benefits. Paul, in his Epistle to the Romans, when 
 wishing to give a summary of Cliristian doctrine, does 
 not philosophize on the mystery of the Trinity, on the 
 mode of the incarnation, on creation, action, and pas- 
 sion, &c. Of what, then, does he speak ? Of the law 
 — of sin — of grace. On these the knowledge of Christ 
 depends." 
 
 The publication of this system of doctrine was of in- 
 estimable service to the cause of the Gospel. Calumny 
 was refuted, and prejudice subdued. In churches, 
 courts, and universities, Melancthon was admired for 
 his genius, and loved for the beauties of his character. 
 Even those who did not know the author were won to 
 his creed by his work. Several had been repulsed by 
 the harshness and occasional violence of Luther's lan- 
 guage ; but here was a man who, with great elegance 
 of style, exquisite taste, admu-able clearness, and the 
 most exact method, expounded the powerful truths 
 which had suddenly burst forth and shaken the world. 
 The work was in general request, was read with 
 avidity, and studied with ardour. So much meekness 
 and modesty won all hearts. So much nobleness and 
 force subdued them ; while the upper classes of society, 
 till then undecided, were gained by a wisdom which 
 expressed itself in such beautiful language. 
 
 On the other hand, the enemies of the truth, whom 
 Luther's formidable blows had not struck down, re- 
 mained for some time mute and disconcerted after the 
 appearance of Melancthon's treatise. It told them that 
 there was another man as worthy of their hatred as 
 Luther. "Alas!" they exclaimed, "unhappy Ger- 
 many! to what extremities must this new birth reduce 
 you ? " 
 
 From 1521 to 1595, seventy-seven editions of the 
 " Common Places " appeared, without counting trans- 
 lations. After the Bible, it is, perhaps, the book which 
 contributed most powerfully to the establishment of 
 evangelical doctrine. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Opposition— Henry VIII.— Wolsey— The Queen— Fisher— Thomas More- 
 Luther's Books Burnt— Henry Attacks Luther— Presentation to the 
 rope— Effect on Luther— Force and Violence— His Book— Eeply of the 
 Bisliop of Rochester— Reply by More— Step by the King. 
 
 While the " grammarian " Melancthon was, by his 
 mild accents, giving such effectual aid to Luther, men 
 in power, hostile to the reformer, were turning with 
 violence against him. Escaped from the Wartburg, 
 he had again appeared on the stage of the world, and 
 at the news his old enemies had resumed all their rage. 
 Luther had been three months and a-half at Wittcm- 
 berg, when rumour, with all its exaggerations, brought 
 him the news that one of the greatest kings of Chris- 
 tendom had risen up against him. The head of the 
 house of the Tudors, a prince, uniting in his person the 
 houses both of York and Lancaster, and on whose head, 
 after torrents of blood had been shed, the red rose and 
 
HENRY THE EIGHTH— AVOLSEY. 
 
 tlip wliitp rnflo wore at length comljincd, — Henry VIII., 
 llir |H.\\ ril'iil kin;j; of England, wlio aspired to re-estab- 
 lisli ilir ami. Ill iuflnonce of his crown on the continent, 
 and e:<iiuci:illy in France, had ju8t composed a book 
 against the poor monk of Wittembcrg. In a letter to 
 Lange, 2Gth Jnnc, 1522, Lnther writes: "A great 
 boast is made of a little book by the King of Eng- 
 land." 
 
 Henry VIII. was then thirty-one years of age ; " he 
 was tall, strong-bnilt, and proportioned, and had an 
 air of authority and empire ;" his features expressing 
 the vigour of his intellect. Of a vehement temper, 
 determined to make everything bend to the violence of 
 his passions, and thirsting for glory, he at first con- 
 cealed his faults under a kind of boisterox»sness com- 
 mon to youth, and wiis surrounded by flatterers who 
 encouraged them. He often repaired with his baud of 
 favourites to the house of his chaplain, Thomas AVol- 
 sey, sou of a butcher of Ipswich. This man, gifted 
 with great abilities, of an excessive ambition, and an 
 arrogance wliirli kmw no bounds, being patronized by 
 the Bislin|i .il' \\iiiihcv-li>r, chancellor of the kingdom, 
 had rapidly advanced in the favour of his master, 
 whom he attracted to his house by the seduction of 
 pleasures and irregularities, in which the young prince 
 would not have ventured to indulge in his own palace. 
 Such is the account given by Polydorc Virgil, at that 
 time the pope's sub-collector in England. At these 
 licentious meetings the chaplain outstripped the young 
 courtiers who accompanied Henry VIII. He was seen 
 forgetting the gravity of a minister of the altar, sing- 
 ing, dancing, laughing, frolicking, using obscene lan- 
 guage, and fencing. In this way he soon obtained the 
 first place in the king's council, and governing the 
 kingdom with absolute sway, was courted by all the 
 princes of Christendom. 
 
 Henry, living in a round of balls, festivities, and 
 jousts, foolishly squandered the treasures which had 
 been slowly amassed by the avarice of his father. 
 Magnificent tournaments succeeded each other without 
 interruption. The king, who, in manly beauty, sur- 
 passed all the combatants, invariably took the lead. 
 If, for an instant, the contest appeared doubtful, the 
 dexterity and strength of the prince, or the adroit 
 policy of those opposed to him, assured him the vic- 
 tory, and the arena resounded with shouts of applause. 
 The vanity of the.young prince was inflated by these 
 easy triumphs ; and there was no species of success to 
 which he did not think himself entitled to aspire. The 
 queen was occasionally present among the spectators. 
 Her grave figure, her downcast look, her sedate and 
 melancholy air, contrasted with the boisterous sounds 
 of these festivities. Henry VIH., shortly after his 
 accession to the throne, had, for reasons of state, 
 married Catherine of AiTagon, who was five years 
 older than himself, the widow of his brother, Arthur, 
 and aunt to Charles V. "While her husband was giv- 
 ing himself up to pleasure, the vu-tuous Catherine, 
 with a piety truly Spanish, rose at midnight to take 
 silent part in the prayers of the monks. She threw 
 herself upon her knees, without cushion or carpet. At 
 five o'clock in the morning, after a short repose, she 
 was again up ; she was clad in the habit of St. Fran- 
 cis; for she had entered the tertiary order of this 
 
 saint ; then, hastily covering it with royal vestments, 
 she repaired to the church at six, to the holy offices. 
 
 Two beings, living in two such different worlds, 
 could not remain long united. 
 
 Romish piety, however, had other representatives 
 besides Catherine at the court of Henry VIII. John 
 Fisher, bishop of Rochester, on the borders of seventy, 
 equally distinguished by his learning and the purity of 
 his morals, wivs the object of general veneration. He 
 had been the oldest councillor of Henry VII. ; and the 
 Duchess of Richmond, the grandmother of Ileni-y 
 VIII., when on her death-bed, had sent for Fisher, 
 and recomiuended to his care the youth and inex- 
 perience of her grandson. Amidst his irregularities, 
 the king long venerated the bishop as a father. 
 
 A man much younger than Fisher, a layman and 
 lawyer, had begun to attract general attention by his 
 genius and the nobleness of his clKinicter. He was 
 named Thomas IMcire, and was tlie smi uf a judge of 
 the King's Bench. Poor, austere, indefatigable in 
 exertion, he had endeavoured at twenty to extinguish 
 the passions of j-outh by wearing a hair shirt, and 
 subjecting himself to discipline. One day, when 
 attending mass, being sent for by the king, he replied, 
 that the service of God must take precedence of that 
 of his majesty. Wolsey brought him under the notice 
 of Henry VIII., who employed him on different em- 
 bassies, and vowed to have a great affection for him. 
 He often sent for him, and conversed with him about 
 the planets, Wolsey, and theology. 
 
 In fact, the king himself was no stranger to the 
 Romish doctrines. It would even appear that, if 
 Arthur had lived, Henry would have been destined 
 to the archiepiscopal see of Canterbiuy. Thomas 
 Aquinas, St. Bonaventure ; tournays, festivals ; Eliza- 
 beth Blunt, and other mistresses besides, all mingled 
 in the thoughts and actions of this prince, who caused 
 masses of his own composition to be chanted in his 
 chapel. 
 
 As soon as Henry VUI. heard of Luther, his wrath 
 was kindled against him ; and scarcely was the decree 
 of the Diet of Worms known in England, when he 
 ordered the papal bull to be executed against the 
 reformer's books. On the 12th May, 1521, Thomas 
 Wolsey, who, to the office of Chancellor of England, 
 united" those of Cardinal and Roman legate, repaired 
 to St. Paul's in solemn procession. This man, whose 
 pride knew no bounds, thought himself the equal of 
 kings. His chair was of gold, his bed of gold, and 
 cloth of gold covered the table at which he dined. On 
 this occasion he disjilayed great pomp. The haughty 
 prelate walked, surrounded by his household, consisting 
 of eight hundred individuals, among whom were barons, 
 knights, and cadets, of the most distinguished families, 
 who hoped by serving him to obtain public appoint- 
 ments. Gold and silk were not only conspicuous on 
 liis dress, (he was the first ecclesiastic who had 
 ventured to clothe so sumptuously.) but also on the 
 trappings and harness of his horses. Before him a 
 priest of a stately figure carried a rod, surrounded by 
 a crucifix ; behind him another, no less stately, caiTied 
 the achiepiscopal cross of York ; a nobleman, walking 
 at his side, caiTied his cardinal's hat. He was attended 
 by nobles, prelates, ambassadors of the pope and the 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 emperor, and these were followed by a long train of 
 mules, carrying trunks with the richest and most splen- 
 did coveiings. At London, amidst this magnificent 
 procession, the writings of the poor monk of 'Wittem- 
 berg were carried to the flames. On arriving at the 
 cathedral, the proud priest made even his cardinal's 
 hat be placed upon the altar. The virtuous Bishop of 
 Rochester took his station at the foot of the cross, and 
 there, in an animated tone, inveighed against heresy. 
 The impious writings of the heresiarch were then 
 brought forward, and devoutly burned in presence of 
 an immense crowd. Such was the first news which 
 England received of the Reformation. 
 
 Henry did not choose to stop here. This prince, 
 whose sword was ever raised against his enemies, his 
 wives, and his favourites, in a letter to the elector- 
 palatine, thus expresses himself: "It is the devil who, 
 by Luther as his organ, has kindled this immense con- 
 flagi-ation. If Luther will not be converted, let the 
 flames consume him and his writings." 
 
 Even this was not enough. Henry, convinced that 
 the progress of heresy was owing to the ignorance of 
 the German princes, thought that the moment was 
 come for displaying all his learning. The conquests of 
 his battle-axe allowed him not to doubt of the conquests 
 reserved for his pen. But another passion still — one 
 which is always strong in little minds, vanity — spurred 
 on the king. He felt humbled at having no title to 
 oppose those of "Catholic" and "Most Christian," 
 borne by the kings of Spain and France, and he was 
 long a supjiliant at the Romish court for a similar 
 distinction. What better fitted to procm-e such a title 
 than an attack ujiou heresy? Henry, therefore, threw 
 aside the royal pm-ple, and descended from his lofty 
 throne into the arena of theologians. He made a 
 compilation from Thomas Aquinas, Peter Lombard, 
 Alexander Hales, and Bonaventiu-e; and the world 
 beheld the publication of the "Defeuce of the Seven 
 Sacraments against Martin Luther, by the most in- 
 vincible King of England, France, and Ireland, Henry, 
 Eighth of the name." 
 
 "I will throw myself before the Church," said the 
 King of England in this writing ; "I will receive in my 
 breast the poisoned darts of the enemy who is assailing 
 her. To this the present state of affairs calls me. 
 Every servant of Jesus Christ, whatever be his age, 
 rank, or sex, must bestir himself against the common 
 enemy of Christendom. 
 
 "Let us arm ourselves with double armour — with 
 heavenly weapons, that by the arms of truth we may 
 vanquish him who combats with the arms of error. 
 But let us also arm ourselves with terrestrial armour, 
 in order that, if he proves obstinate in his wickedness, 
 the hand of the executioner may constrain him to 
 silence; and he may thus, for once at least, be useful 
 to the world by his exemplary punishment." 
 
 Henry VIII. could not conceal the contempt which 
 he felt for his able opponent. " This man," said the 
 crowned theologian, "seems as if he were in labour: 
 he makes incredible efforts, but only brings forth wind. 
 Pluck off the dress of arrogant expression in which his 
 absurdities are clothed, just as an ape is clothed in 
 purple, and what will remain? . . , Miserable, 
 empty sophistry!" 
 
 The king defends, iu succession, the mass, penance, 
 confirmation, orders, and extreme unction. He spares 
 no insulting epithets, calling his opponent, by twns, 
 an infernal wolf, a venomous viper, a limb of the 
 devil. Even Luther's honesty is assailed. Henry VIII. 
 crushes the mendicant monk with his royal anger, and 
 in the words of a historian, " writes as 'twere with his 
 sceptre." 
 
 Still, however, it must be admitted, the work was 
 not bad for the author and his age. The style is not 
 without vigour. But the public could not content 
 themselves with merely doing it justice. A burst of 
 applause received the theological treatise of the power- 
 ful King of England. "The most learned work that 
 ever the sun saw ! " ' exclaimed some. — " It deserves," 
 rejoined others, " to be compared with the works of 
 St. Augustine. He is a Constantine, a Charlemagne ! " 
 — "He is more," exclaimed a third party, "he is a 
 second Solomon ! " 
 
 These exclamations were soon heard beyond the 
 limits of England. Henry desired the Dean of Wind- 
 sor, John Clarke, his ambassador to the pope, to de- 
 liver his book to the sovereign jiontiff . Leo X. received 
 the ambassador in fuU consistory. Clarke, in present- 
 ing the royal work, said: "The king, my mjister, 
 assm-es you that, after refuting the errors of Luther 
 with his pen, he is ready to combat his adherents with 
 the sword." Leo X., deeply gratified with this pro- 
 mise, replied that the book of the King of England 
 could only have been composed with the aid of the 
 Holy Spu-it, and named Henry " Defender of the Faith,'' 
 — a title which the kings of England still bear. 
 
 The reception given to the king's work at Rome con- 
 tributed greatly to its cu-culation. In a few months 
 several thousands of copies issued from different presses. 
 " The whole Christian world," says Cochloeus, " was 
 fiUed with admiration and joy." 
 
 These extravagant praises increased the vanity of 
 the chief of the 'Tudors. He was brought to fancy he 
 had ^vritteu with some degree of inspiration. After- 
 wards he would not submit to the least contradiction. 
 To him the papacy was no longer at Rome, but at 
 Greenwich; and infallibility rested on his own head. 
 At a later period this conti'ibuted greatly to the Refor- 
 mation of England. 
 
 Luther read Henry's book with mingled disdain, im- 
 patience, and indignation. The falsehood and insults 
 which it contained ; but especially the air of contempt 
 and pity affected by the king, irritated the doctor of 
 Wittemberg in the highest degree. Hie thought that 
 the pope had crowned the writing, and that the enemies 
 of the Gospel were everywhere trampling on the Re- 
 formation and the reformer, as already overthrown and 
 vanquished, increased his indignation. Besides, what 
 occasion had he for delicacy ? Was he not fighting for 
 a King greater than all the kings of the earth .^ Evan- 
 gelical mildness seemed to him out of season : eye for 
 eye, tooth for tooth. He kept no measm-e. Pursued, 
 goaded, tracked, and wounded, the raging lion turned 
 round and prepared to tear his enemy. The elector, 
 Spalatin, Melancthon, and Bugenhagen, tried in vain 
 to appease him. Tlicy would have prevented him from 
 replying ; but he was not to be stopped. " I will not 
 1 Biu-net, " History of the Reformation of England,'' i. p. 30. 
 
LUTHER'S INDIGNATION. 
 
 deal mildly with the luug of England," said he ; " it is 
 in vain (1 know it is) to humble myself, to yield, be- 
 seech, and try the ways of peace. I will at length 
 shew myself more terrible than the ferocious beasts 
 who are constantly butting me with their horns. I will 
 let them feel mine: I will preach and irritate Satan 
 tmtil he wears himself out, and falls down exhatisted. 
 If this heretic retracts not, says the new Thomas, 
 Henry VIII., he must be burnt. Such are the weapons 
 now employed against me ; first, the fury of stupid 
 asses and Tlioniastical swine, and then the fire. Very 
 well ! Let these swine come forward, if they dare, 
 and burn me ! Here I am, waiting for them. My 
 wish is, that my ashes, thrown, after my death, into a 
 thousand seius, may arise, pursue, and engulf this 
 aborai:iable crew. Living, I will be the enemy of the 
 papacy; burnt, I will be its destruction! Go, swine of 
 St. Thomas, do what seemeth to you good. You shall 
 ever find Luther as a bear in your way, and a lion in 
 your path. He will thunder upon you from all quar- 
 ter, aud leave you no peace until he has brayed your 
 brains of iron, and ground to powder your foreheads of 
 brass." 
 
 At the outset Luther upbraids Henry VIII. with 
 having based his doctrines only on the decrees and 
 sentences of men. " For me," says he, " I cease not to 
 cry. The Gospel! the Gospel! — Christ! Christ! — while 
 my opponents cease not to reply: 'Customs! customs! 
 — Ordinances ! ordinances ! — Fathers ! Fathers ! Let 
 i/oitr fait/i, says St. Paul, ftaiid not in the wisdom of men, 
 but in tlie power of God. And the apostle, by this thun- 
 derbolt from heaven, overthrows aud scatters, like the 
 dust before the wind, all the silly crotchets of this 
 Henry. In confusion and consternation the Thomists, 
 the papists, and the Henrys, fell to the ground before 
 the thunder of these words." 
 
 He afterwards refutes the king's production in de- 
 tail, overthrowing his arguments, one by one, with 
 clearness, ability, and a thorough knowledge of the 
 Holy Scriptures and the history of the Church ; but 
 also with a confidence, disdain, and occasionally a 
 violence, at which we must not bo surprised. 
 
 On arriving at the conclusion, Luther again ex- 
 presses indignation at his opponent for drawing argu- 
 ments only from the F'athers : this was the essence of 
 the whole controversy. " To all the sayings of Fathers, 
 men, angels, devils," says he, "I oppose not the anti- 
 quity of custom, not the multitude, but the Word of 
 the Eternal Majesty, the Gospel, which they them- 
 selves are constrained to approve. By it I hold ; on it 
 1 rest ; in it I glory, triumph, and exult over papists, 
 Thomists, Henrys, and all the hellish stye. The King 
 of heaven is with me, and therefore I fear nothing, 
 even should a thousand Augustines, a thousand 
 Cyprians, and a thousand churches, of which Henry 
 is the defender, rise up against me. It is a small mat- 
 ter for me to despise and lash an earthly king, who 
 himself has not feared, in his writing, to blaspheme 
 the King of heaven, and profane His holiness by the 
 most audacious falsehood." 
 
 "Papists!" exclaims he, in concluding, "will you 
 not desist from j-our vain pursuits ? Do as you please, 
 — the result, however, must be, that before the Gospel 
 which I, Martin Luther, have preached, popes, bishops, 
 
 priests, monks, princes, devils, death, sin, and what- 
 ever is not Jesus Christ, or iu Jesus Christ, shall fall 
 and perish." 
 
 Thus spoke the poor monk. His violence, certainly, 
 cannot be excused, if it is judged by the rule to which 
 he himself appeals, — viz., the Word of God. We can- 
 not even justify it by alleging either the coarseness of 
 the age, — for Melancthou was able to discover his 
 courtesy iu his writings, — or the energy of his disposi- 
 tion, for if this energy had some effect on his language, 
 passion had still more. The best course, therefore, is 
 not to attempt to defend it. However, to be just, let 
 it be observed, that in the sixteenth ceutiu-y this 
 violence did not seem so strange as it appears in the 
 present day. The learned were then one of the exist- 
 ing powers as well as princes. Henry had attacked 
 Luther by becoming an author. Luther replied con- 
 formably to the law received in the Republic of Let- 
 ters, — viz., that the thing to be considered is the truth 
 of what is said, aud not the quality of him who saj's 
 it. Let us also add, that when this very king turned 
 against the pope, the insults which he received from 
 the Romish writers, and the pope himself, far exceeded 
 anything that had been said by Luther. 
 
 Besides, if Luther called Doctor Eck an ass, and 
 Henry VIH. a hog, he indignantly rejected the inter- 
 vention of the secular arm ; whereas Dr. Eck wrote a 
 dissertation to prove that heretics ought to be burned ; 
 and Henry erected scaffolds agreeably to the precepts of 
 the doctor of Ingolstadt. 
 
 A deep sensation wiis produced at the king's court. 
 Surrey, Wolsey, and the tribe of courtiers broke off 
 the pomps aud festivities of Greenwich, to vent their 
 indignation in contumely aud sarcasm. The venerable 
 Bishop of Rochester, who had been delighted when he 
 saw the young prince, who had been early committed 
 to his charge, breaking a lance for the Church, was 
 deeply wounded by the monk's attack, and immediately 
 replied to it. His words are very characteristic of his 
 time and his Church. " Catch for us the small foxes 
 that spoil the vines, says Christ in the Song of Songs. 
 This shews," says Fisher, " that we must lay hands 
 on heretics before they grow up. Now Luther has 
 become a great fox, — a fox so old, and cunning, and 
 malicious, that it is very difficult to catch him. What 
 do I say? — a fox! . . . He is a mad dog, a raven- 
 ing wolf, a cruel bear, or rather, all these animals at 
 once ; for the monster has several beasts in his bosom." 
 
 Thomas More also descended into the arena to en- 
 counter the monk of Wittemberg. Although a laj-man, 
 he pushed his zeal against the Reformation the length 
 of fanaticism, if he did not push it the length of blood. 
 When young noblemen undertake the defence of the 
 papacy, their violence often outstrips that of ecclesias- 
 tics themselves. '' Reverend brother, father, drunkard, 
 deserter of the Augustine order, mis-shapen bacchana- 
 lian as to both kinds of law, untaught teacher of sacred 
 theology!" Such are the terms addressed to the re- 
 former by one of the most illustrious men of his time. 
 Then, explaining the mode in which Luther has com- 
 posed his book against Henry, he says: "He called 
 together his companions, aud asked each to go his way, 
 and rummage for buffoonery and insult. One went to 
 waggoners and boatmen, another to baths and gamb- 
 
286 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ling-houses, a third to barbers' shops and taverns, a 
 fourtli to mills and brothels. Everything they heard 
 most insolent, filthy, and infamous, they noted down, 
 and bringing it back, threw it into that impure sink 
 called the mind of Luther." — "If he retracts liis lies 
 and calumnies," he continues, '• if he lays aside his folly 
 and fury, if he again swallows his abominations, he 
 will find some one to debate gravely with him. But if 
 he continues as he has begun, jesting, raging, playing 
 the mountebank, slandering, vomiting nothing but filth, 
 . . . then let others do as they will; for us, we 
 prefer leaving the little friar alone with his fury and 
 liis filth." Thomas More had better have reserved his 
 own. Luther had never stooped so low in his style. 
 He made no reply. 
 
 This production increased Henry's attachment to 
 More. He once paid him a visit in his modest dwell- 
 ing at Chelsea. After dinner, the king walked with 
 him in his garden, with his arm resting on the shoulder 
 of his favourite ; while Lady More and her children, 
 concealed behind the lattice, could not withdraw their 
 astonished eyes. After one of these walks, More, who 
 knew Henry's character, said to his wife: "If my head 
 could gain him a single castle in France, he would 
 never hesitate." 
 
 The king, thus defended by the Bishop of Rochester 
 and his future chancellor, had no occasion to resume 
 his pen. Confounded at seeing himself treated in the 
 face of Europe as a mere author, Henry abandoned 
 the dangerous ])Osition he had taken up, and throwing 
 away his theological pen, had recourse to the more 
 efficacious methods of diplomacy. 
 
 An ambassador set off from the court at Greenwich 
 with a letter from the king to the elector and the 
 dukes of Saxony. Henry thus expressed himself : 
 " Luther, the true dragon fallen from heaven, is pour- 
 ing out his venomous floods on the earth. He is 
 stirring up revolt in the Church of Jesus Christ, 
 abolishing the laws, insulting the powers, exciting 
 laymen against priests, laymen and priests against the 
 pope, and subjects against kings ; his only wish being 
 to see Christians fighting together and destroying each 
 other, and the enemies of our faith grinning with 
 delight over the scene of carnage. 
 
 " VYhat is this doctrine, which he terms evangelical, 
 but the doctrine of Wickliffe ? Now, most honoured 
 uncles, I know what your ancestors did to destroy it. 
 They pursued it in Bohemia as if it had been a wild 
 beast, and causing it to faU into a trap, there enclosed 
 and barricaded it. You will not allow it to escape by 
 your negligence, steal into Saxony, and take possession 
 of all Germany, sending forth from its fuming nostrils 
 the fire of hell, and spreading far and wide tlie con- 
 flagration which your country so often desired to 
 extinguish in its blood. 
 
 "Wherefore, most excellent friends, I feel myself 
 called to exhort you, and even to implore you, by all 
 that is most sacred, sjJeedily to strangle the cm-sed sect 
 of Luther. Put no one to death if it can possibly be 
 avoided; but if heretical obstinacy continues, shed 
 blood without fear, in order that this abominable sect 
 may cease from under heaven." 
 
 The elector and his brother referred the king to the 
 future council. Thus Henry was far from succeeding 
 
 in his object. "So great a man mingling in the 
 dispute," says Paul Sarpi, "served to excite more 
 curiosity, and procure universal favour for Luther, as 
 usually happens in combats and tournays, where the 
 spectators always incline to the weakest party, and 
 take pleasure in giving a higher place to his humble 
 exploits. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 General Movement— The Monks— How the Heformation Is Acoomplishod— 
 Ordinary Believers— The Old and the New Teachers— Printing and 
 Literature— Booksellers and Hawkers. 
 
 In fact, an immense movement was taking place. The 
 Reformation which, after the Diet of Worms, was sup- 
 posed to be shut up with its first teacher within the 
 narrow chamber of a strong castle, burst forth, spread- 
 ing throughout the empire, and even throughout Chris- 
 tendom. The two parties, till then confounded, began 
 to stand apart from each other ; and the partisans of a 
 monk who had nothing on his side but his eloquence, 
 fearlessly took up their position, confronting the ser- 
 vants of Cliarles V. and Leo X. Luther had just 
 quitted the walls of the Wartburg, the pope had ex- 
 communicated all who had adhered to him, the imperial 
 diet had condemned his doctrine, princes were hasten- 
 ing to crush it in the greater part of the Germanic 
 States, the ministers of Rome were tearing it to pieces 
 before the people by their violent invectives, the other 
 states of Christendom were calling upon Germany to 
 sacrifice an enemy, whose attacks they dreaded even 
 at a distance; and yet this new and not numerous 
 party, without organization, without connecting ties, 
 with nothing, in short, to concentrate the common 
 strength, had already, by the energy of their faith and 
 the rapidity of their conquests, spread terror over the 
 vast, ancient, and mighty domain of Rome. Every- 
 where, as in the first breathings of spring, the seed 
 was seen bm-sting forth from the ground without 
 effort, and, as it were, spontaneously. Every day 
 gave evidence of new progress. Individuals, villages, 
 burghs, whole towns, united in the new confession of 
 the name of Jesus Christ. There was stern resistance 
 and dreadful persecution; but the mysterious power 
 which urged forward the people was irresistible, and 
 the persecuted hastening on and advancing, amid exile, 
 imprisonment, and scaffolds, were everywhere succeed- 
 ing against the persecutors. 
 
 The monastic orders which Rome had stretched 
 over Christendom, like a net destined to take souls 
 and hold them captive, were the first to break these 
 bonds, and rapidly propagate the new doctrine through- 
 out the Western Church. The Augustines of Saxony 
 had advanced with Luther, having, like him, that inti- 
 mate experience of the Divine Word which gives an 
 interest in God himself, and so dispenses with Rome 
 and her arrogant pretensions. But in the other con- 
 vents of the order, evangelical light had also arisen. 
 Sometimes it was old men who, like Staupitz, had 
 preserved the sound doctrines of truth in the bosom 
 of ill-used Christendom, and were now asking Go J 
 
EMANCIPATION OF THE MONKS. 
 
 2S7 
 
 to let thoin depart in peace, becauso then- eyes had 
 Been His salvation. At other times, it was young men 
 wlio, with all the eagerness of early life, had received 
 the lessons of Luther. At Nuremberg, Osnabruck, 
 Dettingcn, Ratisbon, Hesse, Wurtemberg, Strasburg, 
 Antwerp, the Augustine convents turned towards 
 Christ, and by their coui'ago provoked tho wrath of 
 Home. 
 
 But the movement was not confined to the Augus- 
 tines. They were imitated in the monasteries of the 
 other orders by bold individuals, who, in spite of the 
 clamour of such monks as were unwilling to abandon 
 tlieir carnal observances, iu spite of wrath, contempt, 
 and sentences of condemnation, iu spite of discipline 
 and cloistral prisons, fearlessly raised their voice for 
 this linly and precious truth, which, after so many 
 |KiiiilHI >i:irilics, so many distressing doubts, so many 
 iiiiriiial .--iriiL^nles, they had found at last. In the 
 greater part uf the cloisters, tho most spiritually 
 minded, the most pious and best informed of the in- 
 mates declared in favour of reform. In the Franciscan 
 convent at Ulm, Eberlin and Kettenbach attacked the 
 servile works of Monachism, and the superstitious 
 practices of the Church, with an eloquence which 
 might have carried a nation, calling, in one breath, for 
 the suppression of the abodes of monks and the abodes 
 of debauchery. Stephen Kempe, another Franciscan, 
 standing alone, preached the Gospel at Hamburg, and 
 with undaunted breast, withstood the hatred, envy, 
 menaces, snares, and attacks of priests, irritated when 
 they saw the people forsaking their altars, and crowd- 
 ing with enthusiasm to his sermons. 
 
 Often even the heads of convents were the first to 
 move in the dii*ection of reform. At Halberstadt, 
 Neuenwerk, Halle, and Sagan, the priors set their 
 monks the example, or at least declared, that if any 
 monk felt his conscience burdened by monastic vows, 
 so far from detaining him iu the convent, they would 
 take him on theii- shoulders to carry him out. 
 
 In fact, throughout Germany, monks were seen de- 
 positing their frocks and cowls at the door of their 
 monastery. Some were expelled by the violence of 
 the friars or abbots ; others of a mild and pacific cha- 
 racter could not endure the disputes which were per- 
 petually springing up, the insult, clamour, and hatred 
 which pursued them even in their sleep. The majority 
 were convinced that the monastic life was opposed to 
 the will of God and the Christian life. Some had 
 arrived gi-adually at this conviction, and others all at 
 once while reading some passage of the Bible. Idle- 
 ness, coarseness, ignorance, and meanness, the essential 
 characteristics of tho mendicant orders, produced in- 
 effable disgust in men of an exalted spirit, who felt it 
 impossible any longer to endure the company of their 
 vulgar associates. A Franciscan, begging his round, 
 presented himself one day, wth his box in his hand, at 
 a smithy in Nuremberg : " Why," said the smith to 
 him, " do you not rather gain your bread by working 
 with your own hands ? " At these words the sturdy 
 monk threw away his di'ess, and seizing the hammer 
 with a vigorous hand, made it fall with force on the 
 anvil. The useless mendicant had become an honest 
 mechanic. His box and frock were sent back to the 
 monastery. 
 
 Nor were monks the only persons who ranged them- 
 selves under the standard of the Gospel ; priests in still 
 greater numbers preached the new doctrine. But it 
 did not even need preachers to diffuse it — it often acted 
 on the minds of men, and awoke them from their deep 
 sleep before any one had addressed them. 
 
 In towns, burghs, and even villages, Luther's writ- 
 ings were read in the evening at the fireside, or iu the 
 house of the schoolmaster. Some of the inhabitants 
 were struck by this reading ; they applied to the Bible 
 to clear up tlieir doubts, and were astonished when 
 they saw the strange contrast between their Chris- 
 tianity and the Christianity of the Bible. Hesitating 
 for a time between Rome and the Holy Scriptures, 
 they took refuge in that living Word which shed a 
 sudden and delightful light on tlioir snul^. Meanwhile, 
 some evangelical preacher apinarrd. |h ihaps a priest, 
 perhaps a monk. He spoke with i'|ni|iiriice and con- 
 viction; he declared that Christ had .sali,-.licd fully for 
 the sius of tho people, proving from Scripture the 
 vanity of human works and penances. A formidable 
 opposition burst forth. The clergy, and frequently tho 
 magistrates, used every effort to bruig back those souls 
 which they would have destroyed ; but there was in 
 the new preaching an accordance with Scripture, and 
 a hidden energy which won men's hearts, subduing the 
 most i-ebellious. At the risk of their goods, or, if need 
 were, at the risk of their lives, they embraced the 
 cause of the Gospel, and abandoned the barren fanatical 
 orators of the papacy. Sometimes the people, u-ritated 
 at being so long imposed upon, compelled the priests 
 to withdraw; but more frequently the priests, aban- 
 doned by their flocks, without tithes, without offerings, 
 went off in sadness of their own accord, to go and seek 
 a living elsewhere. And while the props of the ancient 
 hierarchy withdrew sullen and downcast, sometimes 
 taking leave of their old flocks in words of malediction, 
 the people, overjoyed at having found truth and liberty, 
 gathered round the new preachers with acclamation, 
 and eager to hear the Word, carried them, as it were, 
 in triumph into the church and the pulpit. 
 
 A powerful doctrine, which came from God, was 
 then renovating society. The people or their leaders 
 frequently wrote for some man of known faith to come 
 and enlighten them ; and he, for the love of the Gospel, 
 forthwith abandoned all — family, friends, and country. 
 Persecution often forced the friends of the Reformation 
 to quit their homes. Arriving in some place where it 
 was not yet known, finding some house which offered 
 an asylum to poor travellers, they spoke of the Gospel, 
 read some pages of it to the attentive bm-ghers, and 
 obtained leave, perhaps at the request of their new 
 friends, to preach one sermon iu the church. Then a 
 Viist conflagration burst forth in the town, and the 
 utmost efforts were unable to extinguish it. If per- 
 mission to preach in the church was denied, they 
 preached elsewhere. Every place became a church. 
 At Husum, in Holstein, Hermann Tast, who was on 
 his way from Wittemberg, and against whom the parish 
 clergy had shut the church, preached to an immense 
 crowd in the burying-ground, under the shade of two 
 large trees, not far from the spot where, seven centuries 
 before, Anschar had proclaimed the Gospel to the 
 pagans. At Arnstadt, the Augustine, Gaspard GUttel, 
 
288 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 preached in the mavket-pLace. At Dantzic, the Gospel 
 was preached on a hill in the neighbourhood of the 
 town. At Gosslar, a student of AVitteraberg preached 
 the new doctrine in a grove of linden trees, — a circum- 
 stance which procured for the evangelical Christians 
 the name of Linden Brothers. 
 
 While the priests were exhibiting in the eyes of the 
 people a sordid avidity, the new preachers thus ad- 
 dressed them: "We received it freely, and we give it 
 to you freely." An idea often proclaimed from the 
 pidpit by the new preachers, — viz., that Eome had, of 
 old, sent the Germans a corrupted Gospel, and that 
 Germany was now, for the first time, hearing the Word 
 of Jesus Christ in its divine and primitive beauty, 
 
 produced a profound impression. Tlio great idea of 
 the equality of all men, and of an universal brother- 
 hood in Jesus Christ, enraptured those who had long 
 been weighed down under the yoke of feudalism and 
 the papacy of the Middle Ages. 
 
 Often unlettered Christians, with the New Testament 
 
 -, in their hands, offered to defend the 
 
 reformed doctrine. The Catholics, 
 adhering to Eome, withdrew in 
 ' alarm; for the business of studying 
 the Holy Scriptures was committed 
 to priests and monks only. These, 
 accordingly, saw themselves obliged 
 to come forward. A discussion com- 
 menced ; but the priests and monks, 
 o\ erwhelmed by laymen with quota- 
 tions from the Holy Scriptures, soon 
 knew not what to oppose to them. 
 "Unfortunately," says Coch- 
 loeu?, " Luther had persuaded his 
 followers that faith was to be given 
 only to the oracle of the sacred 
 books." A shout arose in the as- 
 sembly, and proclaimed the shameful 
 Ignorance of these old theologians, 
 who, till then, had passed with their 
 party for men of learning. 
 
 The humblest individuals, even 
 the weaker sex, with the help of 
 the Word, persuaded and gained 
 converts. Extraordinary acts are 
 done in extraordinary times. At 
 Ingolstadt, under the very eyes of 
 Doctor Eck, a young weaver read 
 the writings of Luther to the as- 
 sembled multitude. In the same 
 place, the university having resolved 
 to force a retractation from a pupil of 
 Melancthon, a female, named Argula 
 of Staufen, undertook his defence, 
 and challenged the professors to a 
 public disputation. Women and 
 chddren, artisans and soldiers, were 
 moie learned in the Bible than 
 teachers in schools, and priests at 
 altars. 
 
 Christendom was divided into two 
 camps, whose appearance presented 
 a striking contrast. Confronting the 
 old supporters of the hierarchy, who 
 had neglected the acquisition of lan- 
 guages and the cultivation of letters, 
 (this is the account given by one of 
 themselves,) stood a generous youth, 
 accustomed to study, deeply read in 
 the Scriptures, and familiar with the 
 masterpieces of antiquity. Gifted with a ready under- 
 standing, an elevated mind, and an intrepid heart, these 
 youths soon acquired such knowledge, that for a long 
 time none could compete with them. Their superiority 
 to their contemporaries consisted, not merely in their 
 living faith, but also in an elegance of style, a savour 
 of antiquity, a true philosophy, a knowledge of the 
 world, completely imknown to the theologians veteris 
 
LITERATURE AND THE PRINTING PRESS. 
 
 fariiM, (of the old stock,) as CochluMis himself desig- 
 nates them. Accordingly, when these young defenders 
 of the Reformation liappened to come in contact, at 
 some public meeting, with the Roman doctors, tlicy 
 attacked them with so much ease and conlidence, that 
 the illiterate doctoi-s hesitated, became confused, and 
 fell, deservedly, into universal contempt. 
 
 The ancient edifice gave way under the weight of 
 superstition and ignorance, and the new edifice was 
 reared up on the basis of faith and knowledge. New 
 olenicuts were introduced into common life. Lethargy 
 and stupidity were everywhere succeeded by a spirit 
 of itKiniry, and thirst for instruction. An active, en- 
 liu:litcncd, and living faith took the place of superstitious 
 observances and ascetii' contcTuplation. Devout works 
 succeeded devotee practices and penances. The pulpit 
 was preferred to the ceremonies of the altar, and the 
 ancient and sovereign authority of the Word of God 
 was again established in the Church. 
 
 Printing, that mighty engine which the fifteenth 
 century had invented, seconded all these efforts, and 
 by means of its powerful projectiles, was continually 
 making breaches in the waUs of the enemy. 
 
 In Germany, an immense impulse was given to 
 popular literature. Up to 1517, only thirty-five 
 ))uI)lications had appeared; but the number increased 
 with astonisliing rapidity after the publication of 
 Luther's theses. lu 1518, we find seventy-one differ- 
 ent works; in 1519, a hundred and eleven; in 1520, 
 two hundred and eight; in 1521, two hundred and 
 eleven; in 1522, three hundred and forty-seven; in 
 1528, four hundred and ninety-eight. . . . And 
 Avhere were all these published? Almost invariably 
 at Wittemberg. And who was their author? Most 
 frequently, Luther. In 1522, two hundred and thirty 
 writings of the Reformer appeared; and in the follow- 
 ing year, one hundred and eighty-three. This same 
 year the whole of the Catholic publications amounted 
 only to twenty. The literature of Germany was thus 
 formed at the same time as its religion, amidst con- 
 tention; and already gave promise of being learned, 
 profound, bold, and active, as it has since appeared. 
 The national mind was thus displayed, for the first 
 time, in an unsophisticated form, and at the very moment 
 of its birth was baptized with the fire of Christian 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 What Luther and his friends composed, others dis- 
 seminated. Monks, convinced of the unlawfulness of 
 monastic ties, desirous to substitute a life of activity 
 for long idleness, but too ignorant to be themselves 
 jjreachers of the Word, traversed the provinces, and 
 visited tlie hamlets and huts, selling the works of 
 Luther and liis friends. Germany was soon covered 
 witli these bold colporteurs. Printers and booksellei-s 
 eagerly received all the writings in defence of the 
 Reformation, but declined those of the opposite party, 
 which were usually a mere compound of ignorance and 
 barbarism. When any one of them ventured to sell 
 a book in favour of the papacy, and to expose it at 
 fairs, at Frankfort, or elsewhere, dealers, piuxhasers, 
 or literary men assailed him with a shower of derision 
 and sarcasm. In vain had the emperor and the 
 princes issued severe edicts against the writings of the 
 Reformers. Whenever an inquisitorial visit was to be 
 
 made, the merchants, who had secret notice of it, con- 
 cealed the books which were proscribed ; and the 
 people, always eager for what is sought to be kept 
 from them, afterwards got possession of these writings, 
 and read them more greedily than before. These 
 things were not confined to Germany. Luther's 
 writings were translated into French, Spanish, English, 
 and Italian, and disseminated among these nations. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Lutlier at Zwickau— The Cflstle of Freybcrs— Worms— Frankfort— Uuivcreal 
 Jlovement— Wittemberg, the Centre of tlie licfornintion— LuUier's 
 Sentiments. 
 
 If the humblest individuals inflicted such heavy blows 
 ou Rome, what ntiist it have been when the monk of 
 Wittemberg made his own voice be heard? Shortly 
 after the defeat of the new prophets, Luther, dressed 
 as a layman, crossed the territory of Duke George in 
 a car. His frock was concealed, and his appearance 
 was that of an ordinary citizen of the country. Had 
 he been recognised, or had he fallen into the hands of 
 the angry duke, perhaps it would have been all over 
 with him. He was going to preach at Zwickau, the 
 cradle of the new prophets. No sooner was this 
 known at Schneeberg, Annaberg, and the neighbour- 
 hood, than crowds began to flock to it. Fourteen 
 thousand persons arrived in the town ; and as there was 
 no church capable of containing such a midtitude, 
 Luther got up on the balcony of the town-house, and 
 preached to an audience of twenty-five thousand, who 
 covered the public square, some of them seated on a 
 heap of building materials which happened to have 
 been laid down. The servant of Christ was speak- 
 ing with fervour on the election of grace, when sud- 
 denly some cries were heard from the middle of the 
 audience. An old woman, with haggard looks, was 
 stretching out her bony arms from the top of the stone 
 on which she stood, and seemed desirous, by her earnest 
 gesture, to keep back the crowd who were going to 
 throw themselves at the feet of Jesus Christ. Her 
 wild cries interrupted the preacher. Seckendorff says : 
 "It was the devil, in the shape of an old woman, 
 trying to excite a disturbance." But it was in vain : 
 the voice of the reformer having silenced the e^il 
 spirit, thousands of hearers were seized with a feeling 
 of enthusiasm, exchanging looks, and shaking hands 
 ■with each other. The monks, struck dumb, could not 
 quell the storm, and shortly saw themselves obliged to 
 quit Zwickau. 
 
 Duke Henry, the brother of Duke George, was re- 
 siding in the castle of Freyberg; he was married to a 
 princess of Mecklenburg, who, the year before, had 
 given him a son, named Maurice. To a love of the 
 table and pleasure, Henry joined the bluntness and 
 rudeness of a soldier. He wa.s, moreover, pious, after 
 the fashion of the times, and had made one pilgrimage 
 to the Holy Land, and another to St. James of Compo- 
 stella. "At Compostella," he was wont to say, "I 
 placed a hundred gold florins on the altar of the saint, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 saying to him: O! St. James, it was to please you I 
 came hither, — I make you a present of this money; 
 Init if those rogues (the priests) take it from you, I 
 cannot help it : look, then, to yourself." 
 
 A Franciscan and a Dominican, disciples of Luther, 
 had for some time been preaching the Gospel at Frey- 
 berg. The dutihess, ivhose piety had insiiired her with 
 a horror at heresy, listened to their discourses, wonder- 
 ing how that sweet doctrine of a Saviour could be the 
 doctrine which she had been made to dread so much. 
 Her eyes were gradually opened, aud she found peace 
 in Jesus Christ. No sooner did it reach the ears of 
 Duke George, that the Gospel was preached at Frey- 
 berg, than he prayed his brother to set liis face against 
 these novelties. Chancellor Strehlin and the canons 
 seconded him with their fanaticism. There was a 
 great explosion at the court of Freyberg. Dulve Henry 
 harshly reprimanded aud upbraided the pious duchess, 
 who, on more than one occasion, shed tears over the 
 cradle of her child. Her prayers and gentleness gra- 
 dually won the duke's heart ; the harshness of his nature 
 was softened, and complete harmony was established 
 between the spouses, who could now pray together be- 
 side their son. A great destiny was reserved for this 
 child ; from this cradle, over which a Christian mother 
 had so often poiu-ed forth her griefs, God was one day 
 to bring forth the defender of the Reformation. 
 
 The inhabitants of Worms had been deeply moved 
 by Luther's intrepidity. The magistrates durst not 
 contravene the imperial decree, and all the chiu-ches 
 were shut; but in an open space, covered with an 
 immense assemblage, a preacher from a pulpit of rude 
 construction preached the Gospel with power. If the 
 authorities made their appearance, the crowd dispersed 
 in a moment, secretly carrying off the pulpit ; but when 
 the storm blew over, it was immediately erected in 
 some more distant spot, whither the crowd again flocked 
 to hear the Word of Christ. This temporary pulpit 
 was daily carried from place to place, and served to 
 confirm the people in the impression which they had 
 received from the grand scene at the Diet. 
 
 In one of the free towns of the empire, Frankfort 
 on the Maine, the greatest agitation prevailed. Ibach, 
 a courageous evangelist, was there preaching salvation 
 by Jesus Christ. The clerg)',^-of whom Cochloeus, so 
 well known by his wi'itings and his hatred, was one, — 
 enraged at this audacious colleague, denounced hmi to 
 the Archbishop of Mentz. The council, though timid, 
 tried to defend him, but in vain ; he was deposed by 
 tlie clergy, and banished. Rome triumphed, and all 
 seemed lost. The faithful in humble life thought 
 themselves for ever deprived of the Word. But at the 
 moment when the citizens seemed disposed to yield to 
 those tyrannical priests, several of the nobility declared 
 in favour of the Gospel. Max of Molnheini, Hurmuth 
 of Cronberg, George of Stockheim, Emeric of Reiffen- 
 stein, whose estates were in the neighbourhood of 
 Frankfort, -m-ote to the council : " We are constrained 
 to oppose these wolves." In an address to the clergy, 
 they say: "Embrace the evangelical doctrine, recall 
 Ibach, or we will withhold our tithes." . , . 
 
 The people who relished the reformed doctrine were 
 emboldened by this language of the nobles ; and one 
 day, when Peter Mayer, the priest most opposed to the 
 
 Reformation, and the persecutor of Ibach, was going 
 to preach against the heretics, a gi-eat tumult suddenly 
 arose. Mayer took fright, and rushed out of the church. 
 This commotion decided the council, who issued an 
 order enjoining all preachers simply to preach the 
 AVord of God, or quit the town. 
 
 The light which had radiated from Wittemberg as 
 its centre, was thus diffused over the whole empire. 
 In the west, — the districts of Berg, Cleves, Lippstadt, 
 Munster, Wesel, Miltenberg, Meutz, Deux-Pouts, and 
 Strasburg, heard the Gospel. In the south, — Hof, 
 Schlesstadt, Bamberg, EssUngen, Halle in Swabia, 
 Heilbronn, Augsburg, Ulm, and many other places, 
 hailed it with joy. In the east, — the duchy of Liegnitz, 
 Prussia, and Pomerania, opened their gates to it. In 
 the north, — Brunswick, Halberstadt, Gosslar, Zell, 
 Frieslaud, Bremen, Hamburg, Holstein, and even Den- 
 mark, and other neighbouring countries, were moved 
 at the sound of the new doctrine. 
 
 The elector had declared that he would give the 
 bishops full liberty to preach in his states, but that he 
 would not deliver any person up to them. Accord- 
 ingly, the evangelical preachers, persecuted in other 
 countries, soon began to take refuge in Saxony. Ibach 
 of Frankfort, Eberlin of Ulm, Kauxdorf of Magde- 
 bourg, Valentine Musteus, — whom the canons of Hal- 
 berstadt had horribly mutilated, — and other faithful 
 ministers from all parts of Germany, flocked to AVit- 
 temberg as the only asylum in which they could feel 
 secure. There, by intercourse with the reformers, they 
 had their own faith strengthened, and communicated 
 the results of their experience, and of the light which 
 they had received,^ust as the water of rivers is 
 brought back by the clouds from the boundless ocean 
 to feed the glaciers from which it formerly flowed into 
 the plain. 
 
 The work which was in course of development at 
 Wittemberg, thus composed of many different elements, 
 was constantly becoming more and more the work of 
 the nation — of Europe— of Christendom. This school, 
 founded by Frederick, and animated by Luther, was 
 the centre of the vast revolution which was renewing 
 the Chiu-ch, and imprinted on it a real and living unity, 
 far superior to the apparent uuity of Rome. The 
 Bible reigned at Wittemberg, and its oracles were 
 everywhere heard. This university, the most recent 
 of all, had acquired, in Christendom, the rank and 
 influence which had hitherto belonged to the ancient 
 university of Paris. The crowds who flocked to it from 
 every part of Europe, told the wants of the Church 
 and the nations ; and, on quitting its walls, now be- 
 come sacred in their eyes, carried back to the Church 
 and to the people the Word of grace, destined to cure 
 and save the nations. 
 
 Luther, at the sight of this success, felt his cour- 
 age strengthened. He saw a feeble enterprise, begim 
 amid numerous fears and agonies, changing the face of 
 the Christian world, and he was astonished. He had 
 foreseen nothing of the kind when he first rose up 
 against Tetzel. Prostrating himself before the God 
 whom he adored, he acknowledged that this work was 
 His work, and he triumphed in the conviction of hav- 
 ing gained a victory which could not again be wrested 
 from him. "Our enemies threaten us with death," 
 
LUTHER'S SENTIMENTS. 
 
 291 
 
 said he to the Chevalier Ilunmitli of Crouberg; "had 
 tliey as much wisdom as they have folly, it would, on 
 the contrary, be life that tlicy would threaten us with. 
 It is not mere jest or insult to threaten Christ and 
 Christians with death, — in other words, those who are 
 the masters and the conquerors of death. It is as if I 
 were to try to frighten a man b}' sadiUing his steed and 
 helping him to mount it. Uo they not know, then, 
 that Christ is risen from the dead? As to them, He is 
 still lying in the sepulchre. Where do I say.' In hell. 
 But we know that He lives!" He was indignant at 
 the idea of being regarded as the aiithor of a work, 
 in the minutest details of which he recognised the 
 Iiand of God. *' Several," said lie, " believe on my 
 account ; but those only are in the truth who would 
 remain faithful though they were to believe (which 
 God forbid) that I had denied Jesus Christ. The true 
 discijdes believe not in Luther, but in Jesus Christ. 
 For my own part, I care not for Luther. Be he saint, 
 or be "ho rogue, what is it to me? It is not him I 
 jireach ; it is Christ. If the devil can take him, let him 
 take him. But let Christ remain with us, and we shall 
 remain also." 
 
 In fact, it wei-e vain to attempt to explain this move- 
 ment by natural means. The literati, it is true, whetted 
 their pens, and threw sharp darts at the monks and the 
 pope, — the cry of freedom, which Gennany had so 
 often raised against the tyranny of the Italians, again 
 
 resounded in castles and j)rovinccs, — the people rejoiced 
 when they heard the notes of the " nightingale of Wit- 
 temberg," a presage of the spring which was every- 
 where beginning to bud. But the movement which 
 was then taking place was not similar to that which a 
 longing for earthly freedom produces. Those who say 
 that the Kcfornuition was produced by offering the 
 jiroperty of convents to princes, marriage to priests, 
 and liberty to the people, strangely misapprehend its 
 nature. No doubt a useful employment of the funds 
 which had till then fostered the idleness of monks, — no 
 doubt marriage and liberty, both of them gifts from 
 God, might favour the development of the Reforma- 
 tion ; but the moving force was not there. An internal 
 revolution was then produced in the depths of the 
 human heart. The Christian people again learned to 
 love, foi-give, pray, suffer, and even die, for a trutli 
 which promised repose only in heaven. The Church 
 was transformed. Christianity burst the swathes which 
 had so long enwrapt it, and again returned full of life 
 to a world which had forgotten its ancient power. 
 The hand which made the world was again at work 
 upon it, and the Gospel re-appearing amidst the nations, 
 pursued its course in spite of the powerful and reiterated 
 efforts of kings and priests, — in the same way as the 
 ocean, when the hand of God presses on its waves, 
 rises calmly and majestically along the shore, while no 
 human power is capable of arresting its progress. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK X. 
 
 AGITATION, REVERSES, AND PROGRESS. — 1522-1526. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 rolitical Element — Want of Enthusiasm at Rome— Siege of Pampeluna — 
 Courage of Inigo— Transformation— Luther anil Loyola— Visions— The 
 Two Principles. 
 
 The Reformation, which at first had existed only in 
 tlie heart of some pious individuals, had entered the 
 worship and life of the Church. It was natural for it 
 to take a new step — to penetrate into civil relations 
 and the movements of nations. Its progress was in- 
 variably from within to without. We shall now see 
 this great revolution taking its place in the political 
 world. 
 
 For nearly eight centuries Europe formed a vast 
 sacerdotal state. Emperors and kings were under 
 the patronage of popes. Though there had been in 
 France, and especially in Germany, energetic resist- 
 ance to audacious claims, Rome had finally succeeded, 
 and princes had been seen acting as the docile execu- 
 tioners of her horrible judgments, fighting in order to 
 secure her empire against private Christians subject to 
 their sway, and on her account profusely shedding the 
 blood of their people. 
 
 No assaidt could be made on this vast ecclesiastical 
 state, of which the pope was the head, withcut power- 
 fully affecting political relations. 
 
 At this time two great ideas agitated Germany ; on 
 the one hand, a renovation of faith was desired ; on 
 the other, a national government, in which the Ger- 
 manic states should be represented, and a counterpoise 
 tliereby formed to the power of the emperors. 
 
 The Elector Frederick had insisted on this at the 
 election which had given a successor to Maximilian, 
 and young Charles had acceded to it. A national 
 government, consisting of the emperor and the repre- 
 sentatives of the electors and circles, had, in conse- 
 quence, been formed. 
 
 Thus Luther reformed the Church ; and Frederick 
 of Saxony reformed the State. 
 
 But whQe, in correspondence to the religious reform, 
 important political modifications were introduced by 
 the heads of the nation, there was a danger that " the 
 commonaUty " might also begin to move, and, by reli- 
 gious and political excesses, compromise both refor- 
 mations. 
 
 This violent and fanatical intrusion of the populace 
 and certain of their leaders, which seems inevitable 
 whenever society is shaken and transformed, failed not 
 to be manifested in Germany at the time of which we 
 now treat. 
 
 There were other causes besides which gave rise to 
 these agitations. 
 
 The emperor and the pope had leagued against the 
 Reformation, which seemed destined to fall under the 
 
 blows of such mighty adverearies. Policy, interest, 
 and ambition, prompted Charles V. and Leo X. to 
 attempt its destruction. But these are poor champions 
 against the truth. Devotedness to a cause which is 
 regarded as sacred, can only be overcome by counter 
 devotedness. Now, Rome, docile to the impulse of 
 Leo X., was enthusiastic for a sonnet or a melody, 
 but insensible to the religion of Jesus Christ. Even 
 when visited with some less frivolous thought, instead 
 of purifying herself and returning to the Christianity 
 of the apostles, she became engrossed with alliances, 
 wars, conquests, treaties, under which she might save 
 her provinces, while with cool disdain she left the 
 Reformation to revive religious enthusiasm, and move 
 forward in triumph to still nobler conquests. The 
 enemy, whose destruction had been vowed in the 
 basilisk of Worms, presented himself full of courage 
 and might ; the struggle behoved to be keen ; blood 
 must flow. 
 
 Meanwhile, some of the most pressing dangers with 
 which the Reformation was threatened seemed to 
 diminish. One day, before the publication of the 
 edict of Worms, young Charles, when standing at a 
 window with his confessor, had said, putting his right 
 hand upon his heart : " I swear that I will cause the 
 first person who, after the publication of my edict, 
 will declare himself a Luther, to be hung at this win- 
 dow." But ere long his zeal had become greatly 
 cooled. His project of re-establishing the ancient 
 glory of the holy empire had been received with cold- 
 ness. Dissatisfied with Germany, he quitted the banks 
 of the Rhine, proceeded to the Low Countries, and 
 took advantage of the period of his residence there, 
 to give the monks some gratifications which he 
 found himself unable to grant them within the empire. 
 Luther's works were burnt at Ghent by the hands of 
 the executioner with all possible solemnity. More than 
 fifty thousand spectators were present at this auto-da-fc', 
 and the emperor himself countenanced it with an ap- 
 proving smile. He next proceeded to Spain, when 
 wars and troubles compelled him, for some time at 
 least, to let Germany alone. Since the power which 
 he claims in the empire is refused, let others pursue 
 the heretic of Wittemberg. He is engrossed by graver 
 cares. 
 
 In fact, Francis I., impatient to come to blows with 
 his rival, had thrown down the gauntlet. Under the 
 pretext of reinstating the children of John of Albert, 
 king of Navarre, in their patrimony, lie had begun a 
 long and bloody struggle, which was to last as long as 
 his life, by sending into that kingdom, under the com- 
 mand of Lesparre, an army, whose rapid conquests 
 were not arrested till they arrived before the fortress 
 of Pampeluna. 
 
SIEGE OF PAMPELUNA— LOYOLA. 
 
 293 
 
 On these strong fortifications au enthusiasm was to 
 be kindled which shouhl one day oppose the enthusi- 
 asm of the reformer, and breatlie into the papacy a 
 new spirit of energy, devotedness, and power. Pam- 
 poluna was to be the cradle of the rival of the monk 
 of Wittembcrg. 
 
 The chivalric spirit which had so long animated the 
 Christian world, now existed only in Spain. The wars 
 against the Moors, scarcely ended in the Peninsula, 
 and still constantly renewed in Africa, with distant and 
 adventurous expeditions in foreign lands, kept alive 
 in the Castilian youths that enthusiastic and spirited 
 valour of which Amadis had been the beau ideal. 
 
 Among the defenders of Parapcluna was a young 
 gentleman, named Don Inigo Lopez of Itecalda, the 
 cadet of a family of thirteen children. Brought up 
 at the court of Ferdinand the Catholic, Kccalda, richly 
 endowed with personal graces, skilful in the use of the 
 sword and the lance, was ardent in the pursuit of 
 chivalric renown. To deck himself in glittering ar- 
 mour, to mount a noble steed, to expose himself to the 
 brilliant dangers of a tournay, to run hazardous ad- 
 ventures, to take part in the impassioned debates of 
 factions, and display as much devotion to St. Peter 
 as to his mistress, — -such was the life of this young 
 knight. The governor of Navarre having gone into 
 Spain to ask assistance, had left Pampeluna in the 
 charge of Inigo and a few nobles. The latter, seeing 
 the superiority of the French troops, resolved to with- 
 <lraw. Inigo conjured them to make head against 
 Lesparre. Finding that their purpose could not be 
 shaken, he turned upon them with looks of indignation, 
 accused them of cowardice and perfidy, and then threw 
 himself single-handed into the fortress, determined to 
 defend it at the cost of his life. 
 
 The French, who had met with an enthusiastic 
 reception in Pampeluna, having summoned the governor 
 of the citadel to capitulate, "Let us," said the fiery 
 Inigo to his companions, "bear anything sooner than 
 surrender." The French began to batter the walls 
 with their powerful engines, and soon after attempted 
 an assault. The Spaniards, animated by the courage 
 and words of Inigo, repulsed the assailants with their 
 arrows, swords, and halberds. Inigo fought at their 
 head. Standing on the wall with blazing eye, the 
 young knight, brandishing his sword, dealt blows on 
 the enemy. All at once a bullet struck the wall at the 
 place where he was defending; a shivered stone severely 
 wounded the knight in his right leg, and the shot, in 
 rebounding, broke his left. luigo fell insensible. The 
 garrison immediately surrendered; and the French, 
 filled with admiration at the courage of their young 
 opponent, caused him to be carried in a litter to his 
 friends and parents in the Castle of Loyola. lu this 
 seignorial mansion, from which he afterwards took 
 his name, Inigo was born, eight years after Luther, 
 of one of the most distinguished families in the king- 
 dom. 
 
 A painful operation had become necessary. Amidst 
 the most acute sufferings, Inigo clenched his hands, 
 but did not utter a single cry. 
 
 Constrained to a painful repose, he behoved somehoAv 
 to employ his lively fancy. In the absence of romances 
 of chivalry, which he had hitherto been accustomed to 
 
 devour, he was furnished with the '' Life of ChrLst," 
 and the " Flowers of the Saints." Tliis reading, in his 
 solitary and sickly condition, produced an extraordinary 
 impression on his mind. He thought he saw the noisy 
 life of tournaments and battles, whicli, till then, had 
 completely engrossed his youth, withdrawn, effaced, and 
 extinguished ; and at the same time a more glorious 
 career opened on his astonished sight. The humble 
 actions of the saints and their heroic sufferings sud- 
 denly appeared to him more deserving of praise than 
 all the feats of chivalry. Stretched on his feverish bed, 
 ho gave himself up to the most contradictory thoughts. 
 The world which he was abandoning, and the other, 
 whose holy macerations he was welcoming, appeared to 
 him at the same moment; the one with its pleasures, 
 the other with its severities. These two worlds carried 
 on a fierce combat in his soul. "What," said he, "if 
 I wore to do wliat St. Francis or St. Dominick have 
 doner' Then the image of the mistress to whom he 
 had devoted his heart presenting itself to his imagina- 
 tion, he exclaimed with natural vanity: "She is not a 
 countess, she is not a duchess; but she is more." But 
 these thoughts left a feeling of bitterness and weariness, 
 whereas his plan of imitating the saints filled him with 
 peace and joy. 
 
 From that time his choice was fixed. "When 
 scarcely recovered, he resolved to bid adieu to the 
 world. After having, like Luther, partaken of au en- 
 tertainment with his companions in arms, he set out 
 alone, in the gi-catest secrecy, for the solitary abodes 
 which the hermits of St. Benedict had hewn out in the 
 rock in the mountains of Montserrat. Urged on, not 
 by a conviction of his sins or the need of Divine grace, 
 but by a longing to become the " knight of Mary," and 
 gain renown by mortifications and pious works, like all 
 the army of the saints, ho confessed dui-ing three days, 
 gave his rich clothing to a beggar, put on sackcloth, and 
 girded himself with a cord. Then, calling to mind the 
 celebrated vigil of Amadis of Gaul, he hung up his 
 sword before an image of Mary, and passed the night 
 watching in his new and strange costume. Sometimes 
 on his knees, sometimes standiug, but always in prayer, 
 and with the pilgrim's staff in his hand, he employed 
 himself in all the devout exercises which Amadis of 
 Gaul had of old performed. "Thus," obsei-ves the 
 Jesuit Maft'ei, one of the biographers of the saint, 
 "while Satan was arming Martin Luther against all 
 laws, human and divine, and while this infamous here- 
 siarch was appearing at Worms, and there declaring 
 impious war on the apostolic see, Christ, in the exercise 
 of His Divine providence, was raising up this now 
 champion, and binding him, and at a later period 
 all his followers, to the service of the Roman pontiff, 
 opposing him to the licentiousness and fury of heretical 
 perverseness." 
 
 Loyola, still lame in one leg, dragged along through 
 winding and desert paths to Manresa, and there entered 
 a convent of Dominicans, that he might devote himself, 
 in this obscure spot, to the severest penances. Like 
 Luther, he daily begged his bread from door to door. 
 He remained seven hoiu-s on his knees, and flagellated 
 himself thrice every day; at midnight he was again at 
 prayer. He allowed his hair and nails to grow; and it 
 would have beeu impossible to recognise the young 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 and brilliant knight of Pumpeluna in the pale wuu 
 monk of Manresa. 
 
 Meanwhile the moment had arri\ ed when the reli- 
 gious ideas ■which had hitherto been to Inigo merely 
 a sport of chivalry, were to reveal themselves to him 
 with greater seriousness, and make him feel a power of 
 which he was stiU ignorant. Suddenly, without any 
 presentiment of what was to happen, the joy which he 
 had hitherto experienced disappeared. lu vain did he 
 apply to prayer and the singing of hymus : he coidd 
 find no rest. His imagination had ceased to surrouud 
 him with amiable illusions: he was left alone with his 
 conscience. He could not comprehend a state which 
 was so novel to him; and he asked, in alarm, whether 
 God, for whom he had made so many sacrifices, was 
 still angry with him. Night and day teiTors agitated 
 his soul: he shed bitter tears; and with loud cries 
 called for tjie ])oace which he had lost . . . but 
 all in vain. He then resumed the long confession 
 which he had made at Moutserrat. ''It may be," 
 thought he, ''I have forgotten something." But the 
 confession only increased his agony, by reminding him 
 of all his faults. He wandered gloomy and depressed: 
 his conscience cried aloud that during his whole life he 
 had done nothing but heajjed sin upon sin; and the 
 unhappy man, overwhelmed with terror, made the 
 cloister echo with his groans. 
 
 Strange thoughts then found admission into his 
 heart. Experiencing no comfort in confession and the 
 various ordinances of the Church, he began, like 
 Luther, to doubt their efficacy. But, instead of tm-ning 
 aside from human works, and applying to the all- 
 sufficient work of Christ, he asked if he ought not 
 again to pursue worldly glory. His soid darted im- 
 petuously towards the world from which he had fled ; 
 but he immediately drew back in alarm. 
 
 Was there, then, some difference between the monk 
 of Manresa and the monk of Erfiu-t? In secondary 
 featm-es, doubtless, there was; but the state of their 
 souls was the same. Both had a deep conviction of 
 the magnitude of then- sins. Both sought reconciliation 
 with God, and wished to have the assurance of it in 
 their hearts. Had a Staupitz, ynth the Bible in his 
 hand, presented himself at the convent of Manresa, 
 Inigo might, perhaps, have become the Luther of the 
 Peninsula. These two great men of the sixteenth 
 century — these two founders of the two spiritual 
 powers, which, for three hundred years, have been 
 waiTiug with each other, were at this time brethren ; 
 and, perhaps, had they met, Luther and Loyola would 
 have fallen into each other's arms, and mingled their 
 tears and their vows. 
 
 But these two monks were from this moment to 
 follow very different paths. 
 
 Inigo, instead of perceiving that his remorse was 
 sent to urge him to the foot of the cross, persuaded 
 himself that these internal upbraidings came not from 
 God, but from the devil; and adopted the resolution 
 of thinking no more of his sins, of effacing them, and 
 consigning them to eternal oblivion. Liither turned 
 towards Christ; Loyola only fell back upon himself. 
 
 Inigo was shortly after confirmed in the conclusion 
 at which he had arrived by visions. His own resolu- 
 tions had been substituted for the gi-ace of Christ, and 
 
 his own imagination for the Word of Chi-ist. The 
 voice of God in his conscience, he had regarded as the 
 voice of a demon ; and, accordingly, his future history 
 exhibits him as given up to the inspirations of the 
 spirit of darkness. 
 
 One day Loyola met an old woman, just as Luther, 
 in the time of his agony, had been visited by an old 
 man. But the Spanish female, instead of telling the 
 ])enitcnt of Manresa of the remission of sins, foretold 
 him of apparitions of Jesus. Such was the (Jhristianity 
 to which Loyola, like the prophets of Zwickau, had 
 recourse. Inigo did not seek the truth in the Holy 
 Scriptures, but in their stead imagined immediate 
 communications from the kingdom of spirits. His life 
 soon consisted only of ecstasies and contemplations. 
 
 One day, while going to the church of St. Paul, 
 which is situated outside the town, plunged in medita- 
 tion, he followed the banks of the Llobregat. At last 
 he sat down. His eyes were fixed on the river, which 
 was slowly roUmg its deep waters at his feet; and he 
 became completely absorbed in meditation. Suddenly 
 he was seized with ecstasy: he saw with his eyes 
 what men scarcely comprehend after much reading, 
 watching, and labour. He rose up, stood on the brink 
 of the river, and seemed to himself to become a new 
 man: he afterwards put himself upon his knees before 
 a cross which happened to be in the neighbourhood, 
 disposed to sacrifice his life in the cause, the mysteries 
 of which had just been revealed to him. 
 
 From that time his visions became more frequent. 
 One day, while seated on the stair of St. Dominick, at 
 Manresa, he was singing hymns to the holy Vii-gin. 
 Suddenly his soul was seized witli ecstasy; he remained 
 motionless, absorbed in contemplation ; the mystery of 
 the Holy Trinity was revealed to his eyes under mag- 
 nificent symbols. He shed tears, sobbed aloud, and 
 diu-ing the whole day ceased not to speak of the in- 
 effable vision. 
 
 These numerous apparitions had dissipated all his 
 doubts. Unlike Luther, he believed, not because the 
 things of faith were written in the Word of God, but 
 in consequence of the visions which he had seen. 
 " Even though there had been no Bible," says his 
 apologists, — " even had these mysteries never been re- 
 vealed in Scripture, — he woiUd have believed them ; 
 for God had been unveiled to him." Luther, on re- 
 ceiving his degree of doctor, had taken an oath to the 
 Holy Scriptures; and the authority of the Word of God, 
 the only infallible authority, had become the funda- 
 mental principle of the Reformation. Loyola took his 
 oath to dreams and visions ; and fantastical apparitions 
 became the principle of his life and of his faith. 
 
 The residence of Luther in the convent of Erfurt, 
 and that of Loyola in the convent of Manresa, explain 
 to us respectively the Eeformation and the modern 
 papacy. We shall not follow the monk who was to 
 reanimate the exhausted powers of Rome to Jerusalem, 
 whither he repaired on quitting the cloister. We shall 
 meet with him again in the course of this history. 
 
DEATH OF POPE LEO X. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Yaloiy ol tho Pope— Death of Leo X.— Oratory of Divine Love 
 Ailrian VI.— Schemes of Reform— Oppositiou. 
 
 While these things were pivssing in Spain, Rome lier- 
 self seemed to assume a more serious cliaractcr. The 
 great patrou of music, hunting, and festivity, disap- 
 peared fj-om tlie pontifical tliroue to give place to a 
 grave and pious monk. 
 
 Leo X. had felt great delight on hearing of the edict 
 of Worms, and the captivity of Luther ; and fortiiwith, 
 as a token of his victory, had caused the etligy and 
 writings of the reformer to be given to the ilames. 
 Tiiis wivs the second or third time that the papacy had 
 enjoyed this pleasure. At this time Leo, wishing to 
 testify his gratitude to Charles V., united his army to 
 that of the emperor. Tlic French were obliged to quit 
 Parma, Placenza, and Milan ; which latter town was 
 entered by a cousin of the pope, Cardinal Giulio dc 
 Medici. The pope was thus mounting to the pinnacle 
 of power. 
 
 This was at the beginning of the winter of 1521. 
 Leo X. was accustomed to pass the autumn in the 
 country, and at this time left Rome without his surplice, 
 and what, says his master of the ceremonies, was still 
 more scandalous, in boots. He had hawking at Viterbo, 
 and stag-hunting at Corneto, enjoyed the sport of fish- 
 ing in the lake of Bolseua, and then went to pass some 
 time in the midst of festivities at Malliana, his favourite 
 residence. Musicians, improvisatori, all artists whose 
 talents could enliven this delicious villa, surrounded 
 the sovereign pontiff. He was here at the time when 
 news reached him of the taking of Milan. The whole 
 villa was immediately astir. The courtiers and officials 
 could not restrain their joy. The Swiss tired feu de 
 jute; and Leo, in transport, walked up and down his 
 room the whole night, often looking out of his window 
 at the rejoicings of the Swiss and the people. He re- 
 turned to Rome, fatigued, but intoxicated with delight. 
 Scarcely had he returned to the Vatican when he was 
 suddenly taken ill. " Pray for me," said he to his ser- 
 vants. He had not even time to receive tho holy sacra- 
 ment, and died in the vigour of life, (forty-seven,) in 
 tiie hour of triumph, and amid the noise of festivity. 
 
 Tiie people, while accompanying the hearse of the 
 sovereign pontiff, gave utterance to invectives. They 
 could not forgive his having died without the sacra- 
 ments, and left debts consequent on his great expendi- 
 tiu-e. "Thou didst rise to the pontificate as a fox," 
 said the Romans ; " there thou playedst the lion, and 
 now thou art gone like a dog." 
 
 Such was tlie moiu-ning with which Rome honoured 
 the pope who excommunicated the Reformation, and 
 whose name serves to mark one of the great epochs in 
 history. 
 
 Meanwhile a feeble re-action against the spirit of 
 Leo and Rome had already begun in Rome hei-self. 
 Some pious individuals had there founded an oratory 
 for their common edification, near the j)lace wliere 
 tradition bears that the meetings of the primitive Chris- 
 tians were held. Contarini, who had heard Luther 
 
 at Worms, took the lead among these priests. In this 
 way a species of Reformation began at Rome almost at 
 the same time as at Wittemborg. It has been truly 
 said, tliat wherever there are germs of piety, there are 
 also germs of reform. But these good intentions were 
 soon to l)e dissipated. 
 
 At other times the choice of a successor to Leo X. 
 would have fallen on a Gregory VU., or an Innocent 
 III., if they coidd have been found ; but the interest of 
 the empire now took precedence of that of the Church, 
 and Charles V. behoved to have a pope who was de- 
 voted to himself. The Cardinal de Medici, afterwards 
 pope under the name of Clement VII., seeing that he 
 could not yet obtain the tiara, exclaimed: "Take the 
 Cardinal of Tortosa, who is old, and universally re- 
 garded as a saint." Tiiis prelate, born at Utrecht, of 
 burgher parentage, was, in fact, elected, and reigned 
 under the name of Adrian \'I. He had formerly been 
 a professor at Louvain, and afterwards became precep- 
 tor to Charles, by whose influence, as emperor, he was, 
 in 1517, invested with the Roman piu"j)le. The Car- 
 dinal de Vio seconded tho proposal. "Adrian," said 
 he, " had, through the doctors of Louvain, a gi-eat share 
 in Luther's condemnation." Tho cardinals, worn out 
 and off their guard, appointed this stranger; but shortly, 
 on recovering themselves, " they were," says a clironi- 
 cler, " as it were dead with amazement." The idea 
 that the rigid Netherlander would not accept the tiara, 
 at first somewhat solaced them ; but this was of short 
 duration. Pasquiu caricatiu-ed the pontiff elect under 
 the figiu-e of a schoolmaster, and the cardinals under 
 that of boys whom he was chastising. The populace 
 were so enraged that the members of the conclave were 
 happy to escape without being thrown into the river. 
 In Holland, on the contrary, there were great rejoic- 
 ings at having given a pope to the Church. " Utrecht 
 planted — Louvain watered — the emperor has given the 
 increase," was displayed on tapestry hung in front of 
 the houses. Some one wrote beneath : "And God did 
 nothing at all in the matter!" 
 
 Notwithstanding the dissatisfaction originally ex- 
 pressed by the people of Rome, Adrian VL repaired 
 thither in August, 1522, and was well received. It 
 was said that he had more than five thousand benefices 
 at his disposal, and every one counted on obtaining a 
 share. For long the papal throne had not been occu- 
 pied by such a pontiff. Just, active, learned, 2>ious, 
 simple, of irreproachable manners, he did not allow 
 himself to be blinded either by favour or auger. He 
 arrived at the Vatican with his old housekeeper, whom 
 he charged to continue to provide for his modest wants 
 in the magnificent palace which Leo had filled with 
 luxury and dissipation. H^had none of the tastes of 
 his predecessor. AVhen shewn the magnificent statue 
 of the Laocoon, which had been discovered a few years 
 before, and purchased for a large sum by Julius II., 
 he turned away coldly, saying: "These are pagan 
 idols." " I woidd far rather," he wrote, " serve Grod 
 as provost of Louvain, than as pope of Rome." 
 
 Adrian, struck with the danger with which the Re- 
 formation menaced the religion of the Middle Ages, 
 and not like the Italians, witii those to which it ex- 
 posed Rome and its hierarchy, was sincerely desirous 
 to combat and arrest it ; and it seemed to him that the 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 best method of succeeding, was a reform of the Church 
 produced by the Church herself. " The Church," said 
 he, " is in need of a reform ; but we must proceed in it 
 step by step." " The opinion of the pope," says Luther, 
 " is, that between two steps there must be an interval 
 of several ages." In fact, there were ages when the 
 Church was moving towards a Reformation. It was 
 no longer time to temporize; it was necessary to act. 
 
 Adrian, faithful to his plan, was engaged in clearing 
 the city of the profane, of forgers, and usurers. The 
 task was not easy, for they formed a considerable part 
 of the population. 
 
 At first the Romans jeered at him; but shortly they 
 hated him. Sacerdotal ascendancy, and the immense 
 profits which it produced — the might of Rome — the 
 sports, luxury, and festivities, which abounded in it, 
 Avould all be irrecoverably lost by a return to apostolic 
 manners. 
 
 In particular, the restoration of discipline encoun- 
 tered energetic opposition. " To succeed in it," said 
 the grand Penitentiary, (a cardinal,) " it would first be 
 necessary to bring back Christian fervour. The cure 
 is too much for the strength of the patient, and will be 
 his death. Have a care that, in trying to preserve 
 Germany, you do not lose Italy."' In fact, Adrian 
 had soon much more to dread from Romanism than 
 from Lutheranism. 
 
 Attempts were made to bring him back to the path 
 which he was desirous to quit. The old and wily Car- 
 dinal Soderinus de Volterra, an intimate friend of 
 Alexander VI., Julius II., and Leo X., often expressed 
 liimself to honest Adrian in terms fitted to acquaint 
 him with the part, to him so novel, which he was called 
 to perform. " The heretics," said he to him one day, 
 " have at aU times spoken of the corrupt manners of 
 the com't of Rome ; notwithstanding, the popes have 
 never changed them." On another occasion he said : 
 " Hitherto it has not been by reforms that heresies 
 have been extinguished, but by crusades." "Ah!" re- 
 jjlied the pontiff, with a deep sigh, "how luifoi'tunate , 
 the condition of the popes, since they have not even ' 
 the liberty of doing good !" 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 Diet of Kuremberg — Invasion of Solyiuaa — The Nuncio demands tlie Deatli 
 of Lutlier — Tlie Preachers of Nuremberg — Promise of Reform — National 
 Grievances — Decree of tlie Diet — Thundering Letter of the PoiPe — 
 Luther's Advice. 
 
 On the 23rd March, 1522, before Adrian's arrival at 
 Rome, the diet had assembled at Nuremberg. Pre- 
 vious to this, the bishops of Mersbm-g and Misnia had 
 asked permission from the Elector of Saxony to make 
 a visitation of the convents and churches in his states. 
 Frederick, thinking that the truth should be strong 
 enough to resist error, had given a favourable answer. 
 The visitation took place. The bishops and their doc- 
 tors preached fiercely against reform. They exhorted, 
 threatened, supplicated; but their arguments 
 1 Sarpi, " Hist, of the Council of Trent," p. 20. 
 
 without force, and, when wishing to recur to more 
 efficacious weapons, they asked the secular arm to 
 execute their decrees, the elector's ministers replied, 
 that the affair requii-ed to be examined by the Bible, 
 and that the elector could not, at his advanced age, sit 
 down to the study of theology. These efforts of the 
 bishops did not bring back a single soul to the fold of 
 Rome ; and Luther, who, a short time after, travelled 
 over these countries, and made his powerful eloquence 
 be heard, effaced any feeble impressions which tlicy 
 had produced. 
 
 There was reason to fear that Archduke Ferdinand, 
 the emperor's brother, would do what Frederick had 
 refused. This young prince, who presided at part of 
 the sittings of the diet, gradually assuming more reso- 
 lution, might, in his zeal, rashly draw the sword which 
 his more prudent and politic brother wisely left in its 
 sheath. In fact, Ferdinand had commenced a cruel 
 persecution of the partisans of the Reformation in his 
 hereditary states of Austria. But for the deliverance 
 of reviving Christianity, God repeatedly employed the 
 same instrument which He had used in destroying 
 corrupted Christianity. Tlie crescent appeared in the 
 terrified provinces of Hungary. On the 9th of August, 
 after a siege of six weeks, Belgrade, the bulwark of 
 that kingdom and of the empire, yielded to the assavdts 
 of Solyman. The followers of Mohammed, after their 
 evacuation of Spain, seemed desirous to re-enter 
 Europe by the East. The Diet of Nuremberg forgot 
 the monk of Wonns, to think only of the Luther of 
 Constantinople. But Charles V. kept both adversaries 
 in his view. Writing the pope from Valladolid on the 
 31st October, he said: "It is necessary to arrest the 
 Turks, and punish the partisans of the poisonous doc- 
 trines of Lutiier with the sword." 
 
 The storm which seemed to have tm-ned away from 
 the Reformation, and proceeded toward the East, 
 gathered anew over the head of the reformer. His 
 return to Witteinberg, and the zeal which he then dis- 
 played, had awakened the old hatred. "Now that we 
 know where to take him," said Duke George, "let the 
 decree of "Worms be carried into execution ! " It was 
 even confidently affinned in Germany, that both the 
 emperor and Adrian would appear together at Nurem- 
 berg to advise this. " Satan feels the wound wliich he 
 has received," said Luther, " and, therefore, puts him- 
 self into all this rage. But Christ has ah-eady stretched 
 forth His hand, and will trample him under His feet 
 in spite of the gates of hell." 
 
 In December, 1522, the diet again assembled at 
 Nuremberg. Everything appeared to announce that, 
 if Solyman was the great enemy who engrossed the 
 attention of the spring session, Luther would be the 
 engrossing one of the vrinter session. Adrian VI., 
 being of German origin, flattered himself his country- 
 men would give him a more favom-able reception than 
 a pope of Italian origin could hope for. He accord- 
 ingly cliarged Chieregati, whom he had known in 
 Spain, to repair to Nm-emberg. 
 
 No sooner was the diet met than several princes 
 made violent speeches against Luther. The Cardinal 
 Archbishop of Salzbourg, who was in the full confi- 
 dence of the emperor, was desirous that prompt and 
 decisive measures should be taken before the amval 
 
PUNISHMENT OF LUTHER DEMANDED. 
 
 297 
 
 of the Elector of Saxony. The Elector Joachim of 
 Bniiidenburg, always resolute in his coiu-sc, and the 
 Chancellor of Treves, were equally pressing for the 
 execution of the Diet of Worms. The other princes 
 wei-o, in a great measure, mideciJed, and divided in 
 opinion. The state of turmoil in which the Church 
 was placed tilled her most faithful servants with 
 anguish. The Bishop of Strasburg broke out in full 
 diet with the exclamation : " I would give one of my 
 ten lingers not to be a priest." 
 
 Chieregati, in unison with the Archbishop of Salz- 
 bourg, demanded the death of Luther. " It is neces- 
 sary," said he, on the part of the pope, and with a 
 jiapal brief in his hands — "it is necessary to amputate 
 tills gangrened limb from the body. Your fathers 
 at Constance put to death John Hu.ss and Jei-ome of 
 Prague; but they revive in Luther. Follow the 
 glorious example of your ancestors, and, with the 
 assistance of God and St. Peter, carry off a magni- 
 ficent victory over the infernal dragon," 
 
 On hearing the brief of the j)ious and moderate 
 Adrian, the most of the princes were s(!ized with 
 terror. Several were beginning to have a better un- 
 derstanding of the arguments of Luther, and had 
 hoped other things of the pope. So then, Rome, 
 uiiilri- an A<lrian, refuses to acknowledge her faults; 
 slir i- Mill |ii.|,aring her thunder, and the Germanic 
 |iiii\ iihr, air 111 be covered with desolation and blood. 
 While till' I'liiicTs kept a innm-nful silence, the prelates 
 and the nunilHr- ..f tin' diii \\-tnv in an uproar. "Let 
 him be put in dciili!" i\i-lniiiied they, within hearing 
 of the euvuy of .Saxmiy, who was present at the 
 sitting. 
 
 Ycry different expressions were heard in the churches 
 of Nuremberg. Crowds flocked into the chapel of the 
 hospital and the churches of the Augustines, St. Sib- 
 bald and St. Laurence, to the preaching of the Gospel. 
 Andrew Osiander preached powerfully in the latter 
 church. Several princes, and, in particular, Albert, 
 IVIargrave of Brandenburg, who, in his quality of 
 Grand Master of the Teutonic Order, took rank im- 
 mediately after the archbishop, was a frequent atten- 
 dant. Monks, quitting the convents of the town, 
 learned trades, in order to gain a livelihood by their 
 own hands. 
 
 Chieregati could not tolerate this boldness. He de- 
 manded that the rebellious priests and monks should 
 be cast into prison. The diet, notwithstanding strong 
 opposition from the envoys of the Elector of Saxony 
 and the Margrave Casimir, resolved to order the ap- 
 prehension of the monks, but agreed previously to 
 coninumicate the nuncio's complaints to Osiander and 
 his colleagues. A committee, with the fanatical Car- 
 dinal Salzbourg for its president, was entrusted with 
 the execution of it. The danger was imminent ; the 
 struggle was on the eve of commencing; and it was 
 with the National Council that it was to commence. 
 
 However, the citizens prevented it. While the diet 
 was deliberating as to what should be done in regard 
 to their ministers, the town council was deliberating as 
 to what should be done in regard to the resolution of 
 the diet. The decision was, that, if it was attempted 
 by the strong hand to carry off the ministers of the 
 town, they would, with the strong hand, set them at 
 
 liberty. Such a resolution was significant. The diet, 
 in astonishment, intimated to the nuncio that it was 
 contrary to law to apprehend the ministers of the free 
 town of Nuremberg without having convicted them 
 of heresy. 
 
 Chieregati was dee|)ly moved at this new affront lo 
 the omnipotence of the pope. '• Very well," said he 
 proudly to Ferdinand, " do nothing but leave mo to 
 act. I will seize these heretical preachei-s in the 
 pope's name." No sooner had the Cardinal Arch- 
 bishop of Mentz and the Margrave Casimir been 
 apprised of this strange resolution, than they repaired 
 in haste to the legate, and imjilored him to altandon it. 
 The nuncio shewed liiiiiscU' inllrxililc, ilerlarint: lliat 
 within the bosom of ( 1iri>i.iHl(.iu Ihr |.n|n- uiu-t In- 
 obeyed. Tlie two princes l.iok lia\r nf tlic ligale, 
 saying ; " If you persist in your design, we call upon 
 you to give us intimation ; for we will quit the town 
 before you have proceeded to lay hands on these 
 preachers." The legate abandoned his project. 
 
 Having no longer any hope of succeeding in the way 
 of authority, he resolved to have recourse to other 
 expedients, and with this view communicated to tlic 
 diet the intentions and injunctions of the pontiff, 
 which he had hitherto concealed. 
 
 But honest Adrian, who was a stranger to the 
 world, by his very frankness injured the cause which 
 he had so much at heart. " We know well," said he, 
 in the resolutions transmitted to his legate, " that for 
 several years many abuses and abominations have 
 existed in the holy city. The contagion has spread 
 from the head into the members ; it has descended 
 from the popes to the other ecclesiastics. We desire 
 the reformation of this Roman court, whence proceed 
 so many evils ; the whole world desires it; and it was 
 with a view to its accomplishment that we were resigned 
 to mount the pontifical throne." 
 
 The partisans of Rome blushed for shame when they 
 heard these strange words. Like Pallavicini, they 
 thought the confession too frank. On the contrary, 
 the friends of the Reformation rejoiced on hearing 
 Rome proclaiming her corruption. There was no 
 longer any doubt that Luther was right, since the pope 
 himself declared it. 
 
 The reply of the diet shewed how much the authority 
 of the sovereign pontiff had fallen in the empire. The 
 spirit of Luther seemed to have pa.ssed into the hearts 
 of the representatives of the nation. The moment was 
 favourable ; Adrian's ear was open ; the emperor was 
 absent ; the diet resolved to collect into one body all the 
 grievances which Germany complained of against Rome, 
 and despatch them to the pope. 
 
 The legate, alarmed at this determination, suppli- 
 cated and menaced by turns, but in vain. The secular 
 estates were decided, and the ecclesiastical offered no 
 opposition. Eighty-four grievances were specified. 
 The abuses and stratagems of the Roman court in 
 making extortions on Germany, — the scandals and pro- 
 fanations of the clergy, — the irregularities and simony 
 of the ecclesiastical tribunals, — the encroachment on 
 the secular power in enslaving consciences, — were ex- 
 [josed with equal frankness and force. The states 
 liinted that human traditions were the source of all 
 this corruption. They concluded thus : "If these griev- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ances arc not redressed within a limited time, we will 
 consider other means of escaping from all this oppres- 
 sion and suffering." Chierogati, foreseeing the fearful 
 detail into which the diet would enter, quitted Nurem- 
 berg in haste, that he might not be the beai-er of so dis- 
 agreeable and insolent a message. 
 
 Still, was there not room to apprehend that the diet 
 might be willing to compensate for their boldness by 
 sacriiicing Luther? It was thought so at first ; but a 
 spirit of truth and justice had fallen on this assemblj'. 
 They, like Luther, demanded that a free council shovild 
 be convened in the empire ; and added, that until it 
 toolc place the pure Gospel only should be preached, 
 and nothing should be printed without the approbation 
 of certain individuals of character and learning. These 
 resolutions enable us to apprehend the immense pro- 
 gress which the Keformatiou had made since the Diet 
 of Worms; and yet the Saxon envoy, the Chevalier 
 von Ferlitsch protested solemnly against any censure 
 which the diet might pronounce, how moderate soever 
 the terms might be. The decision of the diet was re- 
 garded as a first victory gained by the Eeformation, 
 and was to be succeeded by others still more decisive. 
 Even the Swiss, in their mountains, thrilled with joy. 
 '• The Roman pontiff is vanquished in Germany," said 
 Zwingle ; " all that remains is to wrest his ai-ms from 
 him. This is the battle we have now to wage, and it 
 will be the fiercest ; but we have Christ as witness of 
 the combat." Luther declared aloud that God had in- 
 spired the edict of the princes. 
 
 There was gi-eat wrath in the Vatican among the 
 ministers of the papacy. What ! it is not enough to 
 have a pope who disappoints all the hopes of the 
 Romans, and in whose palace there is neither music 
 nor play; must secular jjrinces, moreover, hold a lan- 
 guage which Rome detests, and refuse the death of the 
 heretic of Wittemberg! 
 
 Adrian himself was very indignant at the proceed- 
 ings in Germany. It was on the Elector of Saxony he 
 discharged his anger. Never, perhaps, did Rome sound 
 an alarm more energetic, sincere, and even more im- 
 pressive. 
 
 " We have waited long, perhaps too long," said the 
 pious Adrian, in the brief which he addressed to the 
 elector ; " we were desirous to see if God would not be 
 pleased to visit your soul, and enable you at last to 
 escape from the snares of Satan. But where we hoped 
 to gather grapes, we have gathered only sour grapes. 
 The Spirit has blown in vain. Yom- iniquities have 
 not melted away. Open your eyes, then, and see the 
 greatness of your fall ! 
 
 " If the unity of the Church has been broken, if the 
 simple have been turned aside from the faith which 
 they had sucked at the breasts of their mother, if the 
 churches are deserted, if the people are without priests, 
 and the priests no longer receive the honour which is 
 due to them, if Christians are without Christ, to whom 
 do we owe it, if not to yourself '? . . . If Christian 
 peace has fled the earth, if the world is full of discord, 
 rebellion, robbery, assassination, conflagration ; if the 
 cry of war resounds from east to west ; if a universal 
 battle is preparing, you — stUl j'ou — are the cause ! 
 
 '•Do you not see that sacrilegious man (Luther) 
 tearing in pieces the images of the saints, and even the 
 
 sacred cross of Jesus Christ, with his guilty hands, and 
 trampling them under his impure feet ? . . . Do 
 you not see him, in his impious wrath, stirring up the 
 laity to wash their hands in the blood of the priests, 
 and throw down the churches of the Lord ? 
 
 " What matters it though the priests whom he 
 attacks be bad priests? Has not the Lord said: Do 
 u'hat they say, and not what they do; thus pointing at the 
 honour which is due to them even when their conduct 
 is culpable. 
 
 "Rebellious apostate! he is not ashamed to defile the 
 vessels consecrated to the Lord ; he plucks from tlicir 
 sanctuaries the holy virgins consecrated to Christ, and 
 gives them to the devil; he takes the priests of the 
 Lord and gives them up to infamous prostitutes. . . 
 Frightful profanation! at which the pagans even would 
 have been horrified, had they seen it in the pontiffs of 
 their idols! 
 
 " Of what punishment, of what suffering, think you, 
 then, we shall deem you worthy? . . . Take pity 
 on yourself, take pity on your miserable Saxons; for if 
 you are not speedily converted, God will cause His 
 vengeance to descend upon you. 
 
 '• In the name of God Almighty and of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, whose representative on the earth I am, 
 I declare to you, that you will be punished in this 
 world, and plunged into the eternal fire in that which 
 is to come. Repent and be converted ! . . . Two 
 swords are suspended over your head — the sword of the 
 empire, and the sword of the popedom." . . . 
 
 The pious Frederick trembled on reading this menac- 
 ing brief. A short time before he had written to the 
 emperor to say, that old age and sickness rendered him 
 incapable of occupying himself with these affairs ; and 
 the rei^ly given to him was the most arrogant letter 
 that ever a sovereign prince had received. AVeakened 
 by age, he cast his eyes on that sword which he had 
 carried to the holy selpulchre in the days of his 
 strength. He began to think it might be necessary to 
 uusheath it in defence of the consciences of his subjects ; 
 and that already on the brink of the grave, he would 
 not be able to go down to it in peace. He immediately 
 wrote to Wittemberg for the advice of the fathers of 
 the Reformation. 
 
 There, also, troubles and persecutions were foreseen. 
 " What shall I say?" exclaimed the mild Melancthon ; 
 '" to what side shall I turn ? We are overwhelmed 
 with hatred, and the world is transported with rage 
 against us." Luther, Liuck, Melancthon, Bugenhagen, 
 and Amsdorff, consulted together as to the answer to 
 be returned to the elector. They all proposed nearly 
 the same answer. Their opinion is very strilcing. 
 
 " No prince," said they, " can undertake a war with- 
 out the consent of the people from whose hands he 
 received the government. Now, the people have no 
 wish to fight for the Gospel, for they do not believe it. 
 Let the princes, then, not take up arms; they arc 
 princes of the nations, — in other words, of unbelievers." 
 Thus it was the impetuous Luther who asked sage 
 Frederick to put up the sword into its sheath. He 
 could not give a better answer to the charge brought 
 against him by the pope, of stirring up the laity to wash 
 their hands in the blood of the clergy. Few characters 
 have been less understood than his. This opinion is 
 
DUKE GEORGE'S EXERTIONS. 
 
 diitcd the 8th February, 1523. Frederick restrained 
 himself. 
 
 The -HTath of the pope soou bore its proper fruits. 
 The princes who had ex])oundcd their grievances 
 against Rome, frightened at their boldness, sought to 
 appease him by compliance. Several, besides, declared 
 that victory must remain with the j)ontiff of Rome, as 
 he appeared to be the stronger. " In onr daj-," said 
 Luther, " princes content themselves with saying, three 
 times three make nine, or twice seven make fourteen : 
 the account is correct ; the affair will succeed. Then 
 our Lord ( Jod rises up and says : ' For how much, then, 
 do you count mo.' . . . For a cipher, perhaps.^' 
 Then he turns their calculations upside down, and 
 their accounts prove erroneous." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 rcrseculion— Efforts of Duke George— Tlie Conveut of Antwerp— Mill'-n 
 berg— Tlic Three Mouks of Antwerp— The Soallold — Martyrdom at 
 Brussels. 
 
 The flame breathed fortli by the humble and meek 
 Adrian kindled the conflagi-atiou. His remonstrance 
 caused an immense sensation throughout Christendom. 
 Persecution, which had for some time been arrested, 
 again commenced. Luther trembled for Germany, 
 and strove to lay the storm. " If the princes," said he, 
 '• set themselves in opposition to the truth, the result 
 will be a tumult, which will destroy princes, magis- 
 trates, priests, and people. I tremble at the thought 
 of soou seeing .all Germany swim in blood. Let us 
 interpose as a wall, and preserve our people from the 
 Lord's anger. The people arc no longer what they 
 have been hitherto. 'JThe sword of civil war is suspended 
 over the heads of kings. They wish to destroy Luther; 
 but Luther wishes to save them. Christ lives and 
 reigns: I shall live and reign with Him." 
 
 These words were without effect : Rome was hasten- 
 ing on towards scaffolds and blood. The Reformation, 
 like Jesus Clu-ist, had not come to bring peace, but a 
 sword. For the pm-poses of God, persecution was 
 necessary. As objects are hardened by fire to protect 
 them from the influence of the atmosphere, so a trial 
 by tire was to secure evangelical truth against the 
 influence of the world. But this tire did more, — it 
 served, as in the early days of Christianity, to kindle 
 an imiversal enthusiasm for the cause so ^•irulently 
 persecuted. There is in man, when he begins to know 
 the truth, a holy indignation against injustice and 
 violence. An instinctive feeling, which comes from 
 God, urges him to take part with the oppressed ; and, 
 at the same time, the constancy of martyrs raises and 
 captivates him, and hurries him on towards the saving 
 doctrine which gives so luuch courage and so much 
 peace. 
 
 Duke George headed the persecution. But he 
 deemed it a small matter to employ it in his own 
 states. He wished, above all, to sec its ravages in 
 electoral Saxony — the focus of heresy; and he did 
 everything to shake the electoral Frederick and Duke 
 
 299 
 
 John. Writing them from Nuremberg, he says: 
 •'Merchants just come from Saxony relate, with re- 
 gard to it, things which are strange and contrary to 
 the honour of God and the saints ; the sacrament of 
 the Supper is there received with the hand. The bread 
 and wine are consecrated in the vulgar toiujue ; the 
 blood of Christ is put in ordinary vessels ; and, at 
 Kuleuberg, to insult the priest, a man even entered the 
 church mounted on an ass ! . . . "What is the con- 
 sequence ? The minerals with which God had enriched 
 Saxony begin to be exhausted since the innovating 
 preachings of Luther. Oh ! would to God that those 
 who boast of having raised up the Gospel in the 
 electorate, had rather carried it to Constantinople ! 
 Luther luis a soft and pleasant voice ; but a venomous 
 tail, which stings like that of the scorpion. Let us 
 prepare for the battle. Let us throw these apostate 
 monks and profane priests into chains, and that without 
 delay; for our remaining locks, as well as beards, grow 
 white, and remind us that we have only a few days 
 for action." 
 
 Thus ■wrote Duke George to the elector, who replied 
 firmly and mildly, that whosoever should do a criminal 
 act within his states should not escape condign punish- 
 ment ; but that matters of conscience must be left to 
 God. 
 
 George not being able to persuade Frederick, has- 
 tened, in his own neighbourhood, to give proof of his 
 severity against the cause which he hated. He im- 
 l)risoned the monks and priests who adhered to Luther. 
 He ordered back the students belonging to his states 
 who were studying at the universities tainted with the 
 Reformation ; and he ordered all New Testaments in 
 the vulgar tongue to be delivered up to the magistrates. 
 The same course was followed in Austria, Wurtemberg, 
 and the Duchy of Brunswick. 
 
 But it was in the Low Countries, which were under 
 the immediate authority of Charles V.. that the per- 
 secution burst forth with greatest fury. The Augustine 
 convent at Antwerp was full of monks who had 
 received the truth of the Gospel. Several of the friars 
 had resided some time at AVittemberg, and, from 1510, 
 preached salvation by gi-ace in their church with great 
 energj'. The prior, James Probst, who was of a fiery 
 temperament, and Melchior Mirisch, who was, on the 
 other hand, distinguished for ability and prudence, 
 were arrested and carried to Brussels, about the end 
 of 1521. Probst, surprised and terrified, recanted. 
 Melchior Mirisch found means of softening his judges, 
 and escaped both condemnation and recantation. 
 
 These persecutions did not intimidate the monks who 
 were left in the convent of Antwerp. They continued 
 vigorously to preach the Gospel. The people flocked 
 to hear them, and the church of the Augustines proved 
 too small, as that of AVittemberg had done. In Octo- 
 ber, 1522, the storm which was gathering over their 
 heads biu-st ; the convent was shut up, and the monks 
 were imprisoned and condemned to death. Some made 
 their escape. Some females, forgetting the timidity of 
 their sex, rescued one of them, Henry of Zuphten, 
 from his executionei-s. Three young monks, Henry 
 Voes, John Esch, and Lambert Thorn, for some time 
 eluded the search of the inquisitors. All the vessel, 
 of the convent were sold ; the building was barricaded -. 
 
HISTORY OF THE EBFORMATION. 
 
 and the holy sacrament removed from it as from a 
 ])lace become infamous. Margaret, the regent of the 
 Low Countries, received it solemnly into the church of 
 the Holy Virgin. Orders were given that this heretical 
 monastery should be razed to its foundations; and 
 several citizens and females, who had received the 
 Gospel with joy, were cast into prison. 
 
 Luther was much gi-ieved on learning these tidings. 
 "The cause which we defend," said he, "is no longer 
 a simple game ; it wishes blood ; it demands life." 
 
 The fates of Mirisch and Probst were to be very 
 different. The prudent Mirisch soon became the 
 docile servant of Rome, and the executioner of the 
 imperial decrees against the adherents of the Reforma- 
 tion. On the contrary, Probst, who had escaped from 
 the inquisitors, bewailed his fault, withdrew his recan- 
 tation, and, at Bruges in Flanders, boldly preached the 
 doctrine which he had abjured. Arrested anew and 
 impi'isoned at Brussels, his death seemed inevitable. 
 A Franciscan, moved with pity, aided his escape ; 
 and Probst, " saved by a miracle of God," says Luther, 
 arrived at Wittemberg, where his double deliverance 
 filled the hearts of the friends of the Reformation with 
 
 joy- 
 
 The Romish priests were everywhere in arms. The 
 town of Miltenberg on the Maine, belonging to the 
 Elector-archbishop of Mentz, was one of the Germanic 
 cities which had received the Word of God with the 
 greatest readiness. The inhabitants were strongly 
 attached to their pastor, John Draco, one of the most 
 enlightened men of his time. He was compelled to 
 retire ; but the Roman ecclesiastics quitted at the same 
 time, dreading the popular vengeance. An evangelical 
 deacon alone remained to administer spiritual consola- 
 tion. At the same time troops from Mentz entered 
 and spread over the town, uttering blasphemies, brand- 
 ishing their swords, and giving themselves up to 
 debauchery. 
 
 Some evangelical Christians fell under their blows ; 
 others were seized and thrown into dungeons ; the 
 Romish rites were again set up ; the reading of the 
 Bible was prohibited ; and the inhabitants were for- 
 bidden to sjjeak of the Gospel, even in their most 
 private intercoui'se. On the entry of the troops the 
 deacon had taken refuge in the house of a poor widow. 
 He was denounced to the rulers, who sent a soldier to 
 seize him. The humble deacon, hearing the soldier 
 who was seeking his life advancing with hasty steps, 
 quietly waited for him ; and when the door was hastily 
 opened, he rose mildly to meet him, and embracing 
 him cordially, said : " I salute you, my brother ; here 
 I am, plunge your sword into my bosom." The fierce 
 soldier, astonished, let his sword fall from his hand, 
 and would not allow any harm to be done to the pious 
 evangelist. 
 
 Meanwhile, the inqiusitors of the Low Countries, 
 thii-sting for blood, scoured the country, and searched 
 everywhere for the young Augustinea who had escaped 
 from the persecution of Antwerp. Esch, Voes, and 
 Lambert, were at last discovered, chained, and carried 
 to Brussels. Egmondanus, Hochstraten, and some 
 other inquisitors, summoned them before them. Hoch- 
 straten asked : " Do you retract your assertion that the 
 priest has not power to pardon sins, and that pardon 
 
 belongs to God only ? " He next enumerated all the 
 evangelical doctrines, and summoned them to abjure 
 them. " We recant nothing," exclaimed Esch and 
 Voes firmly; "we will not abjure the Word of God ; 
 we will sooner die for the faitli ! " 
 
 Inquisitor. — " Do you confess that you have been 
 led astray by Luther I" 
 
 The Young Augustines. — "Just as the apostles were 
 led astray by Jesus Christ." 
 
 The Inquisitors. — " We pronounce you heretics, who 
 deserve to be burnt alive ; and we hand you over to 
 the secular arm." 
 
 Lambert was still ; he was afraid of death ; anguish 
 and doubt agitated his soul. " I ask four days," said 
 he, in a suppressed tone. He was taken back to 
 prison. As soon as this period was expired, the sacer- 
 dotal consecration was formally withdrawn from Esch 
 and Voes, who were handed over to the council of the 
 regent of the Low Countries. The council handed 
 them over hand-cuffed to the executioner. Hoch- 
 straten, and three other inquisitors, accompanied them 
 even to the scaffold. 
 
 When arrived ueai- the scaffold, the young martyrs 
 eyed it calmly; their constancy, their piety, their 
 youth, drew tears even from the inquisitors. When 
 they were bound, the confessors approached: "We ask 
 you once more. Will you receive the Christian faith ? " 
 
 The Martyrs. — "We believe in the Christian Church ; 
 but not in your church." 
 
 A half hour passed away: it was hoped that the 
 prospect of so frightful a death would intimidate the 
 youths. But, the only persons who were calm amidst 
 the agitated crowd which covered the public square, 
 they sung psalms, occasionally interrupting this em- 
 ployment to say boldly: "We wish to die for the 
 name of Jesus Christ." 
 
 "Be converted, be converted," exclaimed the inqui- 
 sitors, " or you will die in the name of the devil ! " — 
 " No," replied the martyrs ; " we will die as Christians 
 for the truth of the Gospel." 
 
 The pile was set on fire. While the flame ascended 
 slowly, Divine peace filled their hearts ; and one of 
 them even went so far as to say: "I feel as if reclining 
 on a bed of roses." The solemn horn- had come ; death 
 was at hand ; the two martyi's, with loud voice, ex- 
 claimed: "0 Domini Jesii, Fili David, miserere nostri! 
 — Lord Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on us .'" Then 
 they began in a solemn voice to repeat the creed. At 
 length the flames reached them ; but, before depriving 
 them of life, biu-ned the cords with which they were 
 bound to the pile. One of them, taking advantage of 
 his liberty, threw himself on his knees, and thus 
 worshipping his Master, with clasped hands, ex- 
 claimed : " Lord Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on 
 us .'" The fire suiTOunded their bodies ; they sung the 
 Te Deum landamus. Shortly after their voice was 
 stifled by the flames, and all that remained of them 
 was their ashes. 
 
 The execution had lasted four hours. It was on the 
 1st July, 1523, that the first martyrs of the Refor- 
 mation thus gave their lives for the Gospel. 
 
 All good men shuddered when they heard of it. 
 The future excited great alarm. "Executions begin," 
 said Erasmus. "At length." exclaimed Luther, "Jesus 
 
MARTYRDOM OF THREE MONKS. 
 
 Christ gathers some fruit from our doctrine. He forms 
 uew martyrs." 
 
 But tiic joy which Luther felt at the fidelity of these 
 two Christian youths was damped by the thought of 
 Lambert. lie was the most learned of the three, and 
 had taken the place of Probst as preacher at Antwerj). 
 Agitated in his dungeon, and afraid of death, he was 
 still more alarmed by his conscience, which reproached 
 him with his cowardice, and urged him to confess the 
 Gospel. Shortly after, having got the better of his 
 fe:u-s, he boldly proclaimed the truth, and died like his 
 brethren. 
 
 A rich harvest was produced from the blood of 
 these martyrs. IJni^i'ls turnud iMw^n-ds the Cr(>s])el. 
 
 ST GUDULE BROS EL<; 
 
 " Wherever Aluaudei i ii us x sc ittold -aid Erasmus, 
 " the effect ia tlie same is if he sowed heietics." 
 
 '•Your bond'5 ue my bonds, e\cknned Luther, 
 "your dungeons my dungeons, and your scaffolds my 
 scaffolds! . . . We are all with you, and the Lord 
 is at our head." He then wrote a beautiful poem in 
 celebration of the death of the young monks. In a 
 short time the poem was sung in Germany and the 
 Netherlands, in town and country, everywhere pro- 
 ducing an enthusiastic feeling for the faith of the 
 martyrs: — 
 
 No ! their ashes will not die : 
 
 Abroad tlieir holy dust will fly. 
 
 And scatter'd o'er earth's farthest strand, 
 
 Raise Tip for God a warlike band. 
 
 Satan, by taking life away. 
 
 May keep them silent for a dayj 
 
 lint death has from him victory wrung. 
 
 And Christ m every clime is sung. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Now Pope— The Legate Campeggio— Diet of Nuremberg— Demand of the 
 Legate— Keply of the Diet— Project of a Secular Council— Alarm and 
 Eflbrts of tlie Pope— Bavaria— League of Ratisbon- Rigour and Rcfonn 
 —Political Schisms— Opposition— Intrigues of Rome— Edict of Bniges 
 —Rupture. 
 
 Adrian would doubtless have persisted in violent 
 courses. The inefficacy of his attempts to arrest the 
 Reformation, his orthodoxy, his zeal, his rigour, his 
 
 conscience even would have made him a cruel per- 
 secutor. Providence put it out of his power. On the 
 14th September, 1.523, he died, and the Romans, 
 delighted at their deliverance from this rigid stranger, 
 decked the gate of his physician with flowers, placing 
 over them the inseriptiou — "To the saviour of his 
 country." 
 
 Julius de Medici, cousin of Leo X., succeeded, under 
 the name of Clement VII. From the day of liis 
 election no more was heard of religious reform. The 
 new pope, like many of his predecessors, thought only 
 of upholding the privileges of the papacy, and employ- 
 ing them as the means of extending his power. 
 
 Wishing to repair the faidts of Adrian, Clement sent 
 to Nuremberg a legate of his own temper, one of the 
 ablest prelates of his court, the Cardinal Campeggio, a 
 man of great experience in business, and acquainted 
 with almost all the princes of Germany. The legate, 
 who had been received with great pomp in the towns 
 of Italy, soon became aware of the change which had 
 taken place in the empire. On entering Augsburg, 
 wishing, according to custom, to give his benediction 
 to the people, he was received with laughter. He held 
 it as pronounced, and entered Nuremberg incognito, 
 without repairing to the church of St. Sebald, where 
 the clergy were in attendance. No priests went before 
 him in sacerdotal garments; no crucifix was carried 
 before him in state. One would have said it was an 
 ordinary individual walking along the street. Every- 
 thing announced to the papacy that its reign was 
 drawing to a close. 
 
 The diet had again been opened at Nuremberg in 
 January, 1524. A storm threatened the national 
 government, which had owed its existence to the firm- 
 ness of Frederick. The Swabian league, the wealthiest 
 towns of Germany, and, above all, Charles V., had 
 vowed its destruction. It was accused of favouring 
 the new heresy. Accordingly, it was resolved to renew 
 the administration without retaining one of the old 
 members. Frederick, in vexation, immediately cpiitted 
 Nuremberg. 
 
 The festival of Easter being at hand, Osiander and 
 the evangelical preachers redoubled their zeal. The 
 former jireached openly that Antichrist entered Rome 
 the very day Constantino the Great quitted it to take 
 up his residence at Constantinople. The consecration 
 of branches, and several of the other ceremonies of the 
 festival, were omitted; four thousand persons received 
 the Supper in both kinds; and the Queen of Denmark, 
 the emperor's sister, received it publicly, in the same 
 form, in the castle. "Ah !" exclaimed the Archduke 
 Ferdinand in a transport of rage, " I wish you were 
 not my sister!" — "The same womb carried us," replied 
 the queen; "and I will sacrifice everything to please 
 you except the Word of God." 
 
 Compeggio shuddered on beholding so much hardi- 
 hood; but affecting to despise the laughter of the 
 people and the sermons of the preachers, trusting to 
 the support of the emperor and the pope, he reminded 
 the diet of the edict of Worms, and demanded that the 
 Reformation should be suppressed by force. At these 
 words several of the princes and deputies expressed 
 their indignation. "What," said they to Campeggio, 
 " have become of the grievances presented to the pope 
 
302 
 
 HISTORY OF THE KBFOEMATION. 
 
 by the Germauic uafiou?" The legate, in accordance 
 with his instructions, assumed an air of simple astonish- 
 ment. "Three copies of that production," said he, 
 " reached Rome ; but we had no official communication 
 of it, and I could not believe that a document so imbe- 
 coraing could have emanated from your lordships." 
 
 The diet was indignant at this reply. If this is the 
 way in which their representations are received by the 
 pope, they too, in their turn, will know how to receive 
 those which he may be pleased to address to them. 
 "The people," said several deputies, "are thirsting for 
 the AVord of God ; and to force it from them, as ordered 
 by the edict of Worms, were to cause torrents of blood 
 to be shed." 
 
 The diet immediately proceeded to prepare an answer 
 to the pope. Not having power to abolish the edict of 
 Worms, they appended a clause which virtually an- 
 nulled it. "It is necessary," said they, "to conform 
 to it so far as possible." Several states had declared 
 that it was impossible. At the same time, evoking 
 the importunate shade of the councils of Constance 
 and Bale, the diet demanded that an universal council 
 of Christendom should be convened in Germany. 
 
 The friends of the Reformation did not stop here. 
 What was to be expected from a council which, 
 perhaps, never would be called, and which, in all 
 events, would be composed of bishops from all nations? 
 A\''ould Germany submit its anti-Roman feelings to 
 prelates from Spain, Franco, England, and Italy .^ The 
 national government having been overthrown, its place 
 must be supplied by a national assembly to protect the 
 interests of the people. 
 
 In vain did Hannaart, who had been sent from 
 Spain by Charles V., and all the partisans of Rome 
 and the empire, oppose this project. The majority of 
 the diet were inflexible. It was agreed that a diet, a 
 secular assembly, should meet at Spires in November, 
 to regulate all religious questions, and that the States 
 should direct their theologians forthwith to prepare a 
 list of the controverted points, to be submitted to this 
 august assembly. 
 
 The task was immediately commenced. Each 
 province prepared its document. Nevei- had Rome 
 been threatened with a mightier explosion. Franconia, 
 Brandenbm-g, Henneberg, Windsheim, Wertheim, 
 Nuremberg, declared, in evangelical terms, against the 
 seven sacraments, the abuses of the mass, the worship 
 of saints, and the supremacy of the pope. " Here," 
 said Luther, " is money of a good stamp." Not one 
 of the questions generally agitated will be passed over 
 in silence in this national council. The majority will 
 
 obtain general measures The unity of 
 
 Germany, its independence, and Reformation, will be 
 secured. 
 
 At this news the pope could not restrain his anger. 
 What! Is it dared to establish a secular tribunal to 
 decide on religious matters, and that contrary to his 
 atithority? If this monstrous resolution is executed, 
 no doubt Germany is saved, but Rome is destroyed! 
 A consistory was assembled in all haste, and from the 
 agitated state of the senators, it might have been sup- 
 posed that the Germans were marching on the Capitol. 
 " The tiling necessary," said Aleander, " is to pluck 
 the electoral hat from the head of Frederick." " The 
 
 kings of England and Spain," said another cardinal, 
 " must threaten to break off all intercourse with the 
 free towns." At last the congregation decided, that 
 the only means of safety was to stir up heaven and 
 earth, in order to prevent the meeting at Spires. 
 
 The pope immediately wrote the emperor: "If I 
 am the first to face the storm, it is not because I am 
 the only jjerson threatened by it, but because I sit at 
 the helm. The rights of the empu-e are attacked even 
 more than the dignity of the court of Rome." 
 
 While the pope sent tliis letter into Castile, he 
 laboured to obtain allies in Germany. He had soon 
 gained one of the most powerful houses of the empire, 
 that of the dukes of Bavaria. The edict of Worms 
 had not been better observed there than elsewhere, 
 and the evangelical doctrine had made great progress ; 
 but about the end of 1521, the princes of the country, 
 having been shaken by Dr. Eck, the chancellor of tlic 
 university of Ingolstadt, had approximated to Rome, 
 and issued an edict, by which they enjoined all their sub- 
 jects to remain faithful to the religion of their fathers. 
 
 The Bavarian bishops testified their alarm at the 
 proposed encroachment of the secular power; and Eck 
 set out to Rome to petition the pope to extend the 
 influence of the princes. The pope granted everything, 
 and even bestowed on the dukes a fifth of the eccle- 
 siastical revenues of their couutr3^ 
 
 Thus, at a time when the Reformation had not 
 assumed any organized form, Roman Catholicism had 
 recourse to powerful institutions for its support ; and 
 catholic princes, sanctioned by the pope, laid hands on 
 the revenues of the Church long before the Reforma- 
 tion ventured to touch them. What, then, must be 
 thought of the charges which the Roman Catholics 
 have so often made in this respect .' 
 
 Clement VII. could count upon the dukes of 
 Bavaria in quelling the formidable assembly of Spires. 
 Shortly after, the Archduke Ferdinand, the Arch- 
 bishop of Salzbourg, and several other princes, were 
 also gained. 
 
 But this did not satisfy Campeggio. Germany must 
 be divided into two camps. Germans must be set 
 against Germans. 
 
 During liis stay at Stuttgard, the legate, in concert 
 with Ferdinand, had sketched the plan of a league 
 against the Reformation. " There is e\erything to be 
 feared," said he, " from an assembly where the popular 
 voice will be heard. The Diet of Spires may destroy 
 Rome and save Wittemberg. Let us close our ranks 
 and arrange our order of battle." Ratisbon was fixed 
 on as the place of rendezvous. 
 
 Notwithstanding of the jealousy between the houses 
 of Bavaria and Austria, Campeggio succeeded, in the 
 end of June, 1524, in bringing about a meeting in this 
 town between the dukes of Bavaria and the Arch- 
 duke Ferdmand. The Archbishop of Salzbourg, and 
 the bishops of Trent and Ratisbon, joined them. The 
 bishops of Spires, Bamberg, Augsburg, Strasburg, 
 Bale, Constance, Freisingeu, Passau, and Brixen, 
 were represented by deputies. 
 
 The legate opened the meeting with an energetic 
 picture of the dangers to which the Reformation 
 exposed the princes and clergy. "Let us extirpate 
 heresy and save the Church!" exclaimed he. 
 
ROMAN INTRIGUES. 
 
 303 
 
 The conferences coutiuiied during fiftcou days in the 
 town-house of Ratisbon. A grand ball, which was 
 kept up during a whole night, enlivened this fii-st 
 Catholic assembly held by the papacy against the 
 rising Reformation. The measures intended to destroy 
 the heretics were afterwards resolved. 
 
 The princes and bishops engaged to execute the 
 edicts of Worms and Nuremberg, — to allow no change 
 in public worship, — to give no toleration within their 
 states to any married ecclesiastic, — to recall all the 
 students belonging to their states who might be at 
 Wittomberg, — and to employ all the means in their 
 power for the extirpation of heresy. In regard to 
 ditKcult passages of Scripture, preachers were enjoined 
 to confine themselves to the interpretation given by the 
 Fathers of the Latin Church, — viz., Ambrose, Jerome, 
 Augustine, and Gregory. Not daring, in presence of 
 the Reformation, to re-establish the authority of the 
 schoolmen, they contented themsehes with laying the 
 first fotmdations of Roman orthodoxj-. 
 
 On the other hand, not being able to shut their eyes 
 to the scandals and corrupt manners of the priests, 
 they agreed on a scheme of reform, in which they 
 agreed to pay regard to those German grievances in 
 wiiich the court of Rome were least concerned. Priests 
 were forbidden to engage in trade, to haunt taverns, 
 frequent dances, and engage over the bottle in discuss- 
 ing articles of faith. 
 
 Such was the result of the confederation of Ratisbou. 
 AVhile taking up arms against the Reformation, Rome 
 conceded somewhat to it. In these resolutions may be 
 observed the first influence of the Reformation of the 
 sixteenth century, in effecting an intern.al revival in 
 Catholicism. The Gospel cannot display its power 
 without compelling its opponents, in some way, to 
 imitate it. Emser had opposed a translation of the 
 Bil)le to the translation of Luther, and Eck '• Common 
 Places " to those of Melancthon ; and now Rome 
 opi)osed to the Reformation those partial attempts at 
 reform to which we owe modern Catholicism. But all 
 these act.s of Rome were, in reality, only subtile expe- 
 dients to escape from the danger which threatened her, 
 — branches plucked, it is true, from the tree of the 
 Reformation, but planted in a soil in which they could 
 oidy die. Life was wanting, and always will be want- 
 ing, to similar attempts. 
 
 We are here presented with another fact. At Ratis- 
 bon the Roman party formed the first league which 
 destroyed German unity. It was in the camp of the 
 pope that the signal for battle was given. Ratisbon 
 was the cradle of that schism — that political disruption 
 of Germany which still, in our day, so many Ger- 
 mans deplore. The national assembly of Spires might, 
 by sanctioning and generalizing the reformation of the 
 Church, have secured the unity of the empire. Tiie 
 separatist conventicle of Ratisbon rent the nation for 
 ever into two parties. 
 
 Meanwhile, the projects of Campeggio did not at 
 first succeed so well as had been imagined. Few 
 princes responded to the call. The most decided 
 opponents of Luther — Duke George of Saxony, the 
 Elector Joachim of Brandenberg, the ecclesiastical 
 electors, and the imperial towns — took no part in it. 
 The feeling was, that the pope's legate was forming in 
 
 Germany a Roman party against the nation itself. 
 The popular sympathies counterbalanced the religious 
 antipathies, and the Reformation ofBatiAon soon became 
 the object of popular derision. But the first step was 
 taken, — the example was given. It was thought that 
 there would afterwards be little difRculty in strengthen- 
 ing and extending the Roman league. Those who 
 still hesitated would find it impossible to avoid being 
 hurried along by the progress of events. To the 
 legate Campeggio belongs the honour of having dis- 
 covered the mine which brought the Germanic liberties 
 within a finger's-breadth of destruction. Thenceforth, 
 Luther's cause ceased to be entirely of a religious 
 nature; the dispute of the monk of Wittemberg held 
 a place in the politics of Europe. Luther is going to 
 be eclipsed, and Charles V., the pope, and the princes, 
 will be the principal characters on the theatre where 
 the great drama of the sixteenth century is to be 
 performed. 
 
 The assembly of Spires, however, was still in per- 
 spective; it might repair the mischief which Campeggio 
 had done at Ratisbon. Rome, therefore, used every 
 effort to prevent it. "What!" said the deputies of 
 the pope, not only to Charles V., but to his ally Henry 
 Vni., and the princes of Christendom, — "What! do 
 those proud Germans pretend to decide questions of 
 faith in a national assembly? Apparently kings, the 
 imperial majesty, all Christendom, the whole world, 
 will be obliged to stoop to their decrees." 
 
 The moment was well chosen for influencing the 
 emperor. The war between this prince and Francis 
 I. was at its height. Pescara and the Constable de 
 Bourbon had quitted Italy iu May, and having entered 
 France, laid siege to Slarscillcs. The pope, who did 
 not regard this attack with a friendly eye, was able to 
 make a powerful diversion in the rear of the imperial 
 army. Charles, who must have been afraid to displease 
 him, did not hesitate ; but at once sacrificed the inde- 
 pendence of the emperor for the favour of Rome and 
 the success of his struggle with France. 
 
 On the 15th July, Charles, at Burgos in Castile, 
 issued an edict, in which, in an imperious and impas- 
 sioned tone, he declared '• that it belonged to the pope 
 alone to assemble a council, — to the emperor alone to 
 ask it ; that the meetiug fixed to take place at Spires 
 could not, and would not, be tolerated ; that it was 
 strange in the German nation to undertake a work 
 which all the other nations of the world, even with the 
 pope, would not be entitled to do; that the proper 
 course was to hasten the execution of the decree of 
 Worms against the new Mohammed." 
 
 Thus, from Spain and Italy proceeded the stroke 
 which arrested the progress of the Gospel in Germany. 
 Tliis did not satisfy Charles. In 1.519, he had offered 
 to Duke John, the elector's brother, to marry his sister, 
 the Archduchess Catherine, to John Frederick, the 
 duke's sou, and heir to the electorate. But was not 
 this the house of Saxony, which maintained the prin- 
 ciples of religious and political independence in Saxony, 
 and which Charles hated? lie determined to break 
 entirely -with the troublesome and criminal representa- 
 \\\£ of evangelical and national ideas, and gave his 
 sister in marriage to John III., king of Portugal. 
 Frederick, who, in 1519, had been indifferent to the 
 
304 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 overt lu-es of the King of Spain, was able, in 1524, to 
 suppress the indignation he felt at the emperor's coa- 
 iluct ; but Duke John keenly expressed what he felt at 
 the blow thus inflicted. 
 
 Tiius the two hostile camps which were long to 
 reud the empire became more distinctly marked. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PiM-serulion — Gaspai'd Tauber — A Bookseller — Cruelties in Wmteiiiberg, 
 Salzbourg, Bavaria, Pomerania— Heni-y of Zuplitcn. 
 
 The Romish party did not stop here. The alliance of 
 Ratisbon was not to be a mere form. It was necessary 
 that it should be sealed with blood. Ferdinand and 
 Campeggio went down the Danube together from 
 Ratisbon to Vienna, and, during the voyage, gave to 
 each nthor pmnii ( =; (it frnolt\. Pci-cnitinn inime- 
 diat.l\ . .1.11 11, 1 1 I il Vii mm i ii 
 
 A citizen of Venice, named Gaspard Tauber, had 
 circulated the works of Luther, and had L.mself 
 written against the invocation of saints, purgatory, 
 and transubstautiation. Being thrown into prison, he 
 was summoned by the judges, as well theologians as 
 lawyers, to retract his errors. It was thought that ho 
 was willing to do so, and everything was prepared to 
 give the people of Vienna the solemn spectacle. On 
 the birthday of Mary, two desks were erected in the 
 cemetery of St. Stephen, the one for the leader of the 
 choir, who was to chant in celebration of the heretic's 
 repentance, and the other for Tauber himself. The 
 form of recantation was put into his hand ; the people, 
 the singers, and the priests, were waiting in silence. 
 Whether Tauber had not given any promise, or 
 
 whether, at the moment of abjuration, his faith sud- 
 denly revived with new force, he exclaimed : " I am 
 not convinced, and I appeal to the holy Roman em- 
 pire." The ecclesiastics, the choir, and the people 
 were amazed. But Tauber continued to demand death 
 sooner than deny the Gospel. He was beheaded, and 
 his body was burnt. His courage made a lasting im- 
 pression on the citizens of Vienna. 
 
 At Bude, in Hungary, an evangelical bookseller, 
 named John, had circulated the New Testament and 
 Luther's writings throughout the country. He was 
 tied to a stake, then all his books were gradually piled 
 around him, and set on fire. John displayed unshaken 
 courage, exclaiming, from the midst of the flames, that 
 he was happy in suffering for the Lord. " Blood suc- 
 ceeds blood !" exclaimed Luther, on hearing of his 
 death ; •' but this noble blood which Rome is pleased 
 to shed, will at length suffocate the jiope with all his 
 kingdoms and all his kings." 
 
 Fanaticism became more and more inflamed ; evan- 
 gelical ministers were driven from their churches ; 
 magistrates were banished ; sometimes dreadful execu- 
 tif)n» took place. In Wurtemberg, an inquisitor named 
 Reichler, caused the Lutherans, and especially their 
 
 ■eachers, to be hung on trees. Barbarians were seen 
 ( I lolly nailing ministers to the stake by the tongue, so 
 that the poor sufferers, in struggling or tearing them- 
 s I Ives from the wood to which they were fastened, to 
 legain their liberty, were horribly mutilated, and thus 
 \\ ere made the instruments of depriving themselves of 
 that gift of speech, which they had long employed in 
 preaching the Gospel. 
 
 The same persecutions were carried on in the other 
 states of the catholic league. An evangelical minis- 
 1 1 r of Salzbourg was on the way to prison, where he 
 would have ended his days. While the officers, who 
 had him in charge, were drinking in an inn on the 
 mad, two peasants, moved with compassion, eluded 
 tlieir vigilance, and delivered the pastor. The wrath 
 lit the archbishop was inflamed against the poor 
 \(iuths ; and, without any legal process, he gave orders 
 that they should be beheaded. They were led away 
 -•ecretly, at an early hour, beyond the town. When 
 they arrived at the spot where they were to suffer, the 
 executioner himself hesitated ; " for," said he, " they 
 have not been tried." — "Do what I command you," 
 sharply replied the commissary of the archbishop, 
 "and leave the responsibility to the prince!" And 
 the heads of the young deliverers immediately fell 
 under the sword. 
 
 Persecution raged especially in the states of the 
 dukes of Bavaria ; the priests were deposed, and the 
 nobles banished from their castles ; informers were 
 employed over the whole of the country; distrust and 
 terror reigned in all hearts. A magistrate, named 
 Bernard Fichtel, was journeying to Nuremberg on the 
 affairs of the duke; on the highway he fell in witli 
 Francis Burkhardt, professor at Ingolstadt, a friend of 
 Dr. Eck. Burkhardt accosted him, and they travelled 
 on together. Aiter supper the professor began to 
 speak of religion. Fichtel, being aware of his com- 
 panion, reminded him that the new edict prohibited 
 such conversation. " Between us," replied Burkhardt, 
 "there is no room for fear." Fichtel then said: "I 
 
HENRY OF ZUPHTEN. 
 
 305 
 
 do not believe that this edict can ever be executed," 
 and expressed himself in an equivocal manner on the 
 subject of purgatory. He added that it was a horrible 
 thing to inflict death for religious opinions. At these 
 words Burkhardt could not restrain himself. "What 
 more just," exclaimed he, "than to cut off the heads 
 of all these villains of Lutherans!" lie, however, 
 parted with Fichtel on good terms ; but hastened to 
 inform upon him. Fichtel was cast into prison ; and 
 the poor man, who had never thought of becoming a 
 martyr, aud whose convictions were not deep, only 
 escaped death by the disgrace of a recantation. There 
 was now no safety anywhere, not even in flio l)o^;om 
 of a friend. 
 
 But the death which Fichtel escaped, others met. 
 In vain was it to preach the Gospel only in secret. 
 The dukes persecuted it in the shade, in concealment, 
 under the roofs of houses, in secret retreats, in the 
 fields. 
 
 " The cross and persecution," said Luther, " reign in 
 Bavaria ; these ferocious beasts carry it with fury." 
 
 Even the north of Germany was not sheltered from 
 these cruelties. Bogislas, duke of Pomerania, having 
 died, his sou, who had been brought up at the court 
 of Duke George, persecuted the Gospel ; Suaven and 
 Knipstrow were obliged to save themselves by flight. 
 
 But it was ill Hnlstein tliat one of tlie strongest 
 
 Ilcmv ot Zuphten, who had escaped, is we have 
 seen, from the convent of Antwerp, was preaching the 
 Gospel at Bremen ; Nicolas Boye, pastor at Mehldorf, 
 in the Dittmarchcs, and several pious persons in that 
 district, having invited him to preach the Gospel to 
 them, he complied. Forthwith the prior of the Domi- 
 nicans and the vicar of the otficial of Hamburg con- 
 sulted together. "If he preaches, and the people listen 
 to him," said they, "all is lost!" The prior, after a 
 wakeful night, got up early in the morning, and pro- 
 ceeded to the wild and sterile moor, where the forty- 
 eight regents of the country usually assembled. " The 
 monk of Bremen is arrived," said he to them, " to ruin 
 all the Dittmarches." These forty-eight simple aud 
 ignorant men, who were assured that they would 
 acquire great renown by ridding the world of the 
 heretical monk, resolved to put him to death without 
 having either seen or heard him. 
 
 It was Situiday, and the pnor, wishmg to prevent 
 Henry from preaching on Sunday, arrived at midnight 
 at the house of pastor Boye, with the letter of the 
 forty-eight regents. " If it is God's will that I die in 
 the Dittmarches," said Henry Zuphten, "heaven is as 
 near there as anywhere else. I shall preach." 
 
 He mounted the pulpit and preaclied powerfully. 
 The hearers, touched and inflamed by his eloquence, 
 had scarcely left the church, when the prior put into 
 theii- hands a letter from the forty-eight regents, for- 
 bidding them to allow the monk to preach. They 
 immediately sent their representatives to the heath, 
 and, after long debate, the Dittmarches agreed that, 
 considering their complete ignorance of the matter, they 
 would wait till Easter. But the enraged prior waited 
 on some of the regents, and anew inflamed their zeal. 
 " We will write him," said they. — '• Beware of doing 
 so," replied the prior; "if he begins to speak, nothing 
 
HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATIOISr. 
 
 the 
 
 can be done to him. He must be seized durin[^ 
 night, and burnt before he can open his mouth." 
 
 It was so resolved. The day after the feast of the 
 Conception, after it was night, the Ave Mat-ia was 
 tolled. At this signal all the peasants of the neigh- 
 bouring villages assembled, to the number of five 
 hundred; and their leaders having caused five hogsheads 
 of Hamburg beer to be pierced, in this way iuspii-ed 
 them with gj-eat courage. Midnight struck as they 
 reached Mehldorf; — the peasants were armed; — the 
 monk's carried torches ; — the whole proceeded without 
 order, uttering furious cries. On arriving at the village, 
 they kept a profound silence, lest Henry should escape. 
 
 The doors of the curacy were suddenly burst open, 
 and the drunken peasants rushed in, striking at every- 
 thing that came in their way. They threw down 
 vases, kettles, goblets, clothes, snatched up whatever 
 gold or silver they could find, and pouncing on the 
 poor pastor, struck him, crying : " Kill him ! kill him ! " 
 They then threw him into the mire. But Henry was 
 their object. They pulled him from his bed, bound 
 his hands behind his back, and dragged him after 
 them. '-What brought you here?" they asked. Henry 
 having answered mildly, they exclaimed: "Away! 
 away! if we listen to him we will become heretics like 
 himself." He had been hurried naked over the ice and 
 snow, his feet were bleeding, and he begged they would 
 put him on horseback. '■ Good sooth," replied they 
 in derision, " we are going to furnish heretics with 
 horses ! Get along ! " — And they continued to drag 
 him till they reached the heath. A woman, who was 
 at the door of her house as the poor servant of God 
 passed, began to cry. '• Good woman," said Henry to 
 her, '• weep not for me." The bailie pronounced his 
 condemnation. Then one of the furious men who had 
 brought him struck the servant of Jesus Christ over 
 the head with a sword; another struck him with a 
 club. Next, a poor monk was brought to receive his 
 confession. " Brother," said Henry to him, " did I 
 ever do you any harm?" — "No," replied the monk. 
 — "Then I have nothing to confess to you." The 
 monk withdrew in confusion. Many ineffectual attempts 
 were made to light the pile. In this way the martyr 
 stood for two hours before these furious peasants, — 
 calm, and with his eyes raised towards heaven. As 
 they were binding him to throw him on the pile, he 
 began to make confession of his faith. " Burn first," 
 said a peasant, striking him on the mouth with his fist, 
 " and you will speak after." He was thrown down, 
 but fell on the side of the pile. John Holme, seizing 
 a club, struck him on the breast, and he lay stretched 
 out dead on the burning faggots. " Such is the true 
 history of the sufferings of the holy martyr, Henry of 
 Zuphten." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Divisions— Lord's Supper — Two Extremes— Carlstadt — Luther — Mystiuisir 
 of the Anabaptists -Carlstadt at Orlamund— llission of Luther- 
 Interview at Dinner— Conference of Orlamund— Carlstadt Banished. 
 
 The Reformation, while the Romish party were every- 
 where drawing the sword against it, was undergoing 
 
 new developments. It is not at Zurich or Geneva, but 
 at Wittemberg, the centre of the Lutheran revival, 
 that we must trace the begiunings of that reformed 
 Church, of which Calvin has become the greatest 
 doctor. These two great families slept in the same 
 cradle. The union ought also to have crowned their 
 age. But the question of the Supper having been once 
 raised, Luther violently rejected the reformed element, 
 and found himself and his Church in an exclusive 
 Lutheranism. The chagrin which he felt at this rival 
 doctrine deprived him somewhat of the good humour 
 which was natural to him, and gave him a spirit of 
 distrust, a habitual dissatisfaction and imtation, which 
 he had not shewn previously. 
 
 It was between two old friends — between the cham- 
 pions who, at Leipsic, had fought together against 
 Rome — between Carlstadt and Luther that this dispute 
 arose. Their attachment to contrary doctrines pro- 
 ceeded, both in the one and in the other, from estimable 
 feelings. In fact, there are two extremes in religion; 
 the one consists in materializing, the other in spiritualiz- 
 ing everything. The former is the extreme of Rome — 
 the latter, that of the mystics. Religion, like man 
 himself, consists of body and soul ; the pure idealists, 
 as well as the materialists, are equally wrong, both in 
 religion and in philosophy. 
 
 Such is the grand discussion which lies hid under 
 the dispute as to the Supper. While, on a superficial 
 glance, we see only a paltry quarrel about words, a more 
 profound examination discovers in it one of the most im- 
 portant controversies which can occupy the human mind. 
 
 The reformers thus form two great divisions; but 
 each of them carries with it a portion of the truth. 
 Luther, with his adherents, mean to combat an 
 exaggerated spiritualism. Carlstadt and the reformed 
 attack a hateful materialism. Each opposes the error 
 which he deems most fatal, and, in opposing it, perhaps 
 goes beyond the truth. But no matter; each of them 
 is true in its general tendency; and though belonging 
 to different armies, these two distinguished doctors are 
 ranged under one common banner — that of Jesus 
 Christ, who alone is the truth in its fullest extent. 
 
 Carlstadt thought that nothing could be more hurtful 
 to true piety than confidence in external ceremonies, 
 and in a certain magical influence in the sacraments. 
 Rome had said that external participation in the 
 sacrament of the Supper was sufficient to save, and 
 this principle had materialized religion. Carlstadt saw 
 nothing better fitted to spiritualize it anew than to 
 deny all bodily presence of Christ; and he taught that 
 the sacred repast was merely a pledge to believers of 
 their redemption. 
 
 On this subject Luther took quite an opposite 
 direction. He had, at the outset, maintained the view 
 which has just beeu indicated. In his writing on the 
 mass, which appeared in 1520, he said: "I can every 
 day enjoy the sacraments, if only I remember the 
 word and promise of Christ, and with it nourish and 
 strengthen my faith." Neither Carlstadt, Zwingle, 
 nor Calvin, has ever said anything stronger. It even 
 seems that, at this period, the idea often occurred to 
 him, that a symbolical explanation of the Supper would 
 be the most powerful weapon completely to overthrow 
 the whole popish system; for in 1525, he says that, five 
 
CARLSTADT AND LUTHER. 
 
 307 
 
 years before, he had fought many hard battles in 
 defence of this doctrine; and that any one who could 
 have proved to him that there was nothing but bread 
 and wine in the Supper, would have done him an 
 immense service. 
 
 But new circumstances occurred, which engaged him 
 in an opposition, sometimes passionate, to these very 
 views to which he had so nearly approximated. The 
 fanaticism of the Anabaptists explain the direction 
 which Luther then took. These enthusiasts were not 
 satisfied with setting little value on what they called 
 the external word, in other words, the Bible, and 
 pretending to special revelations of the Holy Sph-it; 
 they also went the length of despising the sacrament 
 of the Supper as soraL'thing external, and to speak of 
 internal communion as alone true. Tiienceforth, in all 
 the attempts which were made to explain the doctrine 
 of the Supper in a symbolical manner, Luther saw 
 nothing but the danger of shaking tlie authority of the 
 Holy Scriptures, of substituting arbitrary allegories for 
 their true meaning, of spiritualizing everything in 
 religion, making it consist, not in divine graces, but in 
 human impressions; and thus substituting for true 
 Christianity a mysticism, a theosophy, a fanaticism, 
 which would inevitably become its tomb. It must be 
 acknowledged that, but for the powerful opposition of 
 Lutlicr, the mystical, enthusiastic, and subjective 
 tendency, would then, in all probability, have made 
 rapid progress, and trampled under foot all the 
 blessings which the Reformation was destined to 
 diffuse in the world. 
 
 Carlstadt, impatient at not being able freely to 
 develop his faith at Wittcmberg, urged by his con- 
 science to combat a system which, according to him, 
 "lowered the death of Christ, and annihilated his 
 righteousness," resolved " to make an outbreak for the 
 love of poor deluded Christendom." He quitted Wit- 
 temberg in the beginning of 1524, without notice either 
 to the university or the chapter, and repaired to the 
 little town of Orlaniund, whose chiu-ch was under his 
 sui)erintendence. He caused the vicar to be deposed, 
 and himself to be appointed pastor in his stead; and 
 in spite of the chapter, the university, and the elector, 
 fixed himself in this new post. 
 
 Here he soon disseminated his doctrine. '-It is 
 impossible," said he, " to find in the real presence any 
 advantage which does not flow from faith without it ; 
 it is therefore useless." In explaining the words of 
 Christ in the institution of the Supper, he had recourse 
 to an interpretation which the reformed churches 
 have not received. In the Leipsic discussion, Luther 
 had explained the words. Thou art Peter, and on this 
 rock I will build m>/ Church, by separating the two 
 clauses, and applying the latter to the person of the 
 Saviour. "In the same way," said Carlstadt, '■'take, 
 eat, refers to the breatl; but, this is mi/ body, refers to 
 Jesus Christ, who then shewed hunself, and intimated 
 by the symbolical sign of the breaking of bread, that 
 the body was soon to be destroyed." 
 
 Carlstadt did not stop here. No sooner had he 
 broke loose from the tutelage of Luther, than he felt 
 a revival of his zeal against images. His imprudent 
 harangues, his enthusiastic expressions, must easily, in 
 these times of fermentation, have inflamed men's 
 
 minds. The people, thinking they heard a second 
 Elijah, broke the idols of Baal. This zeal reached the 
 surrounding villages. Tlie elector wished to interfere; 
 but the peasants answered him, that it was necessary 
 to obey God rather than man. The jirince resolved to 
 send Luther to Orlaraund to establish peace. Luther 
 saw in Carlstadt a man devoured by a love of renown, 
 a fanatic, who would allow himself to be carried the 
 length of making war on Jesus Christ himself. 
 Frederick might perhaps have made a wiser choice. 
 Luther set out ; and Carlstadt saw his troublesome 
 rival once more disaiTangiug his plans of reform, and 
 arresting his course. 
 
 Jena is on the road to Orlamund. On arriving in 
 this town on the 23rd August, Luther mounted the 
 pulpit at seven in the morning, and spoke for an hour 
 and a-half in presence of a numerous audience, against 
 fanaticism, rebellion, the destruction of images, and 
 contempt of the real presence, in particular, inveighing 
 strongly against the innovations of Orlamund. Ho 
 did not name Carlstadt, but every one could see that 
 he had him in view. 
 
 Carlstadt, whether by chance or design, was at Jena, 
 and among the number of Luther's hearers. He hesi- 
 tated not to apply for an explanation of the discourse. 
 Luther was at dinner with the prior of Wittemberg, 
 the burgomaster, the clerk, and pastor of Jena, and 
 several officers in the service of the emperor and the 
 margrave, when a letter from Carlstadt was put into 
 his hands, asking an interview. He handed it to those 
 next him, and replied to the bearer : '• If Doctor 
 Carlstadt chooses to come to me, well; if he does not 
 choose to do so, I will dispense with it." Carlstadt 
 arrived. His arrival produced a strong sensation in 
 the i)arty. The greater part, eager to see the two lions 
 at close quarters, ceased dining and stared, while the 
 more timid grew pale with fear. 
 
 Carlstadt, on the invitation of Luther, sat down 
 opposite to him, and then said: "Doctor, in yoiu- 
 sermon to-day you put me in the same class with those 
 who preach rebellion and assassination. I say that 
 charge is false." 
 
 Luther. — " I did not name you ; but since you have 
 felt hit, good and well." 
 
 After a moment of silence, Carlstadt resumed: — 
 
 "I engage to prove that on the doctrine of the sacra- 
 ment you have contradicted yourself, and that no man 
 since the days of the apostles has taught it so purely 
 as I have done." 
 
 Luther. — " Write — debate !" 
 
 Carlstadt. — "I challenge you to a public discussion 
 at Wittemberg or Erfurt, if you procure me a safe- 
 conduct." 
 
 Luther. — " Fear nothing, doctor." 
 
 Carlstadt. — " You bind me hand and foot, and when 
 you have put it out of my power to defend myself, you 
 strike me." 
 
 There was a pause. Luther resumed: — ■ 
 
 " AVrite against me; but publicly, not in secret." 
 
 Carlstadt. — "If I thought you were speaking in 
 earnest I would do so." 
 
 Luther. — "Do it and I'll give you a florin." 
 
 Carlstadt. — " Give it ; I accept it." 
 
 At these words Luther put his hand in his pocket 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 and drew out a gold florin, and giving it to Carlstadt, 
 said : '• Take it, and attack me valiantly." 
 
 Carlstadt, holding the gold florin in his hand, turned 
 to the party, and said: "Dear friends, this is my 
 arrlials, — a pledge that I am authorized to write against 
 Doctor Luther; I take you all to witness." 
 
 Then bending the florin, that it might be known 
 again, he put it into his piu'se, and shook hands with 
 Luther. Luther drank his health, and Carlstadt 
 returned it. " The more vigorous your attacks, the 
 more agreeable they will be," resumed Luther. 
 
 "If I fail," replied Carlstadt, "it will be my own 
 fault." 
 
 They again shook hands, and Carlstadt retm-ned home. 
 
 Thus, says a biographer, in the same way as from a 
 single spark often arises the conflagration of a whole 
 forest, from a small beginning arose a great division 
 in the Church. 
 
 Luther proceeded to Orlamimd, and arrived there 
 ill prepared by the scene at Jena. He assembled the 
 council and the church, and said: "Neither the elector 
 nor the university is willing to recognise Carlstadt as 
 your pastor." — "If Carlstadt is not our pastor," replied 
 the treasurer of the town-council, " vSt. Paul is a false 
 teacher, and your books are lies, for we have chosen 
 him." 
 
 As lie s;iid those words, Carlstadt entered. Some 
 of the persons near Luther motioned to him to be 
 seated ; but Carlstadt, going straight up to Luther, said 
 to him : " Dear doctor, allow me to give you welcome !" 
 
 Luther. — "You are my enemy. You have my gold 
 florin as a pledge." 
 
 Carlstadt. — " I mean to continue your enemy so long 
 as you continue the enemy of God and of His truth." 
 
 Luther. — " Begone : I cannot allow you to appear 
 here." 
 
 Carlstadt. — " This is a public meeting. If your 
 cause is just, why fear me?" 
 
 Luther {to his servant). — "Make ready! make ready! 
 I have nothing to do with Carlstadt ; and since he will 
 not leave, I start." 
 
 At the same time Luther rose up. Then Carlstadt 
 withdrew. 
 
 After a momentary pause, Luther resumed : " Prove 
 by Scripture that it is right to destroy images." 
 
 A Councillor. — " Doctor, you will gi-ant that Mosea 
 knew the commandment of God," (opening a Bible.) 
 " "Very well ; here are his words : Thou shalt not make 
 unto thee any graven image, or any likeness." 
 
 Luther. — " This passage refers only to the images of 
 idols. If I hang up a crucifix in my chamber without 
 worshipping it, what harm can it do me?" 
 
 A Shoemaker. — " I have often taken off my hat to 
 an image which happened to be in my room or on the 
 road ; this is an act of idolatry, which robs God of the 
 glory due to Him alone," 
 
 Luther. — "It will be necessary, then, because of 
 abuse, to destroy females, and throw our wine into the 
 street." 
 
 Another Member of the Church. — "No; they are 
 
CAllLSTADT BANISHED. 
 
 309 
 
 creatures of God, wliich we arc not oiijoincd to 
 destroy." 
 
 After the confereuce had lasted some time longer, 
 Luther and his people got up into their carriage, 
 astonished at what had passed, and without having 
 succeeded in convincing the inhabitants, who also 
 claimed for themselves tlie right of freely interpreting 
 and expounding the Scriptures. There was great 
 agitation in Orlamund ; the people insulted Luther, 
 some even cried to him : "Begone, in the devil's name. 
 May you break your neck before you get out of our 
 town." Never yet had the reformer been subjected 
 to such humbling treatment. 
 
 He repaired to Kale, the pastor of which had also 
 embraced the doctrines of Carlstadt. Here he resolved 
 to preach. On entering the pulpit he found the remains 
 of a crucifix in it. At first he was deeply moved ; but 
 immediately recovering himself, he gathered the frag- 
 ments into a corner of the pulpit, and delivered a 
 sermon which contained no allusion to the circum- 
 stance. "I wished, by contempt," said he afterwards, 
 '• to have my revenge of the devil." 
 
 The nearer the elector approached his end, the more 
 ho seemed to fear that the Reformation was going too 
 far. He gave orders that Carlstadt should be deprived 
 of his situations, and that he should quit not only Orla- 
 mund, but the electoral states. In vain did the church 
 of this town interpose in his behalf; in vain did they 
 ask that he should be allowed to reside among them as 
 a citizen, and give an occasional sermon ; in vain did 
 they represent that they valued the truth of God more 
 than the whole world, and even than a thousand worlds, 
 had God created a thousand. Frederick was inflexible ; 
 he even went the length of refusing the money neces- 
 sary for his journey. Luther was no party to this 
 harshness of the prince ; it was foreign to his nature, 
 and this he shewed at an after period. But Carlstadt 
 regarded him as the author of his misfortune, and filled 
 Germany with his complaints and lamentations. He 
 wrote a farewell letter to his friends of Orlamund. 
 This letter, for the reading of which the bells wore 
 rung, and which was heard by the assembled chm-eh 
 amidst tears, was signed, "Andrew Bodonstein, banished 
 by Luther without having been either heard or con- 
 victed by him." 
 
 It is painful to see this bitter quarrel between two 
 who had formerly been friends, and were both excel- 
 lent men. A feeling of sadness was experienced by all 
 the disciples of the Reformation. AVhat was to become 
 of it, now that its most illustrious defenders had come 
 to blows ? Luther saw these fears, and tried to calm 
 them. " Let us fight," said he, "as fighting for another. 
 The cause is God's, the management God's, the glory 
 God's. He will fight and conquer without us. Let 
 that which must fall, fall. Let that which is to stand, 
 stand. It is not our own cause that is in question, nor 
 is it our own glory that we seek." 
 
 Carlstadt retired to Strasburg, where he published 
 several productions. " He was thoroughly acquainted," 
 says Dr. Scheur, " with Latin, Greek, and Hebrew." 
 Luther acknowledged the superiority of his erudition.. 
 Of an elevated spirit, he sacrificed his roput^ation, his 
 rank, his country, his bread even, to his convictions. 
 At a later period he retired to Switzerland. It was 
 
 there he ought to have broached his doctrines ; his 
 independence required the free atmosphere in which 
 an CEcolampadius and a Zwingle breathed. His doc- 
 trine soon attracted almost as much attention as Luther's 
 theses had obtained. Switzerland seemed to be gained, 
 and with it Bucer and Capito. 
 
 Luther's indignation being now at its height, he pub- 
 lished one of the most powerful, but also one of the 
 most violent, of his controversial writings, — viz., his 
 book "Against the Heavenly Prophets." 
 
 Tiius the Reformation, attacked by the pope, attacked 
 by the emperor, attacked by the princes, began also to 
 tear itself to pieces. It appeared on the point of sink- 
 ing under so many disasters, and certainly must have 
 sunk if it had only been a work of man. But when 
 on the point of sinking, it arose with new energy. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Progress— Resistance to the Leaguers— Meeting between Philip of Ilesso 
 and Melanethon — The Landgrave gained over to tlie Gospel — Tlic 
 Palatinate, Luneburg, Holstein— Tlie Grand Master .at Wittemberg. 
 
 The Catholic League of Ratisbon, and the persecutions 
 which followed it, produced a powerful reaction in 
 the population of Germany. The Germans were not 
 disposed to allow themselves to be deprived of that 
 Word of God which had at length been restored to 
 them. To the orders of Charles V., to the bulls of 
 the pope, to the menaces and scaffolds of Ferdinand, 
 and the other Catholic princes, theii" reply was : " We 
 shall keep it." 
 
 Scarcely had the leaguei-s left Ratisbon, when the 
 deputies of the towns, whose bishops had taken part in 
 this alliance, feeling surprised and indignant, met at 
 Spires, and resolved that their preachers should, in 
 spite of the bishops, preach the Gospel — and the 
 Gospel alone — conformably to the doctrine of the 
 prophets and apostles. They next proposed to present 
 a firm and unanimous remonstrance to the national 
 assembly. 
 
 It is true, the imperial letter, dated from Burgos, 
 aiTived, and disturbed their thoughts. Nevertheless, 
 towards the end of the year, the deputies of these 
 towns, and several of the nobles, met at Ulm, and 
 took an oath of mutual defence, in the event of attack. 
 Thus, to the camp formed by Austria, Bavaria, and 
 the bishops, the free towns immediately opposed 
 another, which raised the standard of the Gospel and 
 national freedom. 
 
 While the free towns thus took the advanced posts 
 of the Reformation, several princes were gained to the 
 cause. Early in June, 1524, Melanethon was return- 
 ing on horseback from a visit to his mother, accom- 
 panied by Camerarius and some other friends, when, 
 near Frankfort, he fell in with a brilliant train. It 
 was Philip of Hesse, who, three years before, had 
 visited Luther at Worms, and who was now on his 
 way to the games of Heidelberg, which were to be 
 attended by all the princes of Germany. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Thus Providence brou'zht Philip successively iuto 
 contact -with the two reiormers. It was known that 
 the distinguished doctor had gone on a visit to his 
 native district, and one of the landgrave's knights said 
 to him: "I believe it is Melancthou." The young 
 prince immediately put spurs to his horse, and coming 
 iTp to the doctor, said to him: "Are you Philip?" — 
 "I am," replied the scholar, somewhat intimidated, 
 and preparing respectfidly to dismount. "Stay!" 
 said the prince ; " turn round and come and spend the 
 night with me ; there are some subjects on which I 
 wish to have a conversation with j'ou ; fear nothing." 
 '•What could I fear from such a prince as you?" 
 replied the doctor. — "Ah! ah!" said the landgrave 
 laughing, "were I to take you away and give you up 
 to Cam])eggio, he would not be sorry, I believe." The 
 two Philips rode alongside of each other. The prince 
 put questions, and Melancthou answered. The land- 
 grave was delighted with the clear and striking views 
 presented to him. Melancthou at last begging he 
 might be allowed to continue his journey, Philip of 
 Hesse had difliculty in parting with him. "On one 
 condition," said he, " and it is, that, on your return, 
 yon will write carefully on the subjects which we 
 have been discussing, and send me the production." 
 Melancthou promised. "Go, then," said Philip, "and 
 pass freely through my states." 
 
 Meliuicthon drew np, with his usual talent, "An 
 Abridgment of the Revived Doctrine of Christianity." 
 This concise and powerful production made a decisive 
 impression on the landgrave, who. shortly after his 
 return from the Heidelberg games, without actually 
 joining the free towns, issued an ordinance, in which 
 — opposing the league of Ratisbon — he commanded 
 that the Gospel should be preached in all its purity. 
 He himself embraced it with the energy of his charac- 
 ter. " Sooner," exclaimed he, " abandon my body and 
 my life, my states and my subjects, than the Word of 
 God." A monk, the friar minor Ferber, perceiving 
 the prince's leaning to the Reformation, wrote him a 
 letter, reproaching him with his conduct, and conjuring 
 him to remain faithful to Rome. "I resolve," replied 
 Philip, " to remain faithful to the ancient doctrine, but 
 such as is contained in Scripture." Then he proved, 
 with great force, that man is justified only by faith. 
 The monk, astonished, held his peace. The landgrave 
 was called " Melaucthou's scholar." 
 
 Other princes took a similar direction. The elector- 
 palatine refused to lend himself to any persecution. 
 The Duke of Luneburg, nephew to the Elector of 
 Saxony, began to reform his states ; and the King of 
 Denmark ordered, that in Schleswig and Holstein every 
 man should be free to worship God according to his 
 conscience. 
 
 The Reformation made a still more important con- 
 quest : a prince, the important effects of whose con- 
 version began at this time to turn away from Rome. 
 One day, towards the end of June, shortly after 
 Melancthon's return to AVitteraberg, Luther's chamber 
 was entered by the grand-master of the Teutonic 
 order, Albert, margrave of Brandenburg. The chief 
 of the chevalier monks of Germany, who was then in 
 possession of Prussia, had gone to the Diet of Nurem- 
 lierg to invoke the aid of the empire against Poland. 
 
 He returned with a contrite heart. On the one hand, 
 the sermons of Osiander and the reading of the Gospel 
 had convinced him that his condition of monk was 
 contrary to the Word of God ; on the other, the break- 
 ing up of the national government had taken away 
 all hope of the assistance which he had gone to claim. 
 What, then, will he do? . . . The Saxon coun- 
 cillor Plauitz, with whom he quitted Nuremberg, asked 
 him to visit the reformer. " What think you of the 
 rule of my order?" asked the disturbed and agitated 
 prince at Luther. Luther hesitated not ; he saw that 
 a conduct conformable to the Gospel could alone save 
 Prussia also. " Implore," said he to the grand-master, 
 — "implore the help of God; reject the absurd and 
 incongruous rule of your order ; put an end to this 
 abominable and truly hermaphrodite supremacy, which 
 is neither religious nor secular. Shun false, and seek 
 true chastity, — marry, and in place of this nameless 
 monster found a lawful empire." These words pointed 
 out distinctly to the soul of the grand-master a situation 
 of which he had till then only had an imperfect 
 glimpse. A smile lighted up his features, but he had 
 too much prudence to declare himself ; he held his 
 peace. Melancthou, who was present, spoke in similar 
 terms to Luther, and the prince departed for his states, 
 leaving the reformers in the belief that the seed which 
 they had sown in his heart would one day bear fruit. 
 
 Thus Charles V. aud the pope had opposed the 
 national assembly of Spires, from a fear that tiie Word 
 of God might gain all who attended it ; but the Word 
 of God could not be bound. It was prohibited to be 
 preached in one of the halls of a town in the Low 
 Palatinate. Well! it had its revenge by diffusing itself 
 throughout all the provinces. It aroused the people, 
 enlightened princes, and throughout the empire dis- 
 played that Divine power of which neither bulls nor 
 ordinances could ever deprive it. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Iteformers— The Church of All-Saints — Fall of tho Mass — Literature- 
 Christian Schools— Science Offered to the Laity— Arts— Moral Keligiuu 
 — Esthetical Religion— Music— Poetry— Painting. 
 
 While the people and their riders were thus pressing 
 toward the light, the reformers were striving to produce 
 a general revival, to penetrate the whole mass with 
 the principles of Christianity. The form of worship 
 first engaged their attention. The time fixed by the 
 reformer, on his return from the Wartburg, had arrived. 
 "Now," said he, "that men's hearts have been strength- 
 ened by Divine grace, the scandals which polluted 
 the Lord's kingdom must be made to disappear, and 
 something must be attempted in the name of Jesus." 
 He demanded that the communion shoidd be dispensed 
 in both kinds, — that everything should be retrenched 
 from the Supper which tended to convert it into a 
 sacrifice, — that Christian assemblies should never meet 
 without hearing the Word preached, — that the faithful, 
 
LUTHER ON CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 
 
 311 
 
 or nt least priests and students, sliould meet every 
 morning at four or five o'clocli to read the Old, and 
 every evening, at five or six, to read the New Testa- 
 ment, — that ou Sunday the whole Church should 
 assemble, morning and afternoon, and that the leading 
 object ill worship should bo the preaching of the 
 "Word. 
 
 In particular, the church of All Saints, at Wittein- 
 berg, aroused his indignation. There 9,901 masses 
 were annually celebrated, and 35,570 pounds of wax 
 burnt. So says Seckendorf . Luther called it a " sacri- 
 legious Tophet." "There are," said he, '-only three 
 or four lazy bellies who still worship this shameful 
 mammon; and did I not restrain the people, this house 
 of all saints, or rather all devils, would long ago have 
 made a noise in the world, the like of which was never 
 heard." 
 
 Tiie struggle commenced aronnd this church. It 
 was like one of those ancient sanctuaries of paganism 
 in Egypt, Gaul, and Germany, which behoved to fall, 
 in order that Christianity might be established. 
 
 Luther, desiring that the mass should be abolished 
 in this cathedral, on the 1st March, 1523, addressed a 
 first petition on the subject to the chapter; and on the 
 11th July, addressed a second. The canons having 
 objected the orders of the elector : " What have we to 
 do here," replied Luther, "with orders from the prince? 
 He is a secular prince. His business is with the sword, 
 and not with the ministry of the Gospel." Luther 
 here clearly draws the distinction between the Church 
 and the State. " There is only one sacrifice," says he 
 again, "which wipes away sins, Christ, who once offered 
 himself; and we have faith in Him, not by works or by 
 sacrifices, but solely by faith in the AVord of God." 
 
 The elector, who felt his end drawing near, was 
 repugnant to new reforms. But new urgency was 
 joined to that of Luther. Jonas, provost of the 
 cathedral, thus addressed the elector : " It is time to 
 act. A manifestation of the Gospel, so bright as that 
 we now have, usually lasts no longer than a ray of the 
 sun. Let us, therefore, make haste." 
 
 This letter of Jon.as not having changed the elector's 
 views, Luther lost patience. He thought the moment 
 to give the fatal blow had arrived, and addressed a 
 threatening letter to the chapter : " I beg you amicably, 
 and solicit you seriously, to put an end to all this sec- 
 tarian worship. If you refuse, you shall, by God's 
 help, receive the recompense which you deserve. I 
 say this for your guidance ; and I demand a distinct 
 and immediate answer — yes, or no — before next Sun- 
 day, that I may know how to act. God grant you 
 grace to follow His light. 
 
 "Martin Luther, 
 " Preacher at Wittemhenj, 
 "Thursday, 8th Dec., 1524." 
 
 At the same time the rector, two burgomasters, and 
 ten councillors, repaired to the dean, and solicited him, 
 in the name of the university, the council, and the com- 
 munity of Wittemberg, " to abolish the great and hor- 
 rible impiety committed against the Divine Majesty in 
 tlic mass." 
 
 The chapter was obliged to surrender. It declared 
 that, enlightened by the holy Word of God, it acknow- 
 ledged the abuses to which its attention had been 
 
 directed, and published a new order of service, which 
 began to be observed ou Christmas, 1524. 
 
 Thus fell the mass in this famous sanctuary, where 
 it had so long withstood the reiterated assaults of the 
 reformers. The Elector Frederick, suffering under 
 an attack of tlie gout, and drawing near his end, Wivs 
 not able, notwithstanding all his efforts, to prevent this 
 great act of reformation. He saw the Divine will in 
 it, and yielded. The fall of the Roman observances in 
 the chiu-ch of All Saints hastened their end in many 
 of the churches of Christendom. There was every- 
 where the same resistance; but there was also the 
 same victory. In vain did priests, and in many places 
 even princes, attempt to throw obstacles in the way; 
 they failed. 
 
 But it was not worship merely that the Keformation 
 had to change. She, at an early period, placed the 
 school by the side of the Church ; and these two great 
 institutions, mighty in regenerating nations, were equally 
 revived by her. The Reformation, when she first 
 appeared in the world, was intimately allied with 
 literature ; and this alliance she forgot not in the day 
 of her triumph. 
 
 Christianity is not a mere development of Judaism. 
 It does propose, as the papacy would fain do, to con- 
 fine men again in the swaddling bands of external 
 ordinances and human doctrines. Christianity is a 
 new creation ; it seizes man within, and transforms him 
 in his inmost heart ; so that he no longer has any need 
 of rules from other men. Through the help of God, 
 he can of himself, and by himself, discern what is true, 
 and do what is good. 
 
 To conduct human nature to this state of indepen- 
 dence which Christ has purchased for it, and deliver it 
 from the nonage in which Rome had so long kept it, 
 the Reformation behoved to develop the whole man, 
 renewing his heart and his will by the AVord of God, 
 and enlightening his understanding by the study of 
 sacred and profane literature. 
 
 Luther understood this. He felt that, in order to 
 secure the Reformation, it was necessary to work upon 
 youth, to improve schools, and propagate in Christen- 
 dom the knowledge necessary to a profound study of 
 the Holy Scriptures. Accordingly, this was one of the 
 objects of his life. He felt this, particularly at the 
 period which we have now reached, and applied to 
 the councillors of all the towns of Germany for the 
 foundation of Christian schools. "Dear sirs," said 
 he to them, " so much money is annually expended on 
 muskets, roads, and embankments, why should not a 
 little be spent in giving poor youth one or two school- 
 masters ? God is knocking at our door ; happy are we 
 if we open to Him. The Divine AVord now abounds. 
 Oh! dear Germans, buy, buy, while the market is 
 before your houses I The Word of God and its grace 
 ai'e like a wave which ebbs and goes away. It was 
 with the Jews, but it has passed ; and they no longer 
 have it. Paul brought it to Greece, but it passed 
 away; and Greece now belongs to the Turk. It came 
 to Rome and Latium ; but thence too it has passed, and 
 Rome now has the pope. Do not suppose you are to 
 have this AA''ord for ever. The contempt shewn for 
 it will chase it away. AVherefore, let him who would 
 have it seize it, and keep it. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 " Give attention to children," continues he, still 
 addressing magistrates ; " for many parents are like 
 ostriches ; they grow callous towards their young, and, 
 contented with having laid the egg, give themselves 
 no further trouble. The prosperity of a town consists, 
 not merely in collecting great treasures, buOding strong 
 walls, and erecting fine houses, and possessing brilliant 
 armies. If fools come and pounce upon it, its mis- 
 fortunes will then only be the greater. The true good 
 of a town, its safety and strength, is to have a great 
 number of learned, serious, honest, and well-educated 
 citizens. And whose fault is it, that at present the 
 number of these is so small, if it is not yours, O 
 magistrates ! who have allowed youth to gi-ow up like 
 grass in the forest ? " 
 
 Luther particularly insists on the study of literature 
 and languages. "What use is there, it is asked, in 
 learning Greek and Hebrew ? We can read the 
 Bible in German." — " Without languages," replies he, 
 "we shoidd not have received the Gospel. . . . 
 Languages are the sheath which contains the sword of 
 the Spirit; they are the casket which contains the 
 jewels ; the vessel which contains the liquor ; and as 
 the Gospel expresses it, they are the baskets in which 
 are preserved the bread and fishes to feed the people. 
 If we abandon languages, the result will be, that we 
 shall not only lose the Gospel, but also become unable 
 to speak and write in Latin or in German. So soon 
 as the cultivation of them ceases, the Gospel is in 
 decay, and ready to fall under the power of the pope. 
 But now that languages are again in honour, they 
 diffuse so much light, that the whole world is aston- 
 ished ; and every one must confess that our Gospel is 
 almost as pure as that of the apostles themselves. The 
 holy Fathers, in ancient times, were often mistaken, 
 because they did not know languages ; in our days, 
 some, as the Vaudois of Piedmont, do not think 
 languages usefid; but though their doctrine is good, 
 they often want the true meaning of the sacred text ; 
 they find themselves unarmed against error, and I 
 much fear their faith will not remain piu-e. Had not 
 languages made me sure of the meaning of the Word, 
 I might have been a pious monk, and have peaceably 
 preached the truth in the obscurity of a cloister ; but 
 I shoidd have allowed the pope, sophists, and their 
 antichristian empire to stand." 
 
 Luther does not confine himself to the education of 
 ecclesiastics ; he is desirous that knowledge should no 
 longer be monopolized by the Church ; he proposes to 
 give a share of it to the laity, who, till now, had been 
 disinherited. He proposes that libraries should be 
 established, and that they should not be confined to a 
 collection of the editions of the schoolmen and fathers 
 of the Church, but should also contain the works of 
 orators and poets, even though they should be pagans, 
 as well as works on the fine arts, law, medicine, and 
 history. "These writings serve," says he, " to explain 
 the works and miracles of God." 
 
 This work of Luther is one of the most important 
 which the Reformation has produced. It takes science 
 out of the hands of the priests, who had monopolized 
 il, like those of Egypt in ancient times, and restores it 
 to all. From the impulse thus given by the Refor- 
 mation have proceeded the greatest developments of 
 
 modern times. Those lajTnen, literary and learned, 
 who now assail the Reformation, forget that they 
 themselves are its work, and that without it they 
 should still be placed, like ignorant children, under the 
 rod of the clergy. The Reformation discerned the 
 intimate union subsisting between all the sciences ; she 
 was aware that, as all science comes from God, so it 
 leads back to God. Her wish was that all should 
 learn, and that they should learn all. " Those who 
 despise profane literature," said Melancthon, "have no 
 higher respect for sacred theology. Their contempt is 
 only a pretext by which they try to hide their sloth." 
 
 The Reformation was not contented with giving a 
 strong impulse to literature, she also gave a new im- 
 pulse to the arts. Protestantism is often charged with 
 being inimical to the arts, and many Protestants readily 
 admit the charge. We will not inquire whether or not 
 the Reformation ought to prevail ; we will content 
 ourselves with observing, that impartial history does 
 not confii-m the fact on which this accusation rests. 
 Let Roman Catholicism plume itself on being more 
 favourable to the arts than Protestantism — all very 
 well. Paganism was stiU more favourable to them ; 
 and Protestantism places her fame on a different 
 ground. There are religions in which the esthetical 
 tendencies of man occupy a more important place than 
 his moral nature. Christian sentiment is expressed, 
 not by the productions of the fine arts, but by the 
 actings of Christian life. Every sect that abandons 
 the moral tendency of Christianity, thereby loses even 
 its right to the Christian name. Rome has not aban- 
 doned this essential characteristic ; but Protestantism 
 it in much greater purity. Its glory consists 
 
 in the tliorough investigation of whatever belongs to 
 the moral being, and in judging of religious acts, not 
 from their external beauty and the manner in which 
 they strike the imagination, but according to their 
 internal worth, and the relation which they bear to 
 the conscience ; so that, if the papacy is, above all, as 
 a distinguished writer has proved, an esthetical reli- 
 gion, Protestantism is, above all, a moral religion. 
 
 Still, although the Reformation addressed man 
 primarily as a moral being, it addressed the whole 
 man. We have just seen how it spoke to his under- 
 standing, and what it did for literature : it spoke also 
 to his sensibility, his imagination, and contributed to 
 the development of the arts. The Church was no 
 longer composed merely of priests and monks ; it was 
 the assembly of the faithful. All were to take part in 
 worship ; and the hymns of the clergy were to be 
 succeeded by those of the people. Accordingly, in 
 translating the Psalms, Luther's object was to adapt 
 tliem to the singing of the church. In this way a 
 taste for music was diffused over the whole country. 
 
 " After theology," said Luther, " it is to music I 
 give the first place and the highest honour. A school- 
 master," he again said, " must be able to sing : without 
 it I will not even look at him." 
 
 One day, when some fine pieces were sung to him, 
 he rapturously exclaimed: "If our Lord God has con- 
 ferred such admirable gifts on this earth, which is only 
 an obscure recess, what will it be in the eternal life, 
 iu a state of perfection!" . . . From the days of 
 Luther the people simg; the Bible inspired their 
 
MUSIC, POETRY, AND PAINTING. 
 
 liymns; and the impulse given at the period of the 
 Reformation, at a later period produced those magni- 
 ficent oratorios which seem to be the complete per- 
 fection of the art. 
 
 The same impulse was given to poetry. It was 
 impossible, in celebrating the praises of God, to be 
 confined to mere translations of the ancient hymns. 
 Luther's own soul, and that of several of his contcm- 
 jioraries, raised by faith to the sublimest thoughts, and 
 excited to enthusiasm by the battles and perils which 
 incessantly threatened the rising Church — inspired, in 
 short, by the practical genius of the Old and the faith 
 of the New Testament, soon gave utterance to their 
 feelings in religious poems, in which poetry and music 
 iinited and blended their holiest inspirations. Thus 
 the sixteenth century beheld the revival of that divine 
 poetry which, from the very first, had solaced the 
 sufferings of the martyrs. "\Ve have already seen how, 
 in 1.523, Luther employed it in celebrating the martyrs 
 of Brussels : other sons of the Reformation followed 
 in his steps. Hymns wore multiplied, and, spreading 
 rapidly among the people, contributed powerfully to 
 awaken them from their slumbers. It was in this same 
 year that Hans Sach sung The Nightingale of Wittem- 
 berg. The doctrine which, for four centuries had 
 reigned in the Church, he regards as the moonlight, 
 during which men wandered in the desert. The night- 
 ingale now announces the sun, and, singing to the light 
 of day, rises above the clouds of the morning. 
 
 While lyric poetry thus arose from the highest 
 inspirations of the Reformation, satire and the drama, 
 under the pen of Hiitten, Miirner, and Manuel, 
 attacked the most crying abuses. 
 
 It is to the Reformation that the great poets of 
 England, Germany, and perhaps France, owe their 
 lofty flight. 
 
 Of all the arts, painting is the one on which the 
 Reformation had the least influence. Nevertheless it 
 was renewed, and in a manner sanctified, by the 
 imiversal movement which then agitated all the powers 
 of the human mind. The great master of this period, 
 Lucas Cranach, fixed his residence at AVittemberg, 
 where he lived on intimate terms with Luther, and 
 became the painter of the Reformation. We have seen 
 how he represented the contrasts beween Christ and 
 antichrist, (the pope,) and thus gained a place among 
 the most powerful instruments of the revolution which 
 was transforming the nations. As soon as he had 
 acquired new convictions, he consecrated his chaste 
 pencil to drawings in harmony with Christian belief, 
 and shed on groups of children, blessed by the Saviour, 
 the grace with which he had previously adorned 
 legendary saints, male and female. Albert Durer was 
 also won by the preaching of the AVord, and his genius 
 took a new flight. His masterpieces date from this 
 period. From the features with which, from that 
 period, he painted the evangelists and apostles, we 
 see that the Bible was restored to the people, and that 
 from it the painter drew a depth, a force, a life, and 
 grandeur, which he never could have found in himself. 
 
 Still, however, it must be acknowledged, painting is 
 the art whose religious influence is most liable to strong 
 and well-founded objections. Poetrj' and music came 
 from heaven, and will again be found in heaven ; but 
 
 painting is constantly seen united to gi-ave immoralities 
 or fatal errors. After studying history, or seeing Italy, 
 we are made aware that humanity has little to expect 
 from that art. But whatever may be thought of this 
 exception, which we have thought it our duty to make, 
 our general remark holds true. 
 
 Tlie Reformation of Germany, while making its first 
 address to the moral nature of man, has given to the 
 arts an impulse which they could not have received 
 from Roman Catholicism. 
 
 Thus there was a universal progress in literature and 
 the arts, in spirituality of worship, in the souls of 
 nations and their rulers. But this magnificent har- 
 mony, which the Gospel everywhere produced in the 
 days of its revival, was .ibout to be disturbed. The 
 song of the nightingale of Wittemberg was to be inter- 
 rupted by the hissing of the storm and the roaring of 
 the lions. A cloud in one moment spread over Germany, 
 and a lovely day was succeeded by a dismal night. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Political Ferment — Luther against Revolution— Thomas Munzer — Agitation 
 —The Black Forest-The Twelve Articles— Luther's Adnce-Helfenstcin 
 — Advance of the Peasants — Advance of the Imperial Army— Defeat of 
 the Peasants— Craelty of the Princes. 
 
 A POLITICAL fermentation, one very different from that 
 which the Gospel produces, had long been working in 
 the empire. Borne down by civil and ecclesiastical 
 oppression, bound in several countries to the baronial 
 lands, and sold along with them, the people threatened 
 to rise in fury, and burst their chains. This agitation 
 had been mauLfestod long before the Reformation by 
 several symptoms, and thenceforth religion had been 
 blended with political elements. It was impossible in 
 the 16th centui-y to separate these two principles, so in- 
 timately associated in the life of nations. In Holland, 
 at the end of the previous century, the peasantry had 
 risen up, placing on their colours, as a kind of armorial 
 bearings, bread and cheese, the two great blessings of 
 these poor people. "The shoe alliance" had shewn itself 
 in the neighourhood of Spires in 1.503. In 1513, it 
 had been renewed at Brisgau, and been encouraged by 
 priests. In 1514, Wurtemberg had witnessed " the 
 league of poor Conrad," the object of which was to 
 maintain by revolt "the rights of God." In 1515, 
 Carinthia and Hungary had been the theatre of dread- 
 ful commotions. These seditions had been suppressed 
 by torrents of blood; but no redress had been given to 
 the people. A political reform was therefore no less 
 necessary than a religious reform. The people were 
 entitled to it ; but it must be confessed they were not 
 ripe for enjoying it. 
 
 Since the Reformation had commenced these popular 
 agitations had been renewed; the minds of men had 
 been absorbed by other thoughts. Luther, whose 
 piercing eye discerned the condition of his countrjTJien, 
 had, even from the height of the Wartburg, addressed 
 grave exhortations, for the purpose of keeping down 
 agitation. 
 
314 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 '•Revolt," he had said, "does uot produce the 
 amelioration which is desired, and God condemns it. 
 What is revolt but taking vengeance into our own 
 hands? Tlie devil is labouring to excite those who 
 embrace the Gospel to revolt, in order to bring it into 
 reproach; but those who have perfectly understood my 
 doctrine do uot revolt." 
 
 Everything gave reason to fear that the popular 
 indignation could not be much longer restrained. The 
 government which Frederick of Saxony had had so much 
 dilRculty in forming, and which possessed the con- 
 fidence of the nation, was dissolved. The emperor, 
 whose energy might perhaps have supplied the waut of 
 this national administration, was absent; the princes, 
 whose union had always constituted the strength of 
 Germany, were divided; and the new declaration of 
 Charles V. against Luther, in taking away all hope of 
 future harmony, deprived the reformer of a portion of 
 the moral authority by which, in 1522, he had succeeded 
 in calming the storm. The principal embankments 
 which had hitherto confined the torrent were broken 
 down, and nothing could restrain its fury. 
 
 The religious movement did not produce the political 
 agitation, but in several places it allowed itself to be 
 borne along by its tumultuous waves. Perhaps even 
 more should be conceded; it is perhaps necessary to 
 admit that the movement given to the people by the 
 Reformation gave new force to the discontent which 
 was prevailing in the nation. The violence of Luther's 
 writings, the intrepidity of his actions and his words, 
 the harsh truths which he told, not only to the pope 
 and the prelates, but also to princes themselves, nmst 
 have contributed to inflame minds already in a state of 
 effervescence. Accordingly Erasmus did not omit to 
 tell him : "We are now gathering the fruits that you 
 have sown." Moreover, the gladsome truths of the 
 Gospel now at length brought fully to light, stiiTcd all 
 hearts, and filled them with hope and expectation. 
 But many unregenerate souls remained unprepared by 
 Christian repentance, faith, and freedom. They wished 
 indeed to reject the yoke of the pope, but they wished 
 not to accept the yoke of Christ. Accordingly, when 
 princes devoted to Rome sought in their wrath to stifle 
 the Reformation, though true Christians knew how to 
 bear these cruel persecutions with patience, the mul- 
 titude fumed and broke out. Seeing their wishes pent 
 in in one direction, they procured an outlet for them 
 in another. "Why," said they, "when the Church 
 calls all men to a noble freedom, why should slavery 
 be perpetuated in the state? Why, when the Gospel 
 speaks only of meekness, should government reign only 
 by force?" Unhappily, at the time when religious 
 reform was received with equal joy by princes and 
 people, political reform, on the contrary, was opposed 
 by the most powerful portion of the nation; while the 
 former had the Gospel for its rule and support, the 
 latter had no other principles than violence and 
 despotism. Accordingly', while the one kept within 
 the limits of truth, the other, like an impetuous torrent, 
 quickly overleapt these and also those of justice. But 
 to attempt not to see an indirect influence of the Refor- 
 mation in the disturbances which broke out in the 
 empire, were, in my opinion, to give proof of partiality. 
 By means of religious discussions a fire had been 
 
 kindled in Germany, and it was impossible that some 
 sparks should not fly olT from it, of a nature fitted to 
 inflame the passions of the people. 
 
 The pretensions of some fanatics to heavenly inspira- 
 tion augmented the evil. While the Reformation had 
 constantly appealed from the pretended authority of 
 the Church to the real authority of Scripture, these 
 enthusiasts rejected not only the authority of the 
 Church, but also that of Scripture. Tliey spoke only 
 of an internal word, of a revelation of God within ; 
 and overlooking the natural corruption of their heart, 
 they gave themselves up to all the intoxication of 
 spiritual pride, and imagined themselves to be saints. 
 
 "To them," says Luther, "the Holy Scriptures were 
 only a dead letter, and all began to cry Spirit! Spirit! 
 But assuredly I will not follow where their spirit leads 
 them. May God in His mercy preserve me from a 
 Church where there arc none but saints. I wish to 
 remain where the humble, feeble, and sickly are, who 
 know and feel their sin, and who, without ceasing, 
 sigh aud cry to God from the bottom of their heart to 
 obtain His consolation and assistance." These words 
 of Luther are profound, and mark the change Avhich 
 was taking place in his views as to the nature of the 
 Church. They shew, at the same time, how much the 
 religious principles of the revolters were opposed to 
 the Reformation. 
 
 The most remarkable of these enthusiasts was 
 Thomas Miinzer. He was not without talents, had 
 read the Bible, was zealous, and might have been able 
 to do good if he had known how to collect his agitated 
 thoughts, and find peace of heart. But not knowing 
 himself, and being void of true humility, he was 
 possessed with a desire to reform the world, and like 
 all enthusiasts forgot that reform ought to begin at him- 
 self. Mystical treatises which he had read in his 
 youth had given a false direction to his mind. He 
 first appeared at Zwickau, quitted Wittemberg after 
 Luther's return, discontented with the inferior part he 
 was playing there, and became pastor of the small 
 town of Alstadt in Thuringia. Here he could not 
 long remain quiet. He accused the reformers of 
 founding, by their attachment to the letter, a new 
 papism, and of founding churches which were uot pure 
 and holy. 
 
 " Luther," said he, " has delivered consciences from 
 the yoke of the pope; but he has left them in a carnal 
 freedom, and has not carried them forward in spii-it 
 toward God." 
 
 He thought himself called by God to remedy this 
 great evil. According to him, the revelations of the 
 Spirit were the means by which his reform was to be 
 accomplished. " He who possesses this Spirit," said 
 he, "has true faith, even though he should never in his 
 life see the Holy Scriptiu-es. Pagaus and Turks are 
 more proper to receive it than many Christians who 
 call us enthusiasts." When he thus spoke he had 
 Luther in his eye. " In order to receive this Spirit," 
 added he, "it is necessary to mortify the body, wear 
 shabby clothes, let the beard grow, have a gloomy air, 
 keep silence, frequent retired spots, and beg God to 
 give us a sign of His favour. Then God will come 
 and speak, with us as He once did with Abraham, 
 Isaac aud Jacob. Did He not do so it would not be 
 
AGITATION— LUTHER'S POSITION. 
 
 worth men's while to pay any attention to Him. I 
 have received a commission from God to assemble His 
 elect in a holy and eternal alliance." 
 
 The agitation and ferment working in men's minds, 
 were only too favourable to the propagation of their 
 cuthusiastic ideas. Man loves the marvellous, and 
 everything that llatlors his pride. Miinzer, having 
 drawn a portion of liis flock into his views, abolished 
 church music and all ceroniouics. He maintained, 
 that to obey princes, " devoid of reason," was to serve 
 God and mammon. Then, marching at the head of 
 his parishioners to a chapel near Alstadt, and which 
 was resorted to by pilgrims from all quarters, ho threw 
 it down. Obliged, after this exploit, to flee the conn- 
 try, he wandered np and down in Germany, and went 
 as far as Switzerland, carrying with him, and com- 
 municating to all who would listen to him, the plan of 
 a universal revolution. He everywhere found men's 
 minds prepared ; he threw gunpowder on burning 
 coals, and a violent explosion was the immediate 
 result. 
 
 Luther, who had rei)ellcd the warlike enterprises 
 of Seckiugcn, could not allow himself to be carried 
 away by the tumultuous movements of the peasantry. 
 Happily, for social order, the Gospel had him in 
 charge ; for what might have happened had he given 
 his vast influence to their camp ? . . . He always 
 firmly maintained the distinction between spiritual and 
 secuUir; he ceased not to repeat, that what Christ 
 emancipated by His Word was immortal souls ; and 
 wliile with one hand he attacked the anthority of the 
 Church, he with the other eqnally maintained the 
 power of princes. ''A Christian," said he, "must 
 endure death a hundred times sooner than give the 
 least countenance to the revolt of the peasants." In a 
 letter to the elector, he says: "What particularly 
 delights me is, that these enthusiasts make a boast to 
 every one who listens to them, that they are not of ns. 
 They say it is the Spirit that prompts them. But I 
 reply: It is a bad spirit that beai-s no other fruit than 
 the pillaging of convents and churches, — the greatest 
 robbers on the face of the earth can do as much." 
 
 At the same time Luther, who wished others to have 
 the same liberty that he desired for himself, dissuaded 
 the prince from rigorous measures. "Let them preach 
 as they will, and against whomsoever they see it good ; 
 for it is necessary that the Word of God itself should 
 lead the van and give them battle. If theirs is the 
 true Spirit, he will not fear our severities ; if ours is 
 the true, he wiU not fear their violence. Let us leave 
 the spirits to struggle and fight with each other. Some, 
 perhaps, will be seduced, as there is no battle without 
 wounds ; but he who figlits faithfully will be crowned. 
 Nevertheless, if they will take the sword, your high- 
 ness must forbid it, and order tlicm to quit the 
 country." 
 
 The revolt broke out in the districts of the Black 
 Forest, and the sources of the Danube, which had so 
 often been agitated by popular commotions. On the 
 19th July, 1524, some Thurgovian peasants rose up 
 against the Abbot of Reichenau, who refused to give 
 them an evangelical preacher. Thousands were soon 
 assembled around the little town of Tenger, for the 
 rescue of an ecclesiastic who was kept prisoner. The 
 
 revolt spread with inconceivable i-apidity from Swabia, 
 as far as the countries of the Rhine, Franconia, 
 Tluu-ingia, and Saxony. All these countries had risen 
 in January, 1525. 
 
 Towards the end of this month the peasants pub- 
 lished a declaration in twelve articles, in which they 
 demanded liberty to choose their own pastors, the 
 abolition of small tithes and villanage, the taxes on 
 heritage, liberty of hunting, fishing, and cutting wood. 
 Each demand was supported by a quotation from 
 Scripture. " If we are mistaken," said they, in conclu- 
 sion, " Luther can put us right by Scripture." 
 
 The opinions of the Wittemberg theologians were 
 asked. Luther and Melancthon gave theirs — each 
 separately. They are very characteristic. Melanc- 
 thon, who regarded every kind of disturbance as a 
 great crime, oversteps his usual gentleness, and cannot 
 give strong enough expression to his indignation. The 
 peasants are criminals, against whom he invokes all 
 laws, human and Divine. If friendly conference proves 
 ineffectual, the magistrates must pursue them as rob- 
 bers and assassins. " However," he adds, (and it was, 
 indeed, necessary that some one trait should remind us 
 of Melancthon,) " let there be pity shewn to orphans in 
 inflicting the pimishment of death." 
 
 Luther's opinion of the revolt was the same as 
 Melancthon's ; but he had a heart which beat at the 
 wretchedness of the people. He, on this occasion, 
 shewed a lofty impartiality, and told the truth frankly 
 to both parties. He first addressed the princes, and 
 more especially the bishops : 
 
 " Yon," said he to them, " are the caase of the revolt. 
 Your invectives against the Gospel, your culpable 
 oppression of the little ones of the Church, have 
 brought the people to despair. It is not the peasants, 
 dear lords, who rise up against you ; it is God himself 
 who wishes to oppose yotn- fury. The peasants are only 
 the instruments whom He is employing to humble you. 
 Think not to escape the punishment which He is pre- 
 paring for you. Even should you succeed in destroy- 
 ing all these peasants, God would of the very stones 
 raise up new ones to chastise your pride. If I wished 
 revenge, I would laugh in my sleeve, look on while the 
 peasants act, or even stimulate their rage ; but God 
 forbid ! . . . Dear lords, for the love of God, lay 
 aside your indignation, treat the poor people with dis- 
 cretion, as you would persons drunk and bewildered. 
 Suppress these commotions by gentleness, lest a con- 
 flagration break forth, and set all Germany in a blaze. 
 Among their twelve articles are some wliich are just 
 and equitable." 
 
 This exordium was fitted to gain the confidence of 
 the peasants, and make them listen patiently to the 
 truths which he had to tell them. He represented to 
 them that a great part of their demands were, doubt- 
 less, well founded ; but that to revolt was to act like 
 pagans, — that the duty of Christians was patience, 
 and not war, — and that if they continued to rise in the 
 name of the Gospel, against the Gospel itself, he would 
 regard them as more dangerous enemies than the pope. 
 "The pope and the emperor," continued he, "have 
 united against me ; but the more the pope and the 
 emperor have stormed, the gixatcr the progress which 
 the Gospel has made. . . . Why so? Because I 
 
316 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 have never drawn the sword, nor called for vengeance, 
 — because I have not had recourse either to tumult or 
 revolt. I have committed all to God, and awaited His 
 strong hand. It is neither with the sword nor the 
 musket that Christians fight, but with suffering and 
 the cross. Christ, their captain, did not handle the 
 sword ; He hung upon the tree." 
 
 But in vain did Luther give utterance to these most 
 Christian expressions. Tiie people were too much 
 excited by the fanatical discourses of the leaders of 
 the revolt to lend their ear, as formerly, to the reformer. 
 " He is playing the hypocrite," they said ; " he is flat- 
 tering the princes. He has waged war with the pope, 
 and yet he would have us to submit to our oppressors!" 
 
 The revolt, instead of being calmed, became more 
 formidable. At Weinsberg, Count Louis of Holfen- 
 stein, and seventy men under his command, were con- 
 demned to death. A party of peasants held their pikes 
 before them in close phalanx; others chased and drove 
 back the count and his soldiers on this bristling forest. 
 The wife of the unhappy Helfenstein, a natural daugh- 
 ter of the Emperor Maximilian, with an infant of two 
 3'ears old in her arms, fell on her knees, and, with loud 
 cries, implored the life of her husband, and endea- 
 voured to stop the murderous band ; a young boy, who 
 had been in the service of the count, and had joined 
 the rebels, capered near him, playing the dead march 
 on a fife, as if the victims had been dancing to it. All 
 perished : the child was wounded in its mother's arms, 
 and she herself was thrown on a dung-cart, and so 
 taken to Heilbronn. 
 
 On hearing of these cruelties, a cry of horror was 
 heard among the friends of the Reformation, and a 
 fearful struggle took place in Luther's feeling heart. 
 On the one hand the peasants, deriding his representa- 
 tions, pretended to revelations from heaven, made an 
 impious use of the threatenings of the Old Testament, 
 proclaimed the equality of ranks, and a community of 
 goods, defended their cause with fire and sword, and 
 had recourse to barbarous executions. On the other 
 hand, the enemies of the Reformation asked the reformer 
 with a malignant smile, if he did not know that it was 
 easier to kindle a fire than to extinguish it ? Indig- 
 nant at their excesses, — alarmed at the thought that 
 they might arrest the progress of the Gospel, — Luther 
 no longer hesitated ; all delicacy was at an end ; he 
 broke loose against the rebels with all the force of his 
 character, and, perhaps, exceeded the just limits within 
 which he ought to have confined himself. 
 
 "The peasants," said he, "commit these homble 
 sins towards God and towards men ; and, by so doing, 
 deserve the death both of the body and the soul. First, 
 they revolt against the magistrates to whom they have 
 sworn fidelity. Next, they rob and pillage convents 
 and castles. Last of all, they cloak their crimes with 
 the mantle of the Gospel. If you do not put a mad 
 dog to death you will perish yourself, and the whole 
 country with you. He who is slain in fighting for 
 magistrates will be a true martyr, if he has fought with 
 a good conscience." Luther afterwards gives an ener- 
 getic picture of the culpable violence of the peasantry 
 in compelling simple and peaceful men to enter their 
 alliance, and so drag them into the same condemnation. 
 He then adds : " Wherefore, dear lords, aid, save. 
 
 deliver, have pity on these poor people. Strike, stab, 
 and kill who can. ... If you die you cannot have 
 a happier end, for you die in the service of God, and 
 to save your neighbour from hell." 
 
 Neither gentleness nor force could arrest the popular 
 torrent. It was no longer for Divine service that the 
 church bell sounded ; whenever its grave and solemn 
 sounds were heard rising from the plains, it was the 
 tocsin, and all rushed to arms. The people of the 
 Black Forest had mustered around John Muller of 
 Bulgenbach. Of an imposing appearance, clothed in 
 a red mantle, and with a red bonnet on his head, this 
 leader paraded proudly from village to village, followed 
 by his peasants. Behind him on a car, adorned with 
 ribbons and branches of trees, waved the three-coloured 
 flag, — black, red, and white, — the signal of revolt. A 
 herald, decked in the same colom-s, read the twelve 
 articles, and called on the people to join the movement. 
 "Whoever refused was excluded from the community. 
 
 This procession, which was at first jieaceable, soon 
 became more restless. " The barons," they exclaimed, 
 " must be forced to join the alliance." And to bring 
 them to this, they pillaged their granaries, emptied their 
 wine cellars, fished the baronial ponds, laid the castles 
 of those nobles who resisted them in ruins, and burned 
 convents. Resistance inflamed the rage of these rude 
 men. Equality no longer satisfied them: they would 
 have blood; and vowed that every man who wore a 
 spur should bite the dust. 
 
 On the approach of the peasants, the towns, unable 
 to resist, opened their gates and joined the rebels. In 
 every place they entered pictures were torn, and 
 crucifixes broken to pieces. Armed females ran up 
 and down the streets threatening the monks. When 
 defeated in one place, they again mustered in another, 
 and defied the most formidable armies and bodies of 
 troops. A committee of peasants was established at 
 Heilbronn. The counts of Lowenstein being captured, 
 were clothed in a white frock, with a white baton in 
 their hands, and made to swear to the twelve articles. 
 "Brother George, and you, brother Albert,"said a tinker 
 to the counts of Hohenloe, who had repaired to the 
 camp, "swear to conduct us as brethren; for you also 
 are now peasants: you are no longer lords." The 
 equality of ranks, that dream of all democrats, was 
 established in aristocratic Germany. 
 
 A great number of nobles, some from fear and 
 others from ambition, now joined the revolters. The 
 famous Gotz of Berlichingen, when he saw his people 
 refuse to obey him, wished to fly to the Elector of 
 Saxony ; but his wife, who was in childbed, in order 
 to keep him near her, concealed the elector's reply. 
 Gotz, almost hemmed in, was obliged to place himself 
 at the head of the rebellious host. On the 7th May 
 the peasants entered Wurtzburg, and were received by 
 the citizens with acclamation. The troops of the 
 princes and knights of Swabia, who had assembled in 
 this town, evacuated it, and retired in haste to the 
 citadel, the last rampart of the nobility. 
 
 But the movement had already extended to other 
 parts of Germany. Spires, the Palatinate, Alsace, 
 and Hesse, acknowledged the twelve articles, and the 
 peasants threatened Bavaria, Westphalia, the Tyrol, 
 Saxony, and Lorraine. The Margrave of Baden, 
 
DEFEAT OF THE PEASANTS. 
 
 317 
 
 Hiving refused the articles, was obliged to flee. The 
 joadiutor of Fuldah acceded to thein laughing. The 
 
 1 
 
 coadj 
 
 small towns said that they had no lances to oppose 
 the revoltcrs. Mentz, Treves, and Frankfort, obtained 
 the liberties which they claimed. 
 
 An immense revolution is taking place throughout 
 the empire. The ecclesiastical and secular taxes which 
 oppress the peasants must be suppressed; the property 
 of the clergy will be secularized to compensate the 
 princes, and provide for the wants of the empire; 
 imposts must be abolished, with the exception of a 
 tribute, which will be paid every ten years; the 
 governing power recognised by the New Testament 
 will alone subsist; all other princes will cease to reign; 
 sixty-four free tribunals will be established, and men 
 of all classes will have seats in them ; all states will 
 return to their primitive destination; ecclesiastics will 
 henceforth only be pastors of churches; princes and 
 knights will only be defenders of the weak ; imity of 
 weights and measures will be introduced ; and only one 
 species of money will be coined throughout the empire. 
 Meanwhile the princes had recovered from their 
 first stupor, and George of Truchsess, geueral-in-chief 
 of the imperial army, was advancing from the direction 
 of the lake of Constance. He defeated the peasants, 
 on the 2d of May, at Beblingen, marched on the town 
 of AVeinsberg, where the unfortunate Ilelfenstein had 
 perished, and burnt and razed it, ordering the ruins 
 to be kept up as an eternal memorial of the treachery 
 of the inhabitants. At Furfekl he joined the elector- 
 palatine and the Elector of Treves, and they all ad- 
 vanced in a body towards Franconia. 
 
 Frauenburg, the citadel of Wurtzburg, still held out 
 for the princes, and the grand array of the peasants 
 continued under its walls. On learning the approach 
 of Truchsess, they detei-mined on the assault ; and on 
 the 1 Jth of May, at nine in the evening, the trumpets 
 sounded, the three-coloured flag was unfurled, and the 
 peasants rushed to the attack, uttering fearful cries. 
 Sebastian of Kotenhan, one of the warmest friends of 
 the lieformation, had the command of the castle. He 
 had placed the defence on a formidable footing, and 
 when he exhorted the soldiers courageously to repel 
 the assault, all had sworn to do so, by raising three of 
 their fingers to heaven. The most dreadful combat 
 then took place. The energy and despair of the 
 peasants was answered by the fortress with petards, 
 showers of sulphur and boiling pitch, and discharges 
 of artillery. The peasants, thus struck by invisible 
 enemies, were for a moment surprised; but their fury 
 soon increased. Night advanced, and the struggle was 
 prolonged. The fortress, lighted up by thousands of 
 battle-flres, seemed, amid the darkness, like a proud 
 giant vomiting flames, and single-hauled amidst the 
 cannons' roar struggling for the safety of the empire 
 against the ferocious valour of savage hordes. Two 
 hours after midnight the peasants, having failed in all 
 their efforts, at last withdrew. 
 
 They proposed to negotiate either with the garrison 
 or with Truchsess, who was advancing at the head of 
 his army. But this was to abandon their position. 
 Violence and victory alone could save them. After 
 some irresolution, they determined to set out and meet 
 the imperial army; but the artillery and the cavalry 
 
 made frightful ravages in their ranks. At Konigshofen, 
 and next at Engelstadt, these poor creatures were 
 completely defeated. The princes, nobles, and bishops, 
 abusing their victory, displayed unheard-of cruelt)'. 
 Tiie prisoners were hung up along the roads. The 
 Bishop of Wurtzburg, who had fled, returned, and 
 going over his whole diocese with executioners, watered 
 it at once with the blood of rebels, and the blood of 
 the peaceable friends of the Word of God. Gotz of 
 Berlichingen was condemned to perpetual imprisonment. 
 The Margrave Casimir of Anspach, put out the eyes 
 of eighty-five peasants, who had sworn that they would 
 never again look upon this prince; and cast upon the 
 world this band of blind men, who went up and down 
 holding each other by the hand, feeling their way, 
 stumbling, and begging their bread. The wretched 
 boy who had played the death-march of Helfenstein, 
 was chained to a stake, a fire was kindled around him, 
 and the knights stood by laughing at his horrible con- 
 tortions. 
 
 The ritual was every^vhere established in its ancient 
 form. The most flourishing and populous countries of 
 the empire now presented to the traveller only heaps 
 of carcases and smoking ruins. Fifty thousand men 
 had perished, and the people almost everywhere lost 
 the little freedom which they had hitherto enjoyed. 
 Such was, in the south of Germany, the fearful end of 
 this revolt. 
 
 CHAPTER Xr. 
 
 Milnzer at MuUiaasen— Arpeal to tlie People— Match of the Princes— KqJ 
 of the Revolt — Influence of the Reformers— Sutlerings— Change. 
 
 But the evU was not confined to the south and west of 
 Germany. MUnzer, after traversing part of Switzer- 
 land, Alsace, and Swabia, had again directed his steps 
 towards Saxony. Some citizens of Mulhausen invited 
 him into their town, and appointed him their pastor. 
 The town council having resisted, Miinzer deposed it, 
 and named another, composed of his friends, with him- 
 self at their head. Entertaining the utmost contempt 
 for the Christ, "sweet as honey," whom Luther 
 preached, he determined to have recourse to the most 
 energetic measures. "It is necessarj'," said he, "to 
 make all the nations of Caanan perish by the sword, as 
 Joshua did." He established a community of goods, 
 and pillaged the convents. Luther, 11th April, 1525, 
 wrote to Amsdorff: "Miinzer is king and emperor of 
 Mulhausen, and no longer merely its pastor." The 
 poor no longer worked; if any one needed cloth or 
 corn, he went and asked it of some rich neighbour; if 
 refused, the poor man seized it; if the rich man resisted, 
 he was hung. ^Mulhausen being an independent town, 
 Miinzer was able to exercise his power without opposi- 
 tion almost for a year. The revolt of the south of 
 Germany led him to believe that it was time to extend 
 his new kingdom. He caused cannon of large calibre 
 to be cast in the Franciscan convent, and endeavoured 
 to make a rise among the peasants and the miners of 
 Mansfeld. "How long will you still sleep?" said he 
 
318 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 to them, in a fanatical proclamation, "rise and fight 
 for the Lord ! It is time. France, Germany, and Italy 
 are on the march. On! on! oul — Dran! dran! dran! 
 Pay no regard to the distress of the ungodly. They will 
 beseech you like children, but remain pitiless. Dran ! 
 dran! dran! The fire burns. Let your sword be always 
 reeking with blood. Dran! dran! dran! Work while 
 it is day." The letter was signed, "M0NZER, servant 
 of God against the ungodly." 
 
 The country people, eager for plunder, flocked to his 
 banners. Everywhere, iu the districts of Mansfeld, 
 Stolborg, Schwartzburg in Hesse, the Duchy of Bruns- 
 wick, tlie peasants rose. The convents of Michelstein, 
 Ilsenburg, Walkenried, Rossleben, and many others 
 near the Hartz, or in the plains of Thuringia, were 
 completely pillaged. At Reinhardsbrunn, which Luther 
 had visited, the tombs of the ancient landgraves were 
 profaned, and the library destroyed. 
 
 Terror spread far and wide. At Wittemberg even 
 some uneasiness was felt. Those teachers, who had not 
 feared either the emperor or the pope, saw themselves 
 obliged to tremble before a madman. They were 
 constantly looking out for the news, and counted every 
 step of the revolters. "We are here," said Melancthon, 
 " iu great danger. If Mlinzer succeeds it is all over 
 with us, at least if Clirist do not save us. Mlinzer 
 advances with a cruelty worse than that of the 
 Scythians ; and it is impossible to mouth the atrocious 
 menaces wliich he throws out." 
 
 The pious elector had long hesitated as to the course 
 he ought to pursue. Miinzer had exhorted him — him 
 and all princes to be converted, " because," as he said, 
 " their hour was come ; " and he had signed his 
 letters, " Munzer, armed with the sword of Gideon." 
 Frederick had been desirous to bring back these be- 
 wildered men by gentleness. When dangerously ill, 
 he had written, on the 14th April, to his brother John : 
 "Perhaps these poor people have had more than one 
 ground for revolt. Ah, the poor are oppressed in 
 many ways by their temporal and spiritual lords!" 
 And when he was reminded of the humiliation, revolu- 
 tions, and dangers to which he was exposed if he did 
 not powerfidly suppress the rebellion, he replied : 
 " Hitherto I have been a powerful elector, having 
 horses and carriages in abundance; if it is now the 
 Lord's will to take them from me, I will walk on 
 foot." 
 
 The first of the princes who had recourse to arms 
 was the young landgrave, Philip of Hesse. His 
 knights and soldiers vowed to live and die with him. 
 After pacifying his own states, he directed his course 
 towards Saxony. Duke John, the elector's brother, 
 Duke George of Saxony, and Duke Henry of Bruns- 
 wick, advanced in the other direction, and united their 
 forces with those of Hesse. The peasants, frightened 
 at the sight of this army, took refuge on a hill, where, 
 without discipline, without armour, and the greater 
 part without courage, they made a rampart of their 
 waggons. Munzer did not even know how to pre- 
 pare powder for his immense cannon. No assistance 
 appeared. The army hemmed in the rebels, who be- 
 gan to despond. The princes, taking pity on them, 
 offered conditions, which they seemed disposed to 
 accept; when Munzer betook himself to the most 
 
 powerful instrument which enthusiasm can bring into 
 play. " To-day," said he, " we shall see the arm of 
 the Lord, and all our enemies will be destroyed." At 
 that moment a rainbow appeared, and Munzer took 
 advantage of it. " Fear not," said he to the burghers 
 and peasants, "I will receive all the bullets which will 
 be shot at you in my sleeve." At the same time he 
 ordered a young gentleman, Maternus of Geholfen, an 
 envoy of the princes, to be cruelly murdered, that ho 
 might iu this way deprive the rebels of all hope of 
 pardon. 
 
 The landgrave having assembled his troops, said to 
 them : " I know well that we princes are often in fault, 
 for we are men ; but it is God's pleasure that princes 
 be honoured. Let us save oiu" wives and our children 
 from the fury of these murderers. The Lord will give 
 us the victory; for He has said: He who resists i/ie 
 potvei; resists the ordinance of God." Philip then gave 
 the signal for attack. This was on the 15 th May, 
 1525. The army moved forward; but the crowd of 
 peasants remained immoveable, singing the hymn, 
 " Come, Holy Spirit," and waiting till Heaven should 
 declare in their favour. The artillery soon broke the 
 main body, carrying death and consternation into the 
 midst of them. Their fanaticism and courage at once 
 forsook them, — they were seized with a panic, and fled 
 in disorder. Five thousand perished in the flight. 
 After the battle, the princes and their victorious troops 
 entered Frankenhausen. A soldier having gone up to 
 the loft of the house where he was quartered, found a 
 man in bed. " Who are you ?" said he to him. "Are 
 you a rebel ? " Then having discovered a portfolio, he 
 took it, and found letters in it addi-essed to Thomas 
 Mlinzer. " Are you Thomas '?" said the trooper. The 
 sick man, in consternation, said, "No." But the 
 soldier using dreadful tlireats, Miinzer (for it was 
 indeed he) confessed who he was. " You arc my 
 prisoner," said the soldier. Being taken before Duke 
 George and the landgrave, Munzer ended by saying 
 that he had done right in trying to chastise the princes, 
 since they opposed the Gospel. — " Wretch ! " said they 
 to him, " think of all those whose destruction you have 
 caused." But he replied with a smile, in the midst of 
 his anguish : " They would have it so." He received 
 the sacrament under one kind, and was beheaded 
 along with Pfeiffer, his lieutenant. Mulhausen was 
 taken, and the peasants were loaded with chains. 
 
 A noble having observed in the crowd of prisoners 
 a peasant of good appearance, approached him, and 
 said : " Well, my lad, which government pleases you 
 best — that of peasants or that of princes?" The poor 
 man replied with a sigh : " Ah, my lord, there is no 
 knife whose blade cuts so keenly as the tyranny of 
 one peasant over another." 
 
 The remains of the revolt were extinguished in 
 blood. Duke George, in particular, displayed great 
 severity. In the states of the elector there was 
 neither punishment nor execution. The Word of 
 God, preached in all its purity, had shewn its efficacy 
 in restraining the tumultuous passions of the people. 
 
 In fact, Luther had never ceased to combat the 
 rebellion, which he regarded as the forerunner of the 
 universal judgment. He had spared nothing — in- 
 struction, entreaty, not even irony. At the end of the 
 
LUTHER'S SPIRITUAL AGONY, 
 
 articles prepared by the rebels at Erfurt, he had 
 fldded, as a supplementary article : " Item, the follow- 
 ing article has been omitted : Henceforth the honour- 
 ftbte council shall have no power ; it shall have nought 
 to do but sit like an idol or a log ; the community will 
 chew all its meat for it ; and the council will govern 
 bound hand and foot. Henceforth the waggon will 
 go before the horses, the horses hold the reins, and all 
 go on admirably, conformably to the fine project which 
 these articles expound." 
 
 Luther did not content himself with ^\Titing. While 
 the tumult was at its height he left Wittemberg, and 
 travelled over several of the districts where the greatest 
 agitation reigned. He preached and laboured to soften 
 down men's spirits; and his hand, which Ciod rendered 
 powerful, directed, calmed, and brought back to their 
 old channel, those furious torrents which had burst 
 their banks. 
 
 The teachers of the Reformation everywhere exerted 
 the same influence. At Halle, Breutz, by the promises 
 of the Divine Word, raised the drooping spirits of the 
 burghers, so that four thousand peasants had fled 
 before six hundred citizens. At Ichterhausen, a mul- 
 titude of peasants having assembled with the intention 
 of demohshing several castles, and putting the noble 
 proprietors to death, Frederick Mycouius went to 
 them alone ; and such was the power of his eloquence, 
 that their design was immediately abandoned. 
 
 Such was the part acted by the reformers and the 
 Reformation in the midst of the revolt. They com- 
 bated it with all their might by the sword of the 
 Word, and energetically maintained the principles 
 which alone are capable, at all times, of preserving 
 order and obedience among the nations. Accordingly, 
 Luther maintained, that if the power of sound doctrine 
 had not arrested the fury of the people, the revolt 
 would have caused much gi-eater ravages, and com- 
 pletely overthrown both Church and State. There is 
 every reason to believe that this dismal foreboding 
 would have been realized. 
 
 If the reformers thus combated sedition, it was not 
 without receiving severe shocks from it. The moral 
 agony which Luther at first felt in the cell at Erfurt, 
 was perhaps at its greatest height after the revolt of 
 the peasants. A great transformation among mankind 
 is not produced without suffering on the part of those 
 who are the instruments of it. To complete the work 
 of Christianity, the agony of the cross was necessary; 
 but He who hung upon the cross addresses each of 
 His disciples in the words: Are ye able to be bap- 
 thed tvith the baptism that I am baptized %vith ? 
 
 On the part of the princes it was incessantly re- 
 peated that Luther and his doctrine were the cause 
 of the revolt ; and however absurd this idea was, the 
 refonner could not see it so generally received without 
 a feeling of deep grief. On the part of the people, 
 Miinzer, and all the leaders of the sedition, represented 
 Luther as a vile hypocrite, a flatterer of the gi-eat ; and 
 these calumnies were readily credited. The violent 
 terms in which Luther denounced the rebels, had 
 offended even moderate men. The friends of Rome 
 I triumphed ; all were against him, and the wrath of his 
 age lay as a burden upon him. But what tore his soul 
 most of all, was to see the work of heaven thus 
 
 dragged through the mire, and placed in the same rank 
 with the most fanatical projects. He here recognised 
 his Gethsemane ; he saw the bitter cup which was 
 presented to him, and anticipating universal desertion, 
 exclaimed : '" Oiiiiies r-os fcandalttm patiemini in ista 
 node." — " All ye shall be offended because of me this 
 night," (Matt. xxvi. 31.) 
 
 Still, amidst all this bitterness of feeling, he pre- 
 served his faith. "He," said he, "who enabled me 
 to trample the enemy under foot, when he rose up 
 against me like a cruel dragon or a raging lion, will 
 not permit this enemy to crush me, now that he 
 appears with the perfidious aspect of the serpent. I 
 behold these misfortunes, and I lament them. I have 
 often asked myself if it would not be better to allow 
 the papacy quietly to take its own course, rather than 
 see so many disturbances and divisions break out in 
 the world. But no ! Far better rescue some from the 
 devil's throat than leave them all imder his murderous 
 fangs." 
 
 It was at this period that a revolution in Luther's 
 mind, which had begun in the Wartburg, was com- 
 pleted. The internal life no longer suflficed him ; the 
 Church and her institutions assumed a high im- 
 portance in his eyes. The boldness with which he had 
 demolished, stopped at the sight of more radical demo- 
 lition ; he felt that it was necessary to preserve, guide, 
 build up, and from amidst the bloody ruins with which 
 the wars of the peasants covered Germany, the edifice 
 of the New Church began slowly to arise. 
 
 These disturbances left a deep and lasting emotion. 
 The population was struck with terror. The masses 
 who had sought in the Reformation only political 
 liberty, withdrew spontaneously when they saw that 
 spiritual liberty alone was offered them. The oppo- 
 sition of Luther to the peasants, was equivalent to a 
 renunciation of the ephemerid favour of the people. 
 An apparent calm was soon established, and the tur- 
 moil of enthusiasm and sedition wiis, throughout Ger- 
 many, succeeded by a silence which terror inspired. 
 
 Thus the popular passions, the revolutionary cause, 
 the prosecution of a radical equalit}-, failed in the 
 empire ; but the Reformation did not fail. These two 
 movements, which many confound, are clearly distin- 
 guished by their different results. Revolt came from 
 beneath, the Reformation from above. A few cavalry 
 and cannon were sufficient to suppress the former ; but 
 the latter ceased not to rise, strengthen, and increase, 
 in spite of the incessantly renewed attacks of the empire 
 and the Church. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 Two Issufs— Death of Frederick— The Prince and the Refonner— Catholic 
 Alliance — Projects of Charles— Dangers. 
 
 Still, however, the cause of the Reformation seemed 
 at fii-st doomed to perish in the abyss which engulfed 
 the popular liberties. A sad event which now occurred 
 seemed destined to hasten its end. At the moment 
 when the princes were marching against Miinzer, ten 
 
320 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 days before liis defeat, the old Elector of Saxony — 
 he whom God had raised up to defeud the Reforma- 
 tion against attacks from without — was descending 
 into the tomb. 
 
 His strength was daily decaying, and the horrors 
 with which the war of the peasants was accompanied, 
 were breaking his compassionate heart. "Ah!" ex- 
 claimed he, with a deep sigh ; " if it were God's will, I 
 would gladly die. No longer do I behold on the earth 
 either love, or truth, or faith, or anything that is good." 
 Turning his eyes from the combats with which Ger- 
 many was resounding, the pious prince calmly pre- 
 pared for his departure, in his castle of Lochau. On 
 the 4tli May, he sent for his chaplain, the faithful 
 Spalatin. " You do well," said he to him, gently, as 
 he entered, " to come and see me ; for the sick should 
 be visited," Then ordering his couch to be wheeled 
 towards the table, near which Spalatin was seated, he 
 ordered all his attendants to retire, and affectionately 
 taking hold of Spalatin's hand, spoke to him of Luther, 
 the peasants, and his approaching departure. At eight 
 in the evening Spalatin returned, when the prince 
 opened his whole heart to him, and confessed liis sins 
 in the presence of God. The next day, 5th May, he 
 received the communion in both kinds. He had no 
 member of his family near him — his brother and 
 nephew having set out with the army; but his domes- 
 tics were around him, according to the ancient custom 
 of those times. With eyes fixed on the venerable 
 prince, who had been so kind a master, they were all 
 melted in tears. " My little children," said he, with a 
 gentle voice, " if I have offended any one of you, let 
 me have pardon for the love of God ; for we princes 
 often give pain to inferiors, and that is wrong." Thus 
 Frederick verified tlie words of the apostle : Let the 
 rich rejoice in that lie is made low; because as the Jlower 
 of the grass he shall pass uicay. 
 
 Spalatin, who did not again leave him, warmly set 
 before him the rich promises of the Gospel ; aud the 
 pious elector, in its powerful consolations, enjoyed 
 ineffable peace. The evangelical doctrine was no 
 longer viewed by him as the sword which attacks 
 error, pursues it wherever it is found, and after a 
 vigorous struggle, finally overcomes it ; it distilled in his 
 heart like the rain and the dew, filling it with hope 
 and joy. The present world was forgotten, and Frede- 
 rick saw only God and eternity. 
 
 Feeling death rapidly approaching, he destroyed the 
 testament which he had written several years before, 
 and in which he recommended his soul to the "Mother 
 of God," and dictated another, in which he cast himself 
 upon the sacred merits of Jesus Christ alone " for the 
 forgiveness of his sins ;" and declared his firm convic- 
 tion that " he was ransomed by the precious blood of 
 his beloved Saviour." After this he said : " I can do 
 no more ;" aud, at five in the evening, gently fell asleep. 
 " He was a child of peace," exclaimed his physician, 
 "and he has departed in peace." "0 death!" said 
 Luther, " how bitter to those whom thou leavest in 
 life!" 
 
 Luther, who was then in Thuringia, trying to calm 
 it, had never seen the elector but at a distance, at 
 AVorms, standing beside Charles V. But these two 
 men had met in soul the first moment the Keformation 
 
 appeared. Frederick longed for nationality and inde- 
 pendence, as Luther longed for truth and reformation. 
 No doubt the Reformation was, first of all, a spiritual 
 work ; but it was, pei-haps, necessary to its first success, 
 that it should link itself to some national interest. 
 Accordingly, no sooner had Luther made a stand 
 against indulgences, than the alliance between the 
 prince and the monk was tacitly concluded — an alli- 
 ance purely moral, without contract, without writing, 
 without words even, and in which the strong gave no 
 other aid to the weak than to allow him to act. But 
 now that the vigorous oak, under whose shelter the 
 Reformation had gradually grovifn up, was hewn down, 
 now that the enemies of the Gospel were everywhere 
 displaying new hatred and strength, while its partisans 
 were obliged to hide themselves or be silent, nothing 
 seemed able to defend it against the sword of its furious 
 persecutors. 
 
 The confederates at Ratisbon, who had vanquished 
 the peasants in the south and west of the empire, every- 
 where struck at the Reformation, as well as the revolt. 
 At Wurtzburg and Bamberg several of the most peace- 
 able citizens, some even who had opposed the peasants, 
 were put to death. " No matter," it was openly said, 
 " they were adherents of the Gospel." This was 
 enough to make them lose their heads. 
 
 Duke George hoped to make the landgrave and 
 Duke John share in his love and his hatred. " See," 
 said he to them, after the defeat of the peasants, and 
 shewing them the field of battle, — " see the mischiefs 
 engendered by Luther." John and Philip seemed to 
 give some hope of adopting his views. " Duke 
 George," said the reformer, "imagines he is to triumph 
 now that Frederick is dead ; but Christ reigns in the 
 midst of His enemies: in vain do they gnash their 
 teeth ; their desire will perish." 
 
 George lost no time in forming a confederation, 
 similar to that of Ratisbon, in the north of Germany. 
 The electors of Mentz and Brandenburg, dukes Henry 
 aud Eric of Brunswick, and Duke George, met at 
 Dessau, and there, in July, concluded a Roman alli- 
 ance. George urged the new elector, and the land- 
 grave, his son-in-law, to give in their adherence to it. 
 Then, as if to announce what were to be its results, he 
 beheaded two citizens of Leipsic, in whose house some 
 of the reformer's writings had been found. 
 
 At the same time a letter of Charles V., dated 
 Toledo, arrived in Germany, appointing a new diet 
 to be held at Augsburg. Charles wished to give a 
 new constitution to the empire, that would enable him 
 to dispose, at pleasure, of the forces of Germany. The 
 religious divisions furnished him with the means. He 
 had only to let loose the Catholics on the evangelicals. 
 When they had mutually enfeebled each other, he 
 would obtain an easy triumph over both. Down with 
 the Lutherans ! was the emperor's watchword. 
 
 Thus there was a kind of universal league against 
 the Reformation. Never had the soul of Luther been 
 so oppressed with fears. The remains of Miinzer's 
 sect had sworn that they would have his life, aud his 
 only protector was no more. Duke George, he was 
 informed, intended to apprehend him even in Wittem- 
 berg. The princes who might have been able to 
 defend him hung down their heads, and seemed to 
 
THE NUNS OF NIMPTSCH. 
 
 321 
 
 have forsaken the Gospel. The uuiversity, already 
 thinned by disturbances, was, it was said, to be sup- 
 pressed by the new elector. Charles, victorious at 
 Pavia, was assembling a new diet, with the view of 
 giving the finishing blow to the Reformation. What 
 dangers, then, must he not have foreseen ! . . That 
 anguish, those inward sufferings which li;i'l nl'dn « lun;,' 
 cries from Luther, tore his soul. How >li;ill In- i. -ist 
 so many enemies? Amidst these agilaiion^, in pru- 
 sence of these many perils, beside the corpse of Frede- 
 rick almost before it was cold, and the dead bodies of 
 the peasants who strewed the plains of Germany — who 
 would have thought it — Luther married ! 
 
 CHAPTER XHL 
 
 In the monastery of Nimptsch, near Grimma, there 
 were, in 1523, nine nuns, who diligently read the 
 Word of God, and had perceived the contrast between 
 the Christian life and the life of the cloister. Their 
 names were — JIagdaleno Staupitz, Eliza Canitz, Ava 
 Grossen, Ava and Margaret Schonfeld, Laneta Golis, 
 Margaret and Catherine Zeschau, and Catherine Bora. 
 The first proceeding of these young persons, after they 
 had withdrawn from the superstitions of the monastery, 
 was to write their parents. "The salvation of our 
 souls," they said, "does not allow us to continue any 
 longer to live in a cloister." Tlie parents, fearing the 
 trouble which such a resolution might give them, 
 harshly repulsed the desire of their daughters. The 
 poor nuns knew not what to do. How were they 
 to leave the monastery ? They trembled at the thought 
 of so desperate a step. At last, the disgust which the 
 papal worship produced, carried the day. They pro- 
 mised not to quit each other ; but to repair, in a body, 
 to some respectable place, decently, and in order. 
 Leonard Koppe and Wolff Tomitzch, two worthy and 
 pious citizens of Torgau, offered their assistance. They 
 accepted it, as sent by God himself, and left the con- 
 vent of Nimptsch without meeting with any opposition, 
 as if the hand of the Lord had opened the gates for 
 them. Koppe and Tomitzch received them in their 
 car; and, on the 7th April, 1523, the nine nuns, 
 astonished at their own hardihood, stopped, with 
 emotion, before the gate of the old Augustine con- 
 vent where Luther was residing. 
 
 " It is not I who have done it," said Luther, on 
 receiving them ; " but would to God I could thus 
 save all captive consciences, and empty all cloisters." 
 Several persons made an offer to the doctor to receive 
 the nuns into their houses ; and Catherine Bora was 
 taken into the family of the burgomaster of AVittem- 
 berg. 
 
 If, at that time, Luther had any thought of pre- 
 paring for some solemn event, it was to mount the 
 scaffold — not approach the hymeneal altar. Many 
 months later, his answer to those who spoke to him of 
 
 marriage, was: "God can change my lieart as He 
 pleases ; but now, at least, I have no thought whatever 
 of taking a wife ; not that I do not feel some inclina- 
 tion for the married state: I am neither wood nor 
 stone ; but I am in daily expectation of the death and 
 punishment due to a heretic." 
 
 Still everything in the Chiu'ch continued to advance. 
 The monastic life, an invention of man, was every- 
 where succeeded by the habits of domestic life. On 
 Sunday, 'Jih October, Luther, having risen as usual, 
 laid aside his Augustine frock, put on the dress of a 
 secular priest, and then made his appearance in the 
 church, where the change produced the greatest joy. 
 Christendom, which had renewed its youth, gave a 
 glad welcome to all which announced that old things 
 were passed away. 
 
 Shortly after the last monk quitted the convent; but 
 Luther still remained ; his steps alone were heard in 
 its long passages, and he sat alone in silence in the 
 refectory, which was wont to echo with the tattle of 
 the monks. An eloquent solitude 1 one which attested 
 the triumphs of the Word of God ! The convent had 
 ceased to exist. Towards the end of 1524, Luther 
 sent the keys of the monastery to the elector, stating 
 that he would see ^vhere God might bo pleased to give 
 him food. The elector gave the convent to the uni- 
 versity, and asked Luther to continue to reside in it. 
 The abode of the monks was soon to become the hearth 
 of a Christian family. 
 
 Luther, whose heart was so well fitted to relish the 
 sweets of domestic life, honoiu-ed and loved the married 
 state ; it is even probable that he had an attachment 
 for Catherine Bora. For a long time his scruples, and 
 the thought of the calumnies to which the step might 
 give rise, had prevented him from thinking of her; 
 and he had made an offer of poor Catherine, first to 
 Baumgartner of Nuremberg, and then to Doctor 
 Glatz of Nuremberg. But when he saw Baumgartner 
 refuse Catherine, and Glatz refused by her, he asked 
 himself more seriously, if he should not form the con- 
 nection in his own person. 
 
 His old father, who had been so much grieved at 
 his embracing the ecclesiastical state, urged him to 
 marry. But there was one idea which perpetually 
 pi'csented itself to Luther's conscience with new 
 energy : marriage is a divine — celibacy a human insti- 
 tution. He had a horror at everything that came 
 from Rome. "I wish," said he to his friends, "to 
 preserve no pai-t of my papistical life." He prayed 
 night and day, beseeching the Lord to deliver him 
 from his uncertainty. At length all scruples were 
 dissipated by one consideration. To all the motives 
 of convenience and personal feeling which led him to 
 apply to him=elf the words, It is not good that man 
 should be al<ui. . \\:\< a.Mr.l a motive of a still higher 
 nature and ui.Mlir piuir. He saw, that if he was 
 called to marriage as a luau, he wiis still more called 
 to it as a reformer. This decided him. 
 
 "If this monk marries," said his friend, lawyer 
 Schurff, " he will make the world and the devil burst 
 with laughter, and destroy the work which he has 
 begun." This saying made a very different impression 
 on Luther from what might have been supposed. To 
 defy the world, the devil, and his enemies, and, by an 
 
HISTORY OF THE KEFOEMATION. 
 
 action, fitted, as was thought, to destroy the work of 
 the Eeformatiou, to prevent the success of it from 
 being in any way ascribed to him, was the very thiug 
 which he desired. Hence, boldly lifting his head, he 
 replied : " Very well, I shall do it. I shall play this 
 trick to the world and the devil ; I will give this joy 
 to my father ; I will marry Catherine." By marrying, 
 Lutlier broke still more completely with the institutions 
 of the papacy. He confirmed the doctrine which he 
 had preached by his example ; and encom-aged the 
 timid entu-ely to renounce their errors. At this time 
 Eome was, apparently, here aud there regaining part 
 of the territory which she had lost : she was, perhaps, 
 beginning to cherish a hope of victory; and, lo! a 
 mighty explosion carries surprise and terror into her 
 ranks, and makes her more fully aware of the courage 
 of the enemy, wliom she thought she had tamed. " I 
 ■wish," said Luther, " to bear testimony to the Gospel, 
 not only by my words, but also by my works. In the 
 face of my enemies, who already triumph, and sing- 
 jubilee, I mean to marry a nun, in order that they 
 may understand and know that they have not van- 
 quished me. I do not marry in the hope of living 
 long with ray wife; but seeing people and princes 
 letting loose their fui-y against me, foreseeing that my 
 end is near, aud that after my death they will trample 
 my doctrine under foot, I mean to leave, for the 
 edification ckf the weak, a striking confirmation of 
 what I have taught here below." 
 
 On the 11th June, 1525, Luther repau-ed to the 
 house of his friend and colleague, Amsdorff. He asked 
 for Pomeranus, whom he distinguished by the name of 
 "the Pastor," to bless his union. The celebrated 
 painter, Lucas Cranach, aud Doctor John ApeUes, 
 acted as witnesses. Melancthou was not present. 
 
 Luther's marriage made a noise throughout Christen- 
 dom. He was assailed from all quarters with accusa- 
 tions and calumnies. "It is incest!" exclaimed Henry 
 Vin. "A monk marrying a vestal!" said some. 
 " Antichrist must be born of this union," said others ; 
 " for there is a j)rophecy that he is to spring from a 
 monk and a nun." On this Erasmus observed, with a 
 sarcastic smile: "If the prophecy be true, how many 
 thousands of Antichrists must the world already 
 contain ! " But while Luther was thus assailed, several 
 wise and moderate men within the pale of the Romish 
 Church took up his defence. "Luther," said Erasmus, 
 "has married a member of the ilhistrious house of 
 Bora, but without dowry." A still more venerable 
 testimony was given to him. The teacher of Germany, 
 Philip Melaucthon, whom this bold step had at first 
 amazed, said, in that solemn tone to which even his 
 enemies listened with respect: "If it is pretended that 
 there is anything unbecoming in the marriage of 
 Luther, it is a lie and a calumny. I think he must 
 have done violence to his own feelings in marrying. 
 Married life is a humble, but it is also a holy state — if 
 there is such a state in the world — and the Scriptures 
 uniformly represent it as honourable iu the sight of 
 God." 
 
 Luther was at first moved on seeing so much con- 
 tempt and wrath poured out upon him. Melancthon 
 redoubled his friendship and regard ; and the reformer 
 was soon able to see in the opposition of men only a 
 
 sign of the approbation of God. " Did I not offend 
 the world," said he, " I should have reason to tremble, 
 lest what I have done should not be agreeable to God." 
 
 There was an interval of eight years between 
 Luther's attack on indulgences and his marriage with 
 Cathei-iue Bora. It would thus be difficult, though it 
 is still attempted, to attribute his zeal against the 
 abuses of the Church to an impatient desire of marry- 
 ing. He was at this time forty-two years of age, and 
 Catherine Bora had been two years at Wittemberg. 
 
 Luther was happy in his marriage. " The greatest 
 gift of God," said he, "is a pious amiable spouse, who 
 fears God, loves her house, and with whom one can 
 live in peace and perfect confidence." Some months 
 after his marriage he announced to one of his friends 
 that Catherine had hopes of becoming a mother. A 
 son was born about a year after the marriage. The 
 sweets of domestic life soou dissipated the clouds which 
 the anger of his enemies had at first raised around 
 him. His Ketha, (Kate,) as he called her, shewed the 
 greatest affection for him — comforted him, when he 
 was depressed, by quoting passages of the Bible to him, 
 relieved him from all the cares of ordinary life, sat 
 beside him during his hours of leisure, embroidered the 
 portrait of her husband, reminded him of the friends 
 to whom he had forgotten to write, and often amused 
 him by her simple-hearted questions. There appears 
 to have been a certain degree of pride in her temper: 
 hence Luther sometimes called her " Sir Kate." He 
 one day said in jest, that if he were still unmarried he 
 would hew an obedient wife for himself out of stone, 
 for such an one nowhere existed in reality. His letters 
 fully expressed his fondness for Catherine. He called 
 her "his dear aud affectionate wife," — "his dear and 
 amiable Kate." Luther's humour was more sportive 
 in Catherine's society; and this happy turn of mind 
 continued with him ever after, even amidst the greatest 
 dangers. 
 
 The almost universal corruption of the clergy had 
 brought the priesthood into the greatest contempt ; and 
 though there were some true servants of God, their 
 isolated virtues could do away with it. Domestic 
 peace, conjugal fidelity, the surest foundations of 
 earthly happiness, were continually disturbed in town 
 and country by the licentiousness of monks and priests. 
 None were secure against their attempts at seduction. 
 They took advantage of the free access which they 
 had into the bosom of families, and sometimes also of 
 the intimate intercourse furnished by the confessional, 
 to instil a deadly poison into their penitents, and so 
 gi-atify their vicious propensities. The Reformation, 
 by abolishing the celibacy of priests, re-established the 
 sacredness of the marriage tie. The marriage of 
 ecclesiastics put an end to an immense number of 
 secret crimes. The reformers became models to their 
 flocks in the most intimate and important relation of 
 life ; and the people were not slow iu expressing their 
 joy at again seeing the ministers of religion become 
 husbands and fathers. 
 
REFORMATION IN PRUSSIA. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Till! r.nniltTnve— Tho Elector— Prussia— Reformation— Secularization— Tlie 
 Archbishop of Mentz— Conference of Friedewalt— Diet— Alliance of 
 Torgau— Resistance of the Reformers— Alliance of Magilebnrg — Tlie 
 Callioliea redouble their ellorts— Marriage of the Emrcror— Threatening 
 Letters— The two Parties. 
 
 LuTiiEu's marriage at first seemed to add to the 
 embarrassment of the Reformation, which was still 
 siifferiii"; from the shock which it had received from 
 the revolt of the peasants. The sword of the emperor 
 and the princes had always been drawn against it, and 
 its friends the landgrave and the new elector seemed 
 discouraged, and afraid to speak out. 
 
 However, this state of things was not of long 
 duration. The young landgrave soon stood up boldly. 
 Ardent and courageous, like Luther, he had been won 
 by tlie charms of the reformer's character. He threw 
 himself into the cause of the Reformation with the 
 eagerness of youth, and at the same time studied it with 
 the gravity of a maturer intellect. 
 
 In Saxony, the place of Frederick had not been 
 supplied either in regard to wisdom or influence; but 
 his brother, the Elector John, instead of the passive 
 part of protection, interfered more directly, and with 
 more courage iu religious affairs. AVhcn quitting 
 "Weimar, on the IGth August, 1525, he intimated to the 
 a.<scmblod priests : " I desire that iu future you preach 
 the pure AVord of God, without any luimau addition." 
 Some old ecclesiastics, who did not know how to obey, 
 replied with great simplicity : " We are not forbidden, 
 however, to s.ay mass for the dead, nor to bless water 
 and salt." — " Everything," resumed the elector, " cere- 
 monies as well as preaching, ought to be regulated by 
 the Word of God." 
 
 The young landgrave, shortly after, formed the 
 strange project of converting his father-in-law, Duke 
 George. Sometimes he proved the sufliciency of 
 Scripture ; sometimes attacked the mass, the pap.acy, 
 and vows. Letter succeeded letter, and all the declara- 
 tions of the Word of God were alternately opposed to 
 the faith of the old duke. 
 
 These efforts did not prove useless. The sou of 
 Duke George was gained to the Reformation. But 
 Philip failed with his father-in-law. "In one hundred 
 years." said the latter, '• it will be seen who is in the 
 right." — "Sad words," said the Elector of Saxeny, 
 " what kind of faith is it that stands in need of such a 
 trial? Poor duke! . . . He will wait long. God, 
 I fear, has hardened him as He did Pharaoh." 
 
 In Philip the evangelical party found a bold and 
 intelligent leader, capable of withstanding the formid- 
 able attacks which their enemies were preparing. But 
 is there not reason to regret that the head of the 
 Reformation was, from this moment, a man of war, 
 instead of being a mere disciple of the Word of God? 
 The human element w.os enlarged, and the spiritual 
 element diminished. This was detrimental. For every 
 work ought to be developed according to its own 
 nature, and that of the Reformation was essentially 
 spiritual. 
 
 God was multiplying its supports. A powerful state 
 
 on the frontiers of Germany, Prussia, gladly arrayed 
 itself under the Gospel standard. The ehivalric and 
 religious spirit which had founded the Teutonic order 
 had gradually died away with the times which gave it 
 birth. The knights, now seeking only their private 
 interest, had produced dissatisfaction among the people 
 subject to them. Poland had profited by this in 1466, 
 to obtain from the order a recognition of her sove- 
 reignty. Tlie people, the knights, the grand-master, 
 the Polish government, were so many opposite powers, 
 which were continu.illy jostling each other, and 
 rendered the prosperity of the country impossible. 
 
 Then came the Reformation, and iu it was recognised 
 the only means of deliverance to this unhappy people. 
 Brismann, Speratus, Poliander, (Dr. Eck's secretary 
 at the Leipsic discussion.) and othei-s, preached the 
 Gospel in Prussia. 
 
 One day a mendicant from the countries subject to 
 the Teutonic knights, arrived at Wittemberg, and, 
 halting before Luther's door, with solemn voice, sang 
 Poliander's beautiful hymn, — 
 
 " To us at lcnj,'tli salvation comes." 
 
 The reformer, who had never heard the hymn, listened 
 with astonishment and rapture. The foreign accent 
 of the singer increased his joy. "Again! again!" 
 exclaimed he, when the mendicant had finished. He 
 then asked him where he got the hymn ; and his tears 
 began to fall when he learned that from the shores of 
 the Baltic a cr}' of deliverance was resounding even in 
 Wittemberg. Then clasping his hands, he thanked 
 God. 
 
 In fact, s.alvation was there. 
 
 "Take pity on our misery," said the people of 
 Prussia to the grand-master, " and give us preachers 
 who proclaim the pure Gospel of Jesus Christ." 
 Albert at first gave no answer; but he entered into 
 conference with Sigismund, king of Poland, his uncle 
 and sovereign lord, who acknowledged him as here- 
 ditary Duke of Prussia. The new prince entered his 
 capital of Konigsberg amid the ringing of bells, and 
 the acclamations of the people; all the houses were 
 splendidly decorated, and the streets strewed with 
 flowers. " There is only one ordei\" said Albert, "and 
 that is Christendom." The monastic orders disap- 
 peared, and the Divine order was re-established. 
 
 The bishops gave up their secular rights to the new 
 duke ; the convents were turned into hospitals ; the 
 Gospel was preached even in the humblest village ; and, 
 in the following year, Albert married Dorothea, daugh- 
 ter of the King of Denmark, whose " faith in the one 
 only Sa^-iour " was immoveable. 
 
 The pope called upon the emperor to exercise seve- 
 rity against this "apostate" monk, and Charles put 
 AJbert under the ban. 
 
 Another prince, of the family of Brandenburg, 
 Albert, archbishop of Mentz, was then on the point 
 of following the example of his cousin. The war of 
 the peaScints threatened the ecclesiastical st.ites in par- 
 ticular ; the elector, Luther, all Germany, believed that 
 they were on the eve of a great revolution. The arch- 
 bishop, thinking that the only means of saving his prin- 
 cipality was secretly to secularize it, asked Luther to 
 prepare the people for this bold step. This Luther 
 did by a letter which he prepared for them, and 
 
324 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 intended to publish. '' God," said he, " has laid a 
 heavy hand on the clergy, — they must fall, — nothing 
 can save them." But the war of the peasants having 
 terminated much more speedily than had been imagined, 
 the cardinal kept his temporal possessions ; his fears 
 ■were dissipated, and he renounced the project of 
 secularization. 
 
 While John of Saxony, Philip of Hesse, and Albert 
 of Prussia, openly professed the Reformation, and thus 
 the place of prudent Frederick was supplied by three 
 princes of resolution and courage, the holy work m.ade 
 progress in the Church and among the nations. Luther 
 solicited the elector to establish the evangelical minis- 
 try throughout his states instead of the priesthood of 
 Rome, and to appoint a general visitation of the 
 churches. About the same time episcopal powers 
 began to be exercised, and ministers to be consecrated. 
 " The pope, the bishops, the monks, and the priests, 
 need not make a noise. "We are the Church. There 
 is no other Church than the assembly of those who 
 have the Word of God, and are purified by it." 
 
 All this could not be said and done without pro- 
 ducing a powerful reaction. Rome had thought the 
 Reformation extinguished in the blood of the rebel- 
 lious peasants ; but everywhere its flames reappeared 
 brighter and fiercer. She resolved to make a new 
 effort. The pope and the emperor wrote threatening 
 letters — the one from Rome, the other from Spain. 
 The imperial government prepared to replace matters 
 on the ancient footing, and it was seriously proposed 
 entirely to crush the Reformation at the approachingdiet. 
 
 The electoral prince of Saxony and the landgi-ave 
 alarmed, met, on the 7th November, at the castle of 
 Friedewalt, and agreed that their deputies at the diet 
 should act on a common understanding. Thus, in the 
 forest of SuUingen were formed the first elements of 
 an evangelical alliance opposed to the leagues of Ratis- 
 bon and Dessau. 
 
 The diet was opened on the 11th December, at 
 Augsburg. The evangelical princes did not attend in 
 person. The deputies of Saxony and Hesse spoke out 
 boldly at the outset. "The revolt of the peasants," 
 said they, " was occasioned by imprudent severity. 
 Neither by fire nor sword can the truth of God be 
 plucked out of men's hearts. If you resolve on employ- 
 ing violence against the Reformation, the result will be 
 more dreadful evils than those which you have just 
 with difficulty escaped." 
 
 It was felt that the resolution which should be taken, 
 could not fail to be of immense importance. Every 
 one was desirous to put off the decisive moment in 
 order to gain additional strength. It was, therefore, 
 resolved to meet again at Spires in May following. 
 The rescript of Nuremberg was, meantime, to continue 
 in force. ''Then," said they, "we will thoroughly 
 decide the points of holy faith, righteousness, and 
 peace." 
 
 The landgrave prosecuted his design. In the end of 
 February, 1526, he had a conference with the elector 
 at Gotha. The two princes agreed that if they were 
 attacked on account of the Word of God, they would 
 unite their whole forces to resist their adversaries. 
 This alliance was ratified at Torgau. It was to have 
 important results. 
 
 The landgrave did not think the alliance of Torgau 
 sufficient. Convinced that Charles V. was seeking to 
 form a league " against Christ aud His holy Word," he 
 wrote letter after letter to the elector, representing the 
 necessity of uniting with other states. " For myself," 
 said he, " I would die, and be chased from my throne, 
 sooner than abjure the A\^ord of God." 
 
 At the electoral court there was great uncertainty. 
 In fact, there was a serious obstacle to the union of 
 the evangelical princes. This obstacle was in Luther 
 and Melancthon. Luther wished that the evangelical 
 doctrine should be defended by God alone. He thought 
 that the less men interfered with it, the more manifest 
 the interposition of God would appear. All the mea- 
 sures proposed to be taken seemed to him attributable 
 to cowardly timidity and culpable distrust. Melanc- 
 thon feared that the alliance of the evangelical princes 
 was the very thing to bring on the war which it was 
 wished to avoid. 
 
 The landgrave did not allow himself to be arrested 
 by these considerations, and endeavoured to induce the 
 states ai'ound him to join the alliance ; but his efforts 
 were not crowned with success. Frankfort refused to 
 become a party to it. The Elector of Treves with- 
 drew his opposition, and accepted of a pension from 
 the emperor. The elector-palatine himself, whose 
 evangelical leanings were well l.uowu, rejected the 
 propositions of Philip. 
 
 The landgrave thus failed in the direction of the 
 Rhine ; but the elector, notwithstanding of the advice 
 of the theologians of the Reformation, entered into 
 negotiation with the princes who had at all times rallied 
 round the throne of Saxony. On the 12th June, the 
 elector and his sou, the Dukes Philip, Ernest, Otho, 
 and Francis of Brunswick and Limeburg, Duke Henry 
 of Mecklenburg, Prince Wolff of Anhalt, Counts Albert 
 and Gebhard of Mansfeld, met at Magdeburg, and 
 there, under the presidency of the elector, formed an 
 alliance similar to that of Torgau. 
 
 " God Almighty," said these princes, " having, in His 
 ineffable mercy, caused His holy and eternal AYord, 
 the food of our souls and our greatest treasure here 
 below, to appear again amongst men ; and powerful 
 manoeuvres liaviug been employed on the part of the 
 clergy and their adherents, to annihilate and extirpate 
 it, we being firmly assured that He who has sent it to 
 glorify His name upon the earth, is able also to main- 
 tain it, engage to preserve this holy Word to our 
 people ; and for this end to employ our goods, our lives, 
 our states, our subjects, all that we possess, — confiding 
 not in our armies, but solely in the omnipotence of the 
 Lord, whose instruments we desire to be." So spoke 
 the princes. 
 
 The town of Magdeburg was two days after received 
 into the alliance, and the new Duke of Prussia, Albert, 
 Duke of Brandenburg, gave in his adherence to it in a 
 special form. 
 
 The evangelical alliance was formed ; but the dan- 
 gers which it was intended to avert became every day 
 more alarming. The priests and princes friendly to 
 Rome had seen this Reformation, which they thought 
 completely strangled, suddenly rise up before them in 
 a formidable shape. The partisans of the Reforma- 
 tion were already almost as powerful as those of the 
 
DUKE OF BRUNSWICK VISITS SPAIN. 
 
 325 
 
 pope. If tliey have the majority iu the diet, it is easy 
 to divine what the ecclesiastical states have to expect. 
 Now, then, or never ! The question is no longer 
 merely the refutation of a heresy, — a powerful party 
 must be combated. Other victories than those of Dr. 
 Eck must now save Christendom. 
 
 Decisive measures liad already been taken. Tlie 
 metropolitan chapter of the primary church of Mcntz 
 had convened a meeting of all its suffragans, and 
 decided on sending a deputation to the emperor and 
 the pope, to ask thcni to save the Cliurch. 
 
 At the same time Duke George of Saxonj', Duke 
 Henry of Uruuswick, and tlie Cardinal-elector Albert, 
 had met at Ilallc, and liad also resolved to address 
 Charles V. '• The detestable doctrine of Luther," said 
 liiey, " makes rapid progress. Every day attempts arc 
 made to gain even us; and when gentle means fail, 
 attempts are made to compel us by stirring up our 
 subjects. AVe invoke the a.ssistance of the emperor." 
 Accordingly, after tlie conference, Brunswick himself 
 set out for Spain to decide Charles. 
 
 He could not have arrived at a more favourable 
 moment. The emperor had just concluded with I'^ranci-^ 
 the famous treaty of Madrid ; and as he seemed to lia\ e 
 nothing to fear in that quarter, his eyes were now 
 turned wholly to Germany. Francis I. had offered to 
 pay half the expenses of the war, whether against the 
 heretics or against the Turks. 
 
 The emperor was at Seville, on the eve of marriage 
 with a princess of Portugal, and the banks of the 
 Guadalquiver were re-echoing with the sound ot festi- 
 vities. A brilliant nobility, and immense crowds ot 
 people, thronged the ancient capital of the Moor-. 
 ITnder the arches of the magnificent cathedral wa- 
 displayed all the pomp of the Church. A papal legate 
 ofliciated ; and never, even in the days of the Arabs, 
 had Andalusia seen a more splendid and imposing 
 ceremony. 
 
 This was the time when Henry of Brunswick arrived 
 from Germany, and besought Chares V. to save the 
 Church and the empire, which were now attacked by 
 the monk of Wittemberg. His request was immedi- 
 ately taken into consideration, and the emperor deter- 
 mined on decisive measures. 
 
 On the 25th March, 1526, he wrote to several of the 
 princes and towns which adhered to Rome ; and at the 
 same time gave the Duke of Brunswick a special com- 
 mission to say to them, that with deep grief he had 
 learned that the continual progress of Luther's heresy 
 was threatening to fill Germany with sacrilege, devas- 
 tation, and blood ; that, on the other hand, he had 
 extreme pleasure iu seeing the fidelity of the great 
 majority of the states; that, neglecting every other 
 affair, he was going to quit Spain, and repair to Rome 
 to make aiTangements with the pope, and thenceforth 
 return to Germany, to combat the detestable pest of 
 AVittemberg ; that as to themselves they ought to 
 adhere stedfastly to their faith ; and if the Lutherans 
 sought to draw them into error by stratagem or force, 
 they should enter into close union with each other, and 
 resist boldly; that he would shortly arrive and support 
 them with all his authority. 
 
 On the return of Brunswick to Germany, the Catho- 
 
 lic party were overjoyed, and proudly lifted their 
 heads. The Dukes of Brunswick and Pomerania, 
 Albert of Mecklenburg, John of Juliers, George of 
 Saxony, the Dukes of Bavaria, and all the ecclesiastical 
 I)i-inccs, thouglit themselves siu-e of victory after they 
 read the threatening letters of the conqueror of 
 Francis I. Tiu'y would repair to the approaching 
 diet ; they would humble the heretical princes ; and if 
 they did not otherwise submit, would compel them by 
 the sword. Duke George is confidently affirmed to 
 have said : " I may be Elector of Saxony whenever I 
 please;" an expression to which it was afterwards 
 attempted to give a different turn. One day the 
 duke's chancellor said at Torgau, with an air of 
 triumph: "Luther's cause cannot hold out long; it had 
 better be Innki 
 
 Luther, in fact, did look to it, but not in the sense 
 thus implied ;-he attentively followed the designs of the 
 enemies of the AVord of God, and thought, as well as 
 Melancthou, that he would soon see thousands of 
 swords drawn against the Gospel. But he sought his 
 strength in a higher source than man. " Satan," 
 wrote he to Frederick Mycouius, "is giving full vent 
 to his fury; wicked pontiffs are conspiring and threat- 
 ening us with war. Exhort the people to fight 
 valiantly before the throne of God by faith and 
 prayer, so that our enemies, being overcome by the 
 Spirit of God, may be compelled to make peace. The 
 first want, the first work, is prayer; let the people know 
 that they arc now exposed to the edge of the sword 
 and the fury of the devil, and let them pray." 
 
 Thus every preparation was made for a decisive 
 combat. The Reformation had on its side the prayers 
 of Christians, the sympathies of the people, and the 
 rising influence of mind, which no power could arrest. 
 The papacy had iu its favour the ancient order of 
 things, the power of ancient custom, the zeal and 
 hatred of formidable princes, and the power of that 
 great emperor whose dominion extended over two 
 worlds, and who had just given so rude a check to 
 the glory of Francis I. 
 
 Such was the posture of affairs at the opening of the 
 diet at Spires. At present we return to Switzerland. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK XI. 
 
 DIVISION, SWITZERLAND, GEKMjVNY. — 1523-1527. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Unity in Diversify— rrimitive F;iitli and Liberty— Fonnation of Roman 
 Unity — A Monk and Leo Juda — Tlieses of Zwingle— The Discussion of 
 January. 
 
 "We are going to see the diversities, or, as tlioy have 
 beeu called, the variations of the Reformatiou. These 
 form one of its most essential features. 
 
 Unity in diversity, and diversity iu unity, is the law 
 of nature, and also the law of the Church. 
 
 Truth is like the light of the sun. The light, as it 
 descends from heaven, is always one and the same ; and 
 yet it assumes different colours on the earth, according 
 to the objects on which it falls. In the same manner, 
 expressions which differ somewhat from each other, 
 may sometimes express the same Christian idea, con- 
 templated under different points of view. 
 
 How dull should creation be were this immense 
 variety of forms and colours, which constitute its 
 riches, replaced by an absolute uniformity! In like 
 manner, how desolate the appearance, if all created 
 teings formed only a single magnificent unity! 
 
 Divine unity has its rights ; human diversity has its 
 rights also. It is not necessar'y in religion to annihilate 
 cither God or man. If you have no unity, your reli- 
 gion is not of God ; if you have no diversity, it is not 
 of man. Now, it ought to be of botii. Would you 
 erase from the creation one of the laws wliich God has 
 imposed upon it, — viz., that of an immense diversity? 
 Even things ivithout life, says St. Paul, ivhether 2'ipe or 
 harp, except theij give a distinction in the sounds, how 
 shall it be knoicn ivhat is piped or harped? (1 Cor. xiv. 7.) 
 But if there is in religious things a diversity, caused 
 by tlie difference of inilividuality, and which, conse- 
 quently, must exist even in heaven, a diversity there 
 is which has been caused by the fall of man, and is a 
 serious calamity. 
 
 There are two tendencies which equally lead to 
 error. The former exaggerates the diversity, and the 
 latter the unity. The doctrines esseatial to salvation 
 form the boundary between these two du-ections. To 
 exact more than these doctrines, is to infringe on the 
 diversity — to exact less, is to infringe on the unity. 
 
 The latter excess is that of rash and rebellious 
 spirits, who turn away from Jesus Christ, to form 
 human systems and doctrines. 
 
 The former exists in various exclusive sects, and, iu 
 particular, in that of Rome. 
 
 The Cliurch should reject error. Did she not do so 
 Christianity could not be maintained. But were we 
 to push this idea to an extreme, the result would be, 
 that the Church would require to oppose the smallest 
 deviation, and involve herself iu disputes about words. 
 
 Faitli would be swaddled, and Christian sentiment 
 brought into bondage. Such was not the condition of 
 the Church in the days of true Catholicism — I mean i 
 the first centuries. It rejected the sectaries who 
 assailed the fundamental truths of the Gospel ; but 
 these truths admitted, it left faith at full liberty. 
 Rome soon abandoned these wise limits, and in propor- 
 tion as a domination and doctrine of man was formed 
 iu the Church, there arose also a unity of man. 
 
 A human system being once invented, its rigour 
 increased from age to age. Christian liberty, which 
 had been respected by the Catholicism of the first ages, 
 was first limited, then chained, then stifled. Con- 
 viction, which, according to the laws of human nature 
 aud the Word of God, ought to be formed freely in 
 the heart and the understanding of man, was imposed 
 e.-vtemally, as fully formed and symmetrically arranged 
 by his masters. Reflection, will, sentiment, all the 
 faculties of the human mind, which, in due subordina- 
 tion to the Word and the Spirit of God, ought to labour 
 and produce freely, were abridged in their liberty, and 
 compelled to expand in forms previously determined. 
 The spirit of man became like a mirror, on which 
 foreign objects are represented, but which possesses 
 nothing of its own. Doubtless there still were souls 
 taught directly by God. But the great majority of 
 Christians had thenceforth only the convictions of 
 others ; a faith properly belonging to the individual 
 became a rarity. The Reformation alone restored this 
 treasure to the Church. 
 
 Still there was for sometime a space within which 
 the human mind was allowed to range certain opinions 
 which it might admit or reject at pleasure. But, as a 
 besieging army, always drawing closer and closer 
 around the town, does not allow the gan'ison to stir 
 beyond the precincts of the walls, and at length obliges 
 it to surrender; in the same way was the hierarchy 
 seen, in every age, and almost every year, abridging the 
 space which it had granted provisionally to the human 
 mind, until, at length, the space was entirely en- 
 croached upon, and ceased to exist. Everything that 
 Avas to be believed, loved, or done, was regulated and 
 fixed in the bureaus of the Roman chancery. The 
 faithful were relieved from the trouble of examining, 
 thinking, and wrestling ; they had only to repeat the 
 formula which they had been taught. 
 
 From that time, if there appeared in the bosom of 
 Roman Catholicism any man who inherited the Catho- 
 licism of the apostolic times, that man, incapable of 
 exj)andiug within the limits to which he had been con- 
 fined, behoved to overleap them, and shew anew to the 
 astonished world the lofty flight of the Christian, who 
 acknowledges no law save that of God. 
 
 The Reformation, thou, in restoring liberty to the 
 
DISCUSSION AT ZURICH. 
 
 327 
 
 Churcli, behoved to restore to licr her original diversity, 
 and people her with families, united by tlic great 
 features of resemblance which they derive from tlieir 
 common head ; but differing in secondary features, and 
 bespeaking the inherent varieties of Innnan nature. It 
 were, porliaps, to be desired that this diversity could 
 subsist in the universal Church without producing 
 sects. Still, it ought to be remembered, that sects arc 
 ' only the cxprcsMon of this diversity. 
 
 Switzerhind and Germany, which till now had been 
 developed independently of each other, came into con- 
 tact at the period the history of which we are now to 
 I trace, and exemplified this diversity which was to 
 j become one of the characteristic features of Protest- 
 antism. AVc shall sec men perfectly agreed on all the 
 ' great points of faith, differing, however, on secondary 
 I questions. No doubt, passion mingled in these dis- 
 I cussions ; but while deploring this sad mixture, Pro- 
 1 testantism, far from disguising the diversity, acknow- 
 ! ledges and proclaims it. The path by which she leads 
 I to unity is long and difficult ; but her unity is real. 
 
 Z^-ingle was making progress in the Christian life. 
 While the Gospel had delivered Luther from the pro- 
 found melancholy to wliich he had formerly abandoned 
 himself in the convent of Erfurt, and given him a 
 serenity which often assumed the form of joyfulness, 
 and of which the reformer thenceforth gave numerous 
 proofs, even in the face of the greatest dangers ; Chris- 
 tianity had had quite a contrary effect on the joyous 
 child of the mountains of Tockenburg. Withdrawing 
 Zwinglc from his volatile and worldly life, it impressed 
 a gravity on his character that wiis not natural to it. 
 This serious turn was very necessary. Wo have seen 
 how, towards the end of 1522, numerous enemies 
 seemed to riso up against the Reformation. Zwingle 
 was everywhere loaded with invectives, and disputes 
 often took place, even in churches. 
 
 Leo Judn, small in stature, says a biographer, but 
 full of charity for the poor, and of zeal against false 
 teachers, had arrived at Zurich towards the end of 
 1522, to discharge the office of pastor of the church 
 of St. Peter, having been succeeded at Einsidlen by 
 Oswald Myconius. He was a valuable acquisition to 
 Zwingle and the Reformation. 
 
 One day, shortly after his arrival, ho heard an 
 Augustine monk, iu the church to which he had been 
 called to be pastor, vehemently preaching that man is 
 able of himself to satisfy the justice of God. " Rever- 
 end father prior," exclaimed Leo, " listen for an instant, 
 and you, dear citizens, keep quiet; I will speak as 
 becomes a Christian." He then proved to the people 
 the unsoundness of the doctrine which they had just 
 heard. There was great agitation in the church, and 
 several forthwith angrily assailed the '"little priest" 
 who had come from Einsidlen. Zwingle appeared 
 before the great council, desiring to give an account of 
 his doctrine in presence of the deputies of the bishop ; 
 and the council, in their desire to see an end put to 
 these dissensions, summoned a conference for the 29th 
 January, 1523. The news quickly spread over Swit- 
 zer'land. " There is going to be a diet of vagabonds 
 at Zurich," said the adversaries spitefully; "all the 
 footpads will be there." 
 
 Zwingle, preparatory to the conlcst, published sixty- 
 
 seven theses. Openly, in the eyes of all Switzerland, 
 the mountaineer of Tockenburg boldly attacked the 
 pope. 
 
 "All," said he, "who maintain that the Gospel is 
 nothing without the coufirmatiou of the Church, blas- 
 pheme God. 
 
 "Tiic only way of salvation to all men who have 
 been, are, or are to be, is Jesus Christ. 
 
 "All Cliristians arc the brethren of Christ, and 
 brethren of each othei-, and they have no fathers on 
 the earth ; thus, orders, sects, and parties fall. 
 
 " No constraint should be laid on those who do not 
 acknowledge their error, provided they do not, by 
 seditious conduct, disturb the peace." 
 
 Such were some of tlio theses of Zwingle. 
 
 On the morning of Thursday, the 29th of January, 
 more than six hundred persons met in the hall of 
 the great council at Zurich. Citizens and strangers, 
 learned men, persons of distinction, and ecclesiastics, 
 had responded to the call of the council. " What," it 
 was asked, "is to be the result of all this?" Nobody 
 dared to answer ; but the attention, excitement, and 
 agitation, of the assembly, shewed plainly that great 
 things were expected. 
 
 Bm-goraaster Roust, who had fought at Marignan, 
 presided. The chevalier James of Anwyl, grand- 
 master of the episcopal court of Constance, Faber the 
 vicar-general, and several doctors, represented the 
 bishop. Schaffliausen had sent Doctor Sebastian Hof- 
 raeister; he was the only deputy from the cantons so 
 long as the Reformation was in its infancy in Switzer- 
 land. On a table, in the middle of the hall, was the 
 Bible, and beside it stood a teacher. This was Zwingle. 
 " I am agitated and tormented on all sides," he had 
 said ; " but still I remain firm, leaning not on my own 
 strength, but on the rock, which is Christ, through 
 whose aid I can do all things." 
 
 Zwingle arose. " I have preached," said he, " that 
 salvation is found only in Jesus Christ ; and for this 
 I am stigmatized throughout Switzerland as a heretic, 
 a seducer, a rebel. . . . Now, then, in the name 
 of God, here I am to answer." , . . 
 
 AU eyes now turned towards Faber, who rose and 
 replied : " I was not sent here to debate, but only to 
 listen." The assembly, in surprise, began to laugh. 
 '• The Diet of Nuremberg," continued Faber, " has pro- 
 mised a council iu a year ; we should wait for it." 
 
 " What !" said Zwingle, " is not this great and 
 learned assembly as good as a council f Then address- 
 ing the councillors, he said : " Gracious lords, defend 
 the Word of God." 
 
 Profound silence followed this appeal; after some 
 time it was broken by the burgomaster. " If any one 
 has anything to say," said he, " let him do so." There 
 was again silence. Zwingle then said : " I implore all 
 my accusers (and I know there are several of them 
 here) to come forward, and for the love of truth, shew 
 wherein I deserve blame." Nobody said a word. 
 Zwingle renewed his demand a second and third time : 
 it was iu vain. Faber being close pressed, for a 
 moment forgot the reserve which ho had imposed on 
 himself, to declare that the pastor of Filispach, who 
 was detained in prison, had been convinced by him of 
 his error ; but he immediately became reserved as be- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 fore. In vain was he urged to explain the reasons by 
 which he had convinced the pastor. He was obsti- 
 nately silent. The spectators, becoming impatient at 
 the silence of the Roman doctors, a voice was heard 
 from the bottom of the hall, exclaiming : " Where are 
 now those valiant men who speak so loud in the 
 streets ? Ho ! come forward, here is your man !" No- 
 body presented himself. Then the burgomaster said, 
 with a smile : " It seems, that the famous sword which 
 smote the pastor of Filispach is not to come out of its 
 scabbard to-day." So saying, he adjourned the meeting. 
 
 In the afternoon, when the assembly again met, the 
 council declared, that Master Ulrich Zwingle, not hav- 
 ing been censured by any one, should continue to 
 preach the holy Gospel, and that all the other priests 
 of the canton should teach only what they could estab- 
 lish by the holy Scriptures. 
 
 "God be praised!" exclaimed Zwingle, "who is 
 pleased that His holy Word should reigu in heaven and 
 on the earth." Faber could not now restrain his 
 indignation. " The theses of blaster Ulrich," said he, 
 "are contrary to the honour of the Church and the 
 doctrine of Christ, and I will prove it." "Do so," 
 exclaimed Zwingle. But Faber refused to do it any- 
 where but at Paris, Cologne, or Friburg. "I won't 
 have any other judge than the Gospel," said Zwingle ; 
 " sooner will the earth open than you succeed in shak- 
 ing a single word contained in it." "The Gospel," 
 said Faber, " always the Gospel ! . . . AVe could 
 live holily in peace and charity even though there were 
 no Gospel." 
 
 At these words the audience rose up in indignation, 
 and the discussion closed. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Caiesscs of the Pope— PrOj^iess of the Reformation— The Image of Stadel- 
 hofen— Sacrilege— The Ornaments of the Saints. 
 
 The Reformation, having gained the day, was now to 
 hasten its conquests. After this conflict of Zurich, 
 where the ablest champions of the papacy had remained 
 mute, who would have the courage to oppose the new 
 doctrine? Meanwhile, other weapons were tried. 
 The firmness of Zwingle, and his republican leanings, 
 misled his enemies, and hence special methods were 
 employed for the purpose of overcoming him. While 
 Rome was pursuing Luther with her anathemas, she 
 endeavoured to gain the reformer of Zurich by gentle 
 methods. Scarcely had the discussion closed, when 
 Zwingle was visited by the son of burgomaster Roust, 
 the captain of the pope's guards, accompanied by the 
 legate Einsius, who had in charge for him a pontifical 
 brief, in which Adrian VI. called Zwingle his well- 
 beloved son, and acquamted him with " his very parti- 
 cular regard." At the same time the pope made Zink 
 be pressed to gain Zwingle. " What, then, does the 
 pope commission you to offer?" asked Oswald Myconius. 
 " Everything," replied Zink, " except the pontifical see." 
 There was no mitre and crozier, no cardinal's hat, 
 
 that the pope would not have given to gain the reformer 
 of Zurich. But in regard to him Rome was under 
 strange illusions. All her offers were unavailing. 
 The Romish Church had a more inveterate enemy in 
 Zwingle than in Luther. He cared less than Luther 
 did for the ideas and rites of former ages. To provoke 
 his attack upon any custom innocent in itself, it was 
 enough that it was attached to some abuse. The Word 
 of God, he thought, was alone entitled to stand. 
 
 But if Rome so little understood what was taking 
 place in Christendom, she had councillors who tried to 
 coiTect her mistake. 
 
 Faber, irritated at seeing the pope thus humbling 
 himself before his adversary, hastened to enlighten him. 
 A courtier, who had always a smile upon his lips and 
 honied words in his mouth, Faber was, by his own 
 account, the friend of everybody, even of those whom 
 he was accusing of heresy. But his hatred was mortal. 
 Hence the reformer, playing on the word Faber, said : 
 " The vicar of Constance is a fabricator ... of 
 lies. Let him openly proceed to arms, and see how 
 Christ defends us." 
 
 These words were not a vain bravado ; for while the 
 pope was speaking to Zwingle of his eminent virtues, 
 and of the particular confidence which he had in him, 
 the enemies of the reformer were multiplying in Swit- 
 zerland. Veteran soldiers, leading families, and moun- 
 tain shepherds, were uniting in their hatred against 
 this doctrine, which was at variance with their tastes. 
 At Lucerne a pompous spectacle was announced under 
 the name of The Passion of Zwingle. A dwarf, meant 
 to represent the reformer, was dragged to execution, 
 crying that they were going to put the heretic to 
 death. Laying hold of some Zurichers who were at 
 Lucerne, they obliged them to be spectators of this 
 ridiculous e.xhibition. "They will not disturb my 
 peace," said Zwingle. " Christ will never be wanting 
 to His people." The diet itself resounded with menaces 
 against him. " Dear confederates," said councillor 
 MuUinen to the cantons, " oppose the Lutheran cause 
 in time. ... At Zurich a man is no longer a 
 master in his own house." 
 
 This agitation of the adversary announced what was 
 taking place in Zurich still better than any proclama- 
 tions could have done. In fact the victory was yield- 
 ing its proper fruit ; the conquerors gradually took 
 possession of the country, and the Gospel daily made 
 new progress. Twenty-four canons, and a great num- 
 ber of chaplains, came, of their own accord, to the 
 council, to demand a reform of their statutes. It was 
 resolved to supply the place of these idle priests by 
 pious and learned men, commissioned to give the youth 
 of Zurich a Christian and liberal education; and to 
 establish, instead of theii- Latin vespers and masses, a 
 daily exposition of a chapter of the Bible according to 
 the Hebrew and Greek text, first for the learned, and 
 then immediately after for the people. 
 
 All armies unfortunately contain blundering recruits, 
 who detach themselves from the main body, and pre- 
 maturely attack some point which ought for the time 
 to have been left untouched. A young priest, named 
 Louis Kctzer, having published in Germany a treatise, 
 entitled, " The Judgment of God against Images," a 
 strong impression was produced, and images became 
 
THE CRUCIFIX OF STADELHOFEN. 
 
 the constant dislike of a portion of the population. 
 When a man allows his attention to be engrossed by 
 secondary matters, it is always to the detriment of 
 more essential matters. A crucifix, carefully sculp- 
 tured and richly adorned, had been placed on the out- 
 side of one of the gates of the town, at the place called 
 Stadelhofen. The most ardent [jartisans of the Refor- 
 mation, shocked at the superstition to which this image 
 gave occasion, were unable to pass it without express- 
 ing their indignation. A citizen named Claud Ilot- 
 tingcr, '' a worthy man," says Bulliiigei-, " and well 
 read in the Scriptures," having met the miller of Stadel- 
 hofen, to whom the crucifix belonged, asked when he 
 meant to pull down his idols. "Nobody obliges you 
 to woi-ship them," replied the miller. " But do you 
 not know," resumed Hottiuger, " that the Word of 
 God forbids us to have graven images .'" — " Very 
 well," replied the miller, " if you are authorized to 
 pull them down, I abandon them to you." Ilottinger 
 thought himself entitled to act, and shortly after, about 
 the end of September, he set forth from the town with 
 a number of citizens. On arriving at the crucifix, they 
 quietly dug all around it until the image yielded to their 
 efforts, and fell to the ground with a loud noise. 
 
 This bold action spread general alarm ; one would 
 have said, that with the crucifix of Stadelhofen reli- 
 gion itself had been overthrown. " These men are 
 blasphemers ! They are worthy of death !" exclaimed 
 the friends of Rome. The council caused the icono- 
 clast burghers to be apprehended. 
 
 "No," said Zwingle and his colleagues from the 
 pulpit ; " Hottiuger and his friends are not guilty be- 
 fore God, or worthy of death. But they may be 
 punished for having acted with violence, and without 
 the authority of the magistrates." 
 
 IMcanwhiie similar acts were repeated. One day a 
 > icar of the church of St. Peter, seeing a number of 
 poor people before the church without food and cloth- 
 ing, said to one of his colleagues, turning towards 
 some of the pompously decked images : " I would 
 willingly strip these wooden idols in order to clothe 
 these poor members of Jesus Christ." A few days 
 after, at three in the morning, the saints, and all their 
 ornament.s, disappeared. The council ordered the 
 vicar to be imprisoned, though he declared that he 
 was not the guilty party. " What !" said the people, 
 '• was it hits of wood our Saviour ordered us to clothe ? 
 Is it on account of these images He will say to us, I teas 
 md-ed, and ye clothed me?" Thus the Reformation, when 
 discountenanced, became only the more powerful. The 
 more it was curbed the more violently it sprang for- 
 ward, threatening to bear down its opposition. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 : wiiglconthc Church— Tlio Church— First Out- 
 
 -Discussion on tlie M.nsa- Enthusiasts— A 
 
 \— A Cli.ii'acteristic of Ihc Swiss Reformation 
 
 . : -ilyconius at Zurich— The Revival of letters— 
 
 Tliuuiai riatci uf tlic Va 
 
 Even these excesses were to prove salutary. A new 
 combat waa necessary in order to secure new triumphs ; 
 
 for it is equally true in mental as in worldly affairs, 
 that there is no conquest without a struggle. Since 
 the soldiers of Rome remained motionless, the combat 
 wiis to be provoked by rash sons of the Reformation. 
 In fact the magistrates were uncertain and at a loss 
 how to act. They felt that their conscience required to 
 be cnlightonc<l ; and with this view they resolved to 
 institute a >.-, 011,1 pulili,- .li-ni-Moii in German, when 
 the questidii nf iini-. - -h.iuM 1..- tried by Scripture. 
 
 The Bishiips of t'uiii', Cuu.-tance, and Bale, the 
 university of Bale, antl the twelve cantons, were in 
 consequence invited to send deputies to Zurich. The 
 bishops refused the invitation. Remembering the sad 
 figure their deputies had made at the previous discus- 
 sion, they had no wish to renew these humiliating 
 scenes. Let the evangelicals dispute if they will ; but 
 leave them to do it by themselves. The first time we 
 wore silent — the second we wont even appear. Rome, 
 perhaps, imagined that there would be no combat from 
 want of combatants. The bishops were not singular 
 in refusing to come. The men of Undorwalden replied 
 that they had no learned men among them, but merely 
 honest and pious priests, who explained the Gospel 
 as their fathers had done, and therefore they would 
 not send any deputy to Zwingle, " and the like of him ;" 
 but that, if they had him in their clutches, they would 
 handle him in a way which would leave him no desire 
 to repeat the same faults. Schaffhauseu and St. Gall 
 alone sent representatives. 
 
 On Monday, 2Gth October, after sermon, an assembly 
 of more than nine hundred persons, consisting of mem- 
 bers of the grand council, and three hundred and fifty 
 priests, filled the large hall of the town-house. Zwingle 
 and Leo Juda were seated at a table on which lay the 
 Old and Now Testament iu the original tongues. 
 Zwingle first spoke, and, demolishing the authoi'ity of 
 the hierarchy and its councils with a vigorous arm, 
 established the riglits of every Christian church, and 
 claimed the liberty of the primitive ages — of those 
 times when the Church had neither ecumenical nor 
 provincial councils. " The Church universal," said he, 
 " is diffused over the whole world, wherever there is 
 faith in Jesus Christ, in the Indies as well as at Zurich. 
 . . . And, as to particular churches, we have them 
 at Berne, at Schaffhausen — here also. But the popes, 
 their cardinals, and their councils, are neither the 
 Church universal nor the Church particular. This 
 assembly which I now address," he continued energeti- 
 cally, " is the church of Zurich ; it desires to hear the 
 Word of God, and it is entitled to enjoin whatever it 
 deems conformable to the Holy Scriptures." 
 
 Thus Zwingle leant upon the Church, but the true 
 Chm-ch ; not on priests only, but on the congregation 
 of Christians — on the people. All that Scripture says 
 of the Church iu general, he applied to particular 
 chm-ches. He did not think that a chiu'ch listening 
 with docility to the Word of God, could be deceived. 
 The Church he regarded as politically and ecclesiasti- 
 cally represented by the great council. He at first 
 discussed each question in the pulpit, and then, after 
 men's minils were convinced of the truth, he laid the 
 matter before the great council, who, being agreed with 
 the ministers of the Church, adopted the decisions 
 which she approved. 
 
330 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 lu the absence of deputies from tlie bishop, the 
 defence of the pope was undertaken by the old canon, 
 Conrad Hoffman, who had been the means of calling 
 Zwingle to Zurich. He maintained that the Cliurch, 
 the flock, " the third estate," had no right to discuss 
 such matters. " I was thirteen years at Heidelberg," 
 said he ; " I lived with a great scholar, called Doctor 
 Joss, a worthy pious man, with whom, for a long time, 
 I ate and drank, and lived ou familiar terms; but he 
 always said that it was unbefitting to discuss such 
 subjects. You see well !" Everybody was ready to 
 laugh; but the burgomaster stopped the explosion. 
 " Thus, then," continued Hoffman. " let us wait for a 
 council. For the time being, I have no wish to discuss, 
 but to submit to the bishop, even were he a rogue !" 
 
 " Wait for a council !" replied Zwingle. "And who 
 will attend a council? The pope and lazy ignorant 
 bishops, who will do nothing of their own accord. 
 No ; that is not the Church ! Hong and Kiissnacht 
 (two Zurich villages) are much more certainly a Church 
 than all the bishops and popes put together !" 
 
 Thus Zwingle claimed the restoration of the rights 
 of the Christian people, whom Rome had disinherited of 
 their privileges. The assembly before which he spoke 
 was not, in his view, the church of Zurich ; but it was 
 its primary representative. Wo have here the germs 
 of the Presbyterian system. Zwingle withdrew Zurich 
 from the jurisdiction of the bishopric of Constance, 
 detached it from the Latin hierarcliy, and on the idea 
 of the flock, of the Christian assembly, founded a new 
 ecclesiastical constitution, to which other countries 
 were at a later period to adhere. 
 
 The discussion was continued. Several priests hav- 
 ing risen to defend images, but ■without appealing to 
 tlie Holy Scriptures, Zwingle and the other reformers 
 employed the Scriptiu-es in refuting them. " If no one 
 rises," said one of the presidents, " to give Bible argu- 
 ments in favour of images, we shall call upon some of 
 their defenders by name." Nobody coming forward, 
 he called upon the curate of Wadischwyl. "He is 
 asleep," cried one of the audience. The curate of 
 Horgen was then called iipou. " He sent me in his 
 stead," replied his vicar ; " but I don't wish to answer 
 for him." The Word of God gave evident tokens of 
 its power in the midst of this assembly. The friends 
 of the Reformation were full of power, liberty, and 
 joy; their opponents appeared speechless, uneasy, 
 desponding. In succession were called the curates of 
 Laufen, Glattfelden, Wetzikon, the rector and curate 
 of Pfiiffikou, the dean of Elgg, the curate of Barctsch- 
 wyl, the Dominican and Cordelier friars, who were 
 known everywhere to preach up images, the Virgin, 
 saints, and the mass ; but all answered that they could 
 not say anything in their favour, and that in future 
 they would apply to the study of the truth. " Hither- 
 to," said one of them, " I have believed the ancient, 
 now I mean to believe the new doctors." " It is not 
 us that you ought to believe," exclaimed Zwingle ; " it 
 is the Word of God. The Scriptures alone never 
 deceive." The meeting was protracted, and night 
 drew on. President Ilofmeister of Schaffhausen rose 
 and said : " Blessed bo the Almighty and Eternal God, 
 who giveth us the victory in all things." He then 
 exhorted the councillors of Zurich to abolisU images. 
 
 Tlie meeting was again held on Tuesday, under the 
 presidency of Vadian, for the discussion of the doc- 
 trine of the mass. " Brethren in Christ," said Zwingle, 
 " far be it from us to think that there is any deception 
 or falsehood in the blood of Christ. Our only object 
 is to shew that the mass is not a sacrifice which one 
 man can present to God for another man, unless, 
 indeed, it can be shewn that a man can eat and drink 
 for his friend." Vadian having asked, on two several 
 occasions, if any of those present were ready to defend 
 the doctrine which was impugned, by vScripture ; and 
 nobody having answered, the canons of Zurich, the 
 chaplains, and several other ecclesiastics, declared that 
 they agreed with Zwingle. 
 
 But no sooner had the reformers thus vanquished 
 the partisans of the ancient doctrines, than they were 
 compelled to struggle against those impatient men who 
 demand sudden and violent innovations, instead of wise 
 and gradual reforms. The unhappy Conrad Grebel 
 rose and said : " It is not enough to have discussed the 
 mass — it is necessary to abolish its abuses." — " The 
 council," replied Zwingle, " will issue a decree on this 
 subject." Then Simon Stumpf exclaimed: "The 
 Spirit of God has abeady decided ! — why, then, remit 
 it to the council for decision ?" 
 
 Commander Schmidt of Kiissnacht rose up gravely 
 and uttered words full of wisdom. "Let us teach 
 Christians," said he, "to receive Christ into their 
 hearts. Till this hour you have all gone after idols. 
 Those of the plain have run to the mountains, and 
 those of the mountains have run to the plain ; the 
 French to Germany, and the Germans to France. 
 Now you know where you ought to go. God has 
 united all things in Christ. Noble men of Zurich! run 
 to the true source : let Jesus Christ again enter on 
 your territory, and resume His ancient empire." 
 
 This addi-ess made a deep impression, and none hav- 
 ing appeared to contradict it, Zwingle, under deep 
 emotion, rose and said : " Gracious lords, God is with 
 us ! , . . He will defend His cause. Now, then, 
 . . . in the name of God, forward !" . , Here 
 he was so deeply agitated that he was obliged to stop. 
 He wept, and many wept with him. 
 
 Thus terminated the discussion. The presidents 
 rose ; the burgomaster thanked them, and then this old 
 warrior, addressing the council, said gravely, with the 
 voice which had so ofteu been heard ou the battle- 
 field : " Now, then, let us take into our hands the 
 sword of the Word of God, . . . and may God 
 prosper His own work." 
 
 This discussion of October, 1523, had been decisive. 
 The greater part of the priests who had been present 
 at it, returned full of zeal to different parts of the can- 
 ton, and the effect of these days was felt all over 
 Switzerland. The church of Zm-ich, which had always 
 been, to a certain degree, independent of the bishopric 
 of Constance, was now fully emancipated. Instead of 
 resting through the bishop, on the pope, it henceforth 
 rested througli the people on the Word of God. Zurich 
 resumed the rights of which Rome had robbed it. Tlie 
 town and the country rivalled each other in the inte- 
 rest tliey felt for the work of the Reformation, aud the 
 great council only followed the movement of the people. 
 On important occasions the town aud villages inti- 
 
THOMAS PLATER OF THE VALAIS. 
 
 3.31 
 
 mated what tlicir views were. Luther had restored 
 the Bible to the Christian people. Zwingle went far- 
 ther, aiul restored their riglits. Tliis is a characteristic 
 feature of the Keformatiou iu Switzerland. It con- 
 lided tlie nuiiutenanco of sound doctrine, under God, to 
 tiie people; and recent events have shewn that tlic 
 l)eople are better cnstodici-s of this deposit than priests 
 and pontiffs'. 
 
 Zwinglo did not allow himself to bo inflated by 
 victor}-. On the contrary, the Reformation was pro- 
 ceeded witli, by his desire, with great moderation. 
 AVhcn tlie council asked his advice, he said: "God 
 knows my heart; He knows that I am disposed to 
 build up, and not to pull down. I know timid souls 
 wlio require to be gently dealt with ; let the mass, then, 
 be for some time longer read iu all tlic churclies on 
 Sunday, and let care be taken not to insult those who 
 celebrate it." 
 
 The council issued a decree to this effect. ITottinger 
 and Ilochrutiner, one of his friends, were banished 
 from the canton for two years, and forbidden to return 
 without permission. 
 
 At Zin-ich the Reformation followed a wise aud 
 Christian course. Exalting this city higher and higher, 
 it made it glorious in the eyes of all the friends of the 
 Word of God. Accordingly, those in Switzerland who 
 had hailed the new day which was rising on the Church, 
 felt powerfully attracted toward Zurich. Oswald 
 Jlyoonius, driven from Lucerne, had remained for six 
 months in the valley of Einsidlcn, when one day, as he 
 >vas returning from a journey to Glaris, worn out 
 with heat and fatigue, he was met by liis son, young 
 Felix, who came running to tell him tliat he was called 
 to Zurich to direct one of the schools. Oswald, unable 
 to credit the good news, was suspended between hope 
 and fear. " I am yours," he at last wrote to Zwingle. 
 Geroldsek parted with him with regret, wliilo sad 
 thoughts filled his mind. "Ah!" said he to him, "all 
 who profess Christ go away to Zurich ; I fear that we 
 shall one day all perish together," — a mournful pre- 
 sentiment, which the death of Geroldsek and so many 
 other friends of the Gospel was to realize too truly 
 on the plains of Cappel. 
 
 Myconius at last found a safe port in Zurich. Ilis 
 predecessor, who, from his stature, had been nick- 
 named at Paris, '• the great devil," had neglected his 
 duties ; Oswald devoted all his powers and all his 
 heart to the fulfilment of them. Ho explained the 
 Latin and Greek classics, aud taught rhetoric aud 
 logic, while the youth of the town listened to him with 
 joy. Myconius was to be to the young what Zwingle 
 was to adults. 
 
 Myconius was first alarmed at the advanced scholars 
 he was to have ; but he gi-adually resumed courage, 
 and had, ere long, distinguished among his pupils a 
 youth of twenty-four, whose look bespoke a love of 
 study. He was named Thomas Plater, and was 
 originally from the Valais. In the beautiful valley, 
 where the torrent of the Viege, after escaping from 
 the ocean of glaciers and snow which surround mount 
 Rosa, rolls its turbulent waters between St. Nicholas 
 and Stalden, on the mountain which rises on the right 
 of the river, still stands the village of Griichcn. It 
 was the birthplace of Plater. From the vicinity of 
 
 these colossal Alps was to come forth one of the most 
 original characters who figured in the grand drama of 
 the sixteenth century. Placed at the age of nine with 
 a curate, a relation, the little peasant, wlien beaten, as 
 he often was, cried, to use his own words, " like a hare 
 when it is put to death." One of his cousins took liim 
 with him to visit the German schools. He was already 
 more than twenty years of age, and, while running 
 from school to school, could scarcely read.' Having 
 arrived at Zurich, he firmly resolved to attend to his 
 education ; and having made a bench for himself in a 
 corner of JNIyconius's school, said to himself: "There 
 you will learn or die." The light of the Gospel pene- 
 trated his heart. One morning, feeling very cold, and 
 having nothing to heat the school stove, which it was 
 his oflice to keep going, he said to himself : " You have 
 no wood, and so many idols in the church." Though 
 Zwingle was to preach, and the bells had begun to 
 ring, nobody was present. Plater silently entered the 
 church, and carrying off a St. John that stood upon an 
 altar, put it in the stove, saying : " Down with you, 
 for you must pass through it." Doubtless, neither 
 Myconius or Zwingle would have approved the act. 
 
 In ti-uth, unbelief and superstition required to be 
 combated with better weapons. Zwingle and his col- 
 leagues had given the right hand of fellowship to 
 Myconius, who daily expounded the New Testament 
 in the church of Notre Dame to a large and attentive 
 audience. A public discussion, which took place on 
 the 13th aud 14th of January, 1524, had given a new 
 blow to Rome. In vain had Canon Koch exclaimed : 
 " The popes, the cardinals, the bishops, and the coun- 
 cils — these are my church !" . . . 
 
 Everything was advancing in Zurich ; men's minds 
 were enlightened, their hearts were fixed, the Refor- 
 mation was established. Zurich was a fortress gained 
 by the new doctrine, and from its walls that doctrine 
 was to spread over the whole confederation. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Diet of Lucerne— Hottinger Arrested— His Death— Deputation of tlie Diet 
 to Zuricli— AboUtion of Processions— Abolition of Images— The Two 
 Reformations— Appeal to the People. 
 
 The enemy was aware of this, aud saw the necessity 
 of resolving to strike a decisive blow. He had long 
 enough been mute. The strong men of Switzerland, 
 the cuirassed and steel-clad warriors, at last resolved to 
 rise ; and they had never risen without reddening the 
 battle-field with blood. 
 
 The diet had met at Lucerne. The priests laboured 
 to stir up the first council of the nation in their favour. 
 Friburg and the "NValdstetten shewed themselves their 
 ready instruments ; Berne, Bale, Soleure, Glaris, Ap- 
 penzel, were undecided. Schaff hausen almost declared 
 for the Gospel ; but Zurich .alone stood up boldly as its 
 defender. The partisans of Rome urged the diet to 
 yield to then- demands and prejudices. "Let all be 
 prohibited," said they, " to preach, or announce any- 
 
 X See his Autobiogi-aphy. 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 tiling new or Lutheran, secretly or publicly; and to 
 speak or dispute on these topics in taverns and over 
 their cups." Such was the ecclesiastical law which the 
 confederation was asked to establish. 
 
 Nineteen articles to this effect were drawn up, and 
 being approved of, on the 26th January, 1523, by all the 
 states except Zurich, were sent to all the bailies, with 
 orders to see that they were strictly observed. " This," 
 says Bullinger, " caused great joy among the priests, 
 and great grief among the faithful." Persecution, 
 being thus regularly organized by the superior autho- 
 rity of the confederation, now began. 
 
 One of the first who received the orders of the diet 
 was Henry Flackenstein of Lucerne, bailie of Baden, 
 within whose jurisdiction Hottinger had retired on his 
 banishment from Zurich, after throwing down the 
 crucifix of Stadelhofen. Here he had not kept a watch 
 upon his tongue ; but one day at table, in the Angel 
 Inn at Zurzach, had .said that the priests were bad 
 expounders of the Holy Scriptures, and that it was 
 necessary to confide entirely to God alone. The inn- 
 keeper, who was constantly going and coming, bringing 
 in bread and wine, became a listener to language which 
 seemed to him very strange. Another day, Hottinger 
 had been to see one of his friends, John Schutz of 
 Schneyssingen. After they had dined together, Schutz 
 asked : " What, then, is this new faith which the priests 
 of Zurich are preaching?" — "They preach," replied 
 Hottinger, '• that Christ was once sacrificed for all 
 Christians ; that by this single sacrifice He has purified 
 and ransomed them from all their sins ; and they shew 
 by the Holy Scriptures that the mass is a lie." 
 
 Hottinger had afterwards quitted Switzerland, (this 
 took place in February, 1523,) and gone on business 
 across the Rhino to Waldshut. Measures were taken 
 to make sure of him, and towards the end of February, 
 the poor Zui-icher, who suspected nothing, having again 
 crossed the Khine, no sooner reached Coblentz, a vil- 
 lage on the left bank of the river, than he was arrested. 
 
 He was taken to Klingenau. As he confessed his faith 
 franklj', Flackenstein became irritated, and said: "I 
 will take you where you will find your answer." 
 
 In fact, the bailie took him successively before the 
 judges of Klingenau, before the superior tribunal of 
 Baden, and at length, as none would declare him guilty, 
 he took him before the diet assembled at Lucerne. 
 He was determined to find judges who would condemn 
 him. 
 
 The diet lost no time, and condemned Hottinger to 
 be beheaded. On learning his sentence, he gave 
 thanks to Jesus Christ. " Very good, very good," said 
 James Troger, one of the judges ; "we are not here to 
 listen to sermons. You will babble some other time." 
 " His head must first be taken off," said bailie Amort 
 of Lucerne, laughing; "but if it comes on again, we 
 will all embrace his creed." " May God forgive those 
 who condemn me," said the prisoner. Then a monk, 
 having put a crucifix to his lips, he pushed it away, 
 saying : " It is in the heart that we ought to receive 
 Christ." 
 
 AVhen he was led away to execution, several in the 
 crowd could not refrain from tears. "I am going to 
 eternal happiness," said he, turning towards them. 'On 
 reaching the place of execution, he raised his eyes to 
 heaven, and said : " I commit my soul into thy hands, 
 
 my Redeemer!" Next moment his head rolled on 
 the scaffold. 
 
 No sooner had Hottinger's blood been shed than the 
 enemies of the Reformation took advantage of it still 
 more to inflame the rage of the confederates. In 
 Zurich itself must the evil be suppressed. The dread- 
 ful example which had just been given must have filled 
 Zwingle and his partisans with terror. One vigorous 
 cifort more and Hottinger's death will be followed by 
 that of the Reformation. . . . The diet imme- 
 diately resolved that a deputation should be sent to 
 Zurich, to ask the council and citizens to abjure their 
 faith. 
 
 On the 21st of March the deputation was received. 
 "Ancient Christian unity," said the deputies, "is 
 broken ; the evil extends ; already have the clergy of 
 the four AValdstettes declared, that if aid is not given 
 to lliem, they will be obliged to desist from their fuuc- 
 iiniis. Confederates of Zurich! join your efforts to 
 .iiii< ; strangle this new faith ; depose Zwingle and his 
 ' I les then let us all unite in applying a remedy to 
 
 1 ncioichments of the popes and their courtiers." 
 
 I I HIS spoke the enemy. What, then, were the men 
 1 /uiich to do? Would their hearts fail them, and 
 ih u coui ige melt away with the blood of theu" fellow- 
 iti n' 
 
 /uuch did not long leave her friends and enemies 
 in unceitainty. The council answered calmly and 
 II 1 ly, that they could not make any concession when 
 tlic AVord of God was involved, and afterwards pro- 
 ( t kd to leply in terms still more eloquent. 
 
 It had been customary, from the year 1351, that, on 
 A\ hit-.unday Monday, a numerous procession, in which 
 o\Liy pilgiim bore a cross, should repair to Einsidlen 
 1 1 w n hip the Virgin. Great irregularities were com- 
 mitted duiing this festival, which was established iu 
 memoiy ot the battle of Tatwyll. The procession was 
 to t ike place on the 7th May. On the application of 
 
THE TWO REFORMATIONS. 
 
 tlic three pastors the council abolished it, anil nil the 
 other processions were successively reformed. 
 
 Nor did they stop here. Uelics, the source of many 
 superstitions, were lionourably buried. Thereafter, on 
 the demand of tlio three pastors, the council issued a 
 decree purporting that, as God alone was to be honoured, 
 images should be removed from all the churches of the 
 canton, and their ornaments employed in relieving the 
 poor. Twelve councillors, (ouc from eacli tribe.) the 
 three pastors, the architect of the town, blacksmiths, 
 locksmiths, carpenters, and masons, i-epaired to the dif- 
 ferent churches, and, locking the doors behind them, 
 took down the crosses, picked away the figures in fresco, 
 whitened the walls, and carried off the images, to the 
 great joy of the fuithfid, who, said BuUinger, " saw in 
 this act a brilliant homage rendered to God." In some 
 couutry churches the ornaments were burned to the 
 honour and glory of God. Organs, which were fre- 
 quently played in connection with divers superstitious, 
 were abolished ; and baptism was administered after a 
 new formula, from which everything not Scriptural 
 was excluded. 
 
 Burgomaster Roust and his colleague gladly hailed 
 the triumphs of the Reformation with their last look. 
 They had lived long enough, and they died at the very 
 time of this great revival. 
 
 The Swiss Reformation presents itself under an 
 aspect very different from that of the German Refor- 
 mation. Luther had set his face against the excesses 
 of those who broke down the images in the churches 
 of Wittemberg ; but images fell in the presence of 
 Zwiugle in the churches of Zurich. This difference is 
 explained by the peculiarities of the two reformers. 
 Luther wished to retain in the Church everything that 
 was not directly contrary to Scriptiu-e; whereas Zwingle 
 wished to abolish c\erything that could not be proved 
 by Scriptm-e. The German reformer wished to remain 
 united to the Church of former ages, and was satisfied 
 with purging it of everything that was opposed to the 
 "Word of God. The Zurich reformer passed by all 
 these ages, returned to apostolic times, and subjecting 
 the Church to a complete transformation, laboured to 
 re-establish it in its primitive form. 
 
 The Reformation of Zwingle was therefore the more 
 complete. The work which Providence had committed 
 to Luther — the re-establishment of justification by faith 
 — was, doubtless, the great work of the Reformation ; 
 but this work once finished, there remained others, 
 which, though perhaps secondary, were still important. 
 This was, more especially, the work of Zwingle. 
 
 In fact, two great tasks were given to the reformers. 
 Christian Catholicism, which was born amid Jewish 
 Pharisaism and Greek heathenism, had gradually yielded 
 to the infiuence of these two religious, and thereby 
 been transformed into Roman Catholicism. Now the 
 Reformation, inasmuch as it had been called to purify 
 the Church, was bound to emancipate it equally from 
 the heathen and from the Jewish element. 
 
 The Jewish element existed especially in that depart- 
 ment of Christian doctrine which bears reference to 
 man. Catholicism had received from Judaism the 
 Pharisaical ide:is of self -righteousness, and salvation by 
 human powers or works. 
 
 The heathen element existed especially iu that depart- 
 
 ment of Christian doctrine which relates to God. In 
 Catholicism, the idea of an infinite God, whose all- 
 suHicient power acts everywhere, and without ceasing, 
 had been adulterated by heathenism. In its place the 
 reign of symbols, images, and ceremonies, had been 
 introduced into the Church, and the saints had become 
 the demigods of the papacy. 
 
 Luther's Reformation was directed essentially against 
 the Jewish element. This was the element with which 
 he had to struggle, when an audacious monk was sent 
 by the popo to vend the salvation of souls for ready 
 cash. 
 
 The Reformation of Zwingle was specially directed 
 against the heathen element. This element he had 
 encountered when, iu the church of Our Lady of Ein- 
 sidlen, as of old in the temple of Diana of Ephesus, a 
 crowd, who had flocked from all quarters, stupidly 
 prostrated themselves before au idol decked in gold. 
 
 The reformer of Germany proclaimed the great doc- 
 trine of justification by faith, and thereby gave a 
 death-blow to the pharisalcal righteousness of Rome. 
 No doubt the reformer of Switzerland did so also ; the 
 inability of man to save himself forms the basis of the 
 work of all reformers. But Zwingle did more. He 
 proved the supreme, universal, exclusive existence and 
 agency of God, and thus gave a mortal thrust to the 
 pagan worship of Rome. 
 
 Roman Catholicism had exalted man and dishonoured 
 God. Luther humbled man : Zwingle exalted God. 
 
 These two tasks, which were theirs specially, but 
 not exclusively, were both completed. That of Luther 
 laid the foundation of the building : that of Zwingle 
 put on the cope-stone. 
 
 It was reserved for a still greater genius on the 
 banks of the lake of Geneva, to impress both charac- 
 ters at once on the Reformation. 
 
 But while Zwingle was thus advancing with rapid 
 strides at the head of the confederation, the temper of 
 the cantons was always becoming more hostile. The 
 Zurich government felt the necessity of being able to 
 fall back on the people. The people — i. e., the assembly 
 of the faithful — was, moreover, according to the prin- 
 ciples of Zwingle, the highest power on earth to which 
 au appeal coiUd be made. The council resolved to 
 sound them, and ordered the bailies to put the question 
 to all the communes, whether they were wiUing to 
 endure everything for the sake of Jesus Christ, " who," 
 said the council, "gave for us sinners His life and 
 blood." The whole canton had taken a deep interest 
 in the progress of the Reformation in the town, and in 
 many places the houses of the peasantry had become 
 Christian schools, in which the Holy Scriptures were 
 read. 
 
 'J'lie proclamation of the council, which was read in 
 all the districts, was received with enthusiasm. " Let 
 our rulei-s," replied they, " adhere boldly to the Word 
 of God, we will help them to maintain it ; and if any 
 annoyance is given them, we will bring assistance to 
 our brave fellow-citizens." The peasantry of Zurich 
 shewed then, as they have shewn since, that the strength 
 of the Church is in the Christian people. 
 
 But the people were not alone. The man whom God 
 had placed at their head responded nobly to their 
 appeal. Zwingle, as it were, multiplied himself for 
 
334 
 
 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the servico of God. All who, in the Helvetic cantons, 
 endured any persecution for the Gospel, applied to him. 
 The responsibility of affairs, the care of the Church, 
 anxious interest in the struggle carried on in all the 
 Swiss valleys, formed the burdens of the Zurich evan- 
 gelist. At "Wittemberg, news of his courage were 
 received with joy. Luther and Zwingle were two 
 great luminaries placed in upper and lower Germany; 
 and the doctrine of salvation, so powerfully preached 
 by them, spread over the extensive regions which 
 descend from the heights of the Alps to the shore= of 
 the Baltic and tlie Northern Ocean. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Ni'w OpposKion— (Exliu caiTied off— The Family of the Wirths— The Wo'b at 
 the Convent of Itticgen— The Diet of Zug— Tlie Wiiths seized and given 
 up to the Diet— Condemnation. 
 
 The "Word of God could not thus triumphantly spread 
 over extensive districts without arousing the indigna- 
 tion of the pope in his palace, the curates in their 
 ])resby teries, and the Swiss magistrates in their councils. 
 Their terror increased every day. The people were 
 consulted ; the Christian people again became of some 
 weight in the Christian Clmrch, and their faith and 
 their sympathies were appealed to instead of the decrees 
 of the Roman chancery. . . . This formidable 
 attack required a still more formidable resistance. On 
 the 18th April, the pope addressed a brief to the con- 
 federates, and the diet assembled at Zug in the month 
 of July, yielding to the pressing exhortations of the 
 pontiff, sent a deputation to Zurich, Seliaffhausen, and 
 Appenzel, to declare to these states its firm determina- 
 tion to destroy the new doctrine, and prosecute its 
 adherents in their goods, their honours, and even their 
 lives. Tills warning was not heard in Zurich without 
 emotion ; but it was firmly answered, that, in matters 
 of faith, obedience could only be given to the Word of 
 God. On hearing this reply. Lucerne, Schwitz, Uri, 
 Underwalden, Friburg, and Zug, gave loud utterance 
 to their rage, and forgetting the reputation and strength 
 whicli the accession of Zurich had of old given to the 
 rising confederation, forgetting the precedence which 
 had already been conceded to it, the simple and solemn 
 oaths which had been taken to it, and the many com- 
 mon victories and reverses, these states declared that 
 they would not sit in diet with Zurich. Thus, in 
 Switzerland, as in Germany, the partisans of Rome 
 were the first to violate federal unity. But menaces 
 and ruptures of alliance were not sufficient. The 
 fanaticism of the cantons demanded blood, and it was 
 soon seen with what weapons the papacy sought to 
 combat the Word of God. 
 
 A friend of Zwingle, the excellent CExlin, was pastor 
 at Berg, near Stein, on the Rhine. Tlie bailie, Am- 
 berg, who had appeared to listen gladly to the Gospel, 
 wishing to obtain this bailiwick, had promised the 
 leading men in Schwitz to destroy the new faith. 
 QSxliu, though he was not subject to his jurisdiction, 
 was the first on whom his severity was to be exercised. 
 
 On the night of 7th July, 1524, a knock was heard 
 towards midnight at the pastor's door. On being 
 opened, the bailie's soldiers seized him, and carried him 
 off prisoner, notwithstanding of his cries. CExlin, on 
 his part, thinking they were going to assassinate him, 
 cried. Murder ; the inhabitants got up in alarm, and 
 the whole village was soon in a frightful tumult, the 
 noise of which reached as far as Steiu. The sentinel 
 on guard at the castle of Hohenklingen fired the alarm 
 cannon, the tocsin sounded, and the inhabitants of 
 Stein, Stammheim, and the adjacent places, were all 
 in a few moments in motion, inquiring, amid the dark- 
 ness, as to what had happened in the district. 
 
 At Stammheim lived vice-bailie AVirth, whose two 
 sons, Adrian and John, young priests full of piety 
 and courage, earnestly preached the Gospel. John 
 especially, in the fulness of faith, was ready to give his 
 life to his Saviour. It was a patriarchal family. Anna, 
 the mother, who had giveu the bailie a numerous 
 family, and had brought them up in the fear of the 
 Lord, was revered for her virtues over the whole dis- 
 trict. On hearing of the tumult of Berg, the father 
 and the two eldest sons came out of the house. The 
 father's indignation was roused when he saw that the 
 bailie of Frauenfeld had exercised his authority in an 
 illegal manner. The sons were grieved to learn that 
 then- brother, their friend, he whose good example 
 they loved to follow, was carried off as a criminal. 
 Each of them seized a halbert, and, in spite of the 
 fears of an affectionate wife and mother, the father 
 and the two sons joined the band of the citizens of 
 Stein, determined to deliver their pastor. Unhappily 
 a crowd of those nondescript individuals who always 
 spring up whenever there is any disturbance, were 
 also astir. They set off in pursuit of the bailie's 
 officers, who, hearing the tocsin and sounds of alarm, 
 made all speed, aud dragging along their victim, soou 
 placed the Thur between themselves and their pursuers. 
 
 The people of Stein and Stammheim reached the 
 river side, but having no means of crossing, stopped, 
 aud resolved to send a deputation to Frauenfeld. "Ah !" 
 said bailie Wirth, "the pastor of Stein is so dear to 
 us that I would willingly give up everything for him, 
 my goods, my liberty, and even my life." The mob 
 finding themselves near the convent of the Cordeliers 
 of Ittiugen, who were supposed to stimulate the tyranny 
 of the bailie Amberg, entered, and got possession of 
 the refectory. These miserable beings soon became 
 intoxicated, and scenes of disorder ensued. Wirth 
 implored them, but in vain, to quit the convent ; he 
 even exposed himself to be maltreated by them. His 
 son Adrian remained outside the cloister. John entered 
 it, but distressed at what he saw he immediately came 
 out again. The intoxicated peasants began to break 
 into the wine cellars and stores, to break the furniture 
 to pieces, aud burn the books. 
 
 News of these disorders having reached Zurich, 
 deputies from the council hastened to the spot, and 
 ordered those who had come out of the canton to return 
 to their homes. The order was obeyed. But a crowd 
 of Thurgovians, attracted by the tumult, installed 
 themselves in the convent, and there made good cheer. 
 Suddenly, no one knew how, a fire bi'oke out, and the 
 convent was reduced to ashes. 
 
THE WIRTHS GIVEN UP TO THE DIET. 
 
 333 
 
 Five daj-s after, the deputies of the cantons met at 
 Zug. Cries of revenge and deatli were heard in the 
 assembly. " Let ns march," said they, '• with banners 
 unfurled, on Stein and Stammheim, and smite their 
 inhabitants with the sword." The vice-bailie and his 
 two sons, on account of their faith, had long been the 
 objects of special hatred. " If any one is guilty," said 
 the deputy of Zurich, "let him be punished; but be it 
 according to the laws of justice, and not by violence." 
 Acadian, deputy of St. Gall, supported this view. Then 
 the envoy, .lolin Hug of Lucerne, imable to restrain 
 himself, CKclaimed, with ck-eadful oaths: "The heretic 
 Zwingle is tlie father of all these revolts, and you, 
 doctor of St. Gall, you favour his infamous cause, you 
 aid him in securing its triumphs. . . . You ought 
 not to sit longer among us." The deputy of Zug 
 endeavoured to restore peace, but in vain. Vadian 
 retired ; and as some of the populace had designs upon 
 his life, he secretly left the town, and arrived, by a 
 devious course, at the convent of Cappel. 
 
 Zurich, determined to suppress all disorder, resolved, 
 in the meantime, to up|)reheud those who had roused 
 the auger of the confederates. AVirth and his sons 
 were living ])eaceably at Stammheim. " Never will the 
 enemies of God be able to overcome his friends," said 
 Adrian AVirth from the pulpit. The father received 
 information of the fate which awaited him, and was 
 urged to fly with his sons. "No," said he; "trusting 
 in God, I mean to wait for the officers." And when 
 the soldiers made their ajipearance at his house, he 
 said: "My lords of Zurich might have spared them- 
 selves all this trouble ; they had oidy to send a child 
 for me, and I would have obeyed." The three AVirths 
 were led away to the prison of Zurich. Rutiraan, 
 bailie of Nussbaum, shared their fate. They were 
 closely examined, but nothing was discovered in their 
 conduct to criminate them. 
 
 As soon as the deputies had learned the imprison- 
 ment of these four citizens, they demanded that they 
 should be sent to Baden, and gave orders, in the event 
 of a refusal, to march upon Zurich and carry them 
 off. " To Zurich," replied the deputies of this state, 
 " it belongs to ascertain whether these men are guilty 
 or not ; and we have found no fault in them." Then 
 the deputies of the cantons exclaimed : " AA'^ill you 
 deliver them to us? Answer yes or no; and not one 
 word more." Two of the deputies of Zurich took 
 horse, and rode off at full speed to theu" constituents. 
 
 On their arrival all the town was in great agita- 
 tion. If the prisoners were refused, the confederates 
 would come and seek them with arms in their hands ; 
 and if they were delivered, it was the same thing 
 as givuig them up to death. Opinions were divided. 
 Zwingle was decidedly for refusing. "Zurich," said 
 he, " must remain faithful to its constitution." At 
 last it was thought that a middle course liad been 
 found. "AA''e will remit the prisoners to you," said 
 they to the diet; "but on condition that you will 
 only examine them as to the affair of Ittingen, and 
 not as to their faith." The diet acceded to the terms ; 
 and on the Friday before St. Bai-tholomew's day, 
 (August, 1524,) the three AVirths and theii- friend, 
 accompanied by four councillors of state, left Zurich. 
 
 There was general lamentation. It was foreseen 
 
 what fate awaited these two old men and these two 
 youths. Nothing but sobbing was heard as they passed 
 along. "Alas!" exclaims a contemporary, "what a 
 mournful procession !" The churches were crowded. 
 "God," exclaimed Zwingle, — "God will punish us. 
 Ah ! let us, at least, implore Him to impart His grace 
 to these poor prisoners, and strengthen their faith." 
 
 On Friday evening the accused arrived at Baden, 
 where an immense crowd was waiting for them. 
 They were first taken to an inn, and then to prison. 
 They had difficulty in moving forward, the people 
 pressed so close upon them to see them. The father, 
 who walked in front, turned towards his sous, and 
 mildly said to them : " See, my dear children, we are, 
 as the apostle says, as it ivere appointed to death : for 
 ice are made a spectacle to the world, and to angels, and 
 to men," (1 Cor. iv. 9.) Then perceiving in the crowd 
 his mortal enemy, bailie Amberg, the cause of all 
 his misfortunes, he went up and offered him his 
 hand ; but the bailie turned away. Clasping his hand 
 in his, he calmly said : " God lives in heaven, and 
 knows all things." 
 
 The inquest commenced on the following day. Bailie 
 AVirlh was first brought in. He was put to the tor- 
 ture, without regard to his character or his age ; but 
 he persisted in declaring that he was innocent of the 
 pillaging and burning of Ittingen. He was then 
 charged with destroying an image of St. Anne. . . 
 Nothing could be proved against the other prisoners, 
 except that Adrian AVirth was married, and preached 
 after the manner of Zwingle and Luther; and that 
 John AA^irth had given the sacrament to a sick per- 
 son without bell and taper. 
 
 But the more their iuuocence was proved, the more 
 the rage of their adversaries increased. From morn- 
 ing till noon the old man was kept under the torture. 
 His tears could not soften his judges. John AVirlh 
 was still more cruelly tortured. " Tell us," he was 
 asked, in the midst of his agony, — " tell us where you 
 got your heretical faith? AA''as it from Zwingle, or 
 some other person?" And as he exclaimed: "O 
 merciful and eternal God, come to my aid and support 
 me!" "Ah, well!" said one of the deputies to him, 
 " where is now thy Christ ?" AA^hen Adrian appeared, 
 Sebastian of Stein, deputy of Berne, said to him: 
 " Young man, tell us the truth ; for if you refuse to 
 tell it, I swear to you, by my knighthood, which 1 
 acquired in the very place where God suffered martyr- 
 dom, that we will open all the veins of your body in 
 succession." Thou the young man was attached to a 
 cord, and as they swuug him in the air, " My little 
 master," said Stein, with a diabolical smile, "here is 
 our mai-riage present," — alluding to the marriage of 
 the Lord's young servant. 
 
 The process being concluded, the deputies returned 
 to their cantons to make their report, and did not 
 return till four weeks after. The bailie's wife, the 
 mother of the two young priests, repaired to Baden, 
 with au infant in her arms, to intercede with the judges. 
 John Eschcr of Zurich accompanied her as advocate. 
 Perceiving among the judges the landamman of Zug, 
 Jerome Stocker, who had two different times been 
 bailie of Frauenfeld: " Landamman," said he to him, 
 "you know bailie AVirth: you know that he has all 
 
336 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 his life been au liouest mau." — " You say true, my 
 dear Escher," replied Stockcr, " he never liarraed any 
 one ; fellow-citizens and strangers were always kindly 
 received at his table ; his house resembled a convent, 
 an inn, an hospital. Hence, if ho had robbed or mur- 
 dered, I would do everything in my power to obtain 
 his pardon. But since he has burned St. Anne, the 
 grandmother of Christ, he must die !" , . . " God 
 have mercy on us !" exclaimed Escher. 
 
 The gates were shut. This was on the 28th Sep- 
 tember, and the deputies of Berne, Lucerne, Uri, 
 Schwitz, Unterwaldeu, Zug, Glaris, Friburg, and 
 Soleure, having proceeded to judgment with closed 
 doors, according to custom, pronounced sentence of 
 death on bailie AVirth, his son John, who was strongest 
 in the faith, and appeared to have carried the others 
 along with him, and bailie Rutiman. Adrian, the 
 second son, was granted to his mother's tears. 
 
 The officers proceeded to the tower to fetch the pri- 
 soners. "My son," said the father to Adrian, "do 
 not avenge our death, although we have not deserved 
 to suffer." . . . Adrian's tears fell fast. "My 
 brother," said John to him, " the cross of Jesus Christ 
 must always follow His Word." 
 
 After the judgment was read these throe Christians 
 were taken back to prison; John Wirth walked in 
 front, the two vice-hailies next, and a vicar followed. 
 As they passed the castle bridge, where was a chapel 
 consecrated to St. Joseph : " Prostrate yourselves, and 
 invoke the saints," said the priest to the two old 
 men. John Wii-th, who was in advance, turned back 
 on hearing these words, and cried out: "Father, 
 remain firm. Y'ou know there is only one mediator 
 between God and man, the man Christ Jesus." — " Cer- 
 tainly, my sou," replied the old man ; " and with the 
 help of His grace I will remain faithful unto the end." 
 All three now began to repeat the Lord's Prayer : "Our 
 Father which art in heaven." Then they passed the 
 bridge. 
 
 They were afterwards led to the scaffold. John 
 Wirth, whose heart was filled with the tenderest 
 anxiety for his father, took farewell of him. "My 
 dearly beloved father," said he to him, " henceforth 
 you are no longer my father, and I am no longer your 
 son ; but we are brethren in Christ our Lord, for whose 
 name I am to suffer death. To-day, dearly beloved 
 brother, if it pleases God, we shall go to Him who is 
 tlue Father of us all. Fear nothing." — "Amen!" replied 
 the old man ; " and may God Almighty bless you, my 
 beloved son, and my brother in Christ!" 
 
 Thus, on the threshold of eternity, this father and 
 sou took leave of each other, hailing the new mansions 
 where they were going to be united by everlasting ties. 
 The greater part of those around them were weeping 
 bitterly. Bailie Rutiman prayed in silence. 
 
 The three having knelt down, "in the name of 
 Christ," were beheaded. 
 
 The multitude, on seeing the marks of the torture 
 upon their bodies, gave loud utterance to their gi-ief. 
 The two bailies left twenty-two children, and forty- 
 five gi-andchildren. Anne had to pay twelve gold 
 crowns to the executioner who deprived her husband 
 and son of life. 
 
 Thus blood, pure blood had flowed. Switzerland 
 
 aud the Reformation were baptized with the blood of 
 martyrs. The great enemy of the Gospel had done his 
 work ; but in doing it his power was broken. The 
 death of the Wirths was to hasten the triumphs of 
 the Reformation. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Abolition of the Mass— Zwingle's Dream -Celebration of the Lord's Supper 
 — Brotherly Charity — Original Sin — The Oligarclis against tlie Rofornia- 
 tion — Divers Attacks. 
 
 It was not thought desirable to proceed to the aboli- 
 tion of the mass in Zurich immediately after that of 
 images ; but now the moment seemed arrived. 
 
 Not only was evangelical light diffused among the 
 people; but, moreover, the blows which the enemy 
 struck, called upon the friends of the Gospel to reply 
 to them by striking demonstrations of their immove- 
 able fidelity. Every time that Rome erects a scaffold, 
 and cuts off heads, the Reformation will hold up the 
 AVord of the Lord, and cut off abuses. When Hettin- 
 ger was executed, Zurich abolished images ; now that 
 the heads of the AVirths have rolled on the scaffold, 
 Zurich will reply by the abolition of the mass. The 
 more Rome increases her cruelties, the more will the 
 Reformation see her power increase. 
 
 On the 11th April, 1525, the three pastors of Zurich 
 presented themselves, with Megander and Oswald My- 
 conius, before the great council, and petitioned for the 
 re-establishment of the Lord's Supper. Their speech 
 was grave ; all minds were solemnized ; every one felt 
 the importance of the resolution which the council was 
 called to take. The mass, that mystery which, for 
 more than three centuries, was the soul of the religious 
 service of the Latin Church, behoved to be abolished ; 
 the corporeal presence of Christ beho\'ed to be declared 
 an illusion, and the illusion itself made palpable to the 
 people. To resolve on this required courage, and there 
 were men in the council who shuddered at the very 
 idea of it. Joachim Am-Griit, under-secretary of 
 State, terrified at the bold demand of the pastors, 
 opposed it with all his might. "These words. This is 
 mij body" said he, " irresistibly prove that the bread is 
 the body of Christ himself." Zwingle observed, that 
 in the Greek language fa-n (is) is the only word to 
 express siynijies; and he quoted several instances in 
 which this word is employed in a figurative seuse. 
 The great council being convinced, hesitated not ; the 
 evangelical doctrines had penetrated all hearts. Be- 
 sides, now that the Church was separated from Rome, 
 there was some satisfaction in making it as much so as 
 possible, and in placing a deep gulf between her and 
 the Reformation. The council accordingly ordered 
 the abolition of the mass, and decreed that next day. 
 Holy Thursday, the Lord's Supper should be celebrated 
 in accordance with apostolic usage. 
 
 Zwingle was eagerly occupied with these thoughts ; 
 and at night, after he closed his eyes, he continued 
 searching out arguments to oppose his adversaries. 
 The subject which had occupied him so much during 
 
CELEBRATION OF THE LORDS SUPPER. 
 
 337 
 
 the day, again presented itself in sleep. He dreamt 
 that he was disputing with Am-Griit, and could not 
 answer his leading objection. Suddenly a person 
 appeared, and said : '• AVhy do you not quote Exodus 
 xii. 11, I'e s/iall eat it in haste; it is the Lord's passover?" 
 Zwinglo awoke, leapt out of bed, took up the Septua- 
 gint translation, and found in it the very word tart (is) 
 whose meaning here, by the confession of all, can only 
 be signijies. 
 
 Here, then, wo have, in the very institution of the 
 passover under the Old Testament, the meaning for 
 which Zwingle contends. How, then, is it possible to 
 avoid tlio conclusion that the two passages are parallel ? 
 
 Tlie next day Zwingle selected this passage for his 
 text, and spoke so forcibly, that he removed all doubts. 
 
 Tliis circumstance, which is so naturally explained, 
 and the expression used by Zwingle, when he said, that 
 lie did not remember the appearance of the person 
 whom he saw in his dream, Iiavc given rise to the 
 charge that the reformer learned his doctrine from the 
 devil. 
 
 Altars had disappeared ; and their places were sup- 
 plied by single tables, on which stood the bread and 
 wine of the eucharist, while an attentive congregation 
 thronged around. There was something solemn in the 
 numbers. On Holy Thursday, the young ; on Friday, 
 (Passion-day,) adults ; and on Easter, the old, succes- 
 sively celebrated the Lord's death. 
 
 The deacons read the passages of Scripture which 
 refer to the sacrament, the pastors addressed an earnest 
 exhortation to the flock, urging all those who, by con- 
 tinuing in sin, would defile the body of the Lord Jesus, 
 to abstain from this sacred supper. The people knelt ; 
 the bread was handed round on large platters or wooden 
 plates, and each pei-son broke a portion ; the wine was 
 dispensed in wooden cups — this being thought to 
 approach nearest to the first institution. Surprise and 
 joy filled all hearts. 
 
 Thus the Reformation was effected in Zurich. The 
 simple celebration of the Lord's death seemed to have 
 again infused into the Church the love of God, and the 
 love of the brethren. The words of Jesus Christ were 
 again spirit and life. "While the different orders and 
 different parties of the Church of Rome had never 
 ceased to dispute with each other, the first effect of the 
 Gospel, on again entering the Church, was to establish 
 charity among the brethren. The love of the primi- 
 tive ages was restored to Christendom. Enemies were 
 seen renouncing old and inveterate hatred, and embrac- 
 ing each other, after having eaten together of the bread 
 of the eucharist. Zwingle, delighted at these touching 
 manifestations, thanked God that the Lord's Supper 
 was again performing those miracles of love which the 
 sacrifice of the mass had long ceased to produce. 
 
 "Peace dwells in our city," exclaimed he; "among 
 us no pretence, no dissension, no envy, no quarrel. 
 AVTience can such agreement come but from the Lord, 
 and because the doctrine which we preach disposes 
 us to innocence and peace ?" 
 
 There were now charity and unity, but not uniformity. 
 Zwingle, in his " Commentary on True and False Reli- 
 gion," which he dedicated to Francis L, in March, 1525, 
 the year of the battle of Pavia, had presented some 
 truths, in the manner best fitted to gain a reception 
 
 fi'om human reason ; in this following the example of 
 several of the most distinguished scholastic theologians. 
 Thus he had applied the term disease to original cor- 
 ruption, and restricted that of sin to the actual trans- 
 gression of the law. But these statements, though 
 they called forth some remonstrances, did not interrupt 
 brotherly love ; for Zwingle, while persisting in calling 
 original sin a disease, added that, in consequence of it 
 all men were undone, and that the only remedy was in 
 Jesus Christ. There was, therefore, no Pelagian error 
 here. 
 
 But while the celebration of the Supper in Zurich 
 wa-s accompanied with a return to Christian brother- 
 hood, Zwingle and his friends had so much more to 
 endure externally fnim the irritation of adversaries. 
 Zwingle wixs not only a Christian leader ; he was also 
 a true patriot ; and wc know with what zeal he com- 
 bated enlistment, pensions, and foreign alliances. He 
 was convinced that these influences from abroad des- 
 troyed piety, blinded reason, and sowed discord. But 
 his loud protestations must have hurt the progress of 
 the Reformation. In almost all the cantons the leaders 
 who received foreign pensions, and the officers who led 
 the Helvetic youth to battle, formed powerful factions, 
 formidable oligarchies, which attacked the Reforma- 
 tion, not so much from any view to the Church, iis on 
 account of the prejudicial effect it threatened to have 
 to their interests and honours. They had already 
 gained the day at Schwitz. This canton, in which 
 Zwingle, Leo Juda, and Myconius, had taught, and 
 which might have been expected to follow in the wake 
 of Zurich, was again all at once opened to mercenary 
 enlistments, and shut against the Reformation. 
 
 At Zurich even, some wretches, stirred up by foreign 
 intrigues, attacked Zwingle in the middle of the night, 
 threw stones at his house, broke his windows, and with 
 loud cries called him " the red Uli, the vulture of 
 Glaris ;" so that Zwingle was awoke, and ran for his 
 sword. This circumstance is characteristic of the man. 
 
 But these isolated attacks could not paralyze the 
 movement which was carrying forward Zurich, and 
 beginning to shake Switzerland. They were only like 
 stones thrown in to arrest a torrent. The waters, ris- 
 ing on every side, threatened to break down the 
 strongest obstacles. 
 
 The Bernese having declared to the Zurichers that 
 several states had refused to sit with them in diet in 
 future : " Very well," replied those of Zurich, calmly 
 raising their hands to heaven, as the men of Rutli in 
 former days, " we have a firm assurance that God the 
 Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in whose name the con- 
 federation was formed, will not forsake us ; but will, at 
 last, in mercy, give us a seat beside His Sovereign 
 Majesty." With such a faith the Reformation had 
 nothing to fear. But will it gain similar victories in 
 the other states of the confederation ? Will not Zurich 
 be left alone in favour of the Word? Will Berne, 
 Bale, and other cantons besides, remain subject to the 
 power of Rome? AVe sliall now see. Let us turn, 
 then, towards Berne, and study the progress of the 
 Reformation in the most influential state of the 
 confederation. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER ^^I. 
 
 Heme— Tlie Provost of WatteviUe— First Successes of the Reformation— 
 Hallei- at the Convent-Accusation and Deliverance— The Monastery of 
 Konigsfeld— Margaret of Watteville to Zwingle— The Convent Open- 
 Two Opposite Champions— Clara May and the Provost of Watteville. 
 
 NowiTERE was the struggle to be keener than at Berue, 
 •where the Gospel had at once powerful friends and 
 formidable foes. At the head of the friends of the 
 Reformation stood banneret John Weingarten ; Bartho- 
 lomew May, member of the little council; his sons, 
 Wolfgang and Claudius ; his grandchildren, James and 
 Benedict; and, above all, the family of Watteville. 
 The avoyer James Watteville, who had, from 1512, 
 filled the first place in the republic, had early read the 
 writings of Luther and Zwingle, and had often con- 
 versed on the Gospel with John Haller. pastor at 
 Alsentingen, whom he had protected against his 
 persecutors. 
 
 His sou, Nicholas, aged thirty-one, had been for two 
 years provost of the church of Berne ; and, as such, in 
 virtue of papal ordinances, enjoyed great privileges. 
 Hence Berthold Haller called him " our bishop." 
 
 The prelates and the pope were exceedingly desirous 
 to bind him to the interests of Rome, and everj'thing 
 might have been expected to estrange him from the 
 knowledge of the Gospel ; but the agency of God was 
 more powerful than the flattery of man. Watteville 
 was converted from darkness to the pure light of the 
 Gospel, says Zwingle. The friend of Berthold Haller, 
 he read all the letters which the latter received from 
 Zwingle, and could not sufficiently express his admira- 
 tion. 
 
 The interest of the two Wattevilles, who were at the 
 head — the one of the State, the other of the Church — 
 might have been expected to carry the republic. But 
 the opposite party was not less powerful. 
 
 Among its leaders were observed the schulthess of 
 Erlach, banneret Willading, and several patricians, 
 whose interests were the same as those of the convents 
 placed under their administration. Behind these in- 
 fluential individuals were an ignorant and corrupt 
 clergy, who called the evangelical doctrine " an inven- 
 tion of hell." In the month of July, councillor Mul- 
 liuen said in full assembly: "Dear confederates, take 
 care that the Reformation do not gain upon us. In 
 Zurich people are not safe in their houses ; they require 
 soldiers to defend them." In consequence, application 
 was made to John Heim, the lecturer of the Domini- 
 cans at Mentz, who came to Berne, and began to 
 inveigh from the pulpit, with all the eloquence of St. 
 Thomas, against the Reformation. 
 
 Thus the two parties were arrayed against each 
 other, the struggle seemed inevitable, and even the 
 result not doubtful. In fact, a common faith united a 
 portion of the people to the most distinguished families 
 of the State. Berthold Haller, full of confidence in the 
 future, exclaimed : " Provided God's anger is not turned 
 against us, it is impossible that the Word of God can 
 be banished from this town, for the Bernese are hun- 
 gering for it." 
 
 Shortly after, two acts of the government seemed to 
 
 throw the balance in the favour of the Reformation. 
 The Bishop of Lausanne having announced an episcopal 
 visitation, the council caused the provost Watteville 
 intimate to him that he would have to dispense with 
 it. And, at the same time, the councils of Berne issued 
 an ordinance which, while it apparently made some 
 concession to the enemies of the Reformation, conse- 
 crated its principles. They decreed that the Holy 
 Gospel, and the doctrine of God, as it could be proved 
 from the books of the Old and New Testament, should 
 be preached freely and openly; and that nothing should 
 be said of any doctrine, dispute, or writing, proceeding 
 from Luther or other teachers. The surprise of the 
 adversaries of the Reformation was great when they 
 saw the evangelical ministers loudly appealing to this 
 ordinance. This decree, which was the basis of all 
 which followed, was the legal commencement of the 
 Reformation in Berne. There was thenceforward 
 more decision in the movement of this state, and 
 Zwingle, whose eye was attentive to all that took place 
 in Switzerland, could write to the provost Watteville : 
 "AH Christians rejoice because of this faith which the 
 pious town of Berne has just received." — " The cause 
 is that of Clu-ist," exclaimed the friends of the Gospel ; 
 and they devoted themselves to it with still greater 
 coiu-age. 
 
 The enemies of the Reformation, alarmed at these 
 first advantages, formed their phalanx, and resolved to 
 strike a blow which would ensure the victory. They 
 conceived the project of disencumbering themselves of 
 those ministers whose audacious eloquence subverted 
 the most ancient customs. A favourable opportunity 
 soon occurred. There was in Berne, at the place now 
 occupied by the hospital of the Isle, a convent of nuns 
 of St. Dominick, dedicated to St. Michael. The day of 
 this archangel (29th September) was a great festival in 
 the monastery. This 3'ear it was attended by several 
 ecclesiastics, among others, by Wittembach of Bienne, 
 Sebastian Meyer, and Berthold Haller. Having entered 
 into conversation with the nuns, among whom was 
 Clara, daughter of Claudius May, one of the props of 
 the Reformation, Haller said to her, in presence of her 
 grandmother : " The merits of the monastic state are 
 imaginary, whereas marriage is an honourable state, 
 having been instituted by God himself." Some nuns, 
 to whom Clara related the conversation of Berthold, 
 raised cries of terror. It was soon cu-culated in the 
 town : " Haller maintains that all nuns are children of 
 the devil." . . . The opportunity sought by the 
 enemies of the Reformation had arrived ; they appeared 
 before the lesser council, and referred to an ancient 
 ordinance, which bore that any person carrying off a 
 nun from the monastery should lose his head ; but 
 asked "for li mitigation of the sentence," and that it 
 should be considered sufficient, without hearing the 
 three ministers, to banish them for life. The lesser 
 council acceded to the petition, and the matter was 
 speedily carried before the great council. 
 
 Thus Berne was on the eve of being deprived of her 
 reformers. The intrigues of the papal party had pre- 
 vailed. But Rome, though she triumphed when she 
 addressed the oligarchs, was beaten before the people 
 and their representatives. No sooner had the names 
 of Haller, Meyer, and AVittembach, the men whom all 
 
THE MONASTERY OF KONIGSFELD. 
 
 339 
 
 Switzerland venerated, been pronounced in the great 
 council, than a powerful opposition was manifested to 
 the lesser council and the clerfry. " Wc cannot," 
 exclaimed Tilhnaini, "condemn tiie accused without 
 hearing them. Tlieir testimony is surely as good as 
 that of some women." The ministers were then called. 
 It was felt difficult to dispose of tiie affair. At length 
 John of ■\Veingarten said: "Let us give credit to both 
 parties." It was so decided. The ministers were dis- 
 cliarged, with a request, however, to meddle only with 
 the pulpit, and not with the cloister. But the pulpit 
 was sutlicient for them. The efforts of the enemy had 
 rcdoimded to their disgrace. The Keformation had 
 gained a great victory. Accordingly, one of the patri- 
 cians exclaimed: "Now that everything is said, Luther's 
 affair must go forward." 
 
 It did, in fact, go forward, and even in places where 
 it might have been least expected. At Konigsfeld, 
 near the castle of Hapsburg, stood a monastery adorned 
 with all the monastic magniliceuce of the Middle Ages, 
 and containing the ashes of several members of the 
 illustrious house which has given so many emperors to 
 Germauj'. Here the greatest families of Switzerland 
 and Swabia made their daughters take the veil. Not 
 far from this spot, on 1st May, 1308, the Emperor 
 Albert had fallen under the dagger of his nephew, 
 John of Swabia ; aud the beautiful painted window 
 of the church of Konigsfeld represented the fearful 
 punishments which had been inflicted on the relations 
 and vassals ofthe guilty parties. Catherine of Wald- 
 burg-Truchsess, abbess of the convent, at the period of 
 the Reformation, counted among her nuns Beatrice of 
 Landenberg, sister of the Bishop of Constance, Agnes 
 of MuUinen, Catherine of Bonustetten, aud Margaret 
 of Watteville, the provost's sister. The liberty which 
 this convent enjoyed, and which, at a former period, 
 had led to criminal irregularities, allowed the introduc- 
 tion of the Holy Scriptures, and the writings of Luther 
 aud Zwingle. In a short time mattera assumed an 
 entirely new appearance. Kear the cell to which 
 Queen Agnes, the daughter of Albert, retired, be- 
 sprinkled with blood as it had been "Maydew," aud 
 where, spinning wool or working embroidery to orna- 
 ment the church, she had mingled acts of devotion and 
 thoughts of vengeance, Margaret Watteville had only 
 thoughts of peace, read the Scriptures, and mingled 
 salutary ingredients to compose an excellent electuary. 
 Then, composing herself in her cell, the young nun 
 ventured on the bold step of writing to the teacher of 
 Switzerland. Her letter shews, better than any obser- 
 vations could do, the Christian spirit which animated 
 those pious females, who have been, and still, even in 
 our day, are so much calumniated. 
 
 " Grac3 and peace through the Lord Jesas Christ, 
 be ever given and multiplied to you, by God our 
 heavenly Father," said the nun of Konigsfeld to 
 Zwingle. " Very learned, reverend, and dear sir, I 
 beseech you not to be offended with the letter which I 
 write to you. The love which is in Christ urges me 
 to do it, especially since I have learned that the doc- 
 trine of salvation grows from day to day by your 
 preaching of the Word of God. Wherefore, I offer up 
 thanks to God Almighty for enlightening us anew, and 
 sending us, by His Holy Spirit, so many heralds of His 
 
 Holy Word ; at the same time, 1 earnestly beseech Him 
 to clothe you with His might, you and all those who 
 proclaim His glad tidings, that arming you r.gainst all 
 the enemies of the truth. He may make His Divine 
 Word grow in every heart. Very learned sir, I ven- 
 ture to send you this small token of my afTection. 
 Deign not to despise it. It is the gift of Christian 
 charity. If this electuary does you good, aud you have 
 any wish for more, let me know ; it would give me 
 gi-eat delight to do something that might be agreeable 
 to you. 1 am not alone in this. The feeling is com- 
 -mon to all who love the Gospel in our convent of 
 Konigsfeld. They present their salutations in Jesus 
 Christ to your reverence ; and we all together, without 
 ceasing, recommend you to His mighty protection. 
 "Saturday before Laitare, 1523." 
 
 Such was the pious letter of the nun of Konigsfeld 
 to the teacher of Switzerland. 
 
 A convent, into which Gospel light had thus pene- 
 trated, could not long continue the practices of monastic 
 life. Margaret Watteville and her sisters, persuaded 
 that they could serve God better in their families than 
 in the cloister, asked leaved to quit it. The council of 
 Berne, in alarm, first tried to bring the nuns to reason; 
 the provincial and the abbess had recourse by turns 
 to threats and promises. But the sisters — Margaret, 
 Agnes, Catherine — and their friends were immove- 
 able. Next, the rules of the convent were relaxed. 
 The nuns were exempted from fasts and matins, and 
 their income was increased ; but they replied to the 
 council . " It is not the liberty of the flesh we ask, but 
 liberty of the spirit. We, your poor and innocent pri- 
 soners, ask you to have pity on us." " Our prisoners! 
 our prisoners !" exclaimed banneret Krauchthaler ; " I 
 wont have them to be my prisoners." This, from one 
 of the firmest supporters of convents, decided the 
 council. The convent was thrown open, and shortly 
 after, Catherine Bonustetten married William Diesbach. 
 
 Still Berne, instead of frankly arraying itself on the 
 side of the reformers, kept a certain middle course, and 
 endeavoured, as it were, to hold the balance between 
 the two parties. A circumstance caused it to lay aside 
 this equivocal procedure. Sebastian Meyer, lecturer 
 to the Franciscans, published a recantation of Roman 
 errors, which produced a gi-eat sensation. Pourtraying 
 the life of convents, he said : " Their inmates live more 
 impurely, fall more frequently, rise more tardily, walk 
 more uncertainly, repose more dangerously, shew pity 
 more rarely, reform more slowly, die more desperately, 
 and are punished more severely." At the moment 
 when Meyer was thus declaring against cloisters, John 
 Heim, the Dominican reader, was exclaiming from 
 the pulpit : " No . Christ did not, as the evangelicals 
 teach, give satisfaction to His Father once for all. 
 God must be daily reconciled with men by the sacrifice 
 of the mass, and good works." Two citizens who 
 were in the chiu-ch, got up, and said . " It is not true." 
 This led to gi-eat noise. Heim stood mute. Several 
 urged him to continue ; but he came down from the 
 pulpit without finishing his discourse. The next day 
 the great council, with one blow, struck both Rome 
 and the Reformation, banishing from the town the two 
 great controversialists, Meyer and Heim. " They are 
 neither clear nor muddy," it was said of the Bernese, 
 
340 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 playing on the word Luther, wliieli, in old German, 
 means clem'. 
 
 But vain was the attempt to suppress the Reforma- 
 tion in Berne. It was making progress in every direc- 
 tion. The nuns of the monastery of the Isle had not 
 forgotten Haller's visit. Clara iMay, and several of 
 her friends, anxiously asking what they ought to do, 
 wrote to the learned Henry Bullinger, who replied : 
 " St. Paul enjoins young women not to make vows, 
 but to marry ; and not live in idleness, under a false 
 semblance of piety, (1 Tim. v. 13, 14.) Follow Jesus 
 in humility, charity, patience, purity, and honesty." 
 Clara, seeking help from above, resolved to follow this 
 advice, and quit a life contrary to the Word of God, 
 invented by man, and fraught with seduction and sin. 
 Her father, Bartholomew, who had passed fifty years 
 on battle-fields and in councils, rejoiced when he learned 
 his daughter's resolution. Clara quitted the convent. 
 
 The provost, Nicholas Watteville, whose whole inte- 
 rest bound him to the Roman hierarchy, and who, on 
 the first vacancy in Switzerland, must have risen to 
 the episcopal bench, also renounced his honours, his 
 benefices, and his hopes, to keep a pure conscience ; 
 and, breaking oif all the ties by which the popes had 
 tried to entwine him, he entered the state of marriage, 
 instituted by God from the beginning of the creation. 
 Nicholas Watteville married Clara May; and his sister 
 Margaret, the nun of Kbnigsfeld, was, about the same 
 time, united to Lucius Tseharner of Coire. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Bale— CEcolampadius— He goes to Augsliurg— He Enters the Convent— He 
 Returns to Seckingen— Returns to Bile— UWcU Vou Hutten— His 
 Projeets— Last Effort of Chivalry— Hutten dies at Uffnau. 
 
 Thus everything gave intimation of the triumphs which 
 the Reformation was shortly to gain in Berne. A city 
 of no less importance, and at this time the Athens of 
 Switzerland — Bale — began also to prepare for the great 
 combat which signalizes the sixteenth century. 
 
 Each town of the confederation had its peculiar 
 aspect. Berne was the city of great families ; and 
 there the question was apparently to be decided in 
 favour of the party who should gain certain of the 
 leading men of the city. At Zurich the ministers of 
 the Word — as Zwingle, Leo Juda, Myconius, Schmidt 
 — drew after them a powerful community of citizens. 
 Lucerne was the town of arms and military enlistments ; 
 Bale that of knowledge and printing. Erasmus, the 
 head of the republic of letters in the sixteenth century, 
 had fixed his residence in it, and, preferring the liberty 
 which he here enjoyed, to the seductive invitations of 
 popes and kings, had become the centre of a large 
 circle of literary men. 
 
 But a humble, meek, and pious man, inferior in 
 genius to Erasmus, was soon to exercise over the town 
 a more powerful influence than that of the prince of 
 schools. Christopher Utenhcim, bishop of Constance, 
 in concert with Erasmus, sought to gather round 
 him men fitted to accomplish a kind of intermediate 
 
 reformation. With this view he gave an invitation to 
 Capito and Oilcolampadius. In the latter there was 
 somewhat of the monk, which often annoyed the illus- 
 trious philosopher. But CEcolampadius soon became 
 enthusiastically attached to him, and, perhaps, would 
 have lost all his independence in this close relation, 
 had not Providence removed him from his idol. In 
 1517, he returned to Weinsberg, his native town, and 
 was shocked with the irregularities and profane jests of 
 the priests. He has left us a fine memorial of the 
 grave spirit which then animated hmi, in his celebrated 
 work " On the Easter Merriment," which appears to 
 have been written about this time. 
 
 Having been called, towards the end of 1518, to 
 Augsburg, as preacher of the cathedral, he found this 
 town still agitated by the famous interview which had 
 taken place there in May, between Luther and the 
 papal legate. It was necessary to take a part for or 
 against; QScolampadius, without hesitation, declared 
 for the reformer. This frankness soon raised up a 
 keen opposition against him, and, being convinced that 
 his timidity, and the weakness of his voice, would not 
 .allow him to succeed in the world, he began to look 
 around, and fixed his eye on a neighbouring convent of 
 monks of St. Bridget, celebrated for their piety and 
 their profound and liberal studies. Feeling the want 
 of repose, leisure, rest, and prayer, he turned towai-d 
 these monks, and asked them : " Can one live with you 
 according to the Word of God ?" They having assured 
 him that this could be done, Q3colampadius crossed the 
 threshold of the convent on the 23d April, 1520, but 
 
CECOLAMPADIUS IN THE CONVENT. 
 
 under the express condition that he was free should 
 ever the scrviee of God call him elsewhere. 
 
 It was well that the future reformer of B;ile should, 
 like Luther, know this monastic life, which was the 
 highest expression of Roman Catholicism. But he 
 found no repose ; his friends blamed the step ; and he 
 himself declared openly that Luther was nearer the 
 truth than his opponents. Hence Dr. Eck, and other 
 Koman doctors, followed him with menaces even into 
 liis calm retreat. 
 
 At this time CEcolampadius was neither one of the 
 reformed, nor a follower of Runic. He wished a kind 
 of purified Catholicism, which nowhere exists in his- 
 toiy, but the idea of which has served many as a kind 
 of stepping-stone. He set about correcting the statutes 
 of his order by the "Word of God. " I pray you," said 
 he to the friars, " don't esteem your ordinances more 
 than the commandments of the Lord." The monks 
 replied: "We wish no other rule than that of the 
 Saviour. Take our books, and mark, as in the imme- 
 diate presence of Christ, whatever you find contrary to 
 His Word." CEcolampadius began the task, but found 
 it painfully wearisome. "Almighty God!" he ex- 
 claimed, " what abomiuations has not Rome approved 
 in these statutes !" 
 
 No sooner had he pointed out some of these than the 
 wrath of the friars began to be kindled. "Heretic!" 
 they exclaimed; " apostate! you deserve a dark dungeon 
 till the end of your days." Ho was excluded from the 
 common prayers. But the danger was still greater 
 from without. Eck and his people had not abandoned 
 tlieir projects. In three days, he was told, he was to 
 be arrested. He went to the friars, and said to them : 
 "AVill you give me up to assassins f The monks 
 were speechless and irresolute. They were unwilling 
 either to save or to destroy him. At this moment some 
 friends of Qilcolampadius arrived near the cloister with 
 horses to conduct him to a place of safety. At this 
 news the monks determined on allowing the departure 
 of a brother who had brought trouble into their con- 
 vent. "Adieu!" he said, and was free. He had been 
 nearly two years in the cloister of St. Bridget. 
 
 CEcolampadius was saved : at length he again 
 breathed. Writing to a friend, he says : " I have 
 sacrificed the monk and got back the Christian." But 
 his flight from the convent and his heretical writings 
 were everywhere known ; everywhere also people stood 
 aloof on his approach. He knew not what to do, when, 
 in the spring of 1522, Seckiugen offered him an asylum, 
 which he accepted. 
 
 His spirit, which had been weighed down by monastic 
 bondage, took a new spring amid the noble wan-iors of 
 Ebernbiu-g. "Christ is our liberty," exclaimed he, 
 " and what men regard as the greatest misfortune — 
 death itself — is to us true gain." He forthwith began 
 to read the Gospels and epistles to the people in Ger- 
 man. "As soon as the trumpets resound," said he, 
 " the walls of Jericho crumble away." 
 
 Thus, in a fortress on the banks of the Rhine, amid 
 boisterous knights, the most modest man of his age 
 anticipated that transformation of woi-ship which Chris- 
 tendom was soon to undergo. Ebernburg, however, 
 was too narrow for him ; and he felt the want of other 
 society than that of military men. The bookseller, 
 
 Cratander, iuvited him to Bale. Scckingen gave his 
 permission ; and CEcoiamiiadius, happy to revisit his 
 old friends, arrived on the 1 Gth November, 1522. After 
 living for some time as a simple scholar, without public 
 vocation, ho was appointed vicar of the church of St. 
 Martin ; and perhaps it was this call to a humble and 
 miknown employment that decided the Reformation of 
 Bale. Wheuever CEcolampadius mounted the pulpit, 
 an immense crowd filled the chui-ch. At the same 
 time the public lectures, given both by him and 
 Pellican, were crowned with so much success, that 
 even Erasmus was obliged to exclaim: "CEcolam- 
 padius triumphs!" 
 
 In fact, says Zwingle, this meek but firm man shed 
 around him the sweet savour of Christ, and all who 
 heard him made progress in the truth. Often, indeed, 
 the news spread that he would soon be obliged to leave 
 botli, and again commence his adventurous travels. 
 His friends, particularly Zwingle, were in great alarm; 
 but the report of new successes gained by CEcolam- 
 [)adius soou dissipated their fears, and strengthened 
 their hopes. The fame of his labours even reached 
 Wittemberg, and rejoiced Luther, who daily talked of 
 him to Melancthon. Meantime the Saxon reformer 
 was not without uneasiness. Erasmus was at Bale, 
 and Erasmus was the friend of CEcolampadius. Luther 
 thought it his duty to put one whom he loved on his 
 guard. " I much fear," he wrote, " that, like Moses, 
 Erasmus will die in the plains of Moab, without con- 
 ducting us into the land of promise." 
 
 Erasmus had retired to Bale, as a quiet town, 
 situated in the centre of the literary movement, and 
 from the bosom of which he could, by means of the 
 printing-press of Frobenius, act upon France, Germany, 
 Switzerland, Italy, and England. But he did not like 
 to be disturbed ; and if he felt some jealousy at CEcolam- 
 padius, there was another man who inspired him with 
 still greater alarm. Ulrich von Hiitten had followed 
 CEcolampadius to Bitle. For a long time he had 
 attacked the pope as one knight attacks another. 
 " The axe," said he, "is already laid to the root of the 
 tree. Germans, yield not at the first brunt of the 
 battle; the die is cast — the enterprise is begun. 
 Liberty for ever !" He had abandoned Latin, and now 
 
342 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORINIATION. 
 
 VTOte only in German ; for it was the iseople he wished 
 to address. 
 
 His ideas were grand and noble. An annual assembly 
 of bishops was, according to him, to regulate the affairs 
 of the Chiu-ch. A Christian constitution, and, above 
 all, a Christian spirit, was to spread from Germany, as 
 formerly from Judea, over the whole world. Charles 
 V. was to have been the young hero destined to realize 
 the golden age ; but Iliitten's hopes in him having been 
 disappointed, he had turned to Seckingen, and asked 
 from chivah-y what the empire refused. Seckingen, at 
 the head of the feudal nobility, had played a distin- 
 guished part in Germany; but the princes had shortly 
 after besieged him iu his castle of Landstein, and the 
 new engines, cannon and bullets, had battered down 
 those old walls which had been accustomed to other 
 kinds of assault. The taking of Landstein had been 
 the final defeat of chivalry, — the decisive victory of 
 artillery over lances and iDucklers, — the triumph of 
 modern times over the Middle Ages. Thus the last 
 exploit of knighthood was to be iu favour of the 
 Reformation, — the first efforts of new weapons and 
 wars was to be against it. The steel-clad men who 
 fell under the unexpected force of bullets, and lay 
 among the ruins of Landstein, gave place to other 
 knigl) ts. Other feats of anus were about to commence. 
 A spiritual chivalry succeeded that of the Du Guesclins 
 and Bayards ; and those old broken battlements, those 
 ruined walls, those aspiring heroes, proclaimed still 
 more forcibly than Luther was able to do, that it was 
 not by such allies and such weapons that the Gospel of 
 the Prince of Peace would gain the victory. 
 
 With the downfall of Landstein and chivahy, had 
 fallen all Hiitten's hopes. Over Seckingen's dead body 
 he bade adieu to all the glorious days of which his 
 imagination had dreamed ; and losing all confidence in 
 man, all he now asked was a brief obscurity and repose. 
 He came to seek them in Switzerland beside Erasmus. 
 These two men had long been friends ; but the rude 
 and boisterous knight, disdaining the judgment of 
 others, always used to lay his hand on his sword, and 
 attacking right and left all whom he met, coidd seldom 
 move in accordance with the delicate and timid Erasmus, 
 with his refined manners, his smooth and polished 
 address, his eagerness for approbation, and his readi- 
 ness to make every sacrifice to obtain it, fearing nothing 
 in the world so much as a dispute. 
 
 Hiitten having arrived at Bale a poor sick fugitive, 
 immediately inquired for his old friend. But Erasmus 
 trembled at the thought of sharing his table with a 
 man under the ban of the pope and the emperor, — a 
 man who woidd care for no one, borrow money of him, 
 and, doubtless, bring after him a crowd of those " evan- 
 gelists " of whom Erasmus was always becoming more 
 afraid. He refused to see him ; and shortly after, the 
 magistrates of Bale begged Hiitten to leave the town. 
 Hiitten, mortified and irritated against his timid friend, 
 retired to Mulhausen, and published a violent philippic 
 against Erasmus, who wrote a very clever reply. The 
 knight had seized the sword with both hands, and 
 brought it down with force upon his adversary ; the 
 scholar, dexterously slipping aside, had returned the 
 strokes of the sword with strokes of his beak. 
 
 HUtteu behoved again to fiy. He arrived at Zurich, 
 
 where he met with a generous reception from the 
 noble-minded Zwingle. But cabals obliged him to 
 quit this town also ; and after passing some time at the 
 baths of Pfeffers, he repaired with a letter from the 
 Swiss reformer to the house of pastor John Schnapp, 
 who dwelt in the little islet of Uffnau, on the lake of 
 Zurich. This poor minister received the poor exiled 
 knight with the most touching charity. It was in this 
 peaceful and unknown retreat, after a most agitated 
 life, — banished by some, pursued by others, forsaken 
 almost by all, after constantly combating superstition, 
 yet, as it would seem, without even possessing the 
 truth, — UWch von Hiitten, one of the most remark- 
 able minds of the sixteenth century, died in obscurity 
 towards the end of August, 1523. The poor pastor, 
 who was skilful in the healing art, had in vain given 
 him all his care. With him died chivalry. He left 
 neither money, nor furniture, nor books — nothing in 
 the world except a pen. Thus was the hand of iron 
 broken that had presumed to support the ai-k of God. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Erasmus ami Luther— Uncertainty of Erasmus— Luther to Erasmus— Work 
 of Erasmus against Luther on Free Will— Tliree Opinions— Effect on 
 Luther— Luther on Free Will— The Jausenists and the Beformers— 
 Homage to Erasmus— Rage of Erasmus— The Three Days. 
 
 TnERE was a man iu Gei-many more formidable to 
 Erasmus than the unfortunate knight : tliis was Luther. 
 The moment had arrived when the two greatest wrestlers 
 of the age were to measure their powers in close com- 
 bat. The two Reformations at which they aimed were 
 very different. While Luther desired an entire Refor- 
 mation, Erasmus, a friend of the middle course, sought 
 to obtain concessions from the hierarchy which might 
 again unite the two extreme parties. The vacillation 
 and uncertainty of Erasmus disgusted Luther. He 
 said to him: '-You wish to walk on eggs without 
 crushing them, and among glasses without breaking 
 them." 
 
 At the same time, to the vacillation of Erasmus he 
 opposed complete decision. " We Christians," said he, 
 " ought to be sure of our doctrine, and know how to 
 say yes or no without hesitating. To attempt to hin- 
 der us from affirming with perfect conviction what we 
 believe, is to deprive us of faith itself. The Holy 
 Spirit is not a sceptic. He has written in our hearts 
 a firm and powerful assurance, which makes us as cer- 
 tain of our faith as we are of life itself." 
 
 These words at once tell us on which side strength 
 lay. In order to accomplish a religious transforma- 
 tion, there must be a firm and living faith. A salu- 
 tary resolution in the Church never will proceed from 
 philosophical views and human opinions. To fertilize 
 the earth after long drought, the lightning must pierce 
 the cloud, and the reservoirs of heaven be opened. 
 Criticism, philosophy, history, even may prepare the 
 paths for true faith, but cannot supply its place. In 
 vain do you clean out your canals and repair your 
 
ERASMUS RESOLVES TO ATTACK LUTHER. 
 
 cmbankmenfi!, so long as the w.ater dcsccnda not from 
 
 the sky, All human sciences without faith are only 
 
 canals without water. 
 ' WiuUevcr might be the essential difference between 
 
 Luthor and Erasmus, the friends of Luther, and Lutlier 
 
 himself, long hoped to sec Erasmus united witli them 
 j against Rome. Sayings which his caustic humour lot 
 
 fall were reported, and shewed his disagreement with 
 ' the most zealous friends of Catholicism. One day, for 
 ' instance, when he was in England, he had a keen 
 
 discussion with Thomas More on transubstantiation. 
 
 " Believe that you have the body of Christ," said More, 
 I " and you have it really." Erasmus made no answer. 
 I Shortly after he left the banks of the Thames, and 
 j More lent him his horse to the sea-side ; but Erasmus 
 I took it with him to the Continent. As soon as More 
 I knew of it, he reproached him in the keenest terms. 
 1 Erasmus only answered by sending him the following 
 j stanza : — 
 
 Of Christ's body, this you declared the creed ; 
 " Delicvo you have it, ond you have indeed." 
 Apply the doctrine to your missing steed ; 
 Uclicvc you have it, and you have indeed. 
 
 Erasmus had appeared in this character not only in 
 England and Germany. At Paris it was said : "Luther 
 has only widened the opening of the door of which 
 Erasmus had previously picked the lock." 
 
 The situation of Enismus was difficult. In a letter 
 to Zwingle he says : " I will not be unfaithful to the 
 cause of Christ, at least in so far as the age will per- 
 mit." In proportion as he saw Rome bestirring herself 
 against the Reformation, ho, from prudential motives, 
 drew off. He was applied to from all quarters — the 
 pope, the emperor, kings, princes, the learned, and 
 even his most intimate friends, urged him to write 
 against the reformer. The pope ^\TOte him: "No 
 work would be more agreeable to God — none more 
 wortliy of yourself and your genius." For a long time 
 Erasmus resisted these solicitations ; he could not dis- 
 guise from himself that the cause of the reformers was 
 the cause of religion as well as of letters. Besides, 
 Luther was an opponent with whom none were fond of 
 engaging, and Erasmus thought he could already feel 
 the redoubled and sturdy blows of the champion of 
 Wittcmberg. In reply to a theologian of Rome, he 
 wrote : "It is easy to say, 'Write against Luther;' but 
 it is a task pregnant with danger." Thus he would, 
 and yet would not. 
 
 This irresolute conduct of Erasmus subjected him to 
 the attacks of the most violent men of both parties. 
 Luthor himself found it dilUcult to reconcile the respect 
 which he had for the learning of Erasmus with the 
 indignation which he felt at his cowardice. He resolved 
 to escape from this painful condition, and in April, 
 1521, wrote him a letter, which he gave to the care 
 of Camerarius. "As yet," said he, "you have not 
 received of the Lord the courage necessary to march 
 with us to give battle to the papists. AVc bear with 
 your weakness. If letters flourish, if they open to all 
 the treasiu-cs of the Scriptures, it is a gift for which wc 
 arc indebted, under God, to you, — a magnificent gift, 
 for which our thanksgivings ascend to heaven. But 
 do not abandon the task which has been imposed on 
 yon, in order to pass into bur camp. No doubt your 
 
 eloquence and genius would be useful to us ; but since 
 your courage fails you, remain where you are, I could 
 wish that our people would allow yoin- old age to slum- 
 ber peacefully in the Lord. The greatness of our cause 
 has long transcended your powers. But, on the other 
 hand, my dear Erasmus, desist from throwing at us so 
 many handfuls of pungent salt, which you know so 
 well how to disguise under flowers of rhetoric. It is 
 more paiuful to be slightly bitten by Eriusmus, than to 
 bo ground to death by all papists put together. Con- 
 tent yourself with being the spectator of our tragedy: 
 publish no book against me ; I, on my part, will pub- 
 lish none against you." 
 
 Thus Luther, the man of war, asked for concord : 
 it was Erasmus, the man of peace, who disturbed it. 
 
 Erasmus received this proceeding, on the jjart of the 
 reformer, as the greatest of insults ; and if he had not 
 already resolved to write against Luther, it is probable 
 that he resolved now. He replied : " Perhaps Erasmus, 
 by writing against you, will do more service to the 
 Gospel than some fools who write for you, and who do 
 not allow me to be any longer a mere spectator of this 
 tragedy." 
 
 IJnt he had other motives also. 
 
 Henry VIII. of England, and the leading men of 
 that kingdom, were extremely urgent that he should 
 declare publicly against the Reformation. Erasmus, 
 during a moment of courage, allowed the promise to 
 be forced from him. Besides, his equivocal situation 
 had become a continual torment to him : he loved 
 repose, but the necessity he felt of continually vindi- 
 cating himself troubled his life: he loved glory; but 
 he was accused of fearing Luther, and of being too 
 feeble to answer him : he was accustomed to the first 
 place ; but the little monk of Wittembcrg had dethroned 
 the mighty Erasmus. He behoved, then, by a coura- 
 geous act, to conquer back the place which he had lost. 
 AU ancient Christendom was imploring him to do so. 
 Ability, and the greatest reputation of the age, were 
 wanted to oppose the Reformation. Erasmus yielded. 
 
 But what weapon was he going to employ? "Will 
 he cause the thunders of the Vatican to roar ? Will he 
 defend abuses which arc the disgrace of the papacy? 
 Erasmus coidd not do so. The great movement by 
 which men's minds were agitated, after the death-like 
 lethargy which had lasted for so many ages, filled him 
 with joy, and he would have feared to trammel it. 
 Not being able to act as the champion of Roman 
 Catholicism, in regard to the additions which it has 
 made to Christianity, he undertook to defend it in what 
 it has cut off. In his attack upon Luther, Erasmus 
 selected the point in which Catholicism is blended with 
 rationalism — the doctrine of free will, or of the natm-al 
 power of man. Thus, while undertaking the defence 
 of the Church, Erasmus pleased the men of the world ; 
 while battling for the pope, he battled also for the 
 philosophers. It has been said that he was awkwardly 
 trammelled by an obscure and useless question. Luther, 
 the reformers, and their age, thought otherwise. AVe 
 agree with them. " I must acknowledge," said Luther, 
 " that in this combat you are the only one who has 
 seized your opponent by the throat. I thank you with 
 all my heart, for I like better to deal with that subject 
 than with all those secondary questions of the pope. 
 
344 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 purgatory, auj indulgences, with wliich, till this hour, 
 the enemies of the Gospel have pestered me." 
 
 His own experience, aud the attentive study of the 
 Holy Scriptures aud of St. Augustine, had convinced 
 Luther that the actual powers of man so incline him 
 to evil, that all he can do of himself is to attain to a 
 certain external decency, altogether insufficient in the 
 eyes of the Deity. At the same time he had learned 
 that God gives a true righteousness, by carrying on 
 the work of faith through operation of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 This doctrine had become the principle of his reli- 
 gious life, the predominant idea in his theology, and 
 the point on which the whole Reformation turned. 
 
 While Luther maintained that everything good in 
 man came from God, Erasmus took the side of those 
 who thought that this good came from man himself. 
 God or man . . . — good or evil . . . . — these, 
 surely, are not paltry questions ; if there are such 
 questions, they must be sought for elsewhere. 
 
 In the autumn of 1524, Erasmus published his 
 famous work, entitled, "Disquisition on Free Will." 
 No sooner had it appeared than the philosopher could 
 scarcely credit his own courage. He trembled while, 
 with eyes fixed on the arena, he beheld the gauntlet 
 which he had just thrown down to his opponent. "■ The 
 die is cast," wrote he, with emotion, to Henry VIII., 
 " the book on Free Will has appeared. . . . This, 
 believe mo, is a daring act. I expect to be stoned. 
 . . . But I console myself by the example of your 
 majesty, whom the wrath of those people has not 
 spared." 
 
 His alarm soon increased to such a degree, that he 
 bitterly regretted the step he had taken. " Why was 
 I not allowed," he exclaimed, " to spend my age in the 
 garden of the Muses? Here I am, at sixty, pushed 
 violently forward into the arena, and instead of the 
 lyre, holding the cestus and net." . . . "I know," 
 said he to the Bishop of Rochester, " that iu writing on 
 free will, I was not in my sphere. . . . You con- 
 gratulate me on my triumphs. . . . Ah, I know 
 not in what I triumph ! The faction (the Refonnatiou) 
 is daily increasing. Was it, then, my destiny that, at 
 my age, I was to be transformed from a friend of the 
 Muses into a miserable gladiator?" 
 
 It was much, doubtless, for the timid Erasmus to 
 have taken the field against Luther. But still he was 
 far from having given proof of great hardihood. He 
 seems, in his book, to attribute little to the will of man, 
 and to leave the greater part to Divine grace ; but, 
 at the same time, he chose his arguments in such a way 
 as to make it be believed, that man does all, and God 
 does nothing. Not daring to express his thoughts dis- 
 tinctly, he affirms one thing, and proves another ; leav- 
 ing one at liberty to suppose that he believed what he 
 proved, and not what he affirmed. 
 
 He distinguishes three opinions, opposed in different 
 degrees to that of Pelagius. " Some," says he, " think 
 that man can neither will nor begin, far less accom- 
 plish, anything that is good, without special and con- 
 tinual help from Divine grace. This opinion seems 
 probable enough. Others teach that the will of man 
 has power only to do evil, and that grace alone performs 
 in us anything that is good ; aud, lastly, there are some 
 who maintain that there never was any free will, either 
 
 in man or angels, either in Adam or in us, whether 
 before or after grace ; but that God produces in man 
 both good or evil, and that everything which takes 
 place happens through absolute necessity." 
 
 Erasmus, while seeming to admit the first of these 
 opinions, employs arguments which militate against 
 it, aud which may be employed by the most decided 
 Pelagian. Thus, while referring to the passages of 
 Scripture in which God presents man with a choice of 
 good and evil, he adds : " Man, then, must will and 
 choose ; for it would be ridiculous to say to any one. 
 Choose ! if it were not in his power to do so." 
 
 Luther was not afraid of Erasmus. " Truth," said 
 he, " is mightier than eloquence. The victory belongs 
 to him who lisps the truth, and not to him who is 
 eloquent in favom- of falsehood." 
 
 But when he received the work of Erasmus, he found 
 the book so feeble, that he hesitated to answer it. 
 " What !" said he to him, " so much eloquence in so 
 bad a cause ; one would say it was a naan serving up 
 mire and filth on gold and silver jjlate. It is impossible 
 to get hold of you anywhere. You are like an eel 
 which slips between the fingers; or like the Proteus 
 of the poets, who changes in the very hand of the per- 
 son who is trying to bind him." 
 
 Meanwhile, as Luther did not answer, the monks 
 and scholastic theologians began to shout: "Ah, well! 
 where is now your Luther? Where is the great Mac- 
 cabeus ? Let him enter the lists ! Let him come for- 
 ward ! Ah ! ah 1 he has at length found the man that 
 was wanted for him. He now knows how to keep in 
 the back-ground. He has learnt to hold his tongue." 
 
 Luther saw that he behoved to answer ; but it was 
 not till the end of 1525 that he began to prepare ; and 
 Melancthon having intimated to Erasmus that Luther 
 would use moderation, the philosopher was quite asto- 
 nished. " If I have written with moderation," said 
 he, " it is my natural turn ; but Luther has the indig- 
 nation of the son of Pcleus, (Achilles.) Aud how could 
 it be otherwise ? When a ship encounters a tempest, 
 like that which has risen against Luther, what anchor, 
 what ballast, what helm, would not be necessary to 
 enable it to keep its course ! Hence, if he answers me 
 in a manner not in accordance with his character, 
 these sycophants will exclaim that we understand one 
 another." We will see that Erasmus was soon to be 
 disencumbered of these fears. 
 
 The doctrine of an election by God, the only cause 
 of man's salvation, had always been dear to the 
 reformer ; but, till now, he had only considered it in 
 a practical point of view. In his reply to Erasmus, it 
 presented itself to him in a speculative form; and he 
 laboured to prove, by the arguments which seemed to 
 him most conclusive, that God does everything in the 
 conversion of man, and that our heart is so alienated 
 from the love of God, that every sincere inclination to 
 good can only proceed from the regenerating agency of 
 the Holy Spirit. 
 
 " To call our will a free will," said he, " is to do like 
 princes, who string together a long series of titles, call- 
 ing themselves the lords of such and such kingdoms, 
 such and such principalities, and distant islands, (as 
 Rhodes, Cyprus, and Jerusalem.) while they have not 
 the least power over them." At the same time, Luther 
 
LUTHER'S REPLY TO ERASMUS. 
 
 345 
 
 here makes an important distinction, wliieli slicws well 
 that he did not participate in the tliird ojjiiiion which 
 Era.srans had described and imputed to him. "The 
 will of man," says he, " may be called a free will, not 
 in relation to what is above it, — tiiat is to say, God; 
 but in relation to what is beneath, — that is to say, the 
 kings of the earth. When my goods, my fields, my 
 house, my farm, are in question, I can act, make, and 
 manage freely. But in tilings which regard salvation, 
 man is captive ; he is subject to the will of God, or 
 rather to that of the devil." "Among all the teachers 
 of free will," exclaims he, " shew me a single one who 
 has in himself strength sufficient to endure a little 
 injury, a jiassionate attack, or even a look, from his 
 enemy, and to do it joyfully, then — without even ask- 
 ing him to abandon his body, his goods, his honour, 
 and all things — I declare that you have gained your 
 cause." 
 
 Luther's eye was too piercing not to detect the con- 
 tradictions into which his opponent had fallen. Ac- 
 cordingly he proceeded, in his reply, to enclose the 
 philosopher in the net in which he had placed himself. 
 " If the passages which you quote," said he, " prove 
 that it is easy for us to do good, why do you dispute? 
 AVhat need have we of Christ and the Holy Spirit? 
 Christ lias done foolishly in shedding His blood to pro- 
 cure us a strength which we already have from nature." 
 In fact the passages quoted by Erasmus were to be 
 interpreted in quite a different sense. This much 
 debated question is clearer than at fii-st sight it seems. 
 When the Bible says to man, " Choose," it is because 
 it presupposes the assistance of the grace of God, by 
 which alone he can do what it commands. God, in 
 giving the command, gives also the power to perform 
 it. When Clirist said to Lazarus, " Coiue forth," it 
 was not because Lazarus could raise himself ; but 
 because, in commanding him to come forth from the 
 tomb, He gave him power to do so, and accompanied 
 Ilis word with creative power. He speaks, and it is 
 done. Besides, it is quite true that the man whom 
 God addresses must will, — it is himself that wills, and 
 not another ; but still he can receive this will only from 
 God. It must, no doubt, be in the man ; and this com- 
 mand which God addresses to him, and which, accord- 
 ing to Erasmus, proves man's power, so reconcilable 
 with the agency of God, that it is precisely the means 
 by which this agency is carried on. God says to man, 
 " Be converted ;" and while so saying, converts him. 
 
 But the view on which Luther especially dwelt in 
 his reply was, that the passages quoted by Erasmus 
 are designed to teach men what they ought to do, and 
 their incapability of doing it ; but not at all to acquaint 
 them with this fancied power which is assigned to them. 
 " How often does it happen," says Luther, " that a 
 father calls his little child to him, saying: 'My sou, 
 will you come ?— come, come then !' in order the child 
 may learn to ciy for help, and allow itself to be carried 
 by him." 
 
 After combating the arguments of Erasmus in favour 
 of free will, Luther defends his own against the attacks 
 of liis opponent. " Dear Diatribe," says he, ironically, 
 " mighty heroine, who pretend to have overthrown the 
 Word of the Lord in the Gospel of St. John, Without 
 me ye can do NOTHING, — which you, however, regard as 
 
 the strongest in my power, and call the Achilles of 
 Luther, — listen to me for a little. At all events, until 
 you prove that this word nothinij not only may, but 
 must, signify some little thiiiy, all your high words, all 
 your splendid illustrations, have no more effect than 
 chips of straw would have in extinguishing an immense 
 conflagration. What have we to do with the assertions 
 — '■2'his may mean; that may be niulerstood thus — when 
 you are bound to demonstrate that it must be so under- 
 stood.' If you fail to do so, we take the declaration 
 in its natural sense, and laugh at all your illustrations, 
 your great preparations, and pompous triumph." 
 
 At length, in a second part, Luther shews, and 
 always by Scripture, that it is the grace of God that 
 does all. "In one word," says he at the end, "since 
 Scripture uniformly opposes Christ to all that is not 
 Christ, — since it declares that whatever is not Christ 
 and in Christ, is under the power of error, darkness, 
 the devil, death, sin, and the wrath of God, — it follows 
 that all the passages of the Bible which speak of Christ 
 are contrary to free will. Now, these passages are 
 innumerable ; the sacred volume is filled with them." 
 
 Wc see that the discussion between Luther and 
 Erasmus is the same as that which, a century later, 
 took place between the Jausenists and the Jesuits — 
 between Pascal and Molina. To what is it owing, that 
 while the Reformation has had such mighty results, 
 Jansenism, defended by the most distinguished geniuses, 
 has been suppressed without force? It is because 
 Jansenism went back to St. Augustine, and leant upon 
 the Fathers ; whereas the Reformation went back to 
 the Bible, and leant upon the Word of God. It is 
 because Jansenism made a compromise with Rome, 
 and wished to establish a medium between truth and 
 error ; the Reformation confided in God alone, cleared 
 away the soil, removed all the human rubbish which 
 had covered it for ages, and laid bare the primitive 
 rock. To stop midway is useless labour ; in all things 
 it is proper to go forward to the end. Hence, while 
 Jansenism has passed away, the destinies of the world 
 are bound up with evangelical Christianity. 
 
 Luther, after keenly refuting the error, paid a bril- 
 liant, but perhaps somewhat sarcastic, homage to the 
 person of Erasmus. " I confess," said he, " that you 
 are a great mau. Where were more learning, intellect, 
 ability in writiug and speaking ever seen ? For my- 
 self, I have nothing of the kind; there is only one 
 thing from which I can derive any glory. ... I 
 am a Christian. Jlay God raise you in the knowledge 
 of the Gospel infinitely above me, so that you may 
 surpass me as much in this respect as you already do 
 in every other." 
 
 Erasmus was beside himself on reading Luther's 
 reply; he would see nothing in his compliments but the 
 honey of a poisoned cup, or the embrace of a serpent, 
 lie immediately wrote to the Elector of Saxony, 
 demanding justice ; and Luther having tried to appease 
 him, he laid aside his ordinary habit, and as one of his 
 most ardent apologists expresses it, began " to inveigh 
 in a broken voice and grey hairs." 
 
 Erasmus was vanquished. Moderation had been his 
 forte, and he had now lost it. The energy of Luther 
 he could only supply by rage. The wise mau wanted 
 wisdom. He replied publicly in his " Hyperaspistes," 
 
MG 
 
 IIISTOEY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 accusing the reformer of barbarism, falsehood, and 
 blasphemy. Tlic philosopher even went the length of 
 prophesying. "I prophesy," said he, "that no name 
 xmder the sun will be more execrated than that of 
 Luther." This prophecy, after a lapse of three cen- 
 turies, -was answered on the jubilee of 1817, by the 
 enthusiastic acclamations of the whole Protestant world. 
 Thus, while Luther, with the Bible, placed himself 
 at the head of his age, Erasmus, iu opposing him, 
 wished to occupy the same place with philosophy. 
 "Which of the two leaders has been followed ? Both, 
 no doubt. Nevertheless, the influence of Luther on 
 the nations of Christendom has been infinitely greater 
 than that of Erasmus. Even those who did not well 
 understand the matter in dispute, seeing the conviction 
 of one of the antagonists, and the doubts of the other, 
 could not help believing that the former was in the 
 right and the latter in the wrong. It has been said 
 that the three last centuries — the sixteenth, seventeenth, 
 and eighteenth — may be conceived as an immense battle 
 of three days. We willingly adopt the happy expres- 
 sion, but not the part which is assigned to each day. 
 The same task is given to the sixteenth and to the 
 eighteenth century. The first day and the last it is 
 philosophy that breaks the ranks. The sixteenth cen- 
 tury philosophical ! Strange mistake ! No ; each of 
 these days had a distinct and striking characteristic. 
 The first day of battle, it was the Word of God and 
 the Gospel of Christ that triumphed. Then Eome was 
 defeated, as well as philosophy, in the person of Eras- 
 mus and her other representatives. The second day, 
 we admit Rome, her authority, her discipline, and her 
 doctrine reappear, and arc on the eve of triumphing 
 by the intrigues of a celebrated society and the power 
 of the scaffold, as well as by some characters of great 
 veracity and men of distinguished genius. The third 
 day, humau philosophy rises up in all its pride ; and 
 finding not the Gospel, but Eome, on the field of battle, 
 makes easy work, and soon can-ies all the entrench- 
 ments. The first day is the battle of God, the second 
 the battle of the priest, and the third the battle of 
 reason. "What will be the fourth? The confused 
 mclce, we think, the furious battle of all the powers 
 together, to terminate in the triumph of Him to whom 
 the triumph belongs. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TIm! Throe Adversaries— Source of the Truth — Anabaptism — Anabaptism 
 and Zwingle— Constitution of the Church— Prison— The Prophet Blau- 
 roclt— Anabaptism at St Gall— An Anabaptist Family— Dispute at 
 Zurich— The Limits of the Reformation — Punishment of the Anabaptists. 
 
 But the battle which the Reformation fought on the 
 grand day of the sixteenth century was not one only — 
 it was manifold. The Reformation had at once several 
 enemies to combat. After protesting against the 
 decretals and supremacy of the popes, next against the 
 cold apothegms of the rationalists, philosophers, and 
 schoolmen, it at the same time stood up against the 
 
 reveries of enthusiasm, and the hallucinations of mysti- 
 cism — opposing to these three powers at once the 
 sword and buckler of Divine revelation. 
 
 It must be admitted that there is a great resemblance, 
 a remarkable unity, in these three adverse powers. 
 The false systems which in all ages are most opposed 
 to evangelical Christianity, are always characterized 
 by their making religious knowledge proceed from 
 within the man himself. Rationalism makes it proceed 
 from reason ; mysticism, from some internal light ; 
 Roman Catholicism, from an illumination of the pope. 
 These three errors seek the truth in man ; evangelical 
 Christianity seeks it wholly in God. While rationalism, 
 mysticism, and Roman Catholicism, admit a permanent 
 inspiration in certain persons like ourselves, and thus 
 open the door to all errors and all variations, evan- 
 gelical Christianity recognises this inspiration only in 
 the writings of the apostles and prophets, and alone 
 exhibits that grand, and beautiful, and living unity, 
 which flows always the same through all ages. 
 
 The work of the Reformation was to re-establish 
 the rights of the Word of God, in opposition not only 
 to Roman Catholicism, but also rationalism and to 
 mysticism itself. 
 
 The fanaticism of the Anabaptists being extinguished 
 in Germany by Luther's return to Wittemberg, reap- 
 peared in force in Switzerland, threatening the edifice 
 which Zwingle, Haller, and Qilcolampadius, had built 
 on the Word of God. Thomas Miiuzer, when obliged 
 to quit Saxony in 1521, had arrived on the frontiers 
 of Switzerland. Conrad Grebel, whose restless and 
 ardent temper we have already mentioned, had become 
 connected with him, as well as Felix Mantz, son of a 
 canou, and some other inhabitants of Zui'ich. Grebel 
 had immediately tried to gain Zwingle. In vain had 
 Zwingle gone farther than Luther. He saw a party 
 rising that wished to go still farther than he. " Let 
 us," said Grebel to him, '• form a community of true 
 believers, — for to them alone the promise belongs ; and 
 let us establish a church in which there is no sin." 
 " We cannot," said Zwingle, " introduce heaven upon 
 earth; and Christ has taught us that we must allow the 
 tares to grow among the wheat." 
 
 Grebel, having failed with Zwingle, was desirous 
 to appeal to the people. "The whole Zurich com- 
 munity," said he, "must decide supremely on matters 
 of faith." But Zwingle dreaded the influence which 
 radical enthusiasts might exercise over a large assembly. 
 He thought that, except iu unusual cases, where the 
 people might be called to give in their adherence, it 
 was better to confide religious interests to a college, 
 which might bo considered as the elite of the represen- 
 tatives of the Church. Consequently, the council of 
 Two Hundred, which exercised political supremacy in 
 Zurich, was also entrusted with ecclesiastical power, 
 under the express condition that they should conform 
 in every respect to the rule of Holy Scripture. No 
 doubt it would have been better to constitute the 
 Church fully, and call upon it to name its own repre- 
 sentatives, who should be entrusted only with the 
 religious interests of the people ; for he who is capable 
 of managing the interests of the State, may be very 
 unfit to manage those of the Church, and vice versa. 
 Nevertheless, the inconveniences were not so serious 
 
ANABAPTISM AND ZWINGLE. 
 
 then as they might be at this time, as tlie members of 
 tlie grand council had entered frankly into the religious 
 movement. Be this as it may, Zwingle, while appeal- 
 ing to the Church, avoided bringing it too much upon 
 the stage, and preferred the roprescutatiou system to 
 the active sovereignty of the people. 
 
 This is what the states of Europe, after the lapse of 
 three centuries, are doing in the political sphere. 
 Repulsed by Zwingle, G rebel turned in another direc- 
 tion. Ronbli, superannuated pastor at Bale, Brijdtlein, 
 pastor at ZoUikon, and Louis Ilerzer, gave him a cor- 
 dial reception. They determined to form an indepen- 
 dent community in the midst of the great community 
 — a church in the midst of the Church. A new bap- 
 tism was to enable them to reassemble their congrega- 
 tion, composed e.vclusively of true believers. "The 
 baptism of infants," said they, " is a horrible abomina- 
 tion — a manifest impiety, invented by the evil spirit, 
 and by Nicholas II., pope of Rome." 
 
 The council of Zurich taking the alarm, ordered a 
 public discussion; and the Anabaptists refusing to 
 abjure their errors, some Zurichers among them were 
 imprisoned, and some strangers bauisiicd. But perse- 
 cution only increased their fervour. " Not with words 
 only," they exclaimed, "but with our blood arc we 
 ready to bear testimony to the truth of our cause." 
 Some, girding themselves with cords or osier-twigs, 
 wont up and down the streets crying: "A few days, 
 and Zurich will be destroyed ! Woe to thee, Zurich ! 
 woe ! woe !" Several used blasphemous expressions. 
 " Baptism," they said, " is a bath for a dog : it is of no 
 more use to baptize a child than to baptize a cat." 
 Simple and pious people were moved and amazed. 
 Fourteen men, among them Felix Mantz and seven 
 women, were seized and put on bread and water in the 
 heretics' tower. After a fortnight's confinement, they 
 succeeded in raising some planks during the night, and, 
 assisting one another, made their escape. "An angel," 
 they said, "had opened the prison and let them out." 
 
 A monk who had escaped from his convent — 
 George Jacob dc Coirc, surnamcd Blaurock, because 
 it seems he always wore a blue coat — ^joined them, and 
 was, on account of his eloquence, called the second St. 
 Paul. This bold monk went from place to place, by 
 his imposing fervour constraining people to receive his 
 baptism. One Sunday at Zollikon, while the deacon 
 was preaching, the impetuous Anabaptist interrupting 
 him, exclaimed, in a voice of thunder: "/< is written, 
 Mji house shall he culled the house ofprai/ei; hut ye have 
 made it a den of thieves." Then lifting his staff which 
 he had in his hand, he violently struck four blows. 
 
 " I am a door," exclaimed he ; " whosoever will enter 
 in by me will find pasture. I am a good shepherd. 
 My body I give to the prison ; my life I give to the 
 sword, the scaffold, or the wheel. I am the beginning 
 of baptism and of the bread of the Lord." 
 
 Zwingle still opposing the torrent of Anabaptism in 
 Zurich, St. Gall was soon inundated by it. Grcbel 
 arrived, and was received by the brethren with accla- 
 mation ; and on Palm Sunday, h.aviug repaired with 
 a number of his adherents to the banks of the Sitter, 
 he baptized them. 
 
 The news immediately spread to the neighbouring 
 cantons, and a great crowd flocked from Zurich, 
 
 Appenzel, and divers other places, to "little Jeru- 
 salem." 
 
 Zwingle was heart-broken at the sight of this agita- 
 tion. He saw a storm bursting on those districts in 
 which the seed of the Gospel was just beginning to 
 spring. He resolved to oppose these disorders, and 
 composed a treatise " On Baptism," which the council 
 of St. Gall, to whom he dedicated it, ordered to be 
 read in church before all the people. 
 
 " Very dear brethren in God," said Zwingle, "the 
 torrent which leaps from our rocks soon washes down 
 whatever it reaches. At first it is only small stones ; 
 but these are carried violently against larger ones, 
 until the torrent becomes so powerful that it carries 
 away everything it meets, and leaves nothing beliind 
 it but screams and useless lamentations, and fertile 
 meadows turned into a desert. The spirit of disputa- 
 tion and self -righteousness acts in the same way: it 
 excites disorders, destroys charity, and where it found 
 fair and flourishing churches, leaves nothing behind it 
 but flocks plunged into mourning and despair." 
 
 Thus spoke Zwingle, the mountaineer of the Tocken- 
 burg. "Tell us the Word of God," exclaimed an 
 Anabaptist who was in the church, " and not the word 
 of Zwingle." Confused voices were immediately heard. 
 " Let him take away the book ! let him take away the 
 book!" exclaimed the Anabaptists. They then rose 
 and quitted the church, crying: "Keep the doctrine 
 of Zwingle : as for us, we will keep the Word of God." 
 
 This fanaticism manifested itself by still more lament- 
 able disorders. Under the pretext that the Lord com- 
 mands us to become like children, these poor creatures 
 began to leap in the streets, clapping their hands, to 
 dance a jig together, to squat on the ground, and to 
 roll one another on the sand. Some biu-nt the New 
 Testament, saying : " The letter kdleth, but the spirit 
 giveth life ;" and several, falling into convulsions, pre- 
 tended that they had revelations of the Spirit. 
 
 In a lonely house, situated near St. Gall, on the 
 Miillegg, lived a farmer of eighty, John Schucker, 
 with his five sous. They had all, as well as their ser- 
 vants, received the new baptism ; and two of the sons, 
 Thomas and Leonard, were distinguished for their 
 fanaticism. On the 7th of February, 1526, (Shrove 
 Tuesday,) they invited a great number of Anabaptists 
 to meet at their house, and the father caused a calf to 
 be killed for the occasion. The viands, the wine, and 
 the numerous assemblage, heated their imaginations ; 
 they passed the whole night in converse and fanatical 
 gesticulations, convulsions, visions, and revelations. 
 
 In the morning, Thomas, still agitated by the pro- 
 ceedings of the night, and having even, as it appears, 
 lost his reason, took the bladder of the calf, put some 
 of its gall into it, wishing thus to imitate the symboli- 
 cal language of the prophets, and approaching his 
 brother Leonard, said to him in a grave voice : " Thus 
 bitter is the death which you must endure." Then he 
 added : " Brother Leonard, go down on your knees." 
 Leonard knelt. Shortly after : " Leonard, rise." Leon- 
 ard rose up. The father, the brothers, and the other 
 Anabaptists, looked on in astonishment, asking what • 
 God meant to do. Shortly, Thomas resumed : "Leon- 
 ard, kneel again." Leonard did so. The spectators, 
 alarmed at the dismal look of the poor wretch, said to 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 him : " Think of what you are doing, and take care 
 no mischief happen." — "Fear not," replied Thomas; 
 " nothing will happen but the will of our Father." At 
 the same time he suddenly seized a sword, and bring- 
 ing it down with force on his brother, who was kneel- 
 ing before him as a criminal before the executioner, 
 he cut off his head, and exclaimed : " Now the will of 
 the Father is done." All who were standing round 
 started back in horror, and the farm resounded with 
 cries and groans. Thomas, whose whole clothing was 
 shirt and pantaloons, went off barefoot and bareheaded 
 out of the house, and ran towards St. Gall, making 
 frantic gestures. He entered the house of burgomas- 
 ter Joachim Vadian, and, with haggard looks and loud 
 cries, said to him : " I announce to thee the day of the 
 Lord." The fearful news spread through St. Gall : 
 " He has, like Cain," it was said, " killed his brother 
 Abel." The culprit was seized. "It is true I did it," 
 repeated he incessantly; "but God did it by me." On 
 the IGth February this poor creature was beheaded by 
 the hand of the executioner. Fanaticism had made its 
 last effort. The eyes of all were opened ; and as an 
 old historian says, the same stroke cut off the head of 
 Thomas Schucker and that of Anabaptism in vSt. Gall. 
 
 It still reigned at Zurich. On the 6th November 
 of the previous year, a public discussion had taken 
 place to please the Anabaptists, who kept continually 
 crying, that they were condemning the innocent with- 
 out a hearing. The three following theses were pro- 
 posed by Zwingle and his friends as the subject of the 
 conference, and victoriously maintained by them in the 
 hall of conference : — 
 
 " Children born of believing parents are children of 
 God, like those who were born under the Old Testa- 
 ment, and consequently they may receive baptism. 
 
 " Baptism is under the New what circumcision was 
 under the Old Testament ; consequently baptism must 
 now be administered to children as circumcision was. 
 
 " The custom of baptizing anew cannot be proved 
 either from examples, or from piissages of Scripture, 
 or reasons derived from Scripture. Those who get 
 themselves re-baptized, crucify Jesus Christ." 
 
 But the Anabaptists did not confine themselves to 
 merely religious questions. They demanded the aboli- 
 tion of tithes, considering, said they, that they are not 
 of Divine institution. Zwingle replied, that on tithes 
 depended the maintenance of churches and schools. 
 He wished a complete religious reform ; but he was 
 determined not to allow the public order, or political 
 institutions, to be interfered with in the least degree. 
 This was the limit when he saw written in the hand- 
 writing of God these words : " Hitherto slialt thou 
 come, but no farther." It was necessary to stop some- 
 where ; and here Zwingle and the reformers stopped, 
 in spite of the impetuous men who strove to hurry 
 them still farther. 
 
 Still, though the reformers stopped, they could not 
 stop the enthusiasts who seemed placed beside them to 
 bring out their wisdom and soberness. The Anabap- 
 tists did not think it enough to have formed a church. 
 Tliis church was, in their eyes, the true state. Were 
 they cited before the courts, they declared that they 
 would not recognise civil authority, which was only a 
 remnant of paganism, and that they obeyed no other 
 
 power but God. They taught that Christians were 
 not permitted to exercise public functions, or bear the 
 sword ; and similar in that to certain irreligious enthu- 
 siasts who have appeared in our day, they regarded a 
 community of goods as the beau ideal of humanity. 
 
 Thus the danger increased ; civil society was menaced, 
 and arose to reject these destructive elements from its 
 bosom. The government, in alarm, allowed themselves 
 to be dragged into strange measures. Determined to 
 make an example, they condemned Mantz to be 
 drowned. On the 5th January, 1527, he was placed 
 in a boat. His mother, who had formerly been the 
 canon's concubine, and his brother, were among the 
 crowd that accompanied him to the water-edge. "Per- 
 severe even to the end," exclaimed they to him. At 
 the moment when the executioner made ready to throw 
 Mantz into the lake, his brother melted into tears ; but 
 his mother stood by calm, with resolute heart, dry and 
 sparkling eye, to witness the martyrdom of her son. 
 
 The same day Blaurock was beaten with rods. As 
 they were taking him out of the town, he shook his 
 blue coat and the dust on his feet against it. It 
 appears that this poor man was, at a later period, 
 burnt alive by the Roman Catholics of the Tyrol. 
 
 No doubt there was a spirit of revolt among the 
 Anabaptists ; without doubt the ancient ecclesiastical 
 law which condemned heretics to death, was still in 
 force, and the Reformation could not, in one year or 
 two, reform all errors. No doubt, moreover, the 
 Catholic states would have accused the Protestant 
 states of encouraging disorder ; but these considera- 
 tions, while they explain the rigour of the magistrate, 
 cannot justify it. Measures might have beeu taken 
 against every assault made on the civU constitution ; 
 but religious errors, combated by religious teachers, 
 ought to have had entire exemption from civil coiu-ts. 
 Such opinions are not lashed away with the whip — 
 they are not drowned when those who profess them 
 are thrown into the water ; they rise up from the bot- 
 tom of the abyss and the fire only kindles in their 
 adherents greater enthusiasm and thirst for martyi-- 
 dom. Zwingle, whose sentiments on this head we have 
 already seen, took no part in these severities. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 rop'sh Immobility— Protestant Progression— Z\vingle and Luther— Zwingle 
 and the Lord's Supper— Luther's great Principle— Carlstadt's Writings 
 Prohibited— Zwingle's Commentary— The Swabian Syngram— Capito 
 and Bucer — Need of Unity in Diversity. 
 
 Baptism, however, was not the only subject on which 
 dissension was to arise. The doctrine of the Supper 
 was to occasion it in a still graver form. 
 
 The human mind, freed from the yoke under which 
 it had groaned for so many ages, availed itself of its 
 freedom ; and if Roman Catholicism had its rocks of 
 despotism, Protestantism had cause to fear rocks of 
 anarchy. The characteristic of Protestantism is move- 
 ment, as that of Rome is immobility. 
 
ZWINGLE AND LUTHER. 
 
 349 
 
 Roman Catholicism, which possesses in the papacy 
 a means of incessantly establishing new doctrines, does 
 indeed at first appear to have a principle eminently 
 favourable to variations. This it has used to a large 
 extent ; and wo see Rome, from age to age, producing 
 or ratifying new dogmas. But when once its system 
 was completed, Roman Catholicism became the cham- 
 pion of immobility. Its safety lies hero. It is like one 
 of those tottering buildings, from which nothing can 
 be taken away without producing a ruin. Allow the 
 priests of Rome to marry, or do away with the doc- 
 trine of transubstantiation, and the whole system is 
 shaken — the whole edifice falls. 
 
 It is not so with evangelical Christianity. Its prin- 
 ciple is much less favourable to variations, and much 
 more favourable to motion and life. On the one hand, 
 the only source of truth which it recognises is one 
 Scripture, standing alone, always the same from the 
 beginning of the Church to its end ; how, then, could 
 it vary as the papacy has done? But, on the other 
 hand, each Christian must go and draw for himself at 
 this source. Hence arise motion and liberty. Thus 
 evangelical Christianity, while it is in the nineteenth 
 century what it was in the sixteenth, and also in the 
 first, is at all times full of energy and activity, filling 
 the world with researches, labours, Bibles, missionaries, 
 light, salvation, and life. 
 
 It is a great error to rank and almost confound 
 evangelical Christianity with mysticism and rationalism, 
 and impute their vagaries to it. Movement is natural 
 to evangelical Protestantism ; it has an antipathy to 
 inmiobility and death ; but it is the movement of health 
 and life that characterizes it, and not the aberrations 
 of the man who has lost his senses, or the agitations 
 of disease. "We are going to see this characteristic 
 manifested in the doctrine of the Supper. 
 
 This was to be expected. This doctrine had received 
 divers interpretations in the early days of the Church, 
 and this diversity subsisted until the period when the 
 doctrine of transubstantiation and the scholastic theo- 
 logy began, at the same time, to exert an ascendancy 
 over the Middle Ages. This ascendancy having been 
 shaken, the ancient diversity behoved to re-appear. 
 
 Zwiugle and Luther, after having been developed 
 apart, — the former in Switzerland, the latter in Saxony, 
 — were one day to meet in presence of each other. 
 They were animated by the same spirit, and, in many 
 respects, by the same character. Both were full of 
 love for truth and hatred for injustice; both were 
 naturally violent ; and in both this violence was tem- 
 pered by sincere piety. But there was a feature in the 
 character of Zwingle which carried him farther onward 
 than Luther. He loved liberty not merely as a man, 
 but as a republican — a countryman of Tell. Accus- 
 tomed to the decisions of a free state, he did not allow 
 himself to be arrested by considerations before which 
 Luther recoiled. He had, moreover, studied scholastic 
 theology less than Luther, and in this way was less 
 under trammels. Both ardently attached to their in- 
 most convictions, both determined to defend them, 
 and little accustomed to bend before the convic- 
 tions of others, they were to meet, like two fiery 
 steeds which rush into battle, and suddenly encounter 
 each other. 
 
 A practical tendency predominated in Zwingle, and 
 in tlie Reformation of which he was the author; and 
 tliis tendency was directed to two great results — to 
 simplicity in woi-ship, and to holiness in life. To bring 
 worship into accordance with the wants of the mind, 
 which seeks not external pomp, but things invisible, 
 was the first want of Zwingle. The idea of a corporeal 
 presence of Jesus Christ in the Supper — an idea, the 
 source of all the ceremonies and all the superstitions of 
 the Churcli, behoved to be abolished. But another 
 longing of tlic Swiss reformer led him to the same 
 results. He found that the doctrine of Rome on the 
 Supper, and even tliat of Luther, presupposed a certain 
 magical influence prejudicial to sanctification. He 
 feared that the Christian, in imagining that he received 
 Jesus Christ in the consecrated bread, would not be so 
 zealous in seeking to be united to him by heartfelt 
 faith. "Faith," said he, "is not knowledge, opinion, 
 imagination ; it is a reality. It brings with it a real 
 union in things divine." Hence, whatever the enemies 
 of Zwingle may allege, it was not a leaning to rational- 
 ism, but a profoundly religious idea, that led him to 
 the adoption of his peculiar views. The result of the 
 labours of Zwingle coincided with his tendencies. lu 
 studying the Scriptures as a whole, as he was accus- 
 tomed to do, and not merely in detached portions, and 
 in having recourse to the Classics, in order to solve any 
 difficulties of expression, he came to be convinced that 
 the word is, in the institution of the Supper, must be 
 taken in the sense of signifies; and as early as 1523, 
 he wrote to a friend that the bread and wine, in the 
 institution of the Supper, are only what the water is 
 in baptism. "It were vain," added he, "to plimge 
 him who believes not a thousand times in water. 
 Faith, then, is the thing essentially required." 
 
 Luther at first set out from principles very much 
 akin to those of the teacher of Zurich. " It is not the 
 sacrament which sanctifies," said he, " it is faith in the 
 sacrament." But the extravagances of the Anabaptists, 
 whose mysticism spiritualized everything, produced a 
 great change in his views. When he saw enthusiasts, 
 who pretended to a particular inspiration, breaking 
 images, rejecting baptism, denying the presence of 
 Christ in the Supper, he was alarmed ; he had a kind 
 of prophetical presentiment of the dangers which 
 threatened the Church, if this ultra-spiritualist disposi- 
 tion gained the ascendancy; and he threw himself into 
 a quite different path, like a pilot who, seeing his 
 barque leaning much over to one side, and ready to 
 upset, leans with all his weight on the other side, in 
 order to establish the equilibrium. 
 
 From this time Luther attached a higher importance 
 to the sacraments. He maintained that they were 
 not only signs by means of which Christians are exter- 
 nally recognised, as Zwingle held ; but testimonials of 
 the Divine will, fitted to strengthen our faith. More 
 than this, Christ, according to him, had been pleased 
 to impart to believers a full assurance of their salva- 
 tion ; and in order to seal this promise in the most 
 effectual manner, had added His true body in the bread 
 and wine. " In the same way," said he, " as iron and 
 fire, which, however, are two distinct substances, are 
 blended together iu a furnace, so that in each of its 
 parts there is at once iron and fire ; in the same way, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 and a fortiori^ the glorified body of Christ exists in all 
 the parts of the bread." 
 
 Thus, on the part of Luther at this period, there was 
 perhaps some return to scholastic theology. He had 
 completely disconnected himself with it in the doctrine 
 of justification by faith; but in the sacrament he aban- 
 doned only one point, that of trausubstantiation, and 
 kept the other, the corporeal presence. He even went 
 the length of saying, that he would rather receive only 
 blood with the pope than receive only wine with 
 Zwingle. 
 
 The great principle of Luther was to withdraw from 
 the doctsine and customs of the Church only when the 
 words of Scripture rendered it absolutely necessary. 
 " Where has Christ ordered the host to be elevated and 
 shewn to the people?" asked Carlstadt. — "And where 
 has Christ forbidden it?" replied Luther. Here is the 
 principle of the two Reformations. Ecclesiastical 
 traditions were dear to the Saxon refonner. If ho 
 separated from them in several points, it was only after 
 severe struggles, and because it was necessary, first of 
 all, to obey the Word. But when the letter of the 
 Word appeared in harmony with ti'adition and the 
 usage of the Church, he clung to it with immoveable 
 firmness. Now, this is just what happened in the case 
 of the Supper. He denied not that the word is might 
 be taken in the sense pointed out by Zwingle. He 
 acknowledged, for instance, that it was necessary so to 
 understand it in the words: That roch was Christ; but 
 he denied that it could have this meaning in the insti- 
 tution of the Supper. 
 
 In one of the later schoolmen, the one whom he pre- 
 ferred to all the others, Occam, he found an opinion 
 which he embraced. Like Occam, he abandoned the 
 constantly repeated miracle, in virtue of which, accord- 
 ing to the Romish Church, the body and blood are, on 
 each occasion, after consecration by the priest, substi- 
 tuted for the bread and wine ; and, like this doctor, he 
 substituted for it an universal miracle, performed once 
 for all, — that of the ubiquity or omnipresence of the 
 body of Jesus Christ. "Christ," said he, "is present 
 in the bread and wine, because He is present every- 
 where, and especially everywhere He chooses." 
 
 The tendency of Zwingle was quite different from 
 that of Luther. He was less disposed to preserve a 
 certain union with the universal Church, and maiutain 
 a connection with the tradition of past ages. As a 
 theologian, he looked to the Scriptures alone, from 
 which he wished to receive his faith freely, and imme- 
 diately, without troubling himself with what others 
 had previously thought. As a republican, he looked 
 to his community of Zurich. It was the idea of the 
 present Church that engrossed him, not the idea of the 
 Church of other times. He dwelt particularly on 
 these words of St. Paul : Because there is but one bread, 
 tue who are many are one body. And he saw in the 
 Supper the sign of a spiritual communion between 
 Christ and all Christians. " Whoever," he said, "con- 
 ducts himself unworthily, becomes guilty towards the 
 body of Christ, of which he forms part." This idea 
 had a great practical influence ; and the effects which 
 it produced on the lives of many persons confirmed 
 Zwingle in it. 
 
 Thus Luther and Zwingle had insensibly withdrawn 
 
 from each other. Perhaps, however, peace would have 
 longer subsisted between them, had not the turbulent 
 Carlstadt, who was coming and going between Ger- 
 many and Switzerland, set fire to these opposite 
 opinions. 
 
 A proceeding taken to maintain peace had the 
 effect of kindling war. The council of Zurich, wishing 
 to prevent all controversy, prohibited the sale of Carl- 
 stadt's writings. Zwingle, who disapproved of the 
 violence of Carlstadt, and blamed his mystical and 
 obscure expressions, then thought himself bound to 
 defend his doctrine, whether in the pulpit or before the 
 council, and soon after wrote pastor Albert of Reut- 
 lingen a letter, in which he said : " Whether or not 
 Christ speaks of the sacrament in the sixth chapter of 
 John, it is very clear that He speaks of a mode of eat- 
 ing His flesh and drinking His blood, in which there is 
 nothing corporeal." He then endeavoured to prove 
 that the Supper, by reminding believers, according to 
 Christ's intention, of His body broken for them, pro- 
 cured for them that spiritual eating which alone is 
 truly salutary. 
 
 Still Zwingle was as yet very averse to a rupture 
 with Luther. He trembled to think that new dissen- 
 sions should rend this new society which was then 
 forming in the midst of decayed Christendom. Luther 
 did not feel in the same way. He hesitated not to 
 class Zwingle with the enthusiasts with whom he had 
 already broken so many lances. He did not reflect 
 that if images had been removed at Zurich, it was 
 legally and by public authority. Accustomed to the 
 forms of the Germanic states, he had little acquaint- 
 ance with the procedure of Swiss republics; and he 
 inveighed against the grave Helvetic theologians, as 
 against the Miinzers and Carlstadts. 
 
 Luther having published his treatise against "Tlie 
 Heavenly Prophets," Zwingle no longer hesitated, and 
 published almost at the same time his "Letter to 
 Albert," and his " Commentary on True and False 
 Religion," dedicated to Francis I. He here said : 
 " Since Christ, in the sixth chapter of John, attributes 
 to faith the power of imparting eternal life, and unit- 
 ing the believer with himself in the most intimate 
 manner, what need have we of anything else? Why 
 should He afterwards have attributed this virtue to Hi's 
 flesh, while He himself declares that His flesh profitcth 
 nothing? The flesh of Christ, in so far as it was put 
 to death for us, is of immense benefit to us, for it saves 
 us from perdition ; but in so far as eaten by us does us 
 no good." 
 
 The struggle commenced. Pomeranus, Luther's 
 friend, rushed to battle, and attacked the evangelist 
 of Zurich somewhat too disdainfully. Qilcolampadius 
 then began to blush at having so long combated his 
 doubts, and preached doctrines which already wavered 
 in his mind. He took courage, and wrote from Bale 
 to Zwingle. The dogma of the real presence is the 
 fortress and strong tower of their impiety. So long as 
 they keep this idol, it will be impossible to vanquish 
 them. He then also entered the lists, by publishing a 
 tract on the meaning of our Saviour's words : This is 
 my body} 
 
 1 He took the word is in its ordinary acceptation ; but by lody lie nndcr- 
 stood a symbol of tlie body. 
 
THE SW ASIAN SYNGRAM. 
 
 351 
 
 The mere fact of CEcolampadius joiuing the reformer 
 produced an immense sensation, not only at Bale, but 
 throughout Germany. Luther was deeply moved at 
 it. Brentz, Schnepff, and twelve other pastors of 
 Swabia, to whom CEcolampadius had dedicated his 
 book, and who had almost all been his pupils, felt the 
 preatost pain. "At the very moment of separating 
 from him for a just cause," said Breulz, in taking up 
 the pen to answer him, " I honour and admire him as 
 much as it is possible to do. The bond of love is not 
 broken between us because we are not agreed." Then 
 he publislied, with his friends, the famous " Syngram 
 of Swabia," in which he replied to Qicolampadius 
 lirmly, but charitably and respcctfiUly. " If an 
 emperor," said the authors of the "Syngram," "give a 
 baton to a judge, saying to him: 'Take! this is the 
 power of judging,' the baton, doubtless, is only a simple 
 symbol, but these words being added, the judge has 
 not only the symbol of power — he has power itself." 
 The true reformed churches may admit this compari- 
 son. The "Syngram" was received with acclamation ; 
 its authors were regarded as the champions of the 
 truth ; several theologians, and even laymen, wishing 
 to share in their glory, began to defend the doctrine 
 which was attacked, and made a rush at CEcolampadius. 
 
 Strasburg then came forward as a mediator between 
 Switzerland and Germany. Capito and Buccr were 
 friends of peace, and the question in debate was, 
 according to them, of secondary importance ; they, 
 therefore, placed themselves between the two parties, 
 sent George Casscl, one of their colleagues, to Luther, 
 and besought him not to break the bond of brother- 
 hood which united him to the teachers of Switzerland. 
 
 Nowhere was Luther's character more strikingly 
 manifested than in this controversy on the Supper. 
 Never did he so fully manifest the firmness with which 
 he kept to what he believed to be a Christian convic- 
 tion, his fidelity in seeking a foundation for it only in 
 Scripture, the sagacity of liis defence, and his animated, 
 eloquent, often overpowering argumentation. But 
 never, also, did he more strikingly manifest the obsti- 
 nacy with which he adhered to his own views, the 
 little attention which he paid to the reasons of his 
 advei-saries, and the uncharitable readiness which led 
 him to attribute their errors to the wickedness of their 
 hearts and the wiles of the devil. " One or other," 
 said he to the mediator of Strasburg, "the Swiss or 
 we must be the ministers of Satan." . . . 
 
 This w.ns what Capito called " the madness of the 
 Saxon Orestes," and the madness was followed by 
 exhaustion. Luther's health was affected ; one day he 
 fainted away in the arms of his wife and his friends ; 
 and he was for a whole week, as it were, " in death 
 and hell." " He had," he said, "lost Jesus Christ, and 
 was tossed to and fro by the tempest of despair. , . 
 The world was mouldering away, and announcing by 
 prodigies that the last day was at hand." 
 
 Lut the divisions of tlic friends of the Reformation 
 were to have still more fatal consequences. The 
 Roman theologians triumphed, especially in Switzer- 
 land, in being able to oppose Luther to Zwingle. Still, 
 after three centuries, the remembrance of these divi- 
 sions furnish evangelical Christians with the precious 
 fruit of unity in diversity. Even then the reformers, 
 
 by setting themselves in opposition to each other, 
 shewed that the feeling which animated them was not 
 a blind hatred of Rome, and that truth was the first 
 aim of their researches. Herein, it must be acknow- 
 ledged, there is something noble. A conduct thus 
 disinterested failed not to bear some fruit, and to force, 
 even from enemies, a feeling of interest and esteem. 
 
 Nor is this all. We may here perceive tliat the 
 Sovereign hand which disposes of all events, permits 
 nothing without the wisest design. Luther, notwith- 
 standing of his opposition to the papacy, was, in an 
 eminent degree, conservative. Zwingle, oxi the con- 
 trary, was inclined to a radical reformation. These 
 two opposite tendencies were necessary. If only 
 Luther and his adherents had appeared in the days of 
 the Reformation, the work would ha\e been too soon 
 arrested, and the reforming principle would not have 
 fulfilled its task. If, on the contrary, Zwingle only 
 had appeared, the thread would have been too suddenly 
 snapped, and the Reformation would have been isolated 
 from the ages which preceded it. 
 
 These two tendencies which, on a superficial glance, 
 may seem to have existed merely that they might 
 oppose each other, had, on the contraiy, a task to 
 accomplish ; and we are able to say, after a lapse of 
 thi-ee centuries, that they fulfilled their mission. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 Tnus the Reformation had struggles to maintain in 
 every quarter. After combating with the rationalist 
 philosophy of Erasmus, and the fanatical enthusiasm 
 of the Anabaptists, it had still a struggle with itself. 
 But its great struggle ever was with the papacy; and 
 the attack which it had began in the cities of the plain, 
 it now continued on the remotest mountains. 
 
 On the heights of the Tockenburg the sound of the 
 Gospel had been heard, and three ecclesiastics were 
 prosecuted, by order of the bishop, on a charge of 
 heresy. "Let them convince us with the "Word of 
 God in their hand," said Militus, Doring, and Farer, 
 " and we will submit not only to the chapter, but to 
 the least of the brethren in Jesus Christ ; if not, we 
 will not obey any one, not even the man highest in 
 power." 
 
 This was indeed the spirit of Zwingle and the Refor- 
 mation. Shortly after, a circumstance occun-ed which 
 inflamed the minds of those living in these high valleys. 
 An assembly of the people had been held on St. 
 Catherine's day. The citizens were met, and two men 
 of Schwitz, who had come to the Tockenburg on busi- 
 ness, were at one of tlie tables : conversation went on ; 
 " Ulrich Zwingle," exclaimed one of them, " is a heretic 
 and a robber!" Steiger, secretary of state, undertook 
 the reformer's defence; the noise drew the attention 
 of the whole assembly. George Bruggman, the uncle 
 of Zwingle, who was sitting at another table, darted 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 from liis seat iu a rage, exclaiming : " Certainly it is 
 of Master Zwingle they are speaking." All the guests 
 rose and followed him, fearing a scuffle. The tumult 
 increasing, the bailie hastily assembled the council in 
 the open street, and Bruggman was entreated, for peace 
 sake, to content himself with saying to these men : " If 
 you do not retract, you yourselves are the parties guilty 
 of falsehood and robbery." — " Remember what you 
 have just said," replied the men of Schwitz ; " we too 
 will remember it." They then mounted their horses, 
 and galloped off by the road to Schwitz. 
 
 The government of Schwitz sent a threatening letter 
 to the inhabitants of the Tockenburg. All were in 
 alarm. "Be strong and fearless," wrote Zwingle to 
 the council of his native district. "Don't let the lies 
 which are retailed against me give you any uneasiness. 
 There is not a clamourer but who can call me heretic ; 
 but do you abstain from insult, disorder, debauchery, 
 and mercenary wars; assist the poor, protect the 
 oppressed, and whatever be the insults poured upon 
 you, put unshaken confidence in Almighty God." 
 
 The exhortations of Zwingle were successftil. The 
 council still hesitated, but the people assembled in their 
 parishes, and came to an unanimous resolution that the 
 mass should be abolished, and that they would be faith- 
 ful to the Word of God. 
 
 The conquests were not less important in Rhetia, 
 which Salanch-onius had beeu compelled to quit, but 
 where Comander boldly preached the Gospel. The 
 Anabaptists, it is true, preaching their fanatical doc- 
 trines in the Grisons, had at first greatly injured the 
 Reformation. The people had been divided into three 
 parties. Some had thrown themselves into the arms 
 of these new prophets ; others, looking on in silent 
 astonishment, were disquieted by the schism. In fine, 
 the partisans of Rome shouted triumph. 
 
 An assembly was held at Ilantz, in the country of 
 the Grisons, for a discussion ; the supporters of the 
 papacy, on the one hand, and the friends of the Refor- 
 mation on the other, drew together their forces. The 
 vicar of the bishop endeavoured at first to evade the 
 combat. "These discussions occasioning great ex- 
 pense," said he, " I am ready, in order to cover it, to 
 deposit ten thousand florins ; but I demand that an 
 equal sum be deposited by the other party." — "If the 
 bishop has ten thousand florins at his disposal," 
 exclaimed the burly voice of a peasant from amid the 
 crowd, "it is from us he has extorted them ; to give as 
 much more to these poor priests would truly be too 
 much." — " We are poor people with empty purses," 
 said Comander, pastor of Coire ; " scarcely have we 
 the means of buying soup : where should we find ten 
 thousand florins?" Everyone laughed at this expe- 
 dient, and nothing more was said of it. 
 
 Among those present were Sebastian Hof meister and 
 James Amman of Zurich, holding in their hands the 
 Holy Scriptures in Hebrew and Greek. The vicar of 
 the bishop demanded that strangers should be excluded. 
 Hofmeister saw that this was aimed at him, and said : 
 " We have come provided with a Greek and Hebrew 
 Bible, in order that no violence may be done in any 
 manner of way to the Scriptures. However, sooner 
 than prevent the conference, we are ready to with- 
 draw." — "Ah!" exclaimed the curate of Dintzen, look- 
 
 ing at the books of the two Zurichers, " if the Greek 
 tongue and the Hebrew tongue had never entered our 
 country, there would be fewer heresies." — " St. Jerome," 
 said another, " translated the Bible for us ; we have 
 no need of Jewish books." — "If the Zurichers are 
 excluded," said the banneret of Ilantz, " the community 
 will interfere." — "Well, then," it was answered, "let 
 them listeu, but say nothing." The Zurichers accord- 
 ingly remained, and their Bible with them. 
 
 Then Comander, standing up, read the first of the 
 theses which he had published. It was : " The Chris- 
 tian Church springs from the AVord of God. It must 
 abide by this Word, and listen only to its voice." He 
 proceeded to prove his proposition by numerous pas- 
 sages of Scripture. "He walked with a sure step," 
 said an eye-witness, "and set down his foot with the 
 tramp of an ox." — " We have too much of this," said the 
 vicar. — " When among his boon companions listening to 
 the flute," said Hofmeister, "he does not find it too much." 
 A man rose from the middle of the assembly and 
 came forward, waving his arms, twinkling with his 
 eyes, and knitting his brows, and apparently out of his 
 senses ; he sprang towards Comander, and several 
 thought he was going to strike him. It was a school- 
 master of Coire. " I have put down several questions 
 for you in writing," said he to Comander, " answer 
 them instantly." — "lam here," said the Grison reformer, 
 " to defend my doctrine ; attack it, and I will defend 
 it: if not, return to your place. I will answer you 
 when I have done." The schoolmaster stood for a 
 moment in suspense. " Very good," he at length said, 
 and resumed his seat. 
 
 It was proposed to pass to the doctrine of the sacra- 
 ments. The Abbot of St. Luke declared it was not 
 without fear he approached such a subject, while the 
 frightened vicar made the sign of the cross. 
 
 The schoolmaster, who had already desired to attack 
 Comander, began with much volubility to maintain the 
 doctrine of the sacraments, founding on the words : 
 " This is my body." — " Dear Berre," said Comander to 
 him, "how do you understand the words, 'John is 
 Elias?'" — "I understand," replied Berre, who saw 
 Comander's drift, "that he was truly and essentially 
 Elias." — "And why, then," continued Comander, "did 
 John Baptist himself say that he was not Elias f" The 
 schoolmaster was silent, and at length said: "It is 
 true." There was a general burst of laughter, even 
 from those who had employed him to speak. 
 
 The Abbot of St. Luke deKvered a long harangue 
 on the Supper, and the conference was closed. Seven 
 priests embraced the evangelical doctrine ; full religious 
 freedom was proclaimed, and the Romish ritual was 
 abolished in several churches. " Christ," to use the 
 words of Salaudronius, " everywhere sprang up in these 
 mountains like the tender grass in spring, and the 
 pastors were like living springs which watered these 
 high valleys." 
 
 The Reformation made still more rapid strides at 
 Zurich. The Dominicans, Augustines, and Capuchins, 
 were compelled to live together — the hell anticipated 
 for these poor monks. Instead of these corrupt insti- 
 tutions, schools, an hospital, and a theological seminary, 
 were founded. Knowledge and charity everywhere 
 took the place of idleness and selfishness. 
 
DISPUTATION PROPOSED. 
 
 353 
 
 CHAPTER XTII. 
 
 Executions — DisciiSDioa at Baden — Rules of the Discussion — Kicbes and 
 rovcrty— Eck and (Ecolampadius— Discussion— Part taken by Zwinglc 
 —Boasting ottlic Romans— Insults of a Monk— End of tlie Discussion. 
 
 These victories of the Reformation could not be over- 
 looked. Monks, priests, and prelates, transported with 
 rage, felt that the ground was everywhere moving from 
 under their feet, and that the Church was ready to 
 give way before unparalleled dangei-s. The oligarchs 
 of the cantons — the men of pensions and foreign enlist- 
 ments — became aware that they could no longer delay, 
 if they wished to save their privileges ; and at the 
 moment when the Cliurch was in fear, and beginning 
 to sink, they offered her their arm of steel. A Stein 
 and a John Hug of Lucerne united with a John Faber, 
 and the civil authority rushed to the assistance of that 
 hierarchical power which utters high-sounding words 
 of pride, and makes war on the saints. 
 
 Public opinion had long been dcniniiding a discus- 
 sion. Tliere was no other means of calniiiig the people. 
 The councils of Zurich had said to the diet : •• Convince 
 us from Scripture, and we will yield to your invitations." 
 It was every^vhere repeated: "The Zurichers ha\e 
 given you a promise ; if you can convince them by the 
 Bible, why don't you do it .' — and if you cannot, why 
 don't you conform to the Bible '?" 
 
 The conferences held at Zm-ich had exercised an im- 
 mense influence ; it was necessary to oppose them with 
 a conference held in a Romish town, taking all neces- 
 sary precautions to secure the victory to the papal party. 
 
 It is true these discussions had been declared unlaw- 
 ful ; but means were found to escape from this diffi- 
 culty. "The only thing to be done," it was said, "is 
 to arrest and condemn the pernicious doctrines ot 
 Zwingle." This being agreed, a stout champion wi-. 
 wanted, and Dr. Eck presented himself. lie had ii > 
 fear. His expression, according to Hofmeistcr. wa^ 
 "Zwingle has, doubtless, milked more cows than lit, 
 has read books." 
 
 Tiie great council of Zurich sent Dr. Eck a safe- 
 conduct to come to Zurich itself ; but Eck replied that 
 he would await the answer of the confederation. 
 Zwingle then offered to debate at St. Gall or Schaff- 
 hausen ; but the council, founding on an article of 
 the federal compact, which bore, " that every person 
 accused sluill be tried in the place where he resides," 
 ordered Zwingle to withdraw his offer. 
 
 The diet at length decreed that a conference should 
 take place at Baden, and fixed it for the IGth May, 
 1526. This conference was to be important, for it was 
 the result and seal of the alliance whicli had been made 
 between the ecclesiastical power and the oligarchs of 
 the confederation. " See," said Zwingle to Vadiau, 
 " what the oligarchs and Faber dare at this hour to 
 undertake." 
 
 Accordingly, the decision of the diet produced a 
 great impression in Switzerland. It was not doubted 
 that a conference, held under such auspices, would 
 prove imfavourable to the Reformation. It was said 
 at Zurich : " Do not the five cantons most devoted to 
 
 the pope rule in Baden ? Have they not already 
 declared the doctrine of Zwingle heretical, and em- 
 ployed sword and fire against it ? Has not Zwingle 
 been burned in effigy at Lucerne, after being subject 
 to all kinds of insult? Have not his writings been 
 given to the flames at Friburg ? Is not his death 
 everywhere longed for? Have not the cantons which 
 exercise sovereign rights in Baden declared that, should 
 Zwingle set foot on any part whatever of their teni- 
 tory, they would apprehend him ? Has not Uberlingen, 
 one of their leaders, said, that his only wish in this 
 world was to hang Zwingle, were he himself to be the 
 executioner on the last day of his life 1 And has not 
 Dr. Eck been crying for years that heretics must be 
 attacked with fire and sword ? What, then, will be 
 this discussion? and what the issue of it, but just the 
 death of the reformer!" 
 
 Such were the fears which agitated the committee 
 appointed at Zurich to examine this affair. Zwingle, 
 who was a witness of their agitation, rose and said : 
 " You know what was the fate of the valiant men of 
 Stammheim at Baden, and how the blood of the Wirths 
 dyed the scaffold, . . . and we are invited to the 
 very place of their execution. . . . Let the place 
 of conference be Zurich, Berne, St. Gall, or even Bale, 
 
 Constance, Schaffhausen ; let it be agreed to discuss 
 fundamental points only, employing only the "Word of 
 God. Let no judge be set over it ; in that case, I am 
 ready to appear." 
 
 Meanwhile, fanaticism bestirred herself, and made 
 victims. A consistory, headed by this same Faber 
 who challenged Zwingle, on 10th May, 1526, (about 
 eight days before the discussion of Baden,) condemned 
 to the flames as a heretic an evangelical minister named 
 John Hiigle, pastor of Lindau, who walked to execu- 
 tion singing the Te Benin. At the same time Peter 
 Spengler, another minister, was drowned at Friburg by 
 order of the Bishop of Constance. 
 
 From all quarters sinister rumours reached Zwingle. 
 His brother-in-law, Leonard Tremp, wrote him from 
 Berne : " I beseech you, as you value your life, don't 
 come to Baden. I know that the safe-conduct will be 
 violated." 
 
 2a 
 
354 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFOEINIATION. 
 
 It was confidently stated that a plan had been formed 
 to cany him off, gag him, put him into a boat, and 
 carry him to some imknowu jilace. In the view of 
 these menaces and scaffolds, the council of Zurich 
 decreed that Zwingle shoukl not go to Baden. 
 
 The discussion being fixed for the 19th May, the 
 combatants, the representatives of the cantons, and the 
 bishops, began gradually to arrive. On the part of 
 the Roman Catholics appeared, first of all, the warlike 
 and vain-glorious Dr. Eek ; on the part of the Protes- 
 tants, the modest and gentle CEcolampadius. The 
 latter was well aware of the perils of tins discussion. 
 As an old biographer expresses it, — like a timid stag 
 pursued by raging dogs, he had long hesitated. At 
 last he determined to repair to Baden. Previously, 
 however, he put forward the solemn protestation : " I 
 acknowledge no rule of judgment but the Word of 
 God." At first he had earnestly desired that Zwingle 
 should share his dangers ; but he soon doubted not that 
 if the intrepid teacher had appeared in this fanatical 
 town, the rage of the Eomau Catholics, firing at his 
 presence, would have put them both to death. 
 
 The first thing done was to determine the laws of 
 the combat. Dr. Eck proposed that the deputies of 
 the "Wallenstein should be appointed to pronounce a 
 definitive judgment. This was just to anticipate the 
 condemnation of the Reformation. Thomas Plater, 
 who had come from Zurich to Baden to be present at 
 the conference, was despatched by CBcolampadius to 
 Zwingle to obtain his opinion. Having arrived at 
 night, he found some difticulty in gaining admission 
 into the reformer's house. " Unfortunate disturber," 
 said Zwingle to him, rubbing his eyes ; '• for six weeks 
 now (thanks to this discussion) I have not been in 
 bed. . . What is your message f Plater explained 
 the proposals of Dr. Eck. " And who," replied Zwingle, 
 " would put these peasants into a condition to compre- 
 hend such things ? "N^erily, the milking of cows would 
 be more inteUigible to them." 
 
 On 21st May, the conference commenced. Eck and 
 Faber, accompanied by prelates, magistrates, and doc- 
 tors, clothed in vestments of damask and silk, and 
 decked with rings, chains, and crosses, repaired to the 
 church. Eck strutted proudly into a magnificently 
 ornamented pulpit, while the humble CEcolampadius, 
 in mean clothing, had to face his haughty opponent on 
 a platform of rude construction. "The whole time 
 the conference lasted," says the chronicler Bullinger, 
 " Eck and his people were lodged at the curacy of 
 Baden, making good cheer, leading a gay and scan- 
 dalous life, and drinking much wine, with which the 
 abbot of Wettingen supplied them. Eck (it was said) 
 bathes at Baden — in wine. The evangelicals, on the 
 contrary, made a poor appearance, and were laughed at 
 as a band of mendicants. Their mode of life contrasted 
 strikingly with that of the champions of the papacy. 
 The host of the iim of the Pike, where Qicolampadius 
 lodged, being desirous to see what he was doing in his 
 room, stated that, whenever he looked in, he saw him 
 reading or praying. It uuist be confessed (said he) 
 that he is a very pious heretic." 
 
 The discussion lasted eighteen days, and during the 
 whole period the clergy of Baden daily made a solemn 
 procession, chanting litanies in order to obtain the 
 
 victory. Eck was sole speaker in defence of the 
 Romish doctrine. He was still the champion of the 
 Leipsic discussion, with his German accent, his broad 
 shoulders, and powerful lungs, an excellent public crier, 
 with more in his exterior of the butcher than of the 
 divine. He debated, according to his wont, with gi-eat 
 violence, trying to wound his opponents by cutting 
 expressions, and sometimes even mincing an oath. But 
 the president never called him to order. 
 
 Eck thumps the desk with feet and hands, 
 And roars, and raves, and scolds, and bans. 
 " Wliat pope and cardinals propound 
 I hold as creed, — ay, creed most sound." 
 
 Qicolampadius, on the contrary, with a serene, noble, 
 and patriarchal air, spoke so meekly, and, at the same 
 time, with so much ability and courage, that even his 
 adversaries, moved and transported, said one to another : 
 " Oh ! Lf the tall yellow man were on our side." His 
 equanimity, however, was occasionally disturbed on 
 seeing the enmity and violence of the hearers. " Oh !" 
 said he, " with what impatience they listen to me ; but 
 God is not wanting to His own glory, and this is all 
 that we seek." 
 
 CEcolampadius, haviag attacked the first theses of 
 Dr. Eck, which turned on the real presence, Haller, 
 who had arrived at Badeu after the commencement of 
 the discussion, entered the lists against the second. 
 Little accustomed to such conferences, of a timid dis- 
 position, trammelled by the orders of his government, 
 and embarrassed by the looks of his avoyer, Gaspard 
 Mullinen, Haller had not the proud confidence of his 
 antagonist ; but he had more real force. After Haller 
 had finished, CEcolampadius again entered the lists, and 
 pressed Dr. Eck so closely, that he was reduced to the 
 necessity of only appealing to the usage of the Chiu'ch. 
 "Usage," replied CEcolampadius, "has only weight in 
 om* Switzerland according to the constitution ; now, 
 in matters of faith, the constitution is the Bible." 
 
 The third theses, on the invocation of saints, the 
 fom-th, on images, and the fifth, on purgatory, were 
 successively discussed. Nobody rose to dispute the 
 truth of the two last theses, which turned upon original 
 sin and baptism. 
 
 Zwingle took an active part iu the whole discussion. 
 The Catholic party, who liad four secretaries, had 
 forbidden any other person, under pain of death, from 
 taking anything down in writing. But a student of 
 the Valais, named Jerome Wiilscli, who possessed a 
 very retentive memory, fixed what he had heard in his 
 mind, and, hastening home, ■\\Tote it down. Thomas 
 Plater, and Zimmerman of Winterthur, daily carried 
 these notes and letters from CEcolampadius to Zwingle, 
 and brought back the reformer's answers. All the 
 gates of Baden were guarded by soldiers, armed with 
 halberts; and the two messcugere were obliged, by 
 divers excuses, to elude the interrogatories of the 
 soldiers, who did not understand why these youths 
 were continually returning to the town. Thus Zwingle, 
 though abseut from Baden in body, was present iu 
 mind. 
 
 He counselled and encouraged his friends, and re- 
 futed his enemies. " Zwingle," says Oswald Myconius, 
 "laboured more by his meditations, his vigils, and his 
 
END OF THE DISCUSSION. 
 
 counsels sent to Baden, than he could have dono by 
 debating personally in tlic midst of his enemies." 
 
 During the -whole conference the Koman Catholics 
 kept np an agitation, sent letters in all directions, and 
 shouted victory. '• Qicolampadius," exclaimed they, 
 '•conquered by Dr. Eck, and stretched out on the arena, 
 has sung a palinode. The reign of the pope is about 
 to be everywhere re-established." Tiicse shouts were 
 heard over all the cantons, and the people, ready to 
 believe whatever they hear, credited aU these boastings 
 of the partisans of Rome. 
 
 Tl\e discussion being ended, the monk Murner, of 
 Lucerne, who was surnamcd, " the torn cat," came 
 forward aiul read forty accusations directed against 
 Zwingle. "I thought," said he, "that the coward 
 would come and answer : he has not appeared. Very 
 well, by all the laws whicli govern things human and 
 divine, I declare forty times lliat the tyrant of Zurich, 
 and all his partisans, are disloyal subjects, liars, per- 
 jurers, adulterei-s, infidels, robbei-s, blasphemers, true 
 gallows birds ; and that every honest man must blush 
 at being in any way connected with them." Such 
 were the insulting terms which, at this early period, 
 doctors, whom tiie Roman Catholic Church herself 
 ought to have disclaimed, decorated with the name of 
 " Christian polemics." 
 
 There was great agitation in Baden : the general 
 feeling being that the Roman champions had made the 
 loudest noise, but used the weakest arguments. OEco- 
 lampadius and ten of his friends were all who signed 
 the rejection of Eck's theses, whereas eighty-four 
 persons, among whom were the presidents of the dis- 
 cussion and all the monks of Wittemberg, adhered to 
 them. Haller had left Baden before the end of the 
 conference. 
 
 Tiie majority of the diet then decided that Zwingle, 
 the licad of this pernicious doctrine, having refused to 
 appear, and the ministers who had come to Baden 
 having refused to be convinced, they were all cast 
 out of the universal Church. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 L'...iis<-.|ii.jiicc5 at Bile.'Berne, St Gall, and other n.-iccs— Diet at Zuiicli— 
 The Small Cautons— Menaces at Berne— Foreign Aid. 
 
 Blt this famous conference, due to the zeal of the 
 oligarclis and clergy, was to prove fatal to both. Those 
 who had then contended for the Gospel, on retui'uiug 
 to their firesides, were to fill their fellow-citizens with 
 enthusiasm for the cause which tliey had defended ; 
 and two of the most important cantons of the Helvetic 
 alliance were tlienceforth to begin to break off all con- 
 nection with the papacy. 
 
 It was on CEcolampadius, a stranger to Switzerland, 
 that the first blows were to fall, and he returned to 
 Bale not without some misgivings. But his dis- 
 quietude was soon dissipated. His mild sentences had 
 struck impartial witnesses more than the clamour of 
 Dr. Eck, and he was received -with acclamation by all 
 pious men. The adversary, it is true, used every effort 
 
 to exclude him from the pulpit, but in vain; he taught 
 and preached more forcibly than before, and never had 
 the people shewn such thirst for the Word. 
 
 Similar results followed at Berne. The conference 
 of Baden, which was to have stilled the Reformation, 
 gave it a new impulse in this canton, — the most power- 
 ful in the whole Swiss confederation. jN'o sooner did 
 Haller arrive in the capital, than the little council sum- 
 moned him to appear, and ordered him to celebrate 
 mass. Haller demanded to be heard before the great 
 council ; and the people, feeling bound to defend their 
 pastor, flocked in crowds. Haller, alarmed, declared 
 that ho would sooner leave the town than be the cause 
 of any disturbance. Tranquility being restored, the 
 reformer said : '• If I am required to celebrate this 
 ceremony, I resign my charge ; the honour of God and 
 the truth of His holy Word, are dearer to my heart 
 than any anxiety as to what I shall eat, or where- 
 withal 1 shall be clothed." Haller spoke these words 
 with deej) emotion ; the members of the council were 
 affected ; even some of his opponents shed tears. 
 Moderation proved still stronger than force. To give 
 Rome some satisfaction, Haller was dei)rived of his 
 office as canon, but was appointed preacher. His 
 most violent enemies, Louis and Antliony Diesbach, 
 and Anthony Erlach, indignant at this resolution, 
 immediately left the council and the town, and re- 
 nounced their right of citizenship. " Berne has had a 
 fall," said Haller ; " but it has risen with more power 
 than ever." This firmness of the Bernese produced a 
 great impression in Switzerland. 
 
 But the consequences of the conference of Baden 
 were not confined to Berne and Bale. While these 
 things were taking ])lace there, a movement, more or 
 less similar, was taking place in several of the states 
 of the confederation. The preachers of St. Gall, on 
 their return from Baden, preached the Gospel: at the 
 end of a conference, the images were removed from the 
 parochial church of St. Lawrence, and the inhabitants 
 sold their most valuable articles of dress, their jewels, 
 . their rings, their gold chains, to found houses of charity. 
 The Reformation spoiled, but it was to clothe the poor ; 
 and the spoils were those of the reformers themselves. 
 
 At Mulhausen the Gospel was preached with new 
 courage. Thurgovia and the Rhienthal always approx- 
 imated more and more to Zurich. Immediately after 
 the discussion, Zurzach carried off the images of its 
 chiu'ches ; and the district of Baden almost everywhere 
 received the Gospel. 
 
 Nothing more is better fitted than such facts to 
 prove to which party the victory truly belonged. Ac- 
 cordingly Zwingle, on looking around him, gave glory 
 to God. "We are attacked in many ways," said he, 
 '* but the Lord is stronger not only than menaces, but 
 also than wars themselves. In the town and canton 
 of Zurich there is an admirable agreement in favour 
 of the Gospel. We will surmount all difliculties by 
 prayers offered up in faith." Shortly after addressing 
 Haller, Zwingle said to him : " Everything here below 
 follows its destiny. To the boistcroug blast of the 
 north, succeeds a gentler breeze. After the broiling 
 days of summer, autumn pours its treasures into our 
 lap. And now, after severe combats, the Creator of 
 all things, in whose service we are, opens the way for 
 
356 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 us into tlie heart of the enemy's camp. We are still 
 able to receive Christian doctrine, that dove so long 
 driven off, but which never ceased waiting to spy the 
 hour of its return. Be thou the Noah to receive and 
 save it." ... 
 
 This same year Zurich had made an important ac- 
 quisition. Conrad Pellican, guardian of the Franciscan 
 convent at Biile, and professor of theology at twenty- 
 four, had been invited, by the exertions of Zwingle, to 
 be professor of Hebrew at Zurich. "It is long," said 
 he on arriving, "since I have renounced the pope, and 
 desire only to live for Jesus Christ." Pellican, by 
 his energetical talents, became one of the most useful 
 labourers in the work of the Reformation. 
 
 Zurich continuing to be excluded from the diet by 
 the Romish cantons, and wishing to take advantage of 
 the better dispositions manifested by some of the con- 
 federates, in the beginning of 1527, summoned a diet, 
 to be held at Zurich itself. The deputies of Berne, 
 Bale, Schaffliausen, Appenzell, and St. Gall, repaired 
 to it. " We wish," said the deputies of' Zurich, " that 
 the Word of God, which alone leads us to Christ cru- 
 cified, should alone be preached, alone taught, alone 
 magnified. We abandon all human doctrines, what- 
 ever may have been the ancient customs of our fore- 
 fathers, certain that if they had had the light of the 
 Divine Word which we enjoy, tliey would have em- 
 braced it with more respect than we, their feeble 
 descendants, do." The deputies present promised to 
 take the representations of Zurich into consideration. 
 
 Thus the breach which had been made in Rome be- 
 came larger every day. The discussion of Baden was 
 to have repaired all her losses, and thereafter, on the 
 contrary, cantons which had been undecided were dis- 
 posed to go hand in hand with Zurich. The inhabitants 
 of the plain already inclined to the Reformation ; and 
 now she drew closer to the mountains, and invaded 
 them, while the primitive cantons, which were in a 
 manner the cradle, and are still in a manner the citadel 
 of Switzerland, hemmed in by their high Alps, seemed 
 alone firmly to maintain the doctrine of their fathers. 
 These mountaineers, continually exposed to violent 
 tempests, to avalanches, to the overflow of torrents 
 and rivers, have to struggle all their lives against these 
 formidable enemies, and to sacrifice everything to pre- 
 serve the meadow that pastures their flocks, and the 
 hut which shelters them from the storm, but which 
 the first inundation sweeps away. Accordingly, a 
 conservative instinct is strongly developed in them, 
 and has for ages been transmitted from generation to 
 generation. To preserve what they have received 
 from their fathers, is the only wisdom recognised in 
 these mountains. Tliese rude Helvetians accordingly 
 struggled against the Reformation, which sought to 
 change their faith and worship, as they struggle still 
 against the torrents which dash down from their snowy 
 peaks, or against the new political ideas which are 
 established at their threshold in the cantons around 
 them. They will be the last to lay down their arms 
 before the double power which is already displaying 
 its signals on all the surrounding hills, and more closely 
 threatening these conservative districts. 
 
 Accordingly, at the period of which I speak, these 
 cantons, still more irritated against Berne than against 
 
 Ziu-ich, and trembling when they saw this powerful 
 state escaping from them, called a meeting of their 
 deputies at Berne itself, eight days after the conference 
 of Zm-ich. They called upon the council to depose the 
 new teachers, to proscribe their doctrines, and to main- 
 tain the ancient and true Christian faith, as it had 
 been confirmed by centuries and confessed by martyrs. 
 "Assemble all the bailiwicks of the canton: if you 
 refuse, we wUl take it upon ourselves." The Bernese 
 felt irritated, and replied: "We are able enough to 
 speak to our own constitutents." 
 
 This reply only increased the wrath of the Wald- 
 stettes ; and those cantons which had been the cradle 
 of the political liberty of Switzerland, alarmed at the 
 progress which religious liberty was making, began 
 even to look abroad for allies to destroy it. In com- 
 bating the enemies of enlistments, an appeal might be 
 made to enlistments themselves ; and if the oligarchs 
 of Switzerland were insufRcient, was it not natural to 
 have recourse to the princes, their allies? In fact, 
 Austria, which had not been able to maintain its power 
 in the confederation, was ready to interpose for the 
 purpose of then strengthening the power of Rome. 
 Berne heard with dismay that Ferdinand, brother of 
 Charles V., was making preparations against Zurich, 
 and against all the adherents of the Reformation. 
 
 Circumstances were becoming more critical. A 
 succession of events more or less unfortunate ; the suc- 
 cesses of the Anabaptists; the disputes with Luther 
 about the Supper, and others besides, seemed to have, 
 in a great measure, compromised the Reformation 
 in Switzerland. The discussion of Baden had dis- 
 appointed the hopes of the friends of the papacy; and 
 the sword which they had brandished against their 
 enemies, had broken in their hands ; but spite- and 
 anger had increased, and a new effort was prepared. 
 Already, even the imperial power began to put itself 
 in motion, and the Austrian bands, which had been 
 forced to flee from the defiles of Mergarten and the 
 heights of Sempach, were ready again to enter Swit- 
 zerland, with colours flying, to give strength to totter- 
 ing Rome. The moment was decisive. It was no 
 longer possible to chime in with both parties, and be 
 neither " muddy nor clear." Berne and other cantons, 
 which had so long been hesitating, behoved to come to 
 a determination. It was necessary to return promptly 
 to the papacy, or rally with new courage under the 
 standard of Christ. 
 
 A Frenchman, from the mountains of Dauphiuy, by 
 name William Fare], at this time gave a powerful im- 
 pulse to Switzerland, determined the Reformation of 
 Romish-Helvetia, which was still in a profound sleep, 
 and thus turned the balance throughout the confedera- 
 tion in favour of the new doctrines. Farel arrived on 
 the field of battle like those fresh troops which, at tlie 
 moment when the fate of arms is still uncertain, rush 
 into the thickest of the fight and carry the day. He 
 prepared the way in Switzerland for another French- 
 man, whose stern faith and powerful genius were to 
 put a finishing hand to the Reformation, and render it 
 a complete work. In this way, by means of these 
 illustrious men, France took rank in the great move- 
 ment which was agitating Christian society. It is 
 time to turn our eye toward her. 
 
ENEMIES OF THE REFORMATION IN FRANCE. 
 
 BOOK XII. 
 
 THE FKENCn. — 1500-1526. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Universality of Christianity— Enemies of Uio Reformation in Fr.mee— 
 Heri'sy niul Persecution in Dauphiny— A Gentleman's Family— Tlie 
 Family Farcl— PilgTim.ve to St. Croix— Immorality and Superstition- 
 William desires to become a Student. 
 
 Universality is one of the essentiiil features of Chris- 
 liiinity. It is not tiius with religions of human origin. 
 Tiiey adapt themselves to certain nations, and to the 
 degi-oe of culture which they have attained. They 
 keep these nations fixed at a certain point, or if by any 
 extraordinary circumstance these nations rise in the 
 scale, religion being left behind thereby becomes useless. 
 
 There was an Egyptian, a Greek, a Latin, and even 
 a. Jewish religion; Ciiristianity is the only religion for 
 the whole human race. 
 
 Its point of departure in man is sin — a characteristic 
 which belongs not to a single tribe, but is the inherit- 
 ance of humanity. Accordingly, satisfying the most 
 universal and the most elevated wants of our nature, 
 the Gospel is received as coming from God by the 
 most barbarous tribes, and the most civilized nations. 
 It does not consecrate national peculiarities, as did the 
 religions of antiquity; but neither does it destroy them 
 as modern cosmopolism would do. It does better ; it 
 sanctifies, ennobles, elevates them to a holy unity by 
 the new and living principle which it imparts to them. 
 
 The introduction of Christianity into the world has 
 produced a great revolution in history. Till then there 
 was only a liistory of particular nations ; now there is 
 a history of humanity. The idea of an universal 
 education of the human race, accomplished by Jesus 
 Christ, has become the historian's compass — the key of 
 history, and the hope of nations. 
 
 But Christianity not merely acts on all nations, it 
 acts on all periods of their history. 
 
 At the moment when it appeared, the world was like 
 a torch on the point of being extinguished. Chris- 
 tianity made it revive as a celestial light. 
 
 At a later period the barbai'iaus, rushing upon the 
 Roman empire, had broken down and confounded 
 everything. Christianity, opposing the cross to this 
 devastating torrent, thereby subdued the wild child of 
 the north, and g.ive humanity a new form. 
 
 A corrupting element, however, was already hidden 
 in the religion brouglxt by intrepid missionaries to these 
 rude tribes. Their faith came from Rome almost as 
 much as from the Bible. This element rapidly in- 
 creased : man was everywhere substituted for God, (an 
 essential feature in the Romish Church,) and a renova- 
 tion of religion became necessary. Christianity accom- 
 plisiied it at the period of which we write. 
 
 The history of the Reformation in the countries 
 which we have already surveyed, has shewn how the 
 
 new doctrine rejected the extravagances of the Ana- 
 baptists and the new prophets; but infidelity is the 
 obstacle wliich it encounters, especially in the kingdom 
 towards which we now turn. Nowhere had bolder 
 protests been taken against tlia superstitions and abuses 
 of the Church. Nowhere was there seen a more power- 
 ful development of a certain love of letters, — a love 
 which, independent of Christianity, often leads to 
 irreligion. France carried in her bosom at the same 
 time two reformations — the one of man, the other of 
 God. Two nations are in thy womb, and two manner of 
 people shall be separated from thy bowels, (Gen. xxv. 23.) 
 
 In France, not only liad the Reformation to combat 
 infidelity as well as superstition, there was a third 
 enemy which it had not encountered, at least in so 
 powerful a form among the Germanic nations, — I mean 
 immorality. The disorders in the Church were great ; 
 debauchery sat upon the throne of Francis I. and 
 Catherine de Medicis, and the stern virtues of the 
 reformers irritated these " Sardanapaluses." Every- 
 where, no doubt, but especially in France, the Refor- 
 mation behoved to be not only doctrinal and eccle- 
 siastical, but also moral. 
 
 The violent enemies whom the Reformation thus 
 encountered at the very outset among the French, 
 stamped it with a peculiar character. Nowhere did it 
 dwell so much in dungeons, and resemble primitive 
 Christianity in faith and charity, and the number of its 
 martyrs. If, in the countries of wliich we have hither- 
 to spoken, the Reformation was more glorious by its 
 triumphs in those to which our attention is now to be 
 directed, it was rendered more glorious by its defeats. 
 If elsewhere it can shew more thrones and sovereign 
 councils, here it can enumerate more scaffolds and 
 meetings in the wilderness. Whoever knows what 
 constitutes the true glory of Christianity on the earth, 
 and the features which give it a resemblance to its 
 Head, will, with a deep feeling of respect and love, 
 study the history — the oftentimes bloody history — 
 which we are going to relate. 
 
 The most of the men who have shone on the stage 
 of the world were born in the provinces, and there 
 began to be developed. Paris is a tree which presents 
 to the eye a great deal of blossom and fruit; but a tree 
 whose roots spread far into tlie bowels of the earth in 
 search of the nourishing juices which these assimilate. 
 The Reformation also followed this law. 
 
 The Alps, which saw Christian and intrepid men 
 appear in every canton, and almost in every valley 
 of Switzerland, were in France also to throw their 
 gigantic shadows over the childhood of some of the 
 first reformers. There were ages when they kept the 
 treasure more or less pure in their high valleys, among 
 the inhabitants of the Piedmontese districts of Luzerne, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Angrogue, Peyrouse. The trutli, which Rome had not 
 been able to attack there, had spread from these valleys 
 along the slopes and at the foot of these mountains in 
 Provence and Dauphiny. 
 
 The year after the accession of Charles YIII., sou 
 of Louis XI., a sickly, timid child. Innocent VIII. had 
 encircled his brow with the pontifical tiara, (1484.) He 
 had seven or eight sons by different mothers; and 
 hence, according to an epigram of the time, Rome was 
 unanimous ia saluting him by the name of Father. 
 
 There was at this time on all the slopes of the Alps 
 of Dauphiny, and along all the banks of the Durance, 
 a tinge of ancient Vaudois principles. " The roots," 
 says an ancient chronicler, " were constantly and 
 everywhere setting out new saplings." Bold men 
 termed the Romish Church the church of the evil 
 ones, and maintained that it is as profitable to pray iu 
 a stable as in a chiu-ch. 
 
 The priests, bishops, and legates of Rome sent forth 
 a cry of alarm, and on the fifth of the calends of May, 
 1487, Innocent VIII., the father of the Romans, 
 launched a bull at these humble Christians. "To 
 arms!" said the pontiff, "and trample these heretics 
 under foot as venomous asps." 
 
 At the approach of the legate — followed by an army 
 of eighteen thousand men, and a multitude of volun- 
 teers who wished to share the spoil — the Vaudois 
 abandoned their dwellings, and withdrew to the moun- 
 tains, to caverns, and the clefts of rocks, as birds fly 
 away the moment the tempest begins to grumble. Not 
 a valley, not a wood, not a rock escaped the perse- 
 cutors ; everywhere in this part of the Alps, and parti- 
 cularly in the direction of Italy, these poor disciples of 
 Christ were tracked like deer. At length the satellites 
 of the pope grew weary, their strength was exhausted, 
 their feet could no longer climb the steep retreats of 
 " the heretics," and their arms refused to strike. 
 
 In these Alpine countries, thus agitated by the 
 fanaticism of Rome, about three leagues from the 
 ancient town of Gap,' in the direction of Greuoble, not 
 far from the flowery turf which carpets the flat top 
 of the mountain of Bayard, at the bottom of mount 
 Aiguille, and near the Col de Glaize, not far from 
 where the Buzon takes its rise, there was, and still is, 
 a group of houses half hid by trees, and which bears 
 the name of Farel, or in provincial dialect, Fareau.^ 
 On an extensive terrace raised above the neighbouring 
 huts there stood one of those houses which are called 
 mansion-houses. It was surrounded by an orchard, 
 which was continued to the village. There, in those 
 troublous times, lived, as it appears, a noble family of 
 known piety, of the name of Farel. In the year when 
 the papacy displayed its greatest severities in Dauphiny, 
 in the year 1489, was born, in this modest residence, 
 a son who was named "William. Three brothers — 
 Daniel, Walter, and Claude, and a sister — grew up 
 
 1 Principal town in the High Alps. 
 
 a Survey of Dauphiny, July, 1837, p. 35. In going from Grenoble to Gap, 
 about a quarter of an hour after passing the last stage, about a stone-cast 
 to the right of the public road, is seen the village of the Farels. The terrace 
 on which the house of Farel's father stood is still shewn. It is now, indeed, 
 only occupied as a hut ; but wo see, by its dimensions, that it is much 
 larger than an ordinai-y house. The occupier of the lint bears the name of 
 Farel. I owe this information to Mr. IBIanc, pastor of Mens. 
 
 with William, and shared his sports on the banks of 
 the Buzon, and at the foot of the Bayard. 
 
 There passed William's childhood and early youth. 
 His father and mother wore most devoted servants of 
 the papacy. He says himself : " My father and mother 
 believed everything;" they accordingly brought up 
 their children in all the observances of Rome. 
 
 God had endowed William Farel with rare qualities, 
 iitted to give him an ascendancy over others. Of a 
 penetrating intellect, a lively imagination, great sin- 
 cerity and uprightness, and a greatness of soul which 
 would not allow him, for any consideration, to betray 
 the convictions of his heart ; he had, moreover, an 
 ardour, a fire, an indomitable courage, an intrepidity 
 which recoiled at no obstacle. But, at the same time, 
 he had the faults which accompany these qualities, 
 and his parents had frequent occasion to check his 
 violence. 
 
 William entered with his whole soul into the super- 
 stitious views of his credulous family. " I am horri- 
 fied," said he, " when I tliink of the hours, the prayers, 
 and Divine services, which I have paid, and caused to 
 be paid, to the cross and other such like things." 
 
 Four leagues to the south of Gap, near Tallard, on 
 a mountain which rises above the impetuous waters of 
 the Durance, was a place in high repute, named St. 
 Croix. When William was scarcely seven or eight 
 years of age, his parents resolved to take him on a 
 pilgrimage. "The cross at this place," said they, "is 
 made of the real wood on which Jesus Christ was 
 crucified." 
 
 The family set out, and at length reached the vene- 
 rated cross, before tvhich they prostrated themselves. 
 After considering the sacred wood and the copper of 
 the cross, made, said the priest, of the basin in which 
 our Lord washed His disciples' feet, the eyes of the 
 pilgrims were directed to a little crucifix attached to 
 the cross. " When the devils," resumed the priest, 
 "make hail and thunder, this crucifix moves so that 
 it seems to detach itself from the cross, as if wishing 
 to rush against the devil. It also throws out fiery 
 sparks previous to bad weather — did it not do so the 
 whole fruits of the earth would be destroyed." 
 
 The pious pilgrims were deeply moved on being told 
 of these great prodigies. "No one," continued the 
 priest, " knows and sees any of these things save I and 
 this man." . . . The pilgrims turned round and 
 stiw a man near them of a strange exterior. "His 
 very appearance caused fear," says Farel. There were 
 white specks on the balls of both his eyes — " whether 
 they were real, or Satan only made a semblance of 
 them." This extraordinary man, whom the unbeliev- 
 ing called " the priest's sorcerer," being appealed to by 
 the priest, immediately confirmed his statements. A 
 new episode completed the picture, and to superstition 
 added a suspicion of criminal irregularities. " Lo ! a 
 young female, who had some other devotion than the 
 cross, carrying an infant under her cloak. Then the 
 priest came forward, and taking the woman and the 
 child, led them within the chapel. I venture to say, 
 ne'er did dancer take a female and lead her off iu 
 better style. But the blindness was such that no 
 regard was paid to this. Had they even acted inde- 
 cently before us, we should still have deemed it good 
 
WILLIAM FAKEL DESIRES TO STUDY. 
 
 359 
 
 aud holy. It was too clear tlmt the woman ami Iii'i- 
 giillant of a priest well knew the niirack'. ami iiiadc it 
 a cover to their intercourse." 
 
 AVe have here a faithful picture of the religion and 
 manners of France at the commencement of the Refor- 
 mation. Morality and doctrine were equally poisoned, 
 aud a powerful revival was required for both. The 
 pi-eater the value men attached to external works, the 
 farther they were removed ft-om holiness of heart ; 
 dead ordinances had everywhere been substituted for 
 the Christian life, and (strange, yet natural union) the 
 most scandalous protiigacy was seen united to the most 
 superstitious devotion. Theft had been perpetrated 
 before the altar, seduction at the confessional, poison- 
 ing in the mass, adultery at the foot of a cross — 
 superstition, by destroying doctrine, had destroyed 
 morality. 
 
 Still there were numerous exceptions in Christen- 
 dom during the Middle Ages. A faith, even thougli 
 superstitious, may be sincere. Of this William Farel 
 is an instance. The same zeal that at a later period 
 carried him to so many places to spread the knowledge 
 of Jesus Christ, now drew him to e\-ery place where 
 the Church exliibited some miracle, or claimed some 
 adoration. Dauphiny had its seven wonders, which 
 had long woi-ked upon the imagination of its inhabi- 
 tants. But there were also in the natural beauties 
 with which it is surrounded objects that might well 
 raise their souls to the Creator. 
 
 The magnificent chain of the Alps, those summits 
 covered with eternal snow, those vast rocks which 
 sometimes throw up their sharp peaks into the air, 
 sometimes extend their brokeu ridges beyond the 
 clouds, where they seem like some solitary island in 
 the skies; all these sublimities of creation which were 
 then elevating the soul of Ulricli Zwiugle in the Tock- 
 enburg, were also speaking i)owerfully to the heart 
 of William Farel in the mountains of Dauphiny. He 
 was thirsting for life, light, and knowledge ; his aspira- 
 tions wore for something great; ... he asked 
 leave to study. 
 
 This was a great blow to his father, who thought 
 that a young noble ought to know only his rosary and 
 his sword. At this time the country was ringing with 
 the fame of a young countryman of AV^illiam Farel, 
 from Dauphiny like himself, named Du Terrail, but 
 better known by the name of Bayard, who, at the 
 battle of Tar, on the other side of the Alps, had given 
 a signal display of courage. " Such sons," it was said, 
 " are like arrows in the hand of a mighty man. Happy 
 the man who has his quiver filled with them." Farcl's 
 father, accordingly, opposed his son's inclination for 
 study. But the young man was inflexible. God 
 designed l.im for nobler contests than those of Bayard. 
 He continually returned to the charge, and at last the 
 old gentleman yielded. 
 
 Fiu-el immediatelydevoted himself to his task with 
 astonishing ardour. The masters whom he found in 
 Dauphiny were of little use to him, and he had to 
 struggle against the bad methods and trifling of his 
 preceptors. These dilticultics only stimidated him, and 
 he had soon surmounted them. His brothers followed 
 his example. Daniel ultimately became a politician, 
 and was employed in some important negotiations con- 
 
 ceriiiug religion. Gaultre gained the entire confidence 
 of the Count of Furstcmberg. 
 
 Farel, having learned all that could be learned in 
 his i)rovince, and still feeling eager for knowledge, 
 turned his eyes to another tpiarter. The university of 
 Paris had long been renowned over the Christian 
 world. He was desirous to see " this mother of all the 
 sciences, this true light of the Church which never 
 suffers an eclipse, this pure and polished mirror of the 
 faitii which no cloud obscures, and no touch stains." 
 He obtained permission from his parents, aud set out 
 for the capital of France. 
 
 CHAPTER LL 
 
 Louis XII. aud the Assembly of Towrs— Franeij and Margaret— The Literati 
 — Lefevre— His Teachiug at the University— Lefevre and Farel meet— 
 D.)ubts and Inquiries of Farel— First Awakening— Pi-ophecy of Lefevre 
 —He Teaches Justilleation byFuitb-Olijectious— Irregularities in Col- 
 leges—Effects on Farel- Election- Holiness of Life. 
 
 One day, in the year 1510, or shortly after, the young 
 stranger from Dauphiny arrived in Paris. The pro- 
 vince life had made him an ardent follower of the 
 papacy — the capital was to make him something dif- 
 ferent. The Reformation in France was not to come 
 forth from a small town, as it did in Germany. All 
 the impetus which agitate the population proceed from 
 the metropolis. At the commencement of the sixteenth 
 century various providential circumstances concurred 
 to make Paris a kind of focus from which a spark of fire 
 might easily escape. The youth from the neighbour- 
 hood of Gap, who now arrived, humble and unknown, 
 was to receive this spark into his heart. Several 
 others received it with him. 
 
 Louis Xn., the father of his people, has just called 
 a convocation of the French clergy at Tours. This 
 prince seems to have anticipated the days of the Refor- 
 mation ; so much so, that had this great revolution 
 taken place during his reign, all France might, perhaps, 
 have been Protestant. The assembly of Tours had 
 declared that the king was entitled to make war on 
 the pope, and execute the decrees of the Council of 
 Biile. These decrees were the subject of general con- 
 versation in the colleges, as well as in the city and at 
 court, and must have made a deep impression on young 
 Farel's mind. 
 
 Two children were then growing up at the court of 
 France. The one was a young prince of a tall and 
 striking figure, who shewed little moderation in his 
 character, and recklessly followed any course that pas- 
 sion dictated. Hence the king was wont to say: "This 
 great boy will spoil all." This was Francis of Angou- 
 lemc, duke of Valois, and cousin to the king. Boisy, 
 his preceptor, however, taught him to honour literature. 
 
 Beside Francis was his sister Margaret, two yeai's 
 older than he, "a princess," says Brantome, "of very 
 great wit aud ability, as well natural as acquii-ed." 
 Accordingly, Louis XII. had spared nothing on her 
 education, and the most learned men in the kingdom 
 hastened to acknowledge her as their patroness. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 In fact a body of distinguished characters already 
 surrounded Francis and Margaret of Valois. "William 
 Bade, who, at twenty-three, given up to his passions, 
 and especially to the chase, — living only for his birds, 
 horses, and dogs, — had all at once stopped short, sold 
 his equipage, and begun to study with the same ardour 
 which had led him, amid his hounds, to scour the fields 
 and forests ; the physician Cop ; Francis Vatablo, a 
 wonder to the Jewish masters themselves for the extent 
 of his knowledge of Hebrew ; James Tusan, a cele- 
 brated Greek scholar; and other literati besides, encour- 
 aged by Stephen Poncber, bishop of Paris, by Louis 
 Ruze, civil lieutenant, and by Francis of Luynes, and 
 already patronized by the two young Valois, withstood 
 the violent attacks of the Sorbonne, who regarded the 
 study of Greek and Hebrew as the most dreadful 
 heresy. At Paris, as in Germany and Switzerland, 
 the re- establishment of sound doctrine was to be pre- 
 ceded by the revival of letters. But in France the 
 hands which thus prepared the materials were not to 
 erect the edifice. 
 
 at the university of Paris. He forthwith obtained an 
 eminent — in the opinion of Erasmus, the first — place. 
 
 Lefevre felt that he had a task to perform. Although 
 attached to the observances of Rome, he proposed to 
 combat the barbarism which prevailed at the univer- 
 sity, and began to teach the br.anches of philosophy 
 with a clearness previously unknown. He laboured to 
 revive the study of languages and of classical antiquity. 
 He went still farther. He became aware that, when a 
 work of revival is in question, philosophy and literature 
 are insufficient. Therefore, leaving scholastics, which 
 alone had for several ages occupied the school, he re- 
 turned to the Bible, and brought back to Christendom 
 the study of the Holy Scriptures and evangelical know- 
 ledge. He did not devote himself to barren researches; 
 he went to the core of the Bible. His eloquence, 
 frankness, and amiable manners, captivated all hearts. 
 Grave, and full of unction in the pulpit, he lived on 
 terms of gentle familiarity with his pupils. Glarean, 
 one of them, writing to Zwingle, says : " He is exceed- 
 ingly kind to me. Full of candour and goodness, he 
 sings, plays, and debates with me, and often laughs at 
 the folly of this world." Accordingly a great number 
 of pupils from every country sat at his feet. 
 
 I ^ 
 
 Among the teachers who then adorned the capitnL 
 was remarked a man of very small stature, of mean 
 appearance, and humble origin, whose intellect, learn- 
 ing, and powerful eloquence, had an indescribable charm 
 over his hearers. He was named Lefevre, and was 
 born about 14.55, at Etaples, a small place in Picardv. 
 He had received only a rude, or as Theodore Beza calls 
 it, a barbarous education ; but his genius had supplied 
 the place of teachers, and his piety, learning, and 
 nobleness of character only shone with greater lustre. 
 He had travelled much. It would even seem that the 
 desire of extending his knowledge had taken him to 
 Asia and Africa.^ As early as 1493, Lefevre, who had 
 taken his degree as doctor in theology, was a professor 
 
 1 See his Commentaiy on the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians, where 
 tliere is a singular account of Mecca and its temple from a traveller. 
 
 CATHEDRAL. TOURS. 
 
 This man, with all his learning, submitted, with the 
 simplicity of a cliild, to all the ordinances of the Church. 
 He spent as much time in churches as in his study, so 
 that an intimate connection might have been predicted 
 between the old doctor of Picardy and the young 
 
LEFEVRE AND FAREL MEET. 
 
 scholar of Dauphiny, Wlien two natiu-es, so nmch 
 alike, meet, they draw fo each other. In his pious 
 piip^riina^^es, younj;; Farel soon remarked an old man, 
 and wa.s struck with his devoutness. He prostrated 
 himself before the images, and, remaining long upon 
 his knees, prayed with fervour, and devoutly repeated 
 his hours. " Never," says Farel, " had I seen any 
 singer of mass who sang it with greater reverence. 
 This was Lefevre. "William Farel immediately desired 
 to approach him, and was overjoyed when this cele- 
 brated man kindly accosted him. William had gained 
 his object in coming to the capital. From this time 
 his greatest iiappiness was to convei-sc with the doctor 
 of Etaples, to hear him and his admirable lectures, and 
 devoutly prostrate himself with him before the same 
 images. Old Lefevre and his young pupil were often 
 seen carefully decking an image of the Virgin with 
 (lowers ; and far from all Paris, far from pupils and 
 teachers, muttering together by themselves the fervent 
 prayers which they addressed to Mary. 
 
 The attachment of Farel for Lefevre being observed 
 by several, the respect which was felt for the old doc- 
 tor was reflected on his young disciple. This illustrious 
 friendship brought the stranger of Dauphiny out of 
 obscurity. He soon gained a name for zeal, and seve- 
 ral rich and devout persons in Paris entrusted him with 
 different sums for the maintenance of poor students. 
 
 Some time elapsed before Lefevre and his pupil came 
 to a clear view of the truth. It was not the hope of a 
 rich benefice, nor a longing for a life of dissoluteness, 
 that attached Farel to the pope : these vulgarities were 
 not made for such a soul. To him the pope was the 
 visible head of the Church — a sort of god, by whose 
 commands souls were saved. If he heard a word 
 uttered against his venerated pontiff, he gnashed his 
 teeth like a raging wolf, and could have wished the 
 thunder to strike the guilty individual, and thereby 
 "completely sink and ruin him." — "I believe," said 
 he, "in the cross, in pilgrimages, in images, vows, and 
 bones. What the priest holds in his hands, puts in the 
 box, encloses, eats, and gives to be eaten, is my only 
 true God. I have no other, either in heaven or on the 
 earth." — " Satan," said he, on another occasion, " had 
 lodged the pope, the papacy, and all that belongs to it, 
 in my heart, so that even the pope had not so much of 
 it in himself." 
 
 Thus, the more Farel seemed to seek God, the 
 more his piety languished, and the more superstition 
 increased in his soul; everytliini; \m nl fnnii bad to 
 woi-se. He has himself descrilnil lii~ vt.iir ^vith great 
 energy. " Oh ! how I am horrilicJ at myself and my 
 faults, when I think how great and wonderful the 
 work of God in making it possible for man to be 
 delivered from such an abyss !" 
 
 But though he was delivered, it was only by degrees. 
 At first he had read profane authors ; but his piety, 
 finding no nurture in them, he began to meditate on 
 the lives of the saints ; foolish as he was, these lives 
 made him become still more foolish. He then attached 
 himself to several teachers of the day ; but after com- 
 ing to them unhappy, he left them miserable. He at 
 length began to study the ancient philosophers, and 
 expected Aristotle would teach him how to be a Chris- 
 tian : his hopes were still disappointed. Books, ima- 
 
 ges, relics, Aristotle, Mary, and the saints, all were 
 useless. This ardent soul passed from one human 
 wisdom to another human wisdom, without ever find- 
 ing wherewith to appease the hunger which was wast- 
 ing him. 
 
 Meanwhile, the pope allowing the writings of the 
 Old and New Testaments to be called the //o/y Bible, 
 Farel began to read them, as Luther once did in the 
 cloister of Erfurt ; and he stood quite aghast, on see- 
 ing that everything on the earth was different from 
 what the Holy Scriptures enjoin. Perhaps he was on 
 the eve of arriving at the truth, but suddenly double 
 darkness fell upon him, and he was plunged into a 
 new abyss. " Satan suddenly arrived," says he, " in 
 order that he might not lose his possession, and dealt 
 with me according to his custom." A fierce struggle 
 between the Word of God and the word of the Church 
 then arose in his heart. When he met with any pas- 
 sages of Scripture opposed to the usage.s of Rome, he 
 held down his eyes, blushed, and durst scarcely believe 
 what he read. " Ah ! " said he, fearing to fix his eyes 
 on the Bible, "I don't well understand such things. 
 I must give these Scriptures another meaning than 
 they seem to have. I must keep to the interpretation 
 of the Church and the view of the pope ! " 
 
 One day when he was reading the Bible, a doctor 
 having entered, rebuked him sharply. " No man," 
 said he, "should read the Holy Scriptures till he has 
 learned philosophy, and finished his course of arts." 
 This was a preparation which the apostles had not 
 demanded ; but Farel believed it was. " I was," says 
 he, " the unhappiest of men, shutting my eyes that I 
 might not see." 
 
 Thenceforth there was in the young Dauphinist a 
 revival of Romish fervour. The legends of the saints 
 excited his imagination. The more severe the monas- 
 tic rules were, the greater his inclination for them. 
 Carthusians dwelt in gloomy cells in the midst of 
 woods. He visited them with respect, and took part 
 in their abstinences. "I employed myself entirely, night 
 and day," says he, " in serving the devil, according to 
 the man of sin — the pope. I had my Pantheon in my 
 heart, and so many intercessors, so many saviours, so 
 many gods, that I might well have been taken for a 
 popish register." 
 
 The darkness could not become greater, the star of 
 the morning was soon to rise, and it was at Lefevre's 
 word that it was to appear. In the doctor of Etaples 
 there were already some rays of light : a feeling within 
 told him that the Church could not remain in the state 
 in which it then was ; and often, at the very moment 
 when he was returning from mass, or rising up from 
 before some image, the old man turned to his young 
 pupil, and, grasping his hand, said to him with a grave 
 tone : " My dear William, God will renovate the world, 
 as you shall see." Farel did not perfectly understand 
 these words. Lefevre, however, did not confine him- 
 self to mysterious expressions. A gi-eat change which 
 then took place in himself was to produce a similar 
 change in his pupil. 
 
 The old doctor was engaged in a work of vast labour. 
 He was carefully collecting the legends of the saints 
 and martyrs, and arranging them according to the 
 order of their names in the calendar. Two months 
 
362 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 were already printed, when one of those rays which 
 come from above beamed upon his soul. He could not 
 withstand the disgust which childish superstitions be- 
 got iu a Cliristian heart. The grandeur of the AYord 
 of God made him sensible of the wretchedness of these 
 fables. They now appeared to him nothing better 
 than "sulphur to kindle the fire of idolatry." He 
 abandoned his task, and throwing away the legends, 
 turned with affection to the second volume. The 
 moment when Lefevre, quitting the marvellous tales 
 of the saints, laid his hand upon the Word of God, is 
 the comraeucement of a new era iu France, and the 
 beginuiug of its Reformation. 
 
 In fact, Lefevre, on returning from the fables of the 
 Breviary, began to study the Epistles of St. Paul. The 
 light grew rapidly in his heart, and he immediately put 
 his pupils in possession of that knowledge of the truth 
 which we find in his Commentaries. Strange to the 
 school and to the age were those doctrines which were 
 then heard in Paris, and which the press diffused over 
 the Christian world. We easily conceive that the 
 young scholars who listened to them were struck, 
 moved, changed ; and that thus, even before the year 
 1512, the dawn of a new day was prepared for France. 
 
 The doctrine of justification by faith, which at one 
 blow overthrew the subtleties of the schoolmen, and 
 the observances of the papacy, was openly announced 
 in the bosom of the Sorbonne. "It is God alone," 
 said the doctor — and the halls of the university must 
 have been astonished when they re-echoed these strange 
 words — " it is God alone, who by His grace, through 
 faith, justifies unto eternal life. There is a righteous- 
 ness of works, and there is a righteousness of grace ; 
 the one comes from man, the other from God ; the one 
 is early and transient, the other is divine and eternal ; 
 the one is the shadow and the sign, the other is the 
 light and the truth; the one gives the knowledge of 
 sin in order that we may flee from death, the other 
 gives knowledge of grace that we may obtain life." 
 
 " What, then !" it was asked, on hearing doctrines 
 which contradicted those of four previous centuries ; 
 " was there ever a single man justified without works 1" 
 — " A single man !" replied Lefevre, " innumerable 
 men. How many among people of bad lives have 
 ardently desired the grace of baptism, having only 
 faith in Christ, and have, if they died immediately after, 
 entered the mansions of the blessed without works !" — 
 " But some will say, if we are not justified by works, 
 it is in vain for us to do them." The doctor of Paris 
 replied — and perhaps the other reformers would not 
 have entirely approved of the reply: " Certainly not ; 
 it is not in vain. If I hold a mirror turned toward 
 the sun, it receives the sun's image. The more it is 
 polished and cleaned, the more brilliant the image 
 is ; but if it is soiled the brilliancy is lost. It is the 
 same with justification in those who lead an impure 
 life." Lefevre, in this passage, as St. Augustine in 
 several, perhaps does not distinguish sutticiently be- 
 tween justification and sanctification. The doctor of 
 Etaples reminds us somewhat of the Bishop of Hippo. 
 Those who lead an impure life have never had justifi- 
 cation, and consequently they cannot lose it. But per- 
 haps Lefevre meant, that when the Christian falls into 
 some fault, he loses the impression of his salvation, not 
 
 salvation itself. In that case there is nothing to 
 object to his doctrine. 
 
 Thus a new life and a new doctrine had penetrated 
 the university of Paris. The doctrine of faith, whicli 
 a Pothinus and an Irena;us preached of old in Gaul, 
 again resounded. Thenceforth there were two parties 
 and two classes of people in this great school of Chris- 
 tendom. The lessons of Lefevre, the zeal of his 
 scholars, formed a very striking contrast with the 
 scholastic lectures of the greater part of the teachers, 
 and the fickle giddy lives of the greater part of the 
 students. In colleges, to learn to play parts iu comedy, 
 to deck in putting on grotesque dresses, and acting 
 farces in the streets, than iu studying to become 
 acquainted with the oracles of God. These farces 
 often attacked the honour of grandees, princes, and 
 the king himself. The parliament interposed about 
 the time of which we speak, calling the principals of 
 several colleges before it, and forbidding these indul- 
 gent masters to allow such comedies to be performed 
 in their houses. 
 
 But these disorders were suddenly corrected by a 
 more powerful dissuasive than the decrees of parlia- 
 ment. Jesus Christ was taught. Rumour was loud 
 on the benches of the university, and the students be- 
 gan to occupy themselves almost as much with evan- 
 gelical doctrines as with the subtleties of the school, 
 or with comedies. Several of those whose lives were 
 not the most irreproachable, stood out for works ; and 
 perceiving that the doctrine of faith condemned their 
 conduct, maintained that St. James was opposed to 
 St. Paul. Lefevre determined to defend the treasure 
 which he had discovered, and demonstrated the agree- 
 ment of the two apostles. " Does not St. James say 
 (chap, i.) that every good and perfect gift cometh 
 from above ? Now, who denies that justification is 
 the perfect gift, the crowning grace ? . . . When 
 we see an individual breathe, we regard it as a sign of 
 life. Thus works are necessary, but only as signs of 
 a living faith, which justification accompanies. Do 
 collyriiums or purifications give light to the eye ? 
 No ; it is the power of the sun. Very well ; these 
 purifications and these collyriiums are oiu- works. The 
 only ray which the sun darts from above is justifica- 
 tion itself." 
 
 At these lectures Farel was an eager listener. This 
 doctrine of salvation by grace had soon an indescrib- 
 able charm for him. Every objection gave way; all 
 struggle ceased. No sooner had Lefevre broached the 
 doctrine, than Farel embraced it with his whole soul. 
 He had had enough of toils and wrestlings to know 
 that he could not save himself. Accordingly, as soon 
 as he saw in the Word that God saves gratuitously, 
 he believed. " Lefevre," says he, " drew me off from 
 my false idea of merit, and taught me that everything 
 comes by grace : this I believed as soon as it was told 
 me." Thus by a sudden and decisive conversion, like 
 that of St. Paul, was brought to the faith this Farel, 
 who, as Theodore Beza expresses it, not being deterred 
 by threatenings, or insults, or blows, won for Jesus 
 Christ Montbelliard, Neufchatel, Lausanne, Aigle, 
 and lastly Geneva. 
 
 Meanwhile Lefevre, continuing his lectm'es, and tak- 
 ing pleasure, like Luther, in employing contrasts and 
 
CONVERSION OF FAREL. 
 
 paradoxes wluch cover great truths, extolled the 
 grandeur of the mystery of redenii)tioii. "Ineffable 
 exchange!" exclaimed he, " innocence is condemned and 
 the guilty is acquitted ; blessing is cursed, and he who 
 was cursed is blest; life dies and deatii receives life; 
 glory is covered with confusion, and he who was con- 
 fouiidod is covered witii glory." The pious doctor, 
 penetrating still fiu-ther, perceived that all salvation 
 emanates from the love of God. "Those who are 
 saved," said he, " are so by election, by grace, by the 
 will of God, and not by tlieir own will. Our election, 
 our will, our works, are without efficacy; the election 
 of God alone is most powerful. When we are con- 
 verted, our couveision docs not make us the elect of 
 God ; but the grace, the will, the election of God con- 
 vert us." 
 
 But Lefevre did not stop at doctrines. While he 
 rendered glory to God, he demanded obedience from 
 man, and urged the obligations flowing from the high 
 privileges of the Christian. " If thou art of the 
 Church of Christ, thou art of the body of Christ, thou 
 art filled with the Divinity; for the fulness of the 
 Godhead dwells in Him bodily." Oh! if men could 
 comprehend this privilege, how carefully they woidd 
 maintain purity, chastity, and holiness, and account 
 all the glory of' the world disgrace in comparison of the 
 inward glory which is hidden from the eye of sense ! 
 
 Lefevre felt that the teacher of the Word holds a 
 high othce ; and he exercised it with unshaken fidelity. 
 The corruption of the period, and particularly that of 
 the clergy, excited his indignation, and was made the 
 subject of severe lectures. " What a shame," said he, 
 " to see a bishop entreating ])eople to drink with him, 
 making gaming his only study, handling the dice and 
 cornet, taking up his time with birds and dogs, con- 
 stantly hunting and shouting after beagles «nd hares, 
 entering houses of debauchery ! . . . O men, 
 more deserving of punishment than Sardauapahis 
 himself ! " 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ■i-l and the Saints— The University— Conversion of Parel— Farel and 
 Luther— Othi<r Disciples— Date of the Reformation in France— The 
 DifTortnt Rcfoinis Spontaneous— Wliich is tlie First?— Place Due to 
 
 TVius spake Lefevre. Farel listened, thrilled with 
 delight, received all, and threw himself into the new 
 j)ath suddenly opened before him. There was, how- 
 ever, a point of his old creed which, as yet, he was 
 unable to yield ; this was the saints and the invocation 
 of them. The best intellects often have these remains 
 of d.arkness, and retain them after their illumination. 
 Farel listened with astonishment, when the illustrious 
 doctor declared tliat Christ alone v,-as to be invoked. 
 " Religion," said Lefevre, " has only one foundation, 
 one aim, one head, Jesus Christ, who is blessed for 
 ever. He alone trod the wine-press ; and therefore 
 we do not take our name from St. Paul, ApoUos, or 
 St. Peter. The cross of Christ alone opens heaven, 
 and alone shuts the gate of hell." On hearing these 
 
 words, there was a great struggle in Farel's soul. On 
 tlie one hand he saw the multitude of the saints with 
 the Church; on the other, Jesus Christ alone was his 
 Master. Sometimes lie leant to the one side, and 
 sometimes to the other. It was his last error and his 
 last combat ; he hesitated, he still felt attached to the 
 venerated men at whose feet Rome falls prostrate. 
 At Iciiiih ih.' ill risive blow was given from on high. 
 Tlie sr.iKs 1.11 lidui his eyes. Jesus alone appeared 
 wortliy i>f ;i'loi:iiii)ii. "Then," says he, "the papacy 
 was eutii'ely ovirlliruwn : I began to detest it as dia- 
 bolical ; and the lioly Word of God had the first place 
 in my heart." 
 
 Public events hastened the progress of Farel and his 
 friends. Thomas de Vio, who, at a later period, had 
 a wrestle with Luther at Augsburg, having in one of 
 his works advanced that the pope was absolute mon- 
 arch of the Church, Louis XII. laid the work before 
 the university, in the month of February, 1512. 
 James Allman, one of the youngest doctors, a man of 
 profound genius and an indefatigable student, in a full 
 assembly of the faculty of theology, and amid great 
 applause, read a refutation of the assertions of the 
 cardinal. 
 
 What impression must not such addresses have 
 produced on Lefevre's young scholars ! Could they 
 hesitate when the university seemed impatient of the 
 papal yoke 1 If the main body began to move, must 
 not they hasten on iu front as pioiieeis ? "It was 
 necessary," says Farel, "tlial lli.' papacy should fall 
 in my heart by little and litllc; I.t it did not come 
 down at the first stroke." IIu cuiitumphited the abyss 
 of superstition into which he had been plunged. 
 Arrested on its banks, he once more, with uneasiness, 
 surveyed all its depths, and recoiled with a feeling of 
 terror. " Oh, how much I am horrified at myself and 
 my faults !" he exclaimed. " O Lord !" continued he, 
 " if my soul had served thee with a living faith, as thy 
 faithful servants have done ; if it had prayed and 
 honoured thee as much as my heart did the mass, and 
 served this magic morsel, giving it all honour !" Thus 
 the youth of Dauphiny deplored his past life, and 
 repeated, with tears, like St. Augustine of old : " Too 
 late have I known, too late have I loved thee." 
 
 Farel had found Jesus Christ, and having arrived 
 in port, was happy to rest, after long tempests. " Now," 
 said he, " everything presents itself in a new light. 
 The Scriptures are made clear, the prophets are opened, 
 the apostles shed great light upon my soul. A voice, 
 hitherto unknown, — the voice of Christ my Shepherd, 
 my Master, my Teacher, — speaks to me with power." 
 He was so changed, that instead of the murderous 
 heart of a ravening wolf, he returned, he said, calmly 
 as a meek and lovely lamb, witli a heart entirely with- 
 drawn from the pope, and devoted to Jesus Christ. 
 
 Escaped from this great evil, he turned towards the 
 Bible, and began the diligent study of Greek and 
 Hebrew. He constantly read the Holy Scriptures, and 
 always with deeper affection, God enlightening him 
 from day to day. He still continued to attend the old 
 worship in the churches. But what did he find in it ? 
 Innumerable cries and chants, and words pronounced 
 without meaning. Accordingly, often in the midst of 
 the multitude who were thronging towards an image 
 
?,Gi 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 or an altar, he exclaimed : " Thou alone art God : 
 thou alone art wise : thou alone art good ! Nothing 
 is to be taken from thy holy law, nothing added to it ; 
 for thou art the Lord alone, who wiliest and oughtest 
 to command." 
 
 Thus, in his eyes, all men and all teachers fell from 
 the heights on which his imagination had placed them ; 
 he no longer saw anything in the world but God and 
 His Word. The persecutions which the other teachers 
 of Paris employed against Lefevre, lost them his good 
 opinion. But shortly Lefevre himself, his beloved 
 guide, was nothing to him but a man. He always 
 loved and revered him, but God only became his master. 
 
 Of all the reformers, Farel and Luther, perhaps, are 
 those whose spiritual developments we know best, and 
 wlio had to endure the greatest conflicts. Keen and 
 ardent, men of attack and battli.'. thoy liud tn inaiiitaiii 
 violent struggles before tlu'v oliiainrd pear(\ l-'ai-ol 
 
 is the pioneer of the Reformation in Switzerland ; he 
 throws himself into the thicket ; he takes his axe and 
 hews down the secular forests. Calvin comes at a later 
 period, as does Melancthon, from whom, no doubt, he 
 differs in regard to disposition, but with whom he 
 shares the character of theologian and organizer. 
 These two men — the one in the graceful, the other in 
 the stern, class of character — somewhat resemble the 
 lawgivers of antiquity. They build up, constitute, and 
 make laws in the countries which the two previous 
 reformers had gained. Still, if Luther and Farel 
 have some features in common, it must be acknow- 
 
 I ledged that the latter is only an inferior resemblance. 
 
 I Besides his superior genius, Luther had, in everything 
 which concerned the Chiu-ch, a moderation, a wisdom, 
 
 I a knowledge of the past, a comprehensiveness of view, 
 anil i'\('ii an i>ri;aniziiii; ]i(i\voi'. wliicli exist not to the 
 
 — ->&:. 
 
 ^:^^^-j^: 
 
 Farel was not the only young Frenchman in whom 
 new light then arose. The doctrines which proceeded 
 from the mouth of the illustrious doctor of Etaples 
 were working in the minds of the multitude who fol- 
 lowed his lessons. In his school were formed brave 
 soldiers, who on the day of battle were to fight on to 
 the very foot of the scaffold. They listened, compared, 
 and discussed, arguing keenly on both sides. It is not 
 improbable that among the small number of scholars 
 who defended the truth, was young Peter Robert 
 Olivetan, born at Noyon, towards the end of the fif- 
 teenth century, who, at a later period, translated the 
 Bible into French, after the translation of Lefevre ; 
 and appears to have been the first to bring the doc- 
 trines of the Gospel under the notice of a young kins- 
 man, also a native of Noyon, and afterwards the most 
 distinguished leader of the Reformation. 
 
 Thus, before 1512, at a time when Luther had not 
 yet acfjuired any distinction in the world, and was 
 setting out to Rome on a concern of monks, at a period 
 when Zwingle had not even begun to devote himself 
 
 zealously to sacred literature, and was crossing the 
 Alps with the confederates to fight for the pope, Paris 
 and France heard the delivery of those vital truths 
 out of which the Reformation was to spring, and minds 
 fitted to propagate them were receiving them with holy 
 avidity. Hence, Theodore Beza, speaking of Lefevre 
 of Etaples, hails him as the individual "who courage- 
 ously began the revival of the pure religion of Jesus 
 Christ;" and he remarks that, "in the same way as 
 the school of Isocrates was anciently seen to furnish 
 the best orators, so from the audience of the doctor of 
 Etaples proceeded several of the most distinguished 
 men of their age and of the Church." 
 
 The Reformation in France, therefore, was not a 
 foreign importation. It had its birth on the French 
 soil ; it germinated in Paris ; it had its first roots in the 
 university itself, which formed the second power in 
 Roman Christendom. God placed the principles of 
 the work in the honest hearts of men of Picardy and 
 Dauphiny before its commencement in any other coun- 
 try. We have seen that the Swiss Reformation was 
 
DATE OF THE REFORMATION IN FRANCE. 
 
 3G5 
 
 independent of the German Reformation. Tlie French 
 Reformation was, in its turn, independent of both. 
 Tlie worlc began at once in tlieso different countries 
 without any communication with each otlier; as in a 
 battle, all the difl'crent forces composing the army 
 move at tlio same instant, though the one does not tell 
 the other to march, because one and the same command, 
 proceeding from the commander-in-chief, is heard by 
 all. The time was accomplished, the people were 
 prepared, and God began the renovation of His Church 
 in all quarters at once. Such facts demonstrate that 
 the great revolution of the sixteenth century was a 
 Divine work. 
 
 CATHEDRA 
 
 If regard is had only to dates, it must be acknow- 
 ledged that the honour of commencing the work be- 
 longs neither to Switzerland nor to Germany, although 
 these two countries only have hitherto claimed it. 
 The honour truly belongs to France. This is a fact 
 which we purpose to establish, because it seems to 
 have been hitherto overlooked. Without dwelling on 
 the influence which Lcfevre exerted, directly or indi- 
 rectly, over several individuals, and in particular, 
 perhaps over Calvin himself, let us attend to that 
 which he had over one of his pupils, over Farel, and to 
 the energetic activity which this servant of God thence- 
 forth displayed. After this, how can we resist the 
 conviction, that even though Zwingle and Luther 
 should never have appeared, there would have been a 
 movement of reform in France 1 It is impossible, no 
 doubt, to calculate what would have been its extent ; 
 it must even be acknowledged that the rumour of 
 what was going on beyond the Rhine and the Jura 
 animated, and, at a later period, quickened the pace of 
 the French reformers, tjtill, they were the first whom 
 the blast of the heavenly trumpet in the sixteenth 
 
 century awoke, and they were the first who appeared 
 equipped and aiTayed on the field of battle. 
 
 Nevertheless, Luther is the great workman of the 
 sixteenth century, and in the most extensive sense the 
 first reformer. Lefevre is not a complete reformer, 
 like Calvin, Farel, and Luther. He is of Witteraberg 
 and Geneva, but has also a tinge of the Sorbonne ; he 
 is the first Catholic in the reform movement, and the 
 liist of the reformed in the Catholic movement. He 
 remains to the last a kind of go-between — a somewhat 
 mysterious mediator, designed to remind us, that though 
 there is apparently an impassable abyss between the 
 old and the new things, there is still a connection 
 between them. Repulsed and pereecuted by Rome, he 
 is still attached to Rome by a feeble thread which he 
 is unwilling to break. Lefevre of Etaples has a place 
 of his own in the theology of the sixteenth century. 
 He is the link which connects ancient with modern 
 times — the individual in whom the transition is made 
 from the theology of the Middle Ages to the theology 
 of the Reformation. 
 
 CmU^TER IV. 
 
 Character of Fiaccis I. — Beginning of Modem Times — Liberty and Obedience 
 —Margaret of Valois— Tlic Court— Brigonnet, Count of Montbruu— 
 Lefevre applies to the Bible — Francis I. and his "Sons" — The Gospel 
 brought to Margaret— A Conversion— Adoration— Character of Margaret 
 
 Thus the whole university was in motion. But the 
 Reformation in France was not to be merely the work 
 of learned men. It was to be established among the 
 grandees of the world, and even at the court of the 
 king. 
 
 Young Francis of Augouleme, cousin-german of 
 Louis Xn., and his son-in-law, had succeeded him. His 
 beauty, his address, his bravery, his love of pleasure, 
 made him the first chevalier of his time. He aspired, 
 however, to something higher ; he wished to be a great, 
 and even a good king, provided everything could bend 
 to his sovereign will. Valour, love of letters, and gal- 
 lantry: these three words sufficiently express the cha- 
 racter of Francis, and the spirit of his age. At a 
 later period two other illustrious kings — Henry IV., 
 and in particular Louis XIV. — presented the same 
 features. These princes wanted what the Gospel 
 gives ; and although the nation has never been without 
 elements of holiness and Christian elevation, it may be 
 said that these three great mouarchs of modern France 
 stamped their own character on their subjects, or 
 rather, their own character was a faithful representa- 
 tion of the character of their subjects. Had the 
 Gospel entered France through the most illustrious of 
 the Valois, it would have given to the nation what it 
 has not — a spiritual tendency, a Christian holiness, an 
 understanding in Divine things ; and would thus have 
 made it complete in that which contributes most to the 
 power and greatness of kingdoms. 
 
 Lender the reign of Francis I. France and Europe 
 passed from the IMiddle Ages to modern times. The 
 new world, which was in embryo when this prince 
 mounted the throne, then grew up and entered into 
 
366 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 possession. Two classes of men exercised an influence 
 over the new society. On tlie cue hauil arose the men 
 of faith, who were, at tlie same time, the men of wis- 
 dom and lioliness ; and close beside them the writers of 
 the court, the friends of worldliness and disorder, who, 
 by the licentiousness of their principles, contributed as 
 much to the corruption of manners, as the former class 
 did to their reformation. 
 
 Had not Europe, in the days of Francis I., seen the 
 reformer arise, and had she, by a severe judgment of 
 Providence, been given up to intidel innovators, it was 
 all over both with her and with Christianity. The 
 danger was great. For some time these two classes of 
 combatants — tlie adversaries of the pope and of Jesus 
 Christ — were confounded together. Both calling for 
 liberty, seemed to make use of the same arms against 
 the same enemies. Amid the turmoil of the battle- 
 field, an inexperienced eye might have been uuable to 
 distinguish between them. Had the reformers allowed 
 themselves to be hurried along by the literati, all was 
 lost. The enemies of the hierarchy passed rapidly to 
 the extreme of impiety, and were pushing Christian 
 society into a frightful abyss. The papacy itself con- 
 tributed to this dreadful catastrophe, by its ambition 
 and disorders hastening the destruction of those remains 
 of truth and life which had continued in the Church. 
 But God raised up the Reformation, and Christianity 
 was saved. The reformers who had cried, "Liberty!" 
 shortly after shouted, "Obedience!" The very men 
 who had overturned the throne on which the Roman 
 pontiff delivered his oracles, prostrated themselves 
 before the Word of God. Tiie separation was now 
 precise and decisive ; even war was declared between 
 the two divisions of the army. The one had wished 
 liberty only for themselves, the other had claimed it 
 for the Word of God. The Reformation became the 
 most formidable enemy of this infidelity, for which 
 Rome often manifests some degree of indulgence. The 
 reformers, after restoring liberty to the Church, restored 
 religion to the world. Of the two gifts, the latter was 
 at this time the more necessarj-. 
 
 For a time the friends of infidelity hoped to count 
 among their number Margaret of Valois, duchess of 
 Alenfon, whom Frauds loved exceedingly, always, as 
 BrautOrae says, calling her his little pet. The same 
 tastes and the same talents existed in the brother and 
 the sister. Margaret, handsome like Francis, joined 
 the mild vii'tues which captivate to the strong qualities 
 which form great characters. In the world, at festivi- 
 ties, at the court of the king, as well as at that of the 
 emperor, she shone as a queen, charmed, astonished, 
 aud conquered all hearts. Passionately fond of litera- 
 ture, aud eudowed with rare talents, she retired to her 
 study, aud there gave herself up to the pleasures of 
 thinking, writing, and acquiring knowledge. But her 
 strongest wish was to do good, and prevent evil. When 
 ambassadors, after being received by the king, went 
 to pay their respects to Margaret, " they were," says 
 Brantome, " exceedingly delighted, and carried back 
 glowing descriptions of her to their country." 
 
 This celebrated priiicess was always of the strictest 
 morals; but while many people placed strictness in 
 word, and freedom in act, Margaret did the contrary. 
 Irreproachable in her conduct, she was not perfectly 
 
 so in respect of her writings. In place of being sur- 
 prised at this, perhaps the wonder ought rather to be, 
 that one so corrupt as Louisa of Savoy, had a daughter 
 so pure as Margaret. While journeying over the 
 country in the train of the court, she employed herself 
 in depicting the manners of the time, and in particular, 
 the corruption of priests and monks. Brantome says : 
 " I have heard it told by my grandmotiier, who always 
 travelled with her in her sedan, how she and her maid 
 of honour held the writing-desk." Such, according to 
 some, was the origin of the " Heptameron ;" but highly 
 distinguished modern critics are convinced that Mar- 
 garet was a stranger to this collection, sometimes more 
 than frivolous, and that Despe'riers, valet cle chamhre to 
 the queen, was its author. 
 
 This Margaret, so beautiful, so talented, and living 
 in the heart of a polluted atmosphere, was to be one 
 of the first who was to be caiTied along by the reli- 
 gions movement which then began to agitate France. 
 But in the midst of a court so dissolute, and the licen- 
 tious tales which amused it, how could the Duchess of 
 Alen9on be reached by the Reformation ? Her elevated 
 soul felt wants which the Gospel alone could satisfy: 
 grace acts everywhere ; aud Clu-istianity, which eveu 
 before an apostle had appeared in Rome, had adherents 
 in the house of Narcissus and in the court of Nero, 
 (Rom. xvi. 11; Phil. iv. 22,) soon penetrated, at its 
 revival, to the court of Francis I. Some ladies of the 
 court addressed the princess in the language of faith ; 
 and the sun which was then rising in France shed 
 some of its earliest rays on an illustrious head, by 
 which they were immediately reflected on the Duchess 
 of Alenfon. 
 
 Among the most distinguished nobles of the coiu't 
 was William de Montbrun, son of Cardinal Bri9onnet 
 of St. Malo, who had entered the Church after he 
 became a widower. Count William, who was pas- 
 sionately attached to literature, also took orders, aud 
 became successively Bishop of Lodeva aud of Meaux. 
 Sent twice to Rome as ambassador, he returned to 
 Paris without having been seduced by the charms and 
 pomp of Leo X. 
 
 Wheu he returned to France, the movement was 
 universally spread. Farel, master of arts, was teach- 
 ing in the celebrated college of Cardinal Lenioiue, one 
 of the four principal houses of the theological faculty 
 of Paris, and equal in rank to the Sorbonne. Two 
 countrymen of Lefevre, Arnaud and Gerald Roussel, 
 and others besides, enlarged this circle of free and 
 noble spirits. Brifonnet, who had just quitted the 
 festivities of Rome, was astonished at what had taken 
 place iu Paris during his absence. Thirsting for 
 knowledge, he renewed his old relations with Lefevre, 
 and shortly after passed precious hours with the doctor 
 of Sorbonne, Farel, the two Roussels, and their other 
 friends. Full of humility, this illustrious prelate was 
 willing to be instructed by the humblest individuals ; 
 but above all by oiu' Lord himself. "lam in dark- 
 ness," said he, " waiting for the interposition of Divine 
 grace, of which I have deprived myself by my demerits." 
 His spirit was, as it were, dazzled by the lustre of the 
 Gospel. He dared uot to look up on its unparalleled 
 refulgence. "All eyes united," he adds, "are insuffi- 
 cient to receive the light of this sun." 
 
MARGARET RECEIVES THE GOSPEL. 
 
 Lofcvrc had referrcil the bishop to the Bible ; he had 
 shewn him, as it were, the •iiiidiii;! tiiroiul which uhvays 
 conducts to the original truths of Christianit}', to which 
 it was antecedent to all schools, sects, ordinances, and 
 traditions; he had shewn him the powerful means by 
 ■which the religion of Jesus Christ is renewed. 15ri- 
 ^onnet read the Scriptures. '• The sweetness of Divine 
 food is so great," said lie, "that tiic longing of the 
 mind for it becomes insatiable; the more it is tasted, 
 the more it is desired." The simple and miglity truths 
 of salvation tilled him willi rapture ; he found Ciirist ; 
 he found God himself. *• Wliat vessel," ho exclaimed, 
 "is capable of receiving tlie full amount of inexhaust- 
 ible sweetness? But the lodging is enlarged according 
 to the desire which is felt to receive the good guest. 
 Faith is the cliamber which alone can lodge Ilim, or to 
 speak more properly, which makes us lodge in Hint." 
 At the same time the good bishop was grieved to see 
 this doctrine of life, which the Reformation was restor- 
 ing to the world, in so little esteem at court, in the city 
 among the people, and he exclaimed : " Oh singular, 
 most worthy, and by my fellows little relished inno- 
 vation !" . . . 
 
 Thus did evangelical sentiments pave a way for 
 themselves amidst the giddy, dissolute, and literary 
 court of Francis I. Several individuals who belonged 
 to it, and enjoyed the full confidence of the king, as 
 John du Bcllay, Bude, Cop the court physician, and 
 even Petit the king's confessor, seemed favourable to 
 the sentiments of Briyonnet and Lefevre. Francis, 
 who was fond of letters, and invited into his domains 
 learned men who were inclined to "Lutheranisni," and 
 who "expected," says Erasmus, ''thus to adorn and dis- 
 tinguish his reign more magnificently than he could 
 have done by trophies, pyramids, or the most gorgeous 
 buildings," was himself influenced by his sister, Bri- 
 9onnct, and tlie literati of his court and university. 
 He attended the discussions of the learned — took plea- 
 sure in hearing their conversation at table, and called 
 them '• his sons." He prepared the way for the AYord 
 of God, by founding chairs for the study of Hebrew 
 and Greek. Accordingly, Theodore Beza, on placing 
 his portrait at the head of those of the reformers, says : 
 "O pious beholder! shudder not at the view of his 
 adversary. Must not a share in this honour belong to 
 him who, after banishing barbarism from the world, 
 firmly fixed in its place three languages and sound 
 literature, to form as it were porticos to the new 
 edifice which was soon to be raised ?" 
 
 But at tlie court of Francis I. there was an indivi- 
 dual in particular who seemed prepared for the evan- 
 gelical influence of the doctor of Etaplcs and the 
 Bishop of Meaux. Alargaret, undecided and wavering 
 in the midst of the dissolute society around her, sought 
 support, and found it in the Gospel. Turning towards 
 the new truth which was reanimating the world, she 
 inhaled it with delight as an emanation from heaven. 
 Some ladies of her court informed her of what was 
 taught by the new teachers. She obtained their works 
 and small treatises, called, in the language of the times, 
 " Tracts." She heard the expressions : " Primitive 
 Church, pure Word of (iod, worship in spirit and in 
 truth, Christian liberty which shakes off superstition 
 and human traditions, and attaches itself to none but 
 
 God." Shortly after, this princess became personally 
 acquainted with Lefevre, Farel, and Roussel : she was 
 struck with everything about them, — their zeal, their 
 ))iety, and their manners ; but her principal guide in 
 the way of faith was the Bishop of Meaux, with whom 
 slie had long been intimate. 
 
 Thus was accomplished, amid the brilliant court of 
 Francis I., and the dissolute family of Louisa of Savoy, 
 one of those conversions of the heart which, in every 
 age, are produced by the Word of God. Margaret 
 afterwards embodied in verso the different movements 
 of her soul at this import.ant era iu her life. By this 
 means we are able to discover some traces of the patli 
 which she then traversed. We see that she was deeply 
 penetrated with a conviction of sin ; and that she be- 
 wailed the levity with which she had treated the 
 scandals of the world. She exclaims, — 
 
 " Wlial <t(-pth of rimishmeiit can possibly suffice, 
 E'eu fur a tenth part of the giult whieh on me lies?" 
 
 This corruption, of which she had so long been 
 unconscious, everywhere met her view, now that her 
 eyes were opened. 
 
 " Within, well do I feel I have the root ; 
 Without are branch, and flower, and leaf, and fruit." 
 
 Still, amid the alarm which she felt at the state of 
 her soul, she discovered that the God of peace had 
 drawn near to her. 
 
 " My God, to nic thou hast drawn nigh, 
 Although a naked worm am I." 
 
 Ere long the love of God in Christ was shed abroad 
 in her heart. 
 
 "My Father, then, . . . but who? yea the Eternal, 
 Always unseen, immutable, immortjil. 
 Who will forgive by grace each sin of mine ; 
 Tlierefore, O Lord, I cast me as a criminal 
 Before thy sacred feet, O sweet Emanuel ; 
 Have pity then on me, Father divine. 
 Thou art the altir— thou the sacrifioe— 
 Thou didst for us what doth indeed suffice. 
 Since God declares, 'tis pleasing in His eyes." 
 
 Margaret had found faith, and her soul became en- 
 raptured with holy transport. 
 
 "Word Divine! Christ Jesus! Lord: 
 Only Son of the Etenial God— 
 The first and last, and all-renewing 
 Bishop and King, in might triumphing. 
 From death, by death delivering. 
 Man is by faith made son of God, 
 And just and pure, kind like his Lord. 
 Man is by faith made free from stain ; 
 And man by faith in Christ doth reign, 
 By faith I Christ possess, all riches gain." 
 
 From this period a great change had been effected 
 in the Duchess of Aleufon. 
 
 " Jfyself poor, Ignorant, impotent, 
 
 Still the power of evil was not destroyed. She felt 
 111 her soul a disagreement, a struggle which astonished 
 her. 
 
HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 " Noble in mind, yet nature's slave, 
 Offspring of heaven, child of the grave ; 
 Throne of God, yet vessel of sin ; 
 Immortal, rottenness within ; 
 Nourished by God, on earth I feed. 
 Fleeing bad, yet loving evil deed. 
 Reason I love, yet justice shun, 
 And till my course on earth is done, 
 In strife like this my days must run." 
 
 Margaret, seeking for some natiu-al emblem which 
 might express the wants and affections of her soul, 
 took, says Brantome, that of the flower of the mari- 
 gold, "which, by its corolla and leaves, has the greatest 
 affinity with the sun, and follows it wherever it goes." 
 She added the following device : — 
 
 " ^07t inferiora secutus "— 
 
 " I follow not tlie things below." 
 
 " To testify," adds the courtly writer, " that she 
 directed all her actions, thoughts, wishes, and affec- 
 tions to this great Suu, which was God ; on this 
 account she was suspected of Luther's religion." 
 
 In fact, the princess soon experienced the truth of 
 the words, that All ivho will live godly in Christ Jesus 
 shall suffer jJersecution. Margaret's new opinions were 
 spoken of at court, and caused a great explosion. 
 What! even the king's sister belong to those people! 
 
 MARGARET OF 
 
 It might have been thought for some time that it was 
 all over with Margaret. She was denounced to Fran- 
 cis I. But the king, who was very fond of his sister, 
 affected to think there was nothing in it ; while Mar- 
 garet's own character gi-adually weakened opposition. 
 Every one loved her; for, says Brantome, " she was 
 very good, mild, gracious, charitable, of easy access, a 
 great almsgiver, despising no one, and gaining all 
 hearts by the good qualities which she had in her." 
 
 Amid the corruption and levity of this age, the mind 
 rests with delight on this choice soul, which the grace 
 
 of God could reach under all this vanity and worldly 
 grandeur. But her character as woman did not allow 
 her to go farther. If Francis I. had had the convic- 
 tions of his sister, he would doubtless have carried 
 them fully out. The timid heart of the princess 
 trembled before the wrath of her king. She was con- 
 tinually agitated bet^veen her brother and her Saviour, 
 unwilling to sacrifice either the one or the other. She 
 cannot be regarded as a Christian who had fully 
 attained to the liberty of the children of God ; but is 
 a perfect type of those superior minds, so numerous in 
 all ages, especially among females, who, while power- 
 fully drawn towards heaven, are, however, unable to 
 disengage themselves entirely from earthly ties. 
 
 Still, as she is, she is one of the remarkable charac- 
 ters of history. Neither Germany nor England pre- 
 sents us with a Margaret of Valois. The star is, no 
 doubt, somewhat dimmed, but there is a surpassing 
 softness in its light, and, even at the time of which I 
 am now speaking, this light is easily discerned. It was 
 not till a late period, when the angry look of Francis I. 
 betokened mortal hatred to the Gospel, that his sister, 
 in alarm, put a veil upon her faith. At present she lifts 
 her head in the midst of this corrupt court, and appears 
 in it as a bride of Jesus Clu-ist. The respect which 
 was paid to her, the high opinion entertained of her 
 intellect and her heart, pleaded the cause of the Gospel 
 before the court of France better than any preacher 
 could have done. This mild female influence gave 
 access to the new doctrine. Perhaps to this period 
 may be traced the leaning of the French nobility to 
 Protestantism. Had Francis also followed his sister — 
 had the whole nation been thrown open to Christianity, 
 the conversion of Margaret might have proved the sal- 
 vation of France. But while the nobiUty received the 
 Gospel, the throne and the people still adhered to 
 Rome. It was ultimately a great misfortune to the 
 Reformation to have had Condes and Navarres in its 
 bosom. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Enemies of the Reformation — Louisa— Duprat—Concordat at Bologna — 
 Opposition of the Parhament and the University— The Sorbonne— 
 Beda— His Character— His Tyranny— Berquin, the most Learned of 
 the Nobles— The Leaders of the Sorbonne— Heresy of the Three Mag- 
 dalenes— Luther Condemned at Paris— The Sorbonne Addi-esses the 
 King — Lefevre quits Paris for Means. 
 
 Thus the Gospel was already making illustrious con- 
 quests in France. In Paris, Lefevre, Bri90unet, Farel, 
 and Margaret, joyfully yielded to the movement which 
 was beginning to shake the world. Francis I. himself 
 at this time seemed more attracted by the charms of 
 literature than repulsed by the severity of the Gospel. 
 The friends of the Word of God were cherishing the 
 fondest hopes : they were thinking that the heavenly 
 doctrine would circulate without opposition throughout 
 their native land, when a formidable opposition was 
 formed at the Sorbonne and the court. France, which 
 was, during three centimes, to signalize herself in the 
 cause of Roman Catholicism by her persecutions, rose 
 
LOUISA-DUPRAT— THE CONCORDAT. 
 
 369 
 
 up with pitiless severity agaiust the Reformation. If, 
 in the seventeenth century, it was a bloody victory, in 
 the sixteenth it was a fearful struggle. Nowlicre, per- 
 haps, (lid the reformed Christians find more merciless 
 foes than on the very spots where they raised the 
 standard of the Gospel. In Germany, the enemy 
 manifested his rage in other states ; and in Switzer- 
 land, he manifested it in other cantons ; but in France, 
 the parties met face to face. A dissolute female, and 
 an avaricious minister, then stood at the head of a long 
 list of enemies of tlie Reformation. 
 
 Louisa of Savoy, the mother of the king and of 
 Margaret, notorious for her amours, despotic in her 
 wishes, and surrounded by a female court whose 
 licentiousness was the commencement of a long series 
 of immoralities and scandals in the court of France, 
 naturally arrayed herself against the Word of God. 
 She was the more to be dreaded in consequence of the 
 almost unlimited infiuenco which she always possessed 
 over her son. But the Gospel found a still more for- 
 midable adversary in Louisa's favourite, Anthony 
 Duprat, for whom she proc\n-cd the appointment of 
 chancellor of the kingdom. This man, whom a con- 
 temporary historian calls the most vicious of all bipeds, 
 was still more avaricious than Louisa was dissolute. 
 Having at fu-st enriched liimself at the expense of 
 justice, he afterwards wished to em-ich himself at the 
 expense of religion, and entered into orders that he 
 might obtain possession of the richest benefices. 
 
 Luxury and avarice were thus the characteristics of 
 these two personages, who, being both devoted to the 
 pope, sought to hide the scandals of their life in the 
 blood of heretics. 
 
 One of their first acts was to deliver the kingdom to 
 the ecclesiastical domination of the pope. The king, 
 after the battle of Marignan, met with Leo X. at 
 Bologna, where was concluded the famous concordat, 
 in virtue of which these two princes shared between 
 them the spoils of the Church. They deprived councils 
 of their supremacy, in order to give it to the pope; and 
 churches of the appointment to bishoprics and benefices, 
 to give it to the king. Then Francis I., holding up 
 the train of the pontiff's mantle, appeared in the cathe- 
 dral church of Bologna, to ratify the negotiation. He 
 felt the injustice of the concordat, and turning to 
 Duprat, whispered in his ear: ''There is enough in it 
 to damn us both." But what cared he for his salva- 
 tion ? All he wanted was money and an alliance with 
 the pope. 
 
 The parliament offered a vigorous resistance to the 
 concordat. The king caused its deputies to wait for 
 several weeks at Amboise, till one day, as he rose from 
 table, he ordered their attendance, and then said to 
 them : " There is a king in France, and I don't under- 
 stand that a senate exists in it as at Venice." Thus 
 saying, he ordered them to depart before sunset. Evan- 
 gelical liberty had nothing to hope from such a prince. 
 Three days after, Tremouille, the grand chamberlain, 
 appeared in parliament, and ordered that the concordat 
 should be registered. 
 
 The university was now agitated. On the 18th 
 March, 1518, a solemn procession, all the students and 
 bachelors attending in their gowns, walked to the 
 church of St, Catherine des Ecoliers, to supplicate the 
 
 Deity for the preservation of the liberties of the Church 
 and of tiie kingdom. " Then were seen colleges closed, 
 and scholars in armour walking over the town in large 
 bands, threatening, and sometimes maltreating person- 
 ages of note, while engaged, by command of the king, 
 in ])ublishing and executing the said concordat." At 
 last, liowever, the university tolerated its execution, 
 but without revoking the enactments by which it had 
 declared its opposition, " and thereupon," says Correro, 
 the ambassador of Venice, " the king bcgau liberally 
 to distribute bishoprics on the solicitation of the ladies 
 of the court, and give offices to his soldiers ; so that a 
 traffic in bishoprics and offices was carried on at the 
 court of France, in the same way as at Venice a traffic 
 is carried on in pepper and cinnamon." 
 
 While Louisa and Duprat were preparing to destroy 
 the Gospel by the destruction of the liberties of the 
 Galilean Church itself, in another direction a fanatical 
 and powerful party was formed against the Bible. 
 Christian truth has always had two great enemies — 
 the dissoluteness of tlie world, and the fanaticism of 
 priests. Scholastic Sorbonne and a licentious coiu-t 
 were to go hand in hand against the confessors of 
 Jesus Christ. In the early days of the Church, infidel 
 Sadducees and hypocritical Pharisees were the bitterest 
 enemies of Christianity; and they are so at all times. 
 The darkness of the schools soon sent forth the most 
 pitiless adversaries of the Gospel. At their head was 
 Noel Bedier, commonly called Beda, a Picard by birth, 
 and syndic of the Sorbonne, who has been described 
 as the greatest brawler and the most factious spirit of 
 his time. Trained in the dry sentences of scholastics, 
 having grown up among the theses and antitheses of 
 the Sorbonne, venerating every distinction of the school 
 far more than the Word of God, he wa.s transported 
 with rage against those whose audacious mouths dared 
 to utter other doctrines. Of a restless spirit, unable to 
 give himself any repose, always longing for new pur- 
 suits, he was the plague of all who were near him. 
 Trouble was his element ; he seemed made to create 
 storms; when he had no opponents, he attacked his 
 friends. An impetuous quack, he made the town and 
 the university echo with ignorant and violent declama- 
 tions against literature, against the innovations of the 
 time, and against all who were not at his beck eager 
 enough in suppressing them. Several laughed when 
 they heard him ; but others gave credit to the speeches 
 of the blustering orator, whUe the violence of his 
 character secured him a tyrannical ascendancy in the 
 Sorbonne. He behoved ever to have some opponent 
 to contend with, some victim to drag to the scaffold. 
 Accordingly, he had found heretics before they actually 
 existed, and had demanded that Merlin, vicar-general 
 of Paris, should be burnt for having attempted to justify 
 Origen. But when he saw the new teachers appear, 
 he bounded like the \\ild beast which suddenly comes 
 upon a prey which it can easily devour. " In our Beda 
 are three thousand monks," said the prudent Erasmus. 
 
 Still his very excesses injured his cause. " What !" 
 said the wisest men of the age, " is it on such an Atlas, 
 that the Romish Church is to repose ? What causes 
 the fire but the follies of Beda?" 
 
 In fact, the same blustering oratory which struck 
 terror into the feeble-minded, disgusted generous minds. 
 2b 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 At the court of Francis I. was a gentleman of Artois, 
 uanied Louis Berquiu, who was then about thirty years 
 of age, and unmarried. The purity of his life, his 
 profound knowledge, which procured liim the title of 
 " tlie most learned of the nobility," the frankness of his 
 disposition, his tender care of the poor, and the 
 unbounded attachment which he shewed to his friends, 
 distinguished him among his equals. The rites of the 
 Church, fasts, feasts, and masses, had not a stricter 
 observer ; in particular, he manifested a perfect horror 
 at everything that was called heresy. It was a mar- 
 vellous thing to see so much devotion at the coiu-t. 
 
 It seemed impossible that anything could dispose 
 sucli a man in favour of the Reformation. There were, 
 however, two features in his character which were 
 destined to bring him to the Gospel. He had a 
 thorough disgust at everything like dissimulation ; and 
 as he never wished to wrong a single individual, so he 
 could not bear to see anybody wronged. Hence, the 
 tyranny of Beda and other fanatics, their trickery and 
 persecution, filled him witli indignation ; and as he did 
 nothing by halves, wherever he went, in the city and 
 at the court, " even among the most distinguished of 
 the kingdom," he inveighed with the iitmost vehemence 
 against the tyranny of these doctors, and attacked, 
 " even in their hives," says Theodore Beza, " those 
 odious hornets which were at that time the terror of 
 the world." 
 
 Nor was this enough. Opposition to injustice led 
 Berquin to inquire after truth. He felt a desire to 
 know that Holy Scripture, so much loved by the men 
 against whom 13eda and his partisans were raging ; and 
 no sooner did he begin to read, than it won his heart. 
 Berquin was immediately brought into communication 
 with Margaret, Brifonnet, Lefevre, and all who loved 
 the Word, and from converse with them derived the 
 purest enjoyment. He felt that he had some other 
 thing to do than to oppose the Sorbonne. He could 
 have wished to make all France acquainted with the 
 convictions of his own soul. He accordingly began to 
 write and translate into French several Christian works. 
 It seemed to him that every one ought to acknowledge 
 and embrace the truth as promptly as he himself had 
 done. The impetuosity which Beda displayed in the 
 cause of human traditions, Berquin displayed in the 
 service of the Word of God. Younger than the syndic 
 of Sorbonne, less prudent, less able, his strength lay in 
 a noble eagerness for truth. Tiiey were two powerful 
 wrestlers, about to try which could throw down the 
 other. But Berquin had something else in view than 
 to give Beda a fall. Accordingly Theodore Beza says, 
 " that France would, perhaps, have found in Berquin 
 another Luther, could he have found in Francis I. 
 another elector." 
 
 Numerous obstacles were to trammel his efforts. 
 Fanaticism ever meets with followers : it is a fire which 
 increases as it goes. The monks and ignorant priests 
 followed in the train of the syndic of the Sorbonne. 
 An esp7-it de corps reigned in this company imder the 
 direction of certain intriguers and fanatics who knew 
 adroitly how to avail themselves of the nonentity or 
 vanity of their colleagues, in order to make them share 
 in their enmities. At each sitting these leaders were 
 the only spokesmen, overawing the others by their 
 
 violence, or reducing feeble and moderate men to 
 silence. No sooner did they make a proposal than 
 they exclaimed with threatening accents : " Now we 
 shall see who they are that belong to the faction of 
 Luther." Did any one give utterance to equitable 
 sentiments, Beda, Lecouturier, Duchesne, and their 
 whole band, seemed horrified, and exclaimed all at 
 once : " It is worse than Luther !" This manoeuvTe 
 was successful. The timid, who like better to live in 
 peace than to dispute, — those who are ready to abandon 
 their own sentiments for their individual advantage, — 
 those who do not understand the simplest questions, — 
 those, in fine, who are always di-iven from their posi- 
 tion by clamour, — were dragged along by Beda and 
 his tribe. Some remained mute, others shouted, all 
 gave implicit submission to the power which a proud 
 and tyrannical spirit exercises over vulgar souls. Such 
 was the condition of this company, which was regarded 
 as so venerable, and which was then the most impas- 
 sioned enemy of evangelical Christianity. A glance 
 at the most celebrated bodies would often be sufiicient 
 to set a just value on the war which they wage against 
 truth. 
 
 Thus the university which, under Louis XII., had 
 applauded the attempts at independence by Allniain, 
 again plunged all at once into fanaticism and servility 
 under Duprat and Louisa of Saxony. If we except 
 the Jansenists, and some other teachers, we nowhere 
 find a true and noble independence in the Galilean 
 clergy. All they have done has been to oscillate be- 
 tween servility towards the coiu't and servility towards 
 the pope. If under Louis XII. or Louis XIV., there 
 was some appearance of liberty, it was because their 
 master of Paris was then contending with their master 
 of Rome. This explains the sudden change to which 
 we have just referred. The university and the bishops 
 ceased to remember their rights and their duties the 
 moment the king ceased to demand it of them. 
 
 Beda had long been irritated against Lefe^Te. The 
 fame of the doctor of Picardy enraged his fellow- 
 countryman and offended his pride. He could have 
 wished to shut Lefevre's mouth. Once akeady had 
 Beda attacked the doctor of Etaples ; and little skilled 
 as he was in discerning evangelical doctrines, he had 
 attacked his colleague on a point which, strange as it 
 may seem, well-nigh brought Lefevre to the scaffold. 
 Lefevi'e had maintained that Mary, the sister of Lazarus, 
 Mary Magdalene, and the woman that was a sinner, of 
 whom St. Luke speaks, (Luke xvii.,) were three dif- 
 ferent individuals. The Greek Fathers had distin- 
 guished between them ; but the Latin Fathers had 
 confounded them. This dreadful heresj/ of the three 
 Magdalenes set Beda and all liis host in motion. 
 Christendom was aroused. Fisher, bishop of Rochester, 
 one of the most distinguished prelates of that age, 
 wrote against Lefevre, and the whole Church decided 
 against an opinion now received by all Roman Catholics. 
 Lefevre, who had been previously condemned by the 
 Sorbonne, was prosecuted as a heretic by the Parlia- 
 ment, when Francis I., who was delighted at the 
 opportunity of striking a blow at the Sorbonne, and 
 humbling monkery, rescued him from the hands of his 
 persecutors. 
 
 Beda, indignant at being deprived of his victim, 
 
LUTHER CONDEMNED AT PARIS. 
 
 371 
 
 determined to take his mciisuvcs better next time. 
 Luther's name was beginning to make a noise iu 
 France. The reformer, after the Leipsic discussion 
 witii Dr. Eck, had agreed to submit to tlic decision of 
 the uiiivei-sities of Erfurt and Paris. Tiio zeal which 
 the luiivcrsity had disphiyed against the concordat, 
 doubtless, made liim hope that lie would find impartial 
 judges in its bosom. But times had changed; and the 
 more decision tlie faculty had shewn against the 
 eiici-ouciinn'iits of IJome, the more it wiis bent on 
 di>|il:iyiiig Rome's ortliodoxy. Ecda tlius found it 
 ([iiile iiK'liiuiI to enter into his views. 
 
 On the 2(Uh January, 1520, tlie censor of the French 
 nation purciiascd twenty copies of Luther's conference 
 with Dr. Eck, for tiie purpose of distributing them 
 among the members of the company who were to 
 report on this affair. More than a year was employed 
 in tiie investigation. The Reformation of Germany 
 was beginning to make an immense seu.sation in France. 
 The universities, wliich were tlicu institutions of true 
 catholicity, and whicli were attended by crowds of 
 students from all tlie countries of Christenelom, brought 
 Germany, France, Switzerland, and England, into 
 closer ami readier connection in regard to theology and 
 philosophy, than is the case at the present day. Tiie 
 noise which Luther's work had made at Paris, strengtli- 
 ened the hands of the Lefevres, Bri9onnets, and FareLs. 
 Each of his victories animated them with courage. 
 Several of the doctors of Sorbonne were struck vnth 
 the admirable truths which they found in the writings 
 of the monk of Wittemberg. Candid confessions were 
 made ; but at the same time fierce opposition was 
 aroused. "All Europe," says Crcvicr, "were anxiously 
 awaiting the decision of the university of Paris." 
 The struggle seemed doubtfid ; but at last Beda carried 
 the day. In April, 1521, the university decided that 
 Luther's works should be publicly committed to the 
 flames, and that their author should be compelled to 
 recant. 
 
 Nor was this enough. Indeed, the disciples of 
 Luther had crossed the Rhine still more rapidly than 
 his writings. " In a short time," says the Jesuit Maim- 
 bourg, " the university was filled with strangers, who, 
 because they knew a little of Hebrew, and a good deal 
 of Greek, acquired a reputation, insinuated themselves 
 into the houses of persons of quality, and used an inso- 
 lent liberty in interpreting the Bible." The faculty 
 named a deputation to present its complaints to the 
 king. 
 
 Francis I., caring little for the quarrels of theolo- 
 gians, continued his round of amusements ; and con- 
 ducting the gentlemen and ladies of the court of his 
 mother and sister from chateau to chateau, gave him- 
 self up to all sorts of dissipation, far away from the 
 annoying gaze of the citizens of his capital. He thus 
 travelled over Brittany, Anjou, Guienne, Angoumois, 
 and Poitou, claiming the same service in villages and 
 forests as if he had been at Paris in the chateau des 
 Tournellcs. There were tourneys, combats, masque- 
 rades, sumptuous entertainments, tables covered with 
 dainties, " by which," says Brantome, " those of Lucul- 
 lus were far surpassed." 
 
 For a moment, however, he interrupted the round 
 of his pleasures to receive the grave deputies of the 
 
 Sorbonne. But lio saw only learned men in those 
 whom the faculty denounced to liim as heretics. 
 Would a prince, who boasted that ho had taken the 
 kings of France out of leading stn'iif/n, lower his head 
 before some fanatical doctors '? " I am not wiling," 
 replied lie, " that those people be molested. To perse- 
 cute those who teach, would be to prevent men of 
 talent from coming into the kingdom." 
 
 The deputation retired in a rage. What was to be 
 the result? The evil was increasing from day to day; 
 already men were beginning to call heretical opinions 
 " sentiments of men of genius;" the devouring flame 
 was spreading into the most secret recesses. The con- 
 flagration would blaze, and throughout France the 
 cdilice of faith would tumble with a cnush. 
 
 Beda and his faction, unable to obtain scaffolds from 
 the king, had recourse to more hidden persecution. 
 There was no kind of annoyance to which the evan- 
 gelical doctors were not subjected. There were con- 
 stantly new reports and new denunciations. Old 
 Lefevre, tormented by these ignorant zealots, sighed 
 for repose. The pious Brifonnet, who ceased not to 
 express his veneration for the doctor of Etaplos, offered 
 him an asylum. Lefevre left Paris and repaired to 
 Meaux. This was a first advantage gained over the 
 Gospel, and it was thenceforth seen that if the faction 
 could not succeed iu gaining the aid of tlie civil power, 
 it had a secret fanatical police, by means of which it 
 could surely attain its end. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Brii;onnct Visits Iiis Diocese— Reformation— Tlie Eefomicrs Prosecnteil nt 
 Paris— Pliiliberta of Savoy— Correspondence of Margaret and Briconnet. 
 
 Thcs Paris began to take part against the Reforma- 
 tion, and trace the first lines of that enclosure which 
 was destined, for nearly three centuries, to hedge in the 
 capital from the reformed worship. God had been 
 pleased that the first rays of the Reformation should 
 appear in Paris ; but men immediately exerted them- 
 selves in extinguishing them : the spirit of the Sixteen 
 was already fermenting in the metropolis, and other 
 towns of the kingdom were about to welcome the light 
 which the capital spurned away. 
 
 Brifounet, on returning to his diocese, had displayed 
 the zeal of a Christian and a bishop. He had visited 
 all his parishes, and assembling the deans, curates, 
 vicars, church-wardens, and the principal parishioners, 
 had made himself acquainted wth the doctrine and 
 lives of the preachers. At the collecting season, he 
 was told, the Franciscans of Meaux began their course; 
 a single preacher went over several parishes in one 
 day, repeating the same sermon at each place, not in 
 order to nourish the souls of his hearers, but to fill his 
 belly, his purse, and his convent. The wallet once 
 filled, the end was attained, the preachers concluded, 
 and the monks did not again appear in the churches 
 till another begging season arrived. The only business 
 of these shepherds is to clip the wool off their flocks. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 On the other hand, the curates, for the greater part, 
 spent their incomes at Paris. " Oh !" said the pious 
 bishop, on finding a presbytery which he came to visit 
 empty, " are not those traitors who thus abandon the 
 warfare of Christ?" Bri9onnet resolved to remedy 
 these evils, and convened a meeting of all his clergy 
 on 13th October, 1.519. But these worldly priests, 
 who cared little for the remonstrances of their bishop, 
 and for whom Paris had so many charms, took advan- 
 tage of a custom, in virtue of which they could present 
 one or more vicars to feed their flocks in then- absence. 
 Out of one hundi'ed and twenty-seven vicars, Brifonnet 
 found only iifteen whom he approved. 
 
 Worldly curates, imbecile vicars, monks who thought 
 only of their belly; — such was the condition of the 
 Church. Brifonuet denied the use of the pulpit to 
 the Franciscans, and persuaded that the only method 
 of filling his bishopric with good ministers, was to 
 form them himself, he determined on founding a school 
 of theology at Mp-t'^, and plncing it under pious and 
 learned teioheia It -wa-^ ncte-'iiy to find them. 
 They were furnished by Bedi 
 
 In fact, this fanatical man and his company gave 
 themselves no rest, and complaining bitterly of the 
 toleration of the government, declared that they would 
 make war on the new doctrines with it, without it, or 
 against it. It was in vain that Lefevre had quitted the 
 capital. Did not Farel and his friends remain ? Farel, 
 it was true, did not mount the pulpit, for he was not a 
 priest ; but at the university, in the town, with the pro- 
 fessors, priests, students, and citizens, he boldly main- 
 tained the cause of the Eeformation. Others, animated 
 by his example, were always becoming more open in 
 spreading the Word of God. Martial Mazurier, a 
 celebrated preacher, and president of the college of St. 
 Michael, used no disguise in painting the disorders of 
 the times in the darkest, yet truest colours; and it 
 seemed impossible to withstand the power of his 
 eloquence. The rage of Beda and his theological 
 partisans knew no bounds. "If we tolerate these 
 innovators," said he, " they will gain possession of the 
 whole body, and it will be all over with our lectures, 
 
 our traditions, our places, and the respect shewn to us 
 by France and all Christendom." 
 
 The theologians of the Sorbonne proved the strongest. 
 Farel, Mazurier, Gerard Eoussel, and his brother 
 Arnaud, soon saw their activity everywhere paralyzed. 
 The Bishop of Meaux urged his friends to come and 
 join Lefevre ; and these excellent men, hounded by the 
 Sorbonne, and hoping that, beside Brifonnet, they 
 might be able to form a holy phalanx for the triumph 
 of the truth, accepted the invitation of the bishop, and 
 repaired to Meaux. Thus the Gospel light gradually 
 withdrew from the capital where Providence had 
 kindled its first rays. T/iis is the condemnation, that 
 light is come into the ivorld, and men have loved the dark- 
 ness rather than the light, because their deeds are evil, 
 (John iii. 19.) It is impossible not to perceive that 
 Paris at this time drew down upon itself the judgment 
 which these words of our Saviour express. 
 
 Margaret of Valois, deprived successively of Brii;on- 
 net. Lefevre. and their friends, felt uneasy when she 
 saw hei-^elt alone in the midst of Paris and the licen- 
 tious court of Francis I. She was on intimate terms 
 \\ ith Philiberta of Savoy, a young princess, 
 hei mother's sister. Philiberta, whom the 
 king, in order to seal the concordat, had given 
 in m irriage to Julian the Magnificent, brother 
 t ) Llo X., had, after her marriage, gone to 
 Kome, where the pope, overjoyed at the 
 illustuous alliance, had expended a hundred 
 iiid fifty thousand ducats in giving her sump- 
 tuous fetes. In 1516, Julian, when in com- 
 111 iiid of the army of the pope, died, leaving 
 ln> widow at the age of eighteen. She became 
 lit iched to Margaret, who by her talents and 
 lii-r \irtues had great influence on all around 
 hi.r The grief of Philiberta opened her heart 
 t ) the voice of religion. Margaret imparted 
 t ) hoi whatever she read, and the widow of 
 _ the lioiitenant-general of the Church began 
 
 to lelish the soothing doctrine of salvation. 
 But Philiberta was too inexperienced to sup- 
 port her friend Margaret, who often felt 
 humbled in thinking of her great weakness. 
 If the love which she bore to the king, 
 and the fear she had of displeasing him, led her 
 into some act contrary to her conscience, she was 
 immediately troubled in her soul, and turning again in 
 sadness toward the Lord, she found in Him a master, 
 a brother, more merciful and more soothing to her 
 heart than Francis himself. At such a time she thus 
 addressed her Saviour: 
 
 " O gentle brother! who, when thoa mightest chide 
 Thy eiTing sister, call'st her to thy side ; 
 For murmur, injury, and great offence. 
 Dost give her gi-ace and love, as recompense. 
 Too much, alas ! yea, far too much, my brother ; 
 In me is no desert of such a treasure." 
 
 Margaret, seeing all her friends retiring to Meaux, 
 turned a sad look towards them amid the festivities of 
 the court. Every one seemed to abandon her. Her 
 husband, the Duke d'Alencon, was setting out for the 
 army; her young aunt Philiberta, for Savoy. The 
 duchess turned towards Brigonnet, and thus wrote him : 
 
MARGARET'S SORROWS. 
 
 373 
 
 "Monsieur dc Meaux, — Knowing that only One is 
 necessary, I address myself to you, praying you to 
 supplicate Heaven to guide, agreeably to its lioly will, 
 M. d'Alen^'iin, who, by command of the king, is setting 
 out as a lieutenant-general of the army, wliich, I feiu-, 
 will not be disbanded without war. And thinking 
 that, independent of the public good of the kingdom, 
 you have a good title in wliatever touches his salvation 
 and mine, 1 ask your spiritual aid. To-morrow my 
 aunt sets out from Nemoui-s for Savoy. I am obliged 
 to occupy myself with many things which give me 
 many fears. Wherefore, if you know that master 
 Michael could undertake a journey, it would give me a 
 consolation which I ask only for the glory of God." 
 
 Michael d'Arande, whose assistance Margaret re- 
 quested, was one of the members of the evangelical 
 society of Meaux, who, at a later period, exposed him- 
 self to many dangers in preaching the Gospel. 
 
 The pious punce-s -n i^ ahimcd when she siw the 
 formidable opposition which was rising and increasing 
 against the truth. Duprat and the men in power" 
 Bcda and those of the Sorbonne, filled her with dismay. 
 Bri(^onnet, in order to strengthen her, says iu his reply: 
 " War is what our gracious Saviour says in the Gospel 
 He had brought upon the earth ; it was also fire, . . 
 great fire, by which the terrestrial is transformed into 
 the divine. I desire with all my heart to aid you, 
 madam ; but from my own nothingness, expect no 
 more than the will. AVhoso hath faith, hope, and love, 
 has all that is nccessar)-, and has no need of aid or 
 assistance. . . . God is aU iu all, and out of Him 
 is nothing to be found. In contending, have a stout 
 heart, . . . and love unspeakable. . . . The 
 war is carried on through love. Jesus demands the 
 heart : unhappy the man who is estranged from Him. 
 He who fights in person is certain of victory. He 
 often falls who fights by others." 
 
 The Bishop of Meanx began himself to know what 
 it is to fight for the Word of God. Theologians and 
 monks, indignant at the asylum which he gave to the 
 friends of the Reformation, violently accused him ; so 
 that his brother, the Bishop of St. Malo, came to Paris 
 to examine the affairs. Margaret was so much the 
 more touched by the consolation which Brifonnet 
 offered her, and replied with an offer of her assistance. 
 
 Writing him, she says : " If in anything you think I 
 can be of service to you or yours, rest assured that any 
 trouble I may take will be my comfort. May eternal 
 peace be given you, after those long wars which you 
 carry on for the faith, and in which you desire to die. 
 — Ever your daughter, 
 
 " Makgaret." 
 
 It is to be lamented that Bricjonnet did not die in 
 the struggle. Nevertheless, he was then full of zeal. 
 Philiberta of Nemours, respected by all for her sincere 
 devotion, her liberality towards the poor, and the great 
 purity of her manners, read with keen and increasing 
 interest the evangelical writings sent her by the Bishop 
 of Meaux. '• I have all the tracts which you sent me," 
 wrote Margaret to Bri9onuet ; '• my aunt of Ncmoiu-s 
 has had her share. I will send her the last, for she is 
 in Savoy at the marriage of her brother, which is no 
 small loss to me ; wherefore, I pray you to have pity 
 on me in my solitude." Unhappily, Philiberta did not 
 live long enough to declare decidedly in favour of the 
 Reformation. She died in 1524, at the castle of Virieu 
 Ic Grand, in Bugey, at the age of twenty-six. This 
 was a sad blow to Margaret. Her friend, her sister, 
 she who could entirely understand her, was taken from 
 her. Perhaps there was only one other death, that of 
 her brother, at which she felt greater agony than now. 
 
 So many tears bedew my eyes, 
 
 They veil iny view of earth and skies, 
 
 And like a spring incessant rise. 
 
 Margaret, feeling how weak she was in resisting 
 gi-ief and the seductions of the court, begged Bri9onnet 
 to exhort her to the love of God. The bishop replied: 
 " Our mild and gracious Lord, who wills, and who alone 
 can do what He powerfully wills, is, in His infinite 
 goodness, visiting your heart, exhorting it to love Him 
 with its own self. No other than He, madam, has 
 power to do so ; you must not expect light from dark- 
 ness, nor heat from cold. By attracting He inflames, 
 and by inflaming enlarges the heart, inducing it to fol- 
 low Him. Madam, you ask me to have pity upon you 
 because you are alone. I do not understand this state- 
 ment. He who lives in the world, and has his heart 
 in it, remains alone. Excess and evil are companions. 
 But she whose heart is asleep to the world, and awake 
 to the meek and gracious Jesus, her true and faithful 
 husband, is truly alone, living necessarily in Him alone, 
 and yet is not alone, because not abandoned by Him 
 who fills and keeps all. Pity I cannot and must not 
 have for such solitude, which is more to be esteemed 
 than the whole world, from which I am assured that 
 the love of God has saved you, so that you are no 
 longer its child. Madam, remain alone in Him who 
 was pleased to suffer a painful and ignominious death 
 and passion. 
 
 " Madam, recommending myself to your good graces, 
 I beg you will be pleased no longer to use expressions 
 
374 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFOEMATION. 
 
 similar to tliose in your last. Of God alone are you 
 the daughter and spouse ; no other father must you 
 claim. ... I exhort and admonish you to be to 
 Him as good a daughter as He is a good Father ; . . 
 and though you should not be able to attain to this, I 
 beg He would be pleased to increase your strengtli, 
 that you may wholly love and serve Him." 
 
 Notwithstanding of these words, Margaret was not 
 yet comforted, iihe bitterly regretted the spiritual 
 guides of whom she had been deprived ; the new 
 pastors whom it was sought to impose upon her in 
 order to gain her back, had not her confidence ; and 
 after all that the bishop said she felt herself alone in 
 the midst of the court. All around her seemed dark 
 and desert. In a letter to Brifonnet, she says: "Just 
 as a sheep in a strange land, wandering unacquainted 
 with its pasture, not knowing the new shepherds, 
 naturally raises its head to get a view of the nook 
 where the chief shepherd was wont to give it sweet 
 nurture, am I constrained to beg your cliarity. Come 
 down from the high mountain, and among all tliis 
 people estranged from the light, look in pity on the 
 blindest of all the flock. Margaret." 
 
 The Bishop of Meaux, in his answer, continuing the 
 figure of a wandering sheep, proceeds to represent the 
 mysteries of salvation under the figure of a forest. 
 " The sheep," says he, " going into the forest, being led 
 by the Holy Spirit, is forthwith enraptured with the 
 richness, beauty, straightness, length, breadth, depth, 
 and height, the invigorating and odoriferous fragrance 
 of this forest ; and after looking all around, sees only 
 Him in all, and all in Him; and moving along with 
 rapid step, finds it so pleasant that the journey is like 
 life, joy, and consolation." The bishop next repre- 
 sents the sheep vainly seeking the extremity of the 
 forest, (a figure of the soul trying to fathom the myste- 
 ries of God,) falling in with high mountains which it 
 attempts to climb, but everywhere finds "infinitude 
 inaccessible and incomprehensible." Then he shews 
 her the path by which the soul in quest of God sur- 
 mounts these difficulties ; he shews her how the sheep, 
 in the midst of mercenaries, finds "the nook of the great 
 Shephei-d." " By means of faith," says he, " it begins 
 the flight of contemplation ;" everything is made smooth, 
 everything is explained, and it begins to sing : " I have 
 found Him whom my soul loveth." 
 
 Thus spoke the Bishop of Meaux. At this time, 
 burning with zeal, he wished to see France renewed 
 by the Gospel. Often, in particidar, his mind turned 
 to the three great personages who seemed to preside 
 over the destinies of his countrymen. He thought that 
 if the royal family was enlightened, the whole people 
 would be so ; and that the priests, aroused to jealousy, 
 would at length quit their death-like state. " Madam," 
 wrote he to Margaret, " I pray God most humbly, that 
 He would be pleased, by His goodness, to kindle a fire 
 in the hearts of the king, madam, and yourself, so that 
 you three may burn with a brilliant flame which will 
 enkindle the rest of the kingdom, and specially that 
 order by the coldness of which all others are frozen." 
 
 Margaret did not share these hopes. She speaks 
 neither of her brother nor her mother ; it was a subject 
 which she dared not touch ; but replying to the bishop, 
 in January, 1522, (her heart dulled by the indifference 
 
 and worldliness which surrounded her,) she says to 
 him : " The time is so cold, the heart so frozen " — 
 and she signs — " Your frozen, thirsty, and famishing 
 daughter, Margaret." 
 
 This letter did not discourage Brifonnet, but it made 
 him enter into himself ; and there feeling how much he 
 who wished to quicken others stood in need of being 
 quickened, he commended himself to the prayers of 
 Margaret and Madame de Nemours. " Madam," wrote 
 he with great simplicity, ' ' I beg you by your prayers 
 to awaken a poor slumberei'." 
 
 Such, in 1521, were the views exchanged at the 
 court of the King of France, — strange views, doubtless, 
 which, after a lapse of more than three ceutiu-ies, a 
 manuscript of the Eoyal Library of Paris has revealed. 
 Was this influence of the Eeformation in so high a 
 quarter advantageous to it, or was it hurtful? The 
 arrow of truth penetrated to the coui't ; but, perhaps, 
 only served to awaken the slumbering ferocious beast, 
 to stir up its rage, and made it pounce with greater 
 fury on the humblest of the flock. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 First Ik'gmuiiiss of the Chm-cli of Meaux-Tlio S^ ii|.li,i. , in rinnl, -Tlis 
 Tradesman and the Bishop— Evangelical 1 1 1 i' 1 ilr.i.fSt. 
 
 Paul scut to the King— Lefevie and Run, . ; M i i : ic the 
 Bishop— Tlie Monks before the Pai-liament— I'u ■,■ nn' i \ u ! 1 
 
 In fact the tune was approaching when the storm was 
 to burst on the Reformation. Previously, however, it 
 was to shed some additional seeds and reap some grain. 
 This town of Meaux, made famous a century and a-half 
 afterwards by the sublime defender of the Galilean 
 system against the despotic pretensions of Rome, was 
 destined to become the first town in France in which a 
 renovated Christianity was to establish its empu-e. It 
 was at this time the field on which the cultivators were 
 bestowing labom- aud seed, and where they were 
 already laying down some sheaves. Bri90iuiet, less 
 asleep than he said he was, animated, inspected, aud 
 directed everything. His fortune equalled his zeal ; 
 never did man make a nobler use of his wealth, and 
 never did such noble devoteduess seem destined from 
 the outset to bear such excellent fruit. Transported 
 to Meaux, the pious teachers of Pturis thenceforth acted 
 with new freedom. There was an emancipation of the 
 Word, and the Reformation in France moved rapidly 
 forward. Lefevrc forcibly expounded that Gospel 
 with which he would fain have filled the world. " It 
 is necessary," said he, " that kings, princes, nobles, 
 jwople, all nations, think only of Jesus Christ, and 
 aspire to Ilim. Each priest must resemble the angel 
 that St. John saw in the Apocalypse, flying through 
 the midst of heaven, holding in his hand the eternal 
 Gospel, and carrying it to every people, tongue, and 
 kindreci, and nation. Come pontiff, come kings, come 
 generous hearts! . . . Nations, awaken to the 
 light of the Gospel, and breathe life eternal! The 
 Word of God is sufficient." 
 
 Such, in fact, was the motto of this school : " T/ic 
 
THE SCRIPTURES IN FRENCH. 
 
 375 
 
 Word of God is sufficient." The whole Reformation is 
 comprehended in this sentence. " To know Christ and 
 His Word," said Lcfevre, RousscI, Farel, "is the alone 
 living, the alone universal theology. He who knows 
 tliis, knows all." 
 
 The trutli iiroducod a deep impression in Mcaux. 
 First separate meetings were held, next conferences, 
 and at last the Go.-^pol was preached in tlie churclies. 
 But a new exertion wliich was made gave a still more 
 formidable blow to Konie. 
 
 Lefovrc wished to enable tlic Christians of France 
 to read the Holy Scriptures. On the 30th October, 
 1522, he published tlie French translation of the four 
 Gospels; and on the (Jtli November, that of the other 
 books of the New Testament. On the 12th October, 
 Collin, at Meaux, published a volume containing the 
 whole of the books thus translated; and in 1525, a 
 Frencli version of the Psalms. Thus began in France, 
 almost at the same time as in Germany, the preaching 
 and dissemination of the Scriptures in the vulgar ton- 
 gue — a procediu'e which was, three centuries after- 
 Wiirds, to bo carried to so gi-eat au extent over tlie 
 whole world. In France, as on the other side of the 
 Rhine, the Bible had a decisive inHueuce. Experience 
 had taught many Frenchmen, that when they sought 
 to know Divine things, doubt and obscurity appeared 
 on every side. How many moments, and perhaps years, 
 in their lives, during which they have been tempted 
 to regard the most certain truths as illusions ! We 
 must have light from above to illumine our darkness! 
 Such was the sigh of many souls at the period of the 
 Reformation. AVitli such desires, many received the 
 sacred books from the hands of Lcfevre. They were 
 read in families and in the closet ; and conversations 
 on the Bible became frequent ; Christ appeared to their 
 long bewildered spirits as the sun and centre of all 
 revelation. There was no more need of demonstra- 
 tions to prove to them that the Scriptures were from 
 tlic Lord. This they knew, for it had transformed 
 them from darkness to light. 
 
 Such was the progi-ess by which distinguished indi- 
 viduals in France airived at the knowledge of God. 
 But there were other methods more simple, and if the 
 thing be possible, more vulgar, by which many of the 
 people attained to the truth. The population of Meaux 
 consisted almost entirely of mechanics and people 
 trading in wool. " In many," says a chronicler of the 
 sixteenth century, " Wiis engendered so ardent a desire 
 to know the way of salvation, that artizans, carders, 
 spinners, and combers, employed themselves, while 
 engaged in manual labour, in conversing on the Word 
 of God, and deriving comfort from it. In particular, 
 Sundays and festivals were employed in reading the 
 Scriptures, and inquiring after the good-will of the 
 Lord." 
 
 Brifonnet was delighted at seeing piety thus substi- 
 tuted for superstition in his diocese. " Lefe^Te, aided 
 by the reputation of his great learning," says a con- 
 temporary historian, " was able, by his plausible dis- 
 course, so to cajole and circumvent master William 
 Bri^onnet as to have him entirely devoted to him, so 
 much so that it has never since been possible to purge 
 the tOTvn and diocese of Meaux of this mischievous 
 doctrine, even to this day, where it has marvellously 
 
 increased. It is a great pity that this good bishop, 
 who, till then, had been so devoted to God and the 
 Virgin Mary, should have been so perverted." 
 
 Still all were not so entirely devoted as the Francis- 
 can, whom we have just (pioted, represents. The 
 town was divided into two j)arties. On the one side 
 were the monks of St. Francis and the friends of the 
 Romish doctrine ; on tiie other, Brifonnet, Lefevre, 
 Farel, and all who loved the new doctrine. An indi- 
 vidual in ordinary life, named Leclci'c, was one of the 
 most servile adlicrcnts of the monks ; but his wife and 
 two sons, Peter and John, had eagerly received the 
 Gospel. John, who was a carder of w^ool, soon dis- 
 tinguished himself among the new Christians. James 
 Pavanne, a young scholar of Picardy, "a man of 
 great sincerity," whom Bri(;onnet had attracted to 
 Mcaux, shewed great zeal for the Reformation. Meaiix 
 had become a focus of light. Persons who had occa- 
 sion to visit it often heard the Gospel, and brought it 
 back to their homes. The Holy Scriptures were 
 searched, not in the town only, but also, says a chroni- 
 cler, " several of the villagers did likewise, so that that 
 diocese began to exliibit au image of the renovated 
 Church." 
 
 The environs of Meaux being covered with rich 
 crops at the season of harvest, great numbers of 
 labourers flocked to it from the surrounding countries. 
 AVhen reposing at noon from their fatigues, they con- 
 versed with the inhabitants of the district, who spoke 
 to them of other crops and other harvests. Several 
 peasants from Thieraclie, and especially from Landouzy, 
 after they returned home, persevered in the doctrines 
 Avliich they had heard, and shortly after there was 
 formed in that place an evangelical church, which is 
 one of the oldest in the kingdom. " The fame of this 
 great boon circulated over France," says the chronicler. 
 Brifonuet himself preached the Gospel from the pulpit, 
 and endeavoured everywhere to disseminate what he 
 calls "that infinite, sweet, cheerful, true, and only 
 light, which dazzles and illumines evei'y creature who 
 receives it, and which, in illuminating, dignifies him 
 with the filial adoption of God." He prayed his flock 
 not to lend an ear to those who wished to turn them 
 aside from the Word. "Even," said he, "should an 
 angel from heaven preach any other Gospel unto you, 
 do not listen to him." Sometimes he was seized with 
 melancholy thoughts. He was not sure of himself. 
 He recoiled in dismay when thinking of the fatal 
 effects which might result from his unfaithfulness, and 
 forewarning his people, said to them : " Should even 
 I, yoiu: bishop, change ray discourse and doctrine, do 
 you beware of changing with me." At the time no- 
 thing gave intimation of such a disaster. "Not only 
 was the Word of God preached," says the chronicler, 
 " it was practised ; all works of charity and love were 
 practised, manners were reformed, and superstitions 
 brought into disrepute." 
 
 Always full of the idea of gaining the king and his 
 mother, the bishop sent to Margaret " the Epistles of 
 St. Paul, translated and magnificently illuminated," 
 begging her very humbly to present it to the king, 
 " This from your hands," added he, " cannot but be 
 agreeable. It is a royal dish," continued the good 
 bishop, " nourishing without corrupting, and cuiing all 
 
376 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 diseases. Tlie more we taste it, the more we hunger 
 for it, with iincloying and insatiable appetite." 
 
 "What dearer message could Margaret receive ? . . 
 She thought the moment favourable. Michael d'Arande 
 was at Paris, detained by command of the queen 
 mother, for whom he was translating portions of the 
 Holy Scriptures," But Margaret would liave wished 
 Brifonnet himself to present St. Paul to her brother, 
 and wrote to him : " You would do well to come here, 
 for you know the confidence which the king and she 
 place in you." 
 
 Thus the Word of God was at this time (1522, 1523) 
 jjlaced under the eyes of Francis I. and Louisa of 
 Savoy. They were brought into contact with that 
 Gospel which they were at a later period to persecute. 
 It does not appear that the Word made any salutary 
 impression upon them. The Bible was then making 
 much noise, and a feeling of curiosity made them open 
 it ; but it was no sooner opened than shut. 
 
 Margaret herself had difficulty in struggling with 
 the worldliness which surrounded her on every side. 
 Her affection for her brother, the obedience which she 
 owed to her mother, and the flattery which she received 
 at court, all seemed to conspire against the love which 
 she had vowed to Jesus Christ. Christ was single 
 against a number. The soul of Margaret, assailed by 
 so many foes, and stunned by the noise of the world, 
 sometimes turned aside from its Lord. Then, recognis- 
 ing her fault, the princess shut herself up in her cham- 
 ber, and giving herself up to grief, sent forth sounds 
 very different from those jovial strains with which 
 Francis and the young nobility, associated in his de- 
 baucheries and festivities, caused the palace to resound. 
 
 " Left you I have my pleasure to follow ; 
 Left you I have for a choice most hollow ; 
 Left you I have— but, ah ! whither to go? 
 Away where nought is but cursing and woe. 
 Left you I have, a friend constant and true ; 
 And then, to conceal your love from my view, 
 Have leagued with all that is hostile to you." 
 
 Then Margaret, tm-ning towards Meaux, wrote in her 
 anguish : " I return to you, to M. Fabry, (Lefevre,) and 
 all your band, begging you to obtain from ineffable 
 Mercy, by your prayers, an awakening for a poor 
 drooping slumbering creature . . . from her deep 
 and deadly Ictharg)'." 
 
 Thus Meaux had become a focus of light. The 
 friends of the Reformation gave themselves up to flat- 
 tering illusions. Who could oppose the Gospel if the 
 power of Francis I. paved the way for iti The cor- 
 rupting influence of the court would then be changed 
 into a holy influence, and France acquire a moral 
 force which would make her the benefactress of the 
 nations. 
 
 On the other hand, the friends of Rome became 
 alarmed. Among the most distinguished of those at 
 Meaux was a Jacobin monk named De Roma. One 
 day when Lefevre, Farel, and their friends, were con- 
 versing with him and some other adherents of the 
 papacy, Lefevre could not refrain from expressing his 
 hopes. "The Gospel," said he, "is ah-eady gaining 
 the hearts of the grandees and people, and soon diffus- 
 ing itself over all France, it will everywhere bring 
 down the inventions of men." The old doctor had 
 
 become animated, his eyes, which had become dim, 
 sparkled, his trembling voice was again full toned. 
 One would have said it was old Simeon thanking the 
 Lord for having seen His salvation. The friends of 
 Lefevre shared his emotion, and his opponents were 
 dumb with astonishment. . . . All at once De 
 Roma started up, and with the voice of a tribune of 
 the people, exclaimed: "Then I and all the other 
 monks will preach a crusade : we will stir up the people ; 
 and if the king permits the preaching of your Gospel, 
 we will make his own subjects chase him from his own 
 kingdom." 
 
 Thus a monk dared to enter the lists with a royal 
 knight. The Franciscans applauded the words. The 
 future predicted by the old doctor must not be allowed 
 to be realized. Already the friars are, day after day, 
 returning with diminished alms. The alai-med Francis- 
 cans, spreading themselves among families, exclaimed: 
 " These new teachers are heretics ; the holiest obser- 
 vances they attack, the most sacred mysteries they 
 deny!" . . . Then becoming more emboldened, 
 the most irritated of them come forth from their 
 cloisters, repair to the episcopal palace, and being 
 admitted to the presence of the prelate, exclaim : 
 "Crush this heresy, or the plague which already 
 devastates this town of Meaux will soon spread over 
 the kingdom." 
 
 Brifonnet was concerned, and for a moment at a 
 loss how to deal with this attack ; but he yielded not ; 
 he had too much contempt for these coarse monks and 
 their selfish clamour. He mounted the pulpit, justified 
 Lefe%Te, and called the monks Pharisees and hypocrites. 
 Still this opposition produced trouble and an internal 
 struggle in his soul ; he tried to reassure himself by 
 reflecting that these spiritual combats were necessary. 
 "By this battle," said he, in his somewhat mystical 
 language, " we reach a death, quickening, and, at the 
 same time, mortifying life ; in living, we die, in dying, 
 we live." The path would have been safer if, hasten- 
 ing towards the Saviour, like the apostles when tossed 
 by the winds and waves, he had exclaimed, " Master, 
 save us ! we perish." 
 
 The monks of Meaux, furious at being repulsed by 
 the bishop, resolved to carry their complaints to a 
 higher quarter. They had a power of appeal. If the 
 bishop will not yield, they can compel him. Their 
 leaders set out for Paris, and came to an understand- 
 ing with Beda and Duchesne. They hastened to the 
 Parliament, and there denounced the bishop and the 
 heretical teachers. " The town," said they, " and the 
 whole neighbourhood, are affected with heresy; and it 
 is the episcopal palace itself that sends forth the pol- 
 luted streams." 
 
 Thus the cry of persecution against the Gospel 
 began to be heard in France. The priestly and the 
 civil power, the Sorbonne and the Parliament, took 
 up arms — arms that were to be dyed in blood. 
 Christianity had taught that there are duties and 
 rights anterior to all civil associations, — had emanci- 
 pated religious thought, founded liberty of conscience, 
 and produced a great revolution in society; for an- 
 tiquity, which saw the citizen everywhere, and man 
 nowhere, had made religion simply an affair of state. 
 But no sooner had these ideas been given to the world 
 
BRICONNET FALLS. 
 
 377 
 
 than the papacy had corrupted them. For tlie despot- 
 ism of the prince, it had substituted tlio despotism of 
 the priest. It had often even stirred up the prince and 
 the priest against tlic Christian people. A new enianci- 
 l)ation was required, and it took ph\ce in tlic sixtociitii 
 century. In all places where tlie Reformation was 
 established, it broke the yoke of Rome, and religious 
 thought was again set free. But there is in human 
 nature such a love of domineering over the truth, that 
 among many Protestant nations the Church, disen- 
 gaged from the arbitraiy power of the priest, is in 
 our days on the point of again falling under the yoke 
 of the civil power, and doomed, like iu ruler, to vibrate 
 incessantly between these two despotisms, — to pass, 
 ever and anon, from Caiaphas to Pilate, and Pilate to 
 Caiaphas. 
 
 Bricounet, who was held iu high estimation at Paris, 
 easily justified himself; but it was iu vain he sought to 
 defend his friends. The monks were not willing to 
 return to Meaux empty-handed. If the bishop is to 
 escape, his brethren must be sacrificed. Of a timid 
 character, not much disposed to abandon his riches 
 and his rank for Jesus Christ, already alarmed and 
 filled with sadness, false counsels led him still farther 
 astray. It was suggested to him, that if the evan- 
 gelical doctors quitted Meaux, they could carry the 
 Reformation elsewhere. An agonizing struggle took 
 place in his heart. At length worldly prudence pre- 
 vailed ; he yielded, and on the 12th April, 1526. issued 
 an iujimction, depriving these pious teachers of liberty 
 to preach. This was liri<,'onnet's first fall. 
 
 Lefevre was the person principally aimed at. His 
 commentary on the four Gospels, and especially his 
 '• Epistle to Christian Readers," which preceded it, had 
 increased the rage of Beda and his baud. They de- 
 nounced the work to the faculty. " Does he not pre- 
 sume," said the blustering syndic, "to recommend the 
 reading of the Holy Scriptm-es to all the faithful ? 
 Do we not read in it that whoso loves not the Word of 
 Christ is not a Christian ; and that the Word of God 
 is sufficient for eternal life?" 
 
 In this accusation Francis I. saw only a cabal of 
 theologians. He named a commission, and Lefevre, 
 having justified himself before it, came off from the 
 attack with the honours of war. 
 
 Farel, who had fewer protectors at court, was ob- 
 liged to quit Meaux. It appears that he at first re- 
 paired to Paris, and that, having attacked the errors 
 of Rome without reserve, he could no longer remain, 
 but was obliged to retire into Dauphiny, whither his 
 heart was bent on carrying the Gospel. 
 
 CHAPTER VIU. 
 
 Lofcvre and Farcl Persecuted— Difference between the Lutheran and Re- 
 formed Churches — Leclerc puts up his Pancartcs — Leclerc Branded — 
 Zeal of Berquin — Berquin before the Parhament— Francis I. saves him 
 — Apostacy of Mazurier— Fall and Grief of Pavanne— Metz— Chatelain - 
 Peter Toussaint becomes attentive— Leclerc breaks Images— Condemna- 
 tion and Torture of Lcclcro— MartjTdom of Chatelain— Flight. 
 
 Lefevbe intimidated, BriQonnet beginning to back- 
 slide, Farel constrained to fly! — this was a first victory. 
 
 The Sorbonne already thought themselves masters of 
 the movement. The doctors and monks were con- 
 gi-atulating themselves on their triumph. This, how- 
 ever, was not enough : blood had not flowed. They 
 accordingly set to work, and blood — since blood it 
 must have — was soon to gratify the fanaticism of 
 Rome. 
 
 Tiie evangelical Christians of Meaux, seeing their 
 leaders dispersed, soiiglit mutually to edify each other. 
 John Leclerc, a carder of wool, whom the discourses 
 of the teachers, the reading of the Bible, and of several 
 religious books, had instructed in Christian doctrine, 
 was distinguished by his zeal and his readiness in ex- 
 pounding Scripture. He was one of those men whom 
 the Spirit of God fills with courage, and soon places 
 at the head of a religious movement. The church of 
 Meaux was not long in regarding him as its pastor. 
 
 The idea of an universal priesthood, — an idea to 
 which the first Christians were so much alive, — had 
 been restored in the sixteenth century by Luther. 
 But this idea seemed then to remain theoretical in the 
 Lutheran church, and became a living reality only in 
 the Reformed cluu'ches. The Lutheran churches — and 
 in this they agi-ee with the Anglican Church — seemed 
 to hold a middle place between the Church of Rome 
 and the Reformed Church. Among the Lutherans 
 everything proceeded from the pastor or the priest ; 
 and nothing was good in the Church that did not come 
 organically through its heads. But the Reformed 
 churches, while holding the Divine institution of the 
 ministry, which some sects overlook, approximated 
 nearer to the primitive condition of the apostolic com- 
 munities. From the period of which we speak, they 
 recognised and proclaimed, that Christian flocks were 
 not simply to receive what the priest gives ; that the 
 members of the Church, as well as its leaders, possess 
 the key of the treasury from which these draw their 
 instructions, since the Bible is in the hands of all ; 
 that the grace of God, the spirit of faith, wisdom, con- 
 solation, and light, are not given to the pastor merely; 
 that each is called to use the gift which he has re- 
 ceived for the comiii'in ailvaiit;i;..'c ; that often even a 
 certain gift, uece^faiy f. ir tin; •■.liiication of the Church, 
 may be refused to tlir miiii-trr and granted to a mem- 
 ber of his flock. Thuj tin.- pjij.sive state of the churches 
 was exchanged for a state of general activity. It was 
 in France especially that this revolution was accom- 
 plished. In other countries the Reformers are almost 
 without exception pastors and doctors ; but in France 
 the men of learning are iu close union with the men of 
 the people. There God takes for his first workmen a 
 doctor of the Sorbonne and a carder of wool. 
 
 Carder Leclerc now began to go from house to house 
 confirming the disciples. But not stopping at these 
 ordinary labours, he wished to see the edifice of the 
 papacy crumbling to pieces, and F'rance, from amid its 
 ruins, turning with a shout of joy towards the Gospel. 
 His somewhat immoderate zeal reminds us of that of 
 Hottinger at Zurich, and Carlstadt at Wittemberg. 
 He accordingly drew up a proclamation against the 
 Antichrist of Rome, in which he announced that the 
 Lord was about to destroy it by the breath of His 
 mouth. Then he boldly posted up his " Pancartes " 
 on the very gate of the cathedral. Forthwith all was 
 
378 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 coufusion around the aucieut odilioe. The faithful 
 •were astonished, the priests enraged. "What! a man 
 emplo3-ed in carding wool to attack tlie pope ? . . . 
 The Franciscans were beside themselves, and demanded 
 that this once, at least, a di-eadful example should be 
 made. Leclerc was thrown into prison. 
 
 His trial was concluded in a few days, under the 
 very eyes of Briconuet, who was obliged to see and 
 endure it all. The carder was condemned to be beateu 
 with rods three days in succession through the streets of 
 the town, and then branded on the forehead. Shortly 
 after, this sad spectacle was exhibited. Leclerc, with 
 his hands tied and back bare, was led through the 
 streets, and the executioners let fall upon his body 
 those blows which he had brought upon himself by 
 attacking the Bishop of Rome. An immense crowd 
 followed the processiou, the com-se of which might 
 have been traced by the blood of the martyr. Some 
 uttered cries of rage against the heretic ; others, by 
 their silence even, gave him unequivocal marks of 
 their tender compassion ; a female, with eye and 
 tongue, encouraged the poor sufferer: it was his 
 mother. 
 
 At length, on the third day, after the bloody proces- 
 sion was linished, Leclerc was taken to the ordinary 
 place of esecution. The executioner jsrepared the fire, 
 heated the iron, the impress of which was to be burnt 
 into the evangelist, and approaching him, branded him 
 in the forehead as a heretic. A cry was heard, but it 
 proceeded not from the martyr. His mother, who was 
 present at the frightful spectacle, torn with grief, had 
 a violent struggle within herself. The enthusiasm of 
 faith was struggling in her heart with the love of the 
 mother, and she exclaimed, iu a voice which made all 
 her adversaries tremble : '-Live Jesus Christ and His 
 ministers !" Thus this French woman of the sixteenth 
 century fulfilled the command of the Son of God : He 
 ic/io loves son more than me, is not wortliy of me. Such 
 boldness at such a moment deserved exemplary punish- 
 ment ; but the Christian mother had filled the priests 
 and soldiers with amazement. All theu- fury was 
 restrained by an arm more powei-ful than their own. 
 The crowd, giving way with respect, allowed the 
 mother of the martyr, with lingering pace, to regain 
 her humble dwelling. Even the monks and town- 
 officers stood motionless as she passed. "Not one of 
 her enemies," says Beza, " dared to lay a hand upon 
 her." Leclerc having been released, retired to Eosay 
 iu Brie, a small town six leagues from Meaux, and 
 afterwards repaired to Metz, where we shall again 
 meet with him. 
 
 The enemy triumphed. "The Cordeliers having 
 reconquered the pulpit, scattered about their lies and 
 siUy tales as usual." Ijut the poor mechanics of the 
 town, deprived of the hearing of the Word at regular 
 meetings, " began to assemble in secret," says our 
 chronicler, " after the example of the sons of the pro- 
 phets, in the time of Ahab, and the Cliristians of the 
 primitive Church ; and according as opportunity offered, 
 met one day in a house, and another day in some cave, 
 or occasionally, also, in a vineyard or forest. Then he 
 of their number who was best read in the Holy Scrip- 
 tures, exhorted them. This done, they prayed toge- 
 gether with great courage, supporting themselves with 
 
 the hope that tlie Gospel would be received in France, 
 and tliat the tyranny of Antichrist would come to an 
 end." No power is capable of arresting the truth. 
 
 Still, one victim was not suihcient. The first victim 
 of persecution was a worker in wool ; the second was 
 a gentleman of the court. It was necessary to strike 
 terror into the nobles as well as the people. The 
 doctors of the Sorbonne at Paris were not the persons 
 to allow themselves to be outstripped by the Francis- 
 cans of Meaux. Berquin, " the most learned of the 
 nobles," had continued to gain new courage from the 
 Scriptures, and after attacking " the hornets of the 
 Sorbonne " in some epigrams, had opeuly accused theui 
 of impiety. 
 
 Beda and Duchesne, who had not ventm-ed to reply 
 in their usual style to the witty sallies of a gentleman 
 of the king, changed their view of the matter as soon 
 as they discovered that these attacks were backed by 
 serious convictions. Berquin had become a Christian, 
 and his destruction was resolved. Beda and Duchesne, 
 having seized some of his translations, found matter in 
 them sutficieut to burn more than one heretic. " He 
 maintains," said they, " that it is unbecoming to invoke 
 the Virgin in place of the Holy Spii'it, and to call her 
 the source of all grace. He attacks the custom of 
 calling her our hope, our life; and says that these titles 
 are applicable only to the Son of God." There wiis 
 more than this. Berquin's study was like a book- 
 seller's shop, from which corrupting books were circu- 
 lated all over the kingdom. In particular, the " Com- 
 mon Places " of Melaucthon, written with so much 
 elegance, made a deep impression on the literati of 
 France. The pious gentleman, living only amid folio 
 volumes and tracts, had, from Christian charity, become 
 a translator, corrector, printer, and bookseller. . . . 
 It was necessary to arrest this formidable torrent at its 
 very source. 
 
 Accordingly, one day when Berquin was quietly at 
 his studies in the midst of his beloved books, his house 
 was suddenly surrounded by armed police, who knocked 
 violently at the gate. It was the Sorbonne and its 
 agents, who, fortified with the authority of the parlia- 
 ment, came to pay him a domiciliary visit. Beda, the 
 formidable syndic, was at their head ; and never did 
 inquistor better fulfil his duty : he made his way with 
 his satellites into the library of Berquin, declared the 
 mission with which he said he was enti'usted, and 
 ordering his people to have an eye upon Berquin, com- 
 menced his search. Not a book escaped his piercing 
 glance ; and by his orders an exact inventory of the 
 whole was taken. Here, a treatise of Melancthou; 
 there, a writing of Carlstadt ! Here, heretical books 
 translated from Latin into French by Berquin ; there, 
 others of his own composition. AU the works whicli 
 Beda seized, with the exception of two, were filled with 
 Lutheran errors. He left the house with his booty, 
 more elated than ever general was with the spoils of 
 conquered nations. Berquiu saw that a violent storm 
 was about to burst upon his head; but his courage 
 failed not. He despised his adversaries too much to 
 fear them. Meanwhile, Beda lost no time. On the 
 13th May, 1523, the parliament issued a decree, bear- 
 ing that all the books seized at the house of Berquin 
 should be submitted to the theological faculty. The 
 
BERQUIN BEFORE THE PARLIAMENT. 
 
 379 
 
 opinion of the compnny was not long ilelaycd. On the 
 25th June tliey condemned tiie works to tiie fire as 
 heretical, witii the exception of the two wliich we 
 have mentioned, and ordered Bcniuin to abjure his 
 errors. The parliament sanctioned the decision. 
 
 The gentleman ajjpcared before this formidable body, 
 lie knew that a scaffold was probably behind ; but like 
 Luther at Womis, he stood lirni. In vain did the 
 parliament order him to recant. Bcrquin was not one 
 of those v/ho fall awaij after being made partakers of the 
 IIoli) Gli'ist. lie who is beijotteii of God keepeth himself 
 ami that wicked one toiwhetk him not, (Hebrews vi. 4; 
 1 John V. 18.) Every fall proves that the conversion 
 was only apparent or partial. The conversion of Ber- 
 (luiii was real. He answered lirndy to the court before 
 which he appeared. The parliament, more severe than 
 the Diet of Worms had been, ordered its officers to 
 apprehend the accused, and carry him to the Concier- 
 gerie. This was on tlie 1st August, 1523. On the 
 oth August the parliament remitted the heretic into 
 the hands of the Bishop of Paris, in order that this 
 prelate might take cognisance of the affair, and assisted 
 by doctoi-s and councillors, pronounce duo sentence on 
 the culprit. He was transferred to the prison of the 
 officiality. 
 
 Thus Berquin passed from tribunal to tribunal, from 
 prison to prison. Beda, Duchesne, and their company, 
 kept hold of their victim ; but the court had always a 
 grudge at the Sorbouue, and Francis was more power- 
 ful than Beda. There was a feeling of indignation 
 among the nobility. Did these monks and priests for- 
 got what the sword of a gentleman was worth ? " Of 
 what is he accused?" said they to Francis. "For 
 blaming the custom of invoking the Holy Spirit .' But 
 Erasmus and many others also blame this. And for 
 such triHes must an officer of the king be put in prison? 
 The blow is aimed at letters, true religion, the nobility, 
 chivalry, the very crown." The king was pleased once 
 more to provoke an outcry from all the company. He 
 gave letters of liberation to the council, and on the 
 Sth August an officer presented himself at the prison of 
 the officiality bearing an order from the king to set 
 Berquin at liberty. 
 
 It was a question whether the monks would yield. 
 Francis, who had foreseen that some difficulty might be 
 made, had said to the officer entrusted with his orders : 
 '• If you meet with resistance, I authorize you to break 
 open the door." These words were clear. The monks 
 and the Sorbonne yielded, swallowing the affront ; and 
 Berquin, set at liberty, appeared before the king's 
 council, and was acquitted. Thus Francis had humbled 
 tlie Church. Berquin imagined that under his reign 
 France might be emancipated from the pajjacy, and had 
 thoughts of renewing tlie war. With this view he 
 entered into correspondence with Erasmus, who imme- 
 diately recognised in him a good man. But " remem- 
 ber," said the philosopher, who was always timid and 
 temporizing, "that it is imnecessary to provoke the 
 hornets; peacefully enjoy your studies. Above all, 
 do not mix me up with your affair; that would uot 
 be useful either to me or to you." 
 
 This refusal did not discourage Berquin : if the 
 most powerful genius of the age withdraws, he will 
 trust in God, who never fails. The work of God is to 
 
 be done with men, or without them. "Berquin," says 
 Erasmus himself, " was somewhat like the palm tree ; 
 he stood up, and shewed a bold front to whosoever 
 sought to temfy him." 
 
 This was uot the case with all who had received the 
 Gospel doctrine. Martial Mazurier had been one of 
 the most zealous preachers. He was charged with 
 having preached very erroneous doctrines, and even 
 with having committed certain acts of violence while 
 he was at Meaux. " This Mai-tial Mazurier, being at 
 Mcaux," says a manuscript of this town, which we 
 have already quoted, "going to the church of the 
 reverend fathers, the Cordeliers, and seeing the statue 
 of St. Francis standing at the outside of the door of 
 the convent, where at present a St. Roche is placed, 
 threw it down and broke it." Mazm'ier was seized, 
 and sent to prison, when he suddenly fell into profound 
 reveries, and deep anguish. It w;us the morality rather 
 than the doctrine of the Gospel, tliat had drawn him 
 into the ranks of the reformers ; and morality left him 
 without strength. TeiTified at the scaffold which 
 .iwaited him, thinking that in France the victory would 
 be decidedly in favour of the Romish party, he easily 
 convinced himself that he should gain more influence 
 and honour by returning to the papacy. He there- 
 fore recanted, and caused doctrines to be preached in 
 his parish the opposite of those which he was accused 
 of having taught : at a later period connecting himself 
 with the most fanatical doctors, and in particular with 
 the celebrated Ignatius Loyola, he shewed himself one 
 of the most ardent supporters of the papal cause. From 
 the days of the Emperor Julian, apostates, after their 
 faitUessness, have always proved the most pitiless 
 enemies of the doctrines which they had for a time 
 professed. 
 
 Mazurier soon found an opportunity of exercising his 
 zeal. Young James Pavanne liad also been cast into 
 prison. Martial hoped that by causing his fall he 
 might hide his own. The youth, amiable manners, 
 learning, and integrity of Pavanne, excited a strong 
 interest in his favour, and Mazurier imagined that he 
 would himself be less guilty if he could drag Master 
 James into similar guUt, He repaired to his dungeon, 
 and began his manceuvres. He pretended to have gone 
 farther than he in the knowledge of the truth. " You 
 err, James," he often repeated to him ; " you have not 
 seen the bottom of the sea ; you know only the sur- 
 face of the waves and billows." Sophisms, promises, 
 threats, nothing was spared. The unhappy youth, 
 seduced, agitated, shaken, at last yielded to these per- 
 fidious attacks, and publicly recanted his pretended 
 errors the day after Christmas, 1524. But from that 
 time a spirit of despondency and grief from the Al- 
 mighty was upon Pavanne. His sighs were incessant. 
 "Ah!" repeated he, "nothing remains to me but a life 
 of bitterness." Sad reward of faithlessness ! 
 
 There were, however, among them who received the 
 Word of God in France, men of a more intrepid spu-it 
 than Pavanne and Mazurier. Towards the end of 
 1523, Leclerc had quitted Metz and gone into Lorraine, 
 where, says Theodore Beza, he had followed the 
 example of St. Paul at Corinth, who, while making 
 tents, persuaded both Jews and Greeks. Leclerc, 
 while following his trade of wool-carder, taught the 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 people of his own class. Several among them had 
 been truly converted. Thus this humble artizan laid 
 the foundations of a church which afterwards became 
 celebrated. 
 
 Leclerc was not alone at Metz. Among the ecclesi- 
 astics of the town was an Augustine monk of Touruay, 
 a doctor of theology, named John Chatelain, who had 
 been brought to the knowledge of God by his inter- 
 course with the Augustines of Antwerp. Chatelain had 
 gained the respect of the people by the austerity of 
 his manners ; and the doctrine of Christ, preached by 
 him in his chasuble and stole, had appeared to those 
 inhabitants of Metz less strange than when it came to 
 them from the poor artizan, who quitted the comb with 
 which he was carding wool to explain a translation of 
 the Gospel in French. 
 
 Evangelical light — thanks to the zeal of these two 
 men — was beginning to be diffused throughout the 
 town. A very devout female, of the name of Tous- 
 saint, of burgher parentage, had a son called Peter, to 
 whom, when amusing himself beside her, she often 
 addressed grave words. Evei-y\N'here, at this time, 
 even in the houses of the citizens, something extra- 
 ordinary was expected. One day the child, occupying 
 himself with the diversions of his age, was riding 
 through his mother's room on a long staff. She was 
 conversing with some friends on religious matters, and 
 said to them with emotion : " Antichrist will soon come 
 in great power, and destroy those who shall have been 
 converted by the preaching of Elias." These words, 
 which were often repeated, struck the child, who called 
 them to mind at a later period. Peter Toussaint was 
 full-grown at the time when the doctor of theology and 
 the wool-carder were preaching the Gospel at Metz. 
 His parents and friends, astonished at his youthful 
 genius, hoped to see him one day occupying a distin- 
 guished place in the Church. One of his uncles, his 
 father's brother, was primicier of Metz. This was 
 the first dignity in the chapter. Cardinal John of 
 Lorrain, son of Duke Eene, who had a large establish- 
 ment, had a great love for the uncle and nephew. The 
 latter, notwithstanding of his youth, had just obtained 
 
 a canonicate, when he began to give attention to the 
 Gospel. Might it not be that the preaching of Chate- 
 lain and Leclerc was that of Elias ? Already, indeed. 
 Antichrist was everywhere arming against it. But 
 what then? "Let us," said he, "lift our heads toward 
 the Lord, who will come and will not tarry." 
 
 The Gospel doctrine made its way into the first 
 families of Metz. A person of considerable rank, the 
 Chevalier d'Esch, an intimate friend of the primicier, 
 had just been converted. The friends of the Gospel 
 wore delighted. "The knight, our good master," 
 . repeated Peter; "if, however," added he, 
 with a noble candour, " it is lawful to have a master 
 on earth." 
 
 Thus Metz was on the eve of becoming a focus of 
 light when the imprudent zeal of Leclerc suddenly 
 arrested its slow but sure progress, and raised 
 a storm which well-nigh ruined this rising 
 Church. The great body of the lower classes 
 - continued to practise their old superstitions, 
 
 and Leclerc's heart was grieved when he saw 
 , the city given up to idolatry. A great festival 
 
 was at hand. About a league from the town 
 was a chapel containing images of the Virgin, 
 and the most celebrated saints of the country, 
 and to whom, on a certain day, all the inhabi- 
 tants of Metz were accustomed to make a 
 pOgrimage, in order to worship the images, 
 and obtain the pardon of their sins. 
 
 Tlie eve of the festival having arrived, the 
 ]Hnus and intrepid soul of Leclerc was vio- 
 lently agitated. Has not God said, Tkou 
 shah not boio down to their gods, nor serre them, 
 nor do after their ivorh ; but thou shcdt utterhj 
 overthroio them, and quite break down their 
 images? Leclerc thought that this com- 
 mand of God was addressed to him, and, 
 without consulting either Chatelain or Esch, 
 or any of those who he might have suspected would 
 oppose his scheme, in the evening, at night-fall, he 
 went out of the town, and repaired to the chapel. 
 There, seated in solemu silence beside these statues, 
 he spent some time in meditation. He might, indeed, 
 flee away ; but . . . to-morrow, within a few 
 hours, a whole city, bound to worship God only, would 
 be prostrated before these blocks of wood and stone. 
 A struggle, similar to that which so often took place 
 in the breasts of the primitive Christians, now took 
 place in the soul of the wool-carder. What matters it 
 that these images are those of male and female saints, 
 and not those of the gods and goddesses of Paganism? 
 Does not the worship which the people pay to these 
 images belong to God only? Like Polyeucte beside 
 the idols of the temple, his heart shudders and his 
 courage is inflamed : 
 
 Ke perdons plus de tcnis, Ic sacrifice est pret, 
 
 AUons-y du vrai Dieu soutenir Tint^ret ; 
 
 AUons fouler aux pieds ce foudre ridicule, 
 
 Dont arme un bois pourri ce peuple trop credule ; 
 
 AUons en iciairer I'aveuglement fatal, 
 
 AUons brisei* ces dieux de pierre et ih m^tal ; 
 
 Abandonnons nos jours i cette ardeur celeste, 
 
 Faisons triompher Dieu . . . qu'il dispose du reste. 
 
 In fact, Leclerc stands up, approaches the images, lifts 
 
MARTYRDOM OF LECLERG AND CHATELAIN. 
 
 them, breaks them, and indignantly scatters the frag- 
 ments before tlie altar. He doubted not tliat it was 
 the Spirit of tlic Lord which inspired him to do so, 
 and Bcza is of the same opinion. After this Leclerc 
 returned to Metz, which he re-entered at daybreak, 
 being perceived by some persons at the moment when 
 he was going through the gate of the town. 
 
 Meanwhile everything was in motion in the ancient 
 city. The bells were ringing, the trades assembled, 
 and the whole town, headed by the canons, the priests, 
 and the monks, went out in procession, repeating 
 ])raycrs and singing hymns to the saints whom tliey 
 were going to worship, witli crosses and banners in 
 full display, while instruments of music responded to 
 the chant of the faithfid. At length, after walking 
 more than an hour, the procession reached the place 
 of pilgrimage. But what was the astonishment of the 
 pi-iests when, presenting themselves with the censer in 
 tlieir hand, they see the images which they came to wor- 
 ship mutilated, and their remains strewing the ground ! 
 They start back in dismay, and i)ublicly announce the act 
 of sacrilege. All at once the hymns cease, the instru- 
 ments are mute, the colours arc lowered, and the whole 
 multitude are indescribably agitated. The canons, 
 curates, and monks, strive to inflame the minds of the 
 people, urging them to make a search for the culprit, 
 and demand his death. The cry is heard froni all 
 sides : " Death, death to the perpetator of the sacri- 
 lege ! " They return to Metz precipitately and with- 
 out order. 
 
 Leclerc was known to all : he had repeatedly called 
 images idols. Besides, had he not been seen at day- 
 break on his way back from the chapel ? Being appre- 
 hended, he immediately confessed the crime, and urged 
 the people to worship God only. But this language 
 increased the fury of the multitude, who would on tlio 
 instant have dragged him to death. When taken lie- 
 fore the judges, he boldly declared that Jesus Christ, 
 God manifest in the flesh, ought alone to be worshipped. 
 He was condemned to be burnt alive, and was led off 
 to the place of execution. 
 
 Here a dreadful scene awaited him. The cruelty of 
 his persecutors prepared everything that could add to 
 the horrors of his execution. Near the scaffold they 
 were heating pincers to minister to their rage. Leclerc, 
 calm and firm, stood unmoved amid the savage yells of 
 the monks and people. They began by cutting off his 
 right thumb ; then, seizing the hot pincers, they pulled 
 off his nose ; then, still using the same instrument, they 
 laid liold of both his arms, and after breaking them in 
 several places, seized him by the breast. While the 
 cruelty of his enemies was thus venting itself upon his 
 body, his mind was at peace. Solemnly, and with loud 
 voice, he repeated the words of David: Their idols are 
 silver and gold,, the tvork of men's hand. They have 
 mouths, but they speak not; eyes have they, hit they see 
 not. They have ears, but they hear Tiot ; noses have they, 
 but they smell not. They have hands, but they handle not, 
 neither speak they throtiyh their throat. They that make 
 them are like unto them ; so is every one that trusteth in 
 them. Israel, trust thou in the Lord: He is their help 
 and their shield, (Psalm cxv. 4-9.) His enemies, on 
 seeing such strength of soul, were amazed, while be- 
 lievers felt strengthened. The people who had mani- 
 
 fested so much rage, were astonished and moved. 
 After these tortures, Leclerc was burnt at a slow 
 fire, as his sentence bore. Such was the death of the 
 first martyr for the Gospel in France. 
 
 But the priests of Metz were not satisfied, In vain 
 had they tried to shake Chatelain. " He is deaf like 
 the adder," they said, '• and refuses to hear the truth." 
 He was seized by the people of the Cardinal of Lor- 
 raine, and carried to tlic castle of Nommeny. 
 
 There he was degraded by the oificials of the bishop, 
 who took off his vestments, and scratched his finger 
 with a bit of glass, saying : " By this scratching wo 
 deprive you of the power of sacrificing, consecrating, 
 and blessing, which you received by the laying on of 
 hands." Afterwards, putting a layman's dress upon 
 him, they remitted him to the secular power, which 
 condemned him to be burnt alive. The pile was soon 
 prepared, and the minister of Christ was consumed by 
 the flames. " Lutheranism, nevertheless, spreads in all 
 the district of Metz," say the authors of the history 
 of the Galilean Church, while approving greatly of 
 these severities. 
 
 From the moment the storm had burst upon the 
 Church of Metz, there was great distress in the house 
 of Toussaint. His uncle, the primicier, without taking 
 any active part in the persecutions of Leclerc and 
 Chatelain, shuddered when he thought of his nephew 
 belonging to these people. The alarm of his mother 
 was greater still. There was not a moment to be lost ; 
 all who had lent an ear to the Gospel were threatened 
 in their liberty and their life. The blood the inquisi- 
 tors had shed only increased their thirst, and new 
 scaffolds were about to be erected. Peter Toussaint, 
 the Chevalier d'Esch, aud several others, quitted Metz 
 in all haste, and took refuge in Bfde. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Favel .ind his Brothers— Farel driven trom Gap— He Preaches in the Fields 
 —Chevalier Anemond of Coot— The Minorite— Anemond quits France- 
 Luther to the Duke of Savoy— Farel quits France. 
 
 Thcs the storm of persecution raged at Meaux and at 
 Metz. The north of France repudiated the God, and 
 for a time the Gospel withdrew. But the Reforma- 
 tion only changed its place; — the south-eastern pro- 
 vinces became the theatre of it. 
 
 Farel, who had taken refuge at the foot of the Alps, 
 there displayed great activity. To him it was a small 
 matter to enjoy domestic happiness in the bosom of his 
 family. The rumour of what had taken place at Meaux 
 and at Paris had inspired his brothers with a kind of 
 terror; but an unknown power attracted them to 
 the new and unknown truths with which William en- 
 tertained them. With the impetuosity of his zeal he 
 urged them to be converted to the Gospel ; and David, 
 Walter, and Claude, were at length gained to the God 
 whom their brother preached. They did not at the 
 first moment abandon the worship of their ancestors ; 
 but when persecution arose they boldly sacrificed 
 friends, goods, and country, for liberty to worship 
 Jesus Chi-ist. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 The brothers of Luther and Zwingle appear not to 
 have been as decidedly converted to the Gospel. The 
 French Keformation had, from the beginning, a more 
 friendly and domestic character. 
 
 Farel did not confine himself to his brothers; he 
 announced the truth to his relatives and friends at 
 Gap, and in its neighbourhood. It would even appear, 
 if wo can credit a manuscript, that, availing himself of 
 the friendship of certain ecclesiastics, he preached the 
 Gospel in several churches ; but other authorities as- 
 sure us that at this time he did not mount the pulpit. 
 Be this as it may, the doctrine which he professed 
 made a great noise. The multitude and the clergy 
 wished to put him to silence. "A new and strange 
 heresy! " said they " Can it be that all pious observ- 
 ances are vain '! He is neither monk nor priest. He 
 has no right to act the preacher." 
 
 All the civil and ecclesiastical powers of Gap were 
 soon united against Farel. He was evidently an agent 
 of the sect which was everywhere spoken against. '"Let 
 us," it wag said, "cast far from ns this firebrand of 
 discord." Farel was summoned to appear, treated 
 harshly, and violently banished from the town. 
 
 He did not, however, abandon his native district, 
 Did not the fields, the villages, and the banks of the 
 Durance, the Guisauue, and the Isere, contain many 
 souls which had need of the Gospel? And if he there 
 ran some risk of danger, did not those forests, and 
 caves, and steep rocks, which he had so often visited 
 in his youth, offer him an asylum? He began to go 
 up and down the country, preaching in houses and 
 amid lonely pastures, taking shelter in woods and on 
 the brinks of torrents. It was a school in which God 
 was training him for other labours. " Crosses, perse- 
 cutions, and the machinations of Satan, of which I had 
 been forewarned, have not been wanting," said he ; 
 " they are far too strong for me to withstand them ; but 
 God is my Father ; He has furnished, and will furnish, 
 me with all the strength I require." A great number 
 of the inhabitants of these districts received the truth 
 from his mouth. Thus the persecution which had 
 dri\en Farel from Paris and from Meaux, spread the 
 Reformation throughout the provinces of the Saone, 
 the Rhone, and the Alps. In all ages this Scripture is 
 fulfilled . Therefore they that ii-erc scattered abroad irciit 
 everywhere preaching the Woixl. 
 
 Among the French who were then gained to the 
 Gospel, was a gentleman of Dauphiny, Chevalier 
 Auemond of Coct, a younger son of auditor do Coct, 
 lord of Chatelard. Quick, ardent, easily moved, 
 pious-hearted, an enemy of relics, processions, and the 
 clergy, Anemond received the evangelical doctrine with 
 great readiness, and soon was entirely devoted to it. 
 He could not endure forms in religion, and would 
 willingly have abolished all the ceremonies of the 
 Church. To him the religion of the heart, internal 
 adoration, alone was true. "Never," said he, "has 
 my spirit found any rest in externals. A summary of 
 Christianity is contained in these words : John bajj- 
 ticed tvith watej; but you will be baptized ivith the Holy 
 Spirit: there must be a new creature. 
 
 Coct, who had all the vivacity of a Frenchman, 
 spoke and wrote sometimes in Latin, and sometimes in 
 French. He read and quoted the " Donat," Thomas 
 
 Aquinas, Juvenal, and the Bible. He spoke in short 
 sentences, and passed abruptly from one idea to an- 
 other. Always in motion, wherever a door appeared 
 open to the Gospel, or a celebrated doctor was to be 
 heard, there he was to be found. By his warm-heart- 
 edness he gained the love of all with whom he was 
 brought into connection. " He is a man of distin- 
 guished truth and learning," said Zwingle at a later 
 period; " but he is still more distinguished for his piety 
 and aifability." Anemond is a kind of type of many 
 Frenchmen of the Reformation. Vivacity, simplicity, 
 zeal amounting to imprudence, such were some of the 
 characteristics of his countrymen who embraced the 
 Gospel. In the other extreme of the French character 
 we find the grave figure of Calvin, who forms a strik- 
 ing contrast to the fickleness of Coct. Calvin and 
 Anemond are the two opposite poles, between which 
 all the religious world in France vibrates. 
 
 No sooner had Anemond been instructed by Farel 
 in the knowledge of Jesus Christ, than he himself 
 sought to gain souls to this doctrine of spirit and life. 
 His father was dead : his elder brother, of a harsh and 
 haughty temper, repulsed him with disdain. Laurence, 
 the youngest of the family, and who had a great affec- 
 tion for him, seemed only partially to comprehend him. 
 Anemond, seeing himself repulsed by his own family, 
 turned his activity elsewhere. 
 
 Till now, the revival of Dauphiny had been con- 
 fined to laymen. Farel, Anemond, and their friends, 
 longed to see a priest at the head of the movement. 
 At Grenoble there was a curate, a minorite, named 
 Peter de Sebville, an eloquent preacher, and an honest 
 good-hearted man, who consulted not with flesh and 
 blood, and whom God was gradually drawing to him- 
 self. Sebville soon perceived that there was no in- 
 fallible teacher but the Word of God ; and abandoning 
 doctrines supported only by human testimony, resolved 
 in spirit to preach the Word " clearly, purely, holily." 
 These three words express the whole Reformation. 
 Coct and Farel were delighted when they heard this 
 new preacher of grace raise his eloquent voice in their 
 province, and they thought that their presence would 
 thenceforth be less necessary. 
 
 The more the revival extended, the more violent the 
 opposition became. Anemond, desirous to know 
 Luther and Zwingle, and the countries in which the 
 Reformation had commenced, and indignant at seeing 
 the truth repulsed by his fellow-citizens, resolved to 
 bid adieu to his country and his family. Hav'ng made 
 a will, disposing of his property — which was then in 
 possession of his eldest brother, lord of Chatelard — 
 in favour of his brother Laurence, he quitted Dauphiny 
 and France, and hastening, with his usual impetuosity, 
 from the south, over countries then ditficult to pass, he 
 crossed Switzerland, and scarcely stopping at Bale, 
 arrived at Wittemberg beside Luther. This was shortly 
 after the second Diet of Nuremberg. The French 
 gentleman accosted the Saxon doctor with his ordinary 
 vivacity. He spoke enthusiastically of the Gospel, and 
 with earnestness explained the plans which he had 
 formed for the propagation of the truth. Saxon 
 gravity smiled at the southern imagination of the 
 knight, and Luther, though he had some prejudices 
 against the French character, was won and carried 
 
ANEMOND AND LUTHER. 
 
 383 
 
 nwiiy by Aiicniond. lie wiis moved to think how this 
 geiitlomiin ImJ come for tiic Gospel from France to 
 Wittcmberg. " Of a surety," said the Reformer to his 
 friends, *' tliis French knight is an excellent, learned, 
 and pious man." The young gentleman produced the 
 same impression on Zwingle and Luther. 
 
 Anemoud, seeing what Luther and Zwinglo had done, 
 thought that if they would take possession of France 
 and Saxony, nothing could resist them ; and hence, 
 when he could not persuade them to go thither, he 
 urged them to consent at least to write. In particular, 
 he begged Luther to address a letter to Duke Charles 
 of Savoy, brother of Louisa and Philiberta, uncle of 
 Francis L and Margaret. " This prince," said he to 
 the doctor, " takes a great interest in piety and true 
 religion, and likes to talk of the Reformation with some 
 j)ersons of his court. He is litted to coiiiprehend you, 
 for his motto is, '■Nihil tkest timeniiltus Deiim.' This 
 motto is also yours. Struck at alternately by the 
 empire and by France; humbled, grieved, always in 
 danger, his heai't is in want of God and His grace. 
 All he requires is a powerful impulse. Were he gained 
 to the Gospel, he would have an immense influence 
 over Switzerland, Savoy, and Franco. Do write 
 liim." 
 
 Luther was wholly German, and would have found 
 himself ill at ease out of Germany. Still, animated by 
 a truly catholic spirit, he gave his hand as soon as he 
 saw brethren ; wherever tiiere was a word to be deli- 
 liverod, he took care to have it heard. Occasionally 
 he wrote on the same day to the extremities of Europe, 
 the Low Countries, Savoy, and Livonia. 
 
 " Certainly," replied he to Auemond's request, " the 
 love of the Gospel in a prince is a rare gift, and an in- 
 estimable jewel." He addressed a letter to the duke, 
 which was probably carried by Anemond as far as 
 Switzerland. 
 
 " Will your highness pardon mo," wrote Luther, " if 
 I, a humble and despised individual, dare to address 
 you ? or rather, will your highness be pleased to impute 
 this boldness to the glory of the Gospel? For I can- 
 not see this splendid luminary rise and shine in any 
 quarter without exulting with joy. . . My desire 
 is, that my Lord Jesus may win many souls by the 
 example of your most serene highness. Wherefore I 
 wish to tell you of our doctrine. . . We believe 
 
 that the commencement of salvation, and the sum of 
 Cin-istianity, is faith iu Christ, who, by His blood 
 alone, and not by our works, has expiated sin, and 
 destroyed the dominion of death. AVe believe that 
 this faith is a gift of God, and that it is created by the 
 Holy Spirit in our hearts, and not found by our own 
 exertion. For faith is a living thing, which begets 
 mau spiritually, and makes him a new creature." 
 
 Luther next proceeded to the consequences of faith, 
 and shewed how we cannot possess it unless the scaf- 
 folding of false doctrines and human works which the 
 Church had so laboriously reared, were forthwith thrown 
 down. " If grace," said he, " is gained by the blood 
 of Christ, it is not by our own works. Wherefore all 
 works and cloisters are useless; and these institutions 
 must be abolished, as being against the blood of Jesus 
 Christ, and leading men to confide in their own works. 
 Incorporated with Jesus Christ, it now only remains 
 
 for us to do that which is good, because, having become 
 good trees, we ought to testify it by good fruits. 
 
 '' Gracious lord and prince," says Luther, in conclud- 
 ing, " may your highness, who has begun so well, con- 
 tinue to spread this doctrine, not by the power of the 
 sword, which would do harm to the Gospel, but by 
 calling into your states teachers who preach the Word. 
 It is by the breath of His mouth that Jesus will 
 destroy Antichrist, iu order that, as Daniel expresses 
 it, lie may 'be broken without hand,' (Dan. viii. 25.) 
 Therefore, most serene prince, may your highness 
 revive the spark which has begun to burn in you. 
 IMay a fire come forth from the house of Savoy, as of 
 old from the house of Joseph. May all France be as 
 stubble before the fire : may it burn, and crackle, and 
 purify, so that this illustrious kingdom may bear iu 
 truth tlie name of most Christian kiiiydoin, which till 
 this hour it owes only to the torrents of blood shed ia 
 the service of Antichrist !" 
 
 Such was Luther's effort to spread the Gospel in 
 France. It is not known what effect the letter pro- 
 duced upon the prince ; but it does not appear that he 
 ever shoA\'ed any desire to detach himself from Rome. 
 In 1522, he prayed Adi'ian VI. to be godfather to his 
 first son ; and at a later period the pope promised the 
 second a cardinal's hat. Ancniond, after attempting 
 to see the court and Elector of Saxony, for which 
 purpose he had received a letter from Luther, returned 
 to Bale more determined than ever to sacrifice his life 
 for the Gospel. In his ardour he wished he were 
 able to shake all France. "All that I am," said he, 
 " and all that I shall be ; all that I have, and all that 
 I shall have, I wish to devote to the glory of God." 
 
 At Bale Anemoud found his countryman Farel. 
 Auemond's letters had produced in him an eager desire 
 to see the reformers of Switzerland and Germany. 
 Farel, moreover, required a sphere of activity, in 
 which he could more freely display his powers. He, 
 therefore, quitted that France which had nothing but 
 scaffolds to give to the preachers of the pure Gospel. 
 Taking byroads, and concealing himself iu the woods, 
 he succeeded, though with ditliculty, in escaping the 
 hands of his enemies. He frequently lost his way. 
 " By my powerlessness in these petty things," saitli 
 he, " God means to teach me what my powerlessness 
 is iu great things." At length, iu the beginning of 
 1524, he arrived in Switzerland. It was here he was 
 to spend his life in the service of the Gospel ; and it 
 was at this time that France began to send into Hel- 
 vetia those generous evangelists who were to establish 
 the Reformation iu Romane Switzerland, and give it a 
 new and powerful impulse throughout the confedera- 
 tion and the whole world. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Catholicity of the Reformation— Friendship of Farel and (Ecolampadius— 
 Farel and Erasmus— Altercation— Farel calls for a Discussion- Theses 
 — Scripture and Faith— Discussion. 
 
 A FIXE feature in the Reformation is its catholicity. 
 Germans come into Switzerland — Frenchmen go into 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Germany — at a later period EuglishmeQ and Scotch- 
 men repair to the Continent, and teachers from the 
 Continent to Great Britain. Tlie Reformation of the 
 different countries began almost independently of each 
 other ; but no sooner do they begin than they shake 
 hands. There is but one faith, one Spirit, one Lord. 
 I think it was not well done hitherto to write the his- 
 toi-y of the Reformation only for one country. The 
 work is one, and Protestant churches, from their origin, 
 form one body, Jitb/ joined together, (Ephes. iv. IC.) 
 
 At this time a French church, saved from the scaf- 
 fold, was formed at Bale by several refugees from 
 France and Lorraine. They had spoken about Lefevre, 
 Farel, and the events at Meaux; and hence, when Farel 
 arrived in Switzerland, he was already known as one 
 of the most devoted champions of the Gospel. 
 
 He was immediately introduced to CEcolampadius, 
 who had been for some time returned to Bale. Seldom 
 have two more opposite characters met. Qicolam- 
 padius charmed by his mildness, Farel carried away 
 by his impetuosity; but from the first moment these 
 two men felt united for ever. It was the second 
 union of a Luther and a Melancthon. CEcolampadius 
 received Farel into his house, gave him a modest 
 chamber, a frugal table, and introduced him to his 
 friends. The learning, piety, and courage of the young 
 Frenchman soon won all hearts. Pellican, Imeli, 
 Wolfhard, and other ministers of Bale, felt strength- 
 ened in the faith by his energetic discourses. CEcolam- 
 padius was at this time in very low spirits. "Alas!" 
 said he to Zwingle, " I speak in vain, and see not the 
 least ground for hope. Perhaps I should have had 
 more success among the Turks." . . "Ah!" added 
 he, with a deep sigh, "I blame nobody but myself" 
 But the more he saw of Farel the more his heart 
 revived, and the courage which was thus imparted to 
 him became the basis of an imperishable affection. 
 " Oh, my dear Farel !" said he to him, " I hope the 
 Lord will make our friendship immortal ! and if we 
 cannot be united here below, our joy will only be the 
 greater when we meet beside the Saviour in heaven." 
 Pious and touching thoughts! The arrival of Farel 
 was evidently assistance sent to Switzerland from above. 
 
 But while this Frenchman was delighted with 
 CEcolampadius, he recoiled coldly, and with a noble 
 disdain, from a man at whose feet all the nations of 
 Christendom did homage. The prince of scholars, — 
 he from whom a word and a look were objects of 
 ambition, — the master of the age, Erasmus, was dis- 
 regarded by Farel. The young man from Dauphiny 
 had refused to go and do homage to the old sage of 
 Rotterdam, because he despised the men who are never 
 more than half-way on the side of truth, and who, 
 while aware of the dangers of error, are full of defer- 
 ence for those who propagate it. Thus in Farel was 
 seen that decision which became one of the distinguish- 
 ing characteristics of the Reformation in France and 
 French Switzerland, and which has sometimes been 
 stigmatized as rudeness, exclusiveness, intolerance. A 
 discussion had taken place in regard to the commen- 
 taries of Lefevre, between the two greatest doctors of 
 the period, and there never was a party where those 
 present did not either take part with Erasmus against 
 Lefevre, or for Lefevre against Erasmus. Farel had 
 
 not hesitated to take part with his master. But what 
 had especially excited his indignation was the cowardice 
 of the philosopher of Rotterdam in regard to evangeli- 
 cal Christians. Erasmus shut his door against them. 
 Very well. Farel won't knock at it. This cost him 
 but a small sacrifice, convinced, as he was, that Eras- 
 mus wanted the basis of all true theology — piety of 
 heart. "The wife of Frobenius," he said, "has more 
 theology than ho." Indignant at Erasmus for having 
 written to the pope, stating how he ought to proceed 
 in order " to extinguish the fire raised by Luther," he 
 declared loudly that Erasmus wished to stifle the 
 Gospel. 
 
 Young Farel's independence irritated the illustrious 
 scholar. Princes, kings, doctors, bishops, popes, re- 
 formers, priests, men of the world, all considered 
 themselves happy in coming to pay him their tribute 
 of admiration. Luther himself had shewed some def- 
 erence for his person, and this exiled stranger from 
 Dauphiny presumed to brave his power. This insolent 
 freedom gave more chagrin to Erasmus than the 
 homage of the whole world gave him joy. Accord- 
 ingly, he omitted no opportunity of discharging his 
 bad humour at Farel ; besides, in attacking so decided 
 a heretic, he washed himself, in the eyes of the Roman 
 Catholics, of the suspicion of heresy. "Never," said 
 he, " have I seen a more false, virulent, and seditious 
 man. His heart is full of vanity, his tongue full of 
 malice." But the wrath of Erasmus did not stop at 
 Farel : it broke out against all the French refugees at 
 Bille, whose frankness and decision had annoyed him. 
 They shewed that they had little respect of persons. 
 When the truth was not frankly professed, they cared 
 little for the man, how great soever his genius might 
 be. They, perhaps, wanted somewhat of the mild 
 temper of the Gospel ; but their fidelity had in it some- 
 thing of the strength of the old prophets. We love to 
 meet with men who refuse to bend to what the world 
 worships. Erasmus, astonished at this proud disdain, 
 complained to everybody. Writing to Melancthon, he 
 says: "What! shall we reject pontiffs, and bishops, 
 only to have more cruel tyrants, scabbed madmen, for 
 such France has sent us ?" " Some Frenchmen," wrote 
 he to the pope's secretary, in presenting him with his 
 book on "Free Will," "are still madder than the Ger- 
 mans themselves. They have always in their mouths 
 these five words — Gospel, Word of God, Faith, Christ, 
 Holy Spirit ; and yet I doubt not it is the spirit of 
 Satan that impels them." Instead of Farellus he often 
 wrote Fallicus, thus designating one of the frankest 
 men of his age by tlie epithet of cheat or deceiver. 
 
 The spu"it and wrath of Erasmus were at their 
 height, when he was told that Farel had called him a 
 Balaam. Farel thought that Erasmus, like that pro- 
 phet, allowed himself, perhaps without knowing it, to 
 be seduced by presents to speak against the people of 
 God. The learned Dutchman, unable to contain him- 
 self, resolved to call the audacious Frenchman to 
 account; and one day, when Farel was talking on 
 Christian doctrine with several friends, Erasmus, 
 bluntly interrupting him, said : " Why do you call me 
 Balaam '?" Farel, astonished at first at the bluntness of 
 the question, soon recovered himself, and replied, that 
 it was not he who had so called him." Pressed to name 
 
FAREL'S THESES. 
 
 the culprit, he mentioned Du Blet of Lyons, like 
 himself a refugee at Bale. " It may be he is the 
 person who said it," replied Erasmus ; '• but it was you 
 who taught him to say it." Then, ashamed at having 
 lost his temper, he quickly turned the conversation. 
 " Why," said he to Fare!, " do you maintain that the 
 saints are not to be invoked ? Is it because the Holy 
 Scriptures do not command it?" — '"Yes," said the 
 Frenchman. " Very well," replied the scholar, " I 
 challenge you to prove by Scripture that it is necessary 
 to pray to the Holy Spirit." Farel made this simple 
 and true reply : " If He is God He must be invoked." 
 "I left off the discussion," says Erasmus, "for it was 
 drawing to niglit." Thenceforth every time that tiie 
 name of Farel came imder his pen, it was to reproach 
 him as a hateful being, to be shunned at all hazards. 
 The letters of the reformer, on the contrary, are full 
 of moderation in regard to Erasmus. Even in the 
 hottest temperament, tlie Gospel is milder than philo- 
 sophy. 
 
 At Biilo the reformed doctrine had already _ — ^ 
 many friends in the council and among the 
 people ; but the professors of the imiversity 
 combated it with all their might. Q'lcolam- 
 padius and Stoi\ pastor of Liestal, had main- 
 tained tiiesos against them. Farel thought it 
 his duty in Switzerland also to make a public 
 profession of the great principle of the evan- 
 gelical school of Paris and Meaux — the siitji- 
 ciency of the Word of God. He asked [. r- 
 mission of the university to maintain tin ~ -, 
 "rather," he added modestly, "that I ni;iy 1m 
 corrected if I am wrong, than to teach otli. i -. 
 The university refused. 
 
 Farel then addressed the council ; am 
 council announced, that a Christian 
 named William Farel, Imving, by the i 
 ration of the Holy Spirit, prepared ce 
 articles conformable to the Gospel, permis- 
 sion was given him to maintain them in Latin. The 
 university prohibited every priest and student from 
 appearing at this discussion ; but the council issued a 
 contrary order. 
 
 The following are some of the thirteen propositions 
 which Farel posted up : — 
 
 " Christ has given us the most perfect rule of life : 
 no man is entitled to take from it or to add to it. 
 
 "To be guided by other precepts than those of 
 Christ, leads directly to impiety. 
 
 " The true ministry of priests is to devote themselves 
 to the administration of the Word : they have no 
 higher office. 
 
 " To deprive the glad tidings of Christ of their cer- 
 taint)', is to destroy them. 
 
 " He who hopes to be justified by his own power 
 and his own merits, erects liimself into a God. 
 
 "Jesus Christ, whom all things obey, is our polar 
 star, and the sole star which we ought to follow." 
 
 Tluis this '• Frenchman " presented himself at Bille. 
 A mountaineer of Dauphiny, brought up in Paris at 
 the feet of Lefevre, came to this celebrated university 
 of Switzerland, under the eye of Erasmus, and boldly 
 expounded the great principles of the lieformatiou. 
 Two ideas were contained in Farel's theses. The one 
 
 was, the duty of returning to the Holy Scriptures ; the 
 other, the duty of returning to faith . two things which 
 the papacy, in the famous bull of Unigenitus, at the 
 beginning of the eighteenth century, has decidedly con- 
 demned as heretical and impious ; and which, closely 
 connected with each other, in fact overturn the system 
 of the papacy. If faith in Christ is the beginning and 
 end of Christianity, it is to the Word of Christ wo 
 must attach ourselves, and not to that of the Church. 
 More than this : if faith unites souls, where is the 
 necessity for an external bond of union ? Do crosses, 
 bulls, and tiaras, constitute this sacred unity? Faith 
 unites in a spiritual and true unity all those in whose 
 hearts it fixes its abode. Tlius vanished at one blow 
 the triple delusion of meritorious works, human tradi- 
 tions, and a spurious unity. This is the whole of 
 Roman Catholicism. 
 
 The discussion commenced in Latin. Farel and 
 O^colampadius explained and proved their articles. 
 
 none of them appeared. The sophists (so CEcoIam- 
 padius styles them) made a great bluster, but hidden in 
 their obscure retreats. Accordingly, the people began 
 to despise the cowardice of the priests, and to detest 
 their tyranny. 
 
 Thus Farel obtained a place among the defenders of 
 the Reformation. People were delighted to see a 
 Frenchman combining so much learning and pietj'. 
 The greatest triumphs were anticipated. "He is 
 strong enough by himself alone," it was said, " to 
 destroy all the Sorboune." His candour, sincerity, and 
 frankness, gained all hearts. But in the midst of his 
 activity, he forgot not that it was in his own soul his 
 mission behoved to commence. The mild Q^colampa- 
 dius, and the ai-dent Farel, entered into a paction, in 
 virtue of which they bound themselves to exercise 
 humility and meekness in their ordinary conversation. 
 These intrepid men knew how to train themselves for 
 peace even on the very battle-field. The impetuosity 
 of a Luther and a Farel were, however, necessary 
 virtues. Some effort must be made, when the end in 
 view is to disple:ise the world, and renovate the Church. 
 The men of our day too often forget a truth which the 
 meekest men of that day recognised. "Some," said 
 CEcolampadius to Luther, in introducing Farel to him, 
 2c 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 — '• some could wisli that this zeal against the enemies 
 of the truth were more moderate ; but I cannot help 
 seeing in this very zeal an admirable virtue, which, 
 ft" seasonably displayed, is no less necessary than 
 gentleness." Posterity has confirmed the judgment 
 of CEcolampadius. 
 
 In the month of May, 1524, Farel, with some friends 
 from Lyons, visited Schaffhausen, Zurich, and Con- 
 stance. Zwingle and Myconius gave a glad welcome 
 to this exile of France. Farel remembered it all his 
 days. On his return to Biile he found Erasmus and 
 his other enemies at work, and received orders to quit 
 the town. In vain did his friends loudly testify their 
 disapprobation of such an abuse of power. He be- 
 hoved to quit the soil of Switzerland, which was here- 
 after doomed to great disasters. " Such," said Qilcolam- 
 padius, "is the way in which hospitality is understood 
 by us, true sons of Sodom." 
 
 Farel, while at Bale, had continued upon intimate 
 terms with Chevalier d'Esch, who resolved to accom- 
 pany him. They accordingly set out, furnished with 
 letters to Capito and Luther, to whom the doctor of 
 Bale recommended Farel as "the William who had 
 laboured so much in the work of God." At Stras- 
 burg, Farel formed an intimate friendship with Capito, 
 Bucer, and Hedio ; but he appears not to have gone 
 as far as Wittemberg. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 New Campaign— Calling ot Farel to the Ministiy— An Advanced Post- 
 Lyons au Evangelical Focus — Sebville at Grenoble— Conventicle-'^ — 
 Preaching at Lyons— Maigret in Prison— Margaret Intimidated. 
 
 God usually removes His servants from the field of 
 battle to bring them back stronger and better armed. 
 Farel, and his friends in Meaux, Lyons, and Dauphiny, 
 driven from France by persecution, had become im- 
 bued, in France and Germany, with the spirit of the 
 oldest Reformers ; and now, like an army at first 
 scattered by the enemy, but instantly rallied, they were 
 about to turn round and march forward in the name 
 of the Lord. These friends of the Gospel did not only 
 re-appear on the frontiers ; in France itself they re- 
 sumed courage, and prepared to renew the attack. 
 The trumpets now sounded the revei/h', — the soldiers 
 buckled on their armour, and formed themselves in 
 bands to multiply their blows, — the leaders were pre- 
 paring for the onset, — the watchword, " Jesus, His 
 Word, and His grace!" more powerful than the flourish 
 of martial music at the moment of battle, filled men's 
 hearts with equal enthusiasm. All was ready in 
 France for a second campaign, which was to bo 
 signalized by new victories, and by new and greater 
 reverses. 
 
 Montbeliard at this time demanded a labourer. 
 Duke Ulric of Wurtemberg, young, violent, and cruel, 
 dispossessed of his estates in 1519 by the Swabian 
 league, had taken refuge in this county, the only 
 one of his dominions remaining to him. He saw the 
 reformers in Switzerland: his misfortunes proved salu- 
 
 tary, and he felt a relish for the Gospel. O^colam- 
 padius informed Farel that a door was opened in 
 Montbeliard, and Farel hastened secretly to Bale. 
 
 Farel had not regularly entered the ministry, but 
 at this period we find in him all that was necessary to 
 constitute a minister of the Lord. He did not throw 
 himself into the service of the Church thoughtlessly, 
 and of hLs own accord. " Looking at my littleness." 
 he says, '' I should not have dared to preach, waiting 
 until my Lord should send a fitter person. But God 
 gave me a triple call. He was no sooner arrived at 
 Bale, than CEcolampadius, touched with the wants of 
 France, besought him to devote himself to it. " See," 
 said he to him, " how little Jesus Christ is known by 
 all who speak the French language ! Will ye not give 
 them some instruction in their mother tongue, that 
 they may the better understand the Holy Scriptures?" j 
 At the same time he received a call from the people of 
 Montbeliard, and the prince consented. Was not this j 
 triple call from God? . . . " I did not think," says j 
 he, " it could be lawful for me to resist. According to | 
 God, I obey." Concealed in the house of OEcolam- j 
 padius, struggling with the responsibility which was j 
 offered to him, yet obliged to yield to the clear mani- i 
 festation of the will of God, Farel accepted the charge, 
 and QScolampadius commended him to it, calling on | 
 the name of tlie Lord, and givmg his friend counsels i 
 full of wisdom. " The more you are inclined to vio- 
 lence," said he to him, "the more ought you to exer- 
 cise yourself in gentleness — temper your lion-courage 
 with dove-like gentleness." Farel answered this appeal 
 with all his soul. 
 
 Thus Farel, of old an ardent follower of the ancient 
 Church, was going to become a servant of God in the 
 new Cliurch. If Rome demands, to the validity of aa 
 ordination, the laying on of the hands of a bishop de- 
 scended by uninterrupted succession from the Apostles, 
 it is merely because she places human tradition above 
 the Word of God. In every church where the au- 
 thority of the Word is not absolute, it is necessary to 
 have recourse to another authority. And then, what 
 more natural than to look to the most venerated minis- 
 ters of God, for what they know not how to find in 
 God himself? If they speak not in the name of Jesus 
 Christ, is it not something, at least, to speak in the 
 name of St. John and St. Paul? He who speaks in 
 the name of antiquity, is stronger than the rationalist, 
 who speaks only in his own name. But the Christian 
 minister has a still higher authority: he preaches not 
 because he descends from St. Chrysostom and St. 
 Peter, but because the Word which he announces 
 descends from God himself. The idea of succession, 
 how respectable soever it may appear, is only a human 
 system substituted for the system of God. In the 
 ordination of Farel there was no human succession ; — 
 nay, more, there was not in it a thing which is neces- 
 sary in the Lord's flocks, among whom even/thint/ must 
 be done in order — God being not a God of confusion. He 
 had no ordination by the Church. But extraordinary 
 times justify extraordinary things. At this memorable 
 period God himself interposed. By marvellous dispen- 
 sations He consecrated those whom He called to the 
 renovation of the world ; and this consecration is well 
 worth that of the Church. There was in Farel's 
 
LYONS AN EVANGELICAL FOCUS. 
 
 ordination the iiifiilliblo "Word of God piven to a man 
 of God to carry it to the world — the call of God and 
 the people, and the ordination of the heart. Perhaps 
 tliere is not a minister of Rome or Geneva who has 
 been more lefiitimately ordained to the holy ministry. 
 Farel set out for Montbeliurd accompanied by D'Escli. 
 
 Farel was thus placed as an advanced post. Behiml 
 him were Bale and Strasburg, to support him by their 
 counsels aud printing-presses. Before him stretched 
 the provinces of Frauche-Comt(', Burgundy, Lorraine, 
 Lyonnais, and the rest of Fraucc, where men of God 
 were beginning to struggle against error in the midst 
 of profound darkness, lie inimodintcly began to 
 l)reach Christ, and to entreat the faithful not to allow 
 themselves to be turned from the Holy Scriptures by 
 threats or guile. Farel was at IMontbeliard like a 
 general on a height, with a piercing eye taking in the 
 whole field of battle, urging those who are actually 
 engaged, rallying those whom the impetiiosity of the 
 attack has thrown into disorder, aud by his own cour- 
 age inflaming those who remained behind. Erasmus 
 immediately wrote to his Roman Catholic friends, that 
 a Frenchman escaped from France was making a great 
 disturbance in those regions. 
 
 Farel's lessons were not in vain. One of his country- 
 men, writing to him, says : " Everywhere we see men 
 springing up and spending their labour and their whole 
 life in doing what they can to extend the Gospel of 
 Jesus Christ." The friends of the Gospel blessed the 
 Lord that the Sacred AVord was daily shining through- 
 out Gaul with a brighter lustre. The enemy was 
 alarmed. '• The /((c'//o«," wrote Erasmus to the bishop 
 of Rochester, '• is every day extending more aud more, 
 being propagated in Savoy, Lorraine, aud France." 
 
 For some time Lyons seemed to be the centre of the 
 evangelical movement within the kingdom, as Bale was 
 beginning to be out of it. Francis I., going into the 
 South on a campaign against Charles V., had arrived 
 there with his mother, his sister, and his court. Mar- 
 garet had with her several individuals devoted to the 
 Gospel. 
 
 '• All others she left behind," says a letter of this 
 period. While Francis I. sent through Lyons G,000 
 troops, and 1,500 lances of French nobility, to join 
 14,000 Swiss, in order to repel the invasion of Pro- 
 vence by the imperialists, — while this great city re- 
 sounded with the noise of arms, the trampling of 
 horses, and the sound of trumpets, the friends of the 
 Gospel were marching to more peaceful conquests. 
 They wished to attempt at Lyons what they had been 
 unable to accomplish at Paris. It might be, that away 
 from the Sorbonuc and the Parliament, the AVord of 
 God would have gi-eater freedom. It might be, that 
 the second city of the kingdom was destined to become, 
 with regard to the Gospel, the first. Was it not here 
 that, nearly four centuries before, worthy Peter Waldo 
 began to spread the Divine Word ? He had at that 
 time shaken France. Now that God had fully pre- 
 pared the emancipation of His Church, might not 
 larger and more decisive success be anticipated '1 Ac- 
 cordingly the men of Lyons, though it is true they 
 were not, in general, as in the twelfth centurj', the 
 '• poor," began boldly to wield tlie sword of the Spirit, 
 which is tlie Word of God. 
 
 Among the persons about Margaret was her almoner, 
 Michel d'Arande. The Duchess caused the Gospel to 
 be publicly preached in Lyons. Master Michel preach- 
 eil it loudly and purely to a large audience, attracted 
 partly by the interest which the glad tidings excited 
 wherever they are published, and partly also by the 
 respect in which the preaching and the preacher were 
 held by the beloved sister of the king. 
 
 Anthony Papillon, a man of very cultivated mind, 
 an elegant scholar, a friend of Erasmus, and " the first 
 in France well learned in the Gospel," also accom- 
 panied the jirincess. He had, at Margaret's request, 
 translated Luther's work on monastic vows, "which 
 brought him into much trouble with those Parisian 
 vermin," says Sebville. But Margaret had protected 
 this learned man when attacked by the Sorbonne, and 
 had procured him the office of First Master of Re- 
 quests to the Dauphin, with a place in the Great 
 Council. He aided the Gospel not less by his devoted- 
 ness than by his prudence. A mei-chant n.imed 
 Vaugris, and especially a gentleman named Anthony 
 du Blet, a friend of Farel, were at the head of the 
 Reformation in Lyons. The latter^ possessed of great 
 activity, served as a link to connect the Christians 
 scattered over those districts, and placed them in com- 
 munication with Bale. While the warriors of Francis 
 I. only passed through Lyons, the spiritual soldiers of 
 Jesus Christ stopped there with Margaret. Allowing 
 the former to carry war into Provence and the plains 
 of Italy, they began in Lyons itself to fight the battle 
 of the Gospel. 
 
 But they did not confine themselves to Lyons, They 
 looked all around them. The campaign commenced in 
 several quarters at once. The Christians of Lyons, by 
 their words and their labours, encouraged all who con- 
 fessed Christ in the surrounding provinces. They did 
 more. They sent and preached it where it was not yet 
 known. The new doctrine ascended the Saone, and an 
 evangelist trod the rough and narrow streets of Ma^on. 
 Michel d'Arande himself, almoner to the king's sister, 
 weut thither in 1524, and, by the aid of Margaret's 
 name, obtained liberty to preach in this town, which, 
 at a later period, was to be full of blood, and whose 
 kajys were to pass into a by-word. 
 
 After climbing in the direction of the Rhone, the 
 Christians of Lyons, ever on the outlook, climbed in 
 the direction of the Alps. At Lyons there was a 
 Dominican, named Maigret, who had been obliged to 
 quit Dauphiny, where he had preached the new doc- 
 trine with decision. He urgently asked that some one 
 should go and encourage his brethren of Grenoble and 
 Gap. Papillon and Du Blet went. A violent storm 
 had just burst on Sebville aud his preaching. The 
 Dominicans had moved heaven and earth. Furious at 
 seeing so many evangelists — Farel, Anemond, Maigret 
 — escape them, they would fain have annihilated those 
 within their reach. They had, accordingly, called for 
 the apprehension of Sebville. 
 
 The friends of the Gospel in Grenoble were in dis- 
 may. Must Sebville also be taken from them? Mar- ! 
 garet interceded with her brother. Several of the ! 
 most distinguished pereous of Grenoble, among others, i 
 the king's advocate, avowed or secret friends of the 
 Gospel, exerted themselves in behalf of the evan- ! 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 gelical cordelier, aud at length tlieir united efforts 
 rescued him from the fury of his enemies. 
 
 But if Sebville's life was safe, his mouth was shut. 
 "Be silent," he was told, "or the scaffold awaits you." 
 AYriting to Anemond de Coct, he says : " Silence is 
 imposed upon me luider pain of death." These 
 menaces of the enemy alarmed even those of whom the 
 best had been hoped. The king's advocate, and other 
 friends of the Gospel, now shewed nothing but cold- 
 ness: several returned to the Eomisli ritual, pretending 
 to worship God in the secrecy of their heart, and to 
 give the external rites of Catholicism a spiritual mean- 
 ing, — a sad delusion, which leads from infidelity to 
 infidelity. No hypocrisy can thus be justified. The 
 unbeliever, by means of his system of myths and alle- 
 gories, will preach Christ from the Christian pulpit ; 
 
 and the follower of sonic abominable superstition 
 among the heathen will be able, with a little intellect, 
 to find in it the symbol of a pure and elevated idea. 
 In religion the first thing is truth. Some of the Chris- 
 tians of Grenoble, among them Amedeus Galbert, and 
 a cousin of Anemond, continued firm in the faith. 
 These pious men met in secret with Sebville sometimes 
 at the house of one or other of them, and talked to- 
 gether of the Gospel. They repaired to some distant 
 retreat, or went during the night to the house of a 
 brother. They hid themselves to pray to Jesus Christ, 
 as robbers do to commit crimes. More than once the 
 humble assembly was disturbed by false alarms. The 
 enemy connived at their secret conventicles ; but they 
 had sworn that the faggot would do justice to who- 
 ever should dare to discourse publicly of the Word of 
 God. ^ 
 
 It was in these circumstances that Messires du Blet 
 aud Papillon arrived at Grenoble. Seeing that Seb- 
 ville's mouth was shut, they exhorted him to come and 
 preach Christ at Lyons. Tlie Lent of the following 
 year was to present a favourable occasion for preach- 
 ing it to a numerous crowd. Michael d'Arande, 
 Maigret, and Sebville, prepared to fight at the head 
 of the Gospel phalanxes. Every preparation was thus 
 made for a brilliant manifestation of the truth in the 
 second city of France. The rumour of this evan- 
 gelical Lent spread as far as Switzerland. " Sebville 
 is set free, and will preach this Lent at St. Paul's at 
 Lyons," wrote Anemond to Farel. But a great dis- 
 aster, carrying affliction into every part of France, 
 prevented this spiritual combat. It is in peace that 
 the Gospel makes its conquests. The defeat of Pavia, 
 which took place in the month of February, frustrated 
 this bold plan of the Reformers. 
 
 Meanwhile, without waiting for Sebville, Maigret, 
 at Lyons, jireached salvation by Christ alone, notwith- 
 standing of the keen opposition of priests and monks. 
 In these discourses there was no longer any question 
 a> to the worship of creatures, the saints, the Virgin, 
 md the power of the priests. The great mystery of 
 
 idliness, '-God manifest in the flesh," was alone 
 
 I roclaimed. The ancient heresies of the paupers of 
 
 I yons, it was said, have re-appeared in a worse form 
 
 I than ever. Notwithstanding of this opposition, Maigret 
 
 lutimied his ministry. The faith which animated 
 his soul expressed itself in powerful language. It is 
 ( f the nature of truth to embolden the heart which 
 has received it. However, Rome was to prevail at 
 Lyons as at Grenoble. In presence of Margaret, 
 Jlaigret was arrested, dragged along the streets, and 
 t ist into prison. Vaugris, a merchant, who at this 
 time left the town on a journey into Switzerland, 
 pread the news as he passed along. They produced 
 (stonishment and despondency. One idea, however, 
 calmed the fears of the reformed: "Maigret is seized," 
 it was said; "but Madame d'Ahnqon is there, thank 
 God! " 
 
 This hope was soon disappointed. The Sorbonne 
 had condemned several of the propositions of this 
 faithful minister. Margaret, whose situation was 
 always becoming more diflicult, saw at once an in- 
 crease in the hardihood of the friends of the Refor- 
 mation, and in the hatred of its powerful enemies. 
 Francis I. began to feel impatient at the zeal of the 
 evangelists. He saw in tliese fanatics what he deemed 
 it right to suppress. Margaret, thus suspended be- 
 tween her desire of being useful to her brethren, and 
 her inability to save them, sent an intimation to them 
 not to throw themselves into new dangers, seeing that 
 she would write no more to the king in their favour. 
 The friends of the Gospel thought that this resolution 
 was not irrevocable : " God give her grace," said they, 
 " to say and write only what is necessary to poor 
 souls." But if this human resource fails them, Christ 
 remains. It is good for the soul to be left without 
 help, in order that it may lean on Christ alone. 
 
TRANSLATION AND PRINTING AT BALE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Tlic Frcncli at IMlc— Encouragement of the Swms— Fear of Disunion— 
 Translations and Priuting Prcssts at Cile-BibKs auU TracU Circulated 
 
 Me^VJJTIME the cflforts of the friends of the Gospel wore 
 paralyzed. The great were beginning to be hostile to 
 Christianity. Margaret was afraid : dreadful news 
 were about to cross the Alps, and blow after blow to 
 throw the kingdom into mourning, leaving only one 
 thought — to save the king, to save France. But if the 
 Christians of Lyons were arrested in their labours, 
 were there not at Bale soldiers who had escaped from 
 tlic battle, and were ready to begin anew ? The exiles 
 of France have never forgotten her. Driven from 
 their country for nearly three centuries by the fana- 
 ticism of Rome, we see their latest descendants carry- 
 ing to the towns and fields of their fathers the treasures 
 of which the pope deprives them. At the moment 
 when the soldiers of Christ in France, in despondency, 
 threw down their arms, the refugees of Biile prepared 
 for the combat. Seeing the monarchy of St. Louis and 
 Charlemagne tottering in the hands of Francis I., will 
 they not feel called to aspire to a linr/dom which cannot 
 be moved? 
 
 Fai-cl, Ancmond, d'Esch, Toussaiut, and their friends, 
 formed in Switzerland an evangelical society, with the 
 view of delivering their country from spii-itual dark- 
 ness. Lettei-s were received from all quarters, inform- 
 ing them that the thirst for the Word of God was 
 growing in France. It was necessary to take advan- 
 tage of this — to water and sow seed during seed-time. 
 CEcolaiupadius and Oswald Myconius ceiised not to 
 encourage them in it. They gave their hand, and in- 
 spired them with their faith. The Swiss schoolmaster, 
 in January, 1525, wrote to the French knight : "Ban- 
 ished as you are from your country by the tyranny of 
 Antichrist, your very presence in the midst of us proves 
 that you have acted with courage in the cause of the 
 Gospel. Tiie tyranny of the Christian bishops will 
 soon make the people regard them only as liars. Re- 
 main firm. The time is not distant when we shall 
 enter the haven of rest, whether tyrants strike us or 
 be themselves struck, and then all will be well with us, 
 provided we be faithful to Jesus Christ." 
 
 These encom-agcmeuts were precious to the French 
 refugees ; but a blow, proceeding from these same 
 Cliristians of Switzerland and Germany, who sought to 
 strengthen them, tore their hearts to pieces. Scarcely 
 escaped from the faggot, they were in dismay when 
 they saw ihe evangelical Christians beyond the Rhine 
 disturbing the repose which they enjoyed by lament- 
 able dissensions. The discussion on the Supper had 
 begun. Moved and agitated, feeling strongly how 
 much need there was of charity, the French would 
 have given everything to effect a reconciliation be- 
 tween these divided spirits. This became their riding 
 thought. At the period of the Reformation none had 
 so much need of Christian unity as they. Of this, at 
 a later period, Calvin was a proof. '' Would to God," 
 said Peter Toussaint, " that I were able, with all my 
 
 blood, which indeed is not worth much, to purchase 
 peace, concord, and union in .lesus Christ." The 
 French, possessed of a clear and ready judgment, im- 
 mediately perceived that this new discussion would ar- 
 rest the work of the Reformation. " Everything would 
 go on much better than at present if we were agreed. 
 There are many people who would willingly come to 
 the light ; but when they see these divisions among the 
 clergy, they know not what to do." 
 
 The French were the first who thought of taking 
 steps for reconciliation. " Why," they wrote to Stras- 
 burg, " not send a Bucor, or some other learned 
 man, to T.iitlicr' The \r,n'z<'\- we wait, the greater the 
 dissLMiH.iM will 1h',Miii,/' 'I'l,, M' fears only increased. 
 At leii;_^ili, -•■eiii'i ilpir riim-i- ii rlcv^, these Christians, 
 ill griul, tuniej tlnir eye- away from Germany, and 
 fixed tlieiii earnestly on Franco. 
 
 France — the conversion of France, thenceforth ex- 
 clusively engrossed the hearts of these generous men, 
 whom history, which has inscribed on her pages the 
 names of so many individuals vainly ]Hiffed up with 
 their own glory, has not even mentioned. Thrown 
 upon a foreign land, they there flung themselves upon 
 their knees, and daily, in the solitude of their retreat, 
 invoked God in behalf of the land of their fathers. 
 Prayer ! — such was the power by which the Gospel 
 was spread over the kingdom, and tlie great instru- 
 ment to which the Reformation owed her conquests. 
 
 But these Frenchmen were not only men of prayer ; 
 never did an evangelical army number soldiers more 
 ready to devote their persons in the hour of battle. 
 They saw the importance of diffusing the Holy Scrip- 
 tures and pious books in their country, still immersed 
 in the darkness of superstition. A spirit of inquiry 
 circulated over the whole kingdom ; it was necessary 
 to give it wings. Anemond, always prompt in action, 
 and Michael Beutin, another refugee, resolved to unite 
 their zeal, their talents, their means, and their labours. 
 Beutin wished to establish a printing press at Btile ; 
 and the knight, in order to turn to profit the little that 
 he knew of German, proposed to translate the best 
 works of the Reformation into French. In the joy 
 which their project inspired, they exclaimed: "W'ould 
 to God that France were completely filled with Gospel 
 volumes, so that everywhere, in the cottages of the 
 poor, and the palaces of the great, in cloisters and 
 presbyteries, and in the inner sanctuary of the heart, 
 a powerful testimony might be borne to Jesus Christ." 
 
 Such an enterprise required friends, and the refugees 
 had nothing. At this time Vaugi-is was at Bale, and 
 Anemond, on his departure, sent by him a letter to 
 the brethren of Lyons, several of whom were rich in 
 worldly goods, and who, though oppressed, were always 
 faithful to the Gospel. He asked them to send him 
 some assistance. But this was not enough. The 
 French wished to establish several presses in Bale, 
 which, working night and day, might inundate France 
 with the Word of God. At Meaux and Metz, and 
 other places besides, were men rich enough and power- 
 ful enough to aid in this enterprise. No man could 
 address Frenchmen with so mucli authority as Farel. 
 To him, therefore, Anemond turned. 
 
 It does not appear that the knight's scheme was re- 
 alized ; but the work was done by others. The presses 
 
30() 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of Bale were coustantly employed in printing French 
 books. These were sent to Farcl, who was unremit- 
 ting in introducing them into France. One of the first 
 productions sent by this Eeligious Tract Society was 
 the "Exposition of the Lord's Prayer," by Luther. 
 The merchant Vaugris wrote Fare! : " We sell the 
 tract of the ' Pater ' at four deuiers of Bale, by retail ; 
 but wholesale wc sell 200 for two florins, which is not 
 so much." 
 
 From Bale, Auemond sent Farel all the useful books 
 which appeared there, or arrived from Germany; one 
 of these was a treatise on the training of Christian 
 ministers, and another on the education of children. 
 Farel examined these writings. He composed, trans- 
 lated, or procured others to translate into French. He 
 appeared to be at once all action and all study. Ane- 
 mond urged on and superintended the press; and these 
 epistles, these prayers, these books, all these flying 
 sheets, were the means of regenerating the age. While 
 dissipation came forth from the throne, and darkness 
 from the steps of the altar, these unobserved writings 
 sent over the nation rays of light and seeds of holi- 
 ness. 
 
 But it was the "Word of God, above all, that the 
 evangelical merchant of Lyons demanded in the name 
 of his couutrymen. This people of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, hungering for intellectual food, were to receive, 
 in their own tongue, those ancient monuments of the 
 first ages of the world, and inhale the new breath of 
 primitive humanity, together with those holy oracles of 
 Gospel times in which the fulness of the Christian 
 revelation is displayed. Vaugiis wrote to Farel : " I 
 pray you, if it be possible, to get a translation of the 
 New Testament by some man able to make it. It 
 would be a great boon to France, Burgundy, and 
 Savoy. And if it was necessary to have a French 
 letter, (printing types.) I would cause it to be procured 
 from Paris or Lyons, — if good ones cau be got at Bi'de, 
 so much the better." 
 
 Before this time the books of the New Testament 
 in Frencli, but in detached parts, had been published 
 by Lefevre at Meaux. Vaugris wished that some one 
 would revise the wliole, and superintend a complete 
 edition. Lefevre undertook the task, and published it, 
 as we have already said, on the 12th October, 1524. 
 An uncle of Vaugris, named Conrard, a refugee at 
 Bale, immediately procured a copy of it. On the 
 18th November, Chevalier de Coct, at the house of a 
 friend, saw the book, and was overjoyed. " Haste, 
 and get it reprinted," said he, "for I doubt not that a 
 very great number will be disposed of." 
 
 Thus the Word of God was presented to France 
 in opposition to the traditions of the Church, which 
 Rome still ceases not to offer to her. "How is it 
 possible," asked the reformers, " to distinguish be- 
 tween what is human in tradition, and what is Divine, 
 unless by the Scriptures of God? The sentences of 
 Fathers, the decretals of the heads of the Church, 
 cannot bo the rules of our faith. They shew us what 
 Wiis the opinion of those ancient teachers; but the 
 Word alone informs us what is the truth of God. 
 We must make everything submit to Scripture." 
 
 Such was the principal means by which these writ- 
 ings were diffused. Farel and liis friends entrusted 
 
 the books to some dealers or hawkers, simple and 
 pious men, who, bearing their precious burden, went 
 from town to town, village to village, and house to 
 house, in Franche-Comte, Lorraine, Burgundy, and 
 the neighbouring provinces, knocking at every door. 
 These books were given them at a low price, "in 
 order that they might feel desirous to sell them." 
 Thus, as early as 1524, there was in Bale, for the 
 benefit of France, a Bible and Eeligious Tract Hawk- 
 ing Society. It is an error to suppose that these take 
 their date from our age. In their essential idea they 
 go back not only to the period of the Reformation, but 
 to the first ages of the Church. 
 
 CHAPTER Xlll. 
 
 ■gress at Moutbeliavd— Opposition anil Diatui-bauco— Touissant ijiiit; 
 CEcolampadiuo— Tlie Day of tlie Bridge— Deatli of Aneiuond— Suclcs 
 
 The attention which Farel gave to France did not 
 make him overlook the places in which he lived. 
 Having arrived at Moutbeliard, towards the end of 
 July, 1524, he had there scarcely sown the seed, than, 
 as CEcolampadius expresses it, the first-fruits of the 
 harvest began to appear. Farel, quite delighted, 
 wrote of it to this friend. " It is easy," replied the 
 teacher of Bale, " to introduce some dogmas into the 
 ears of the hearers ; but to change the heart is God's 
 own work." 
 
 Chevalier de Coct, delighted with the news, repaired, 
 with his ordinary vivacity, to Peter Toussaint. " I set 
 out to-morrow on a visit to Farel," said he hastily. 
 Toussaint, who was more calm, wrote to the evangelist 
 of Montbeliard : " Take care ; the cause that you main- 
 tain is a great cause ; it must not be defiled by human 
 counsels. The powerful promise you their favour, 
 their assistance, mountains of gold. . . . But to 
 trust in these things, is to desert Jesus Christ and 
 walk in darkness." Toussaint was finishing his letter 
 when the chevalier entered. He took it, and set out 
 for Montbeliard. 
 
 He found the whole town in great agitation. Several 
 of the great, in alarm, and eyeing Farel disdainfully, 
 said: "What does this poor wi-etch mean? Would to 
 God he had never come ! He cannot remain here, 
 for he would involve us all in his ruin." These nobles, 
 who had taken refuge at Montbeliard with the duke, 
 feared that the noise which the Reformation every- 
 where made would draw upon them the attention of 
 Charles V., and Ferdinand, who would chase them 
 from their last asylum. But Farel met with the 
 greatest resistance from the clergy. The guardian 
 of the Franciscans of Besan9on had hastened to Mont- 
 beliard, and had formed a plan of defence with the 
 clergy of the place. On the following Sunday, Farel 
 had scarcely begun his sermon when they interrupted 
 him, oalling him a liar, and a heretic. Immediately 
 the whole assembly was in a stir. They rose up, and 
 called for silence. The duke hastened up, caused both 
 
TOUSSAINT LEAVES (ECOLAIMPADIUS. 
 
 391 
 
 the guardian aud Farel to be apprehended, and ordered 
 tlic former either to prove his accusations, or to retract 
 them. Tiie guardian preferred the hitter alternative, 
 and an ollicial report was published on the whole 
 affair. . 
 
 This attack aroused Farel still more. He thought 
 himself thenceforth bound to shew no delicacy in 
 unmasking these selfish priests; and drawing the 
 sword of the Word, he dealt vigorous blows. He 
 was more disposed to imitate Jesus, when lie drove 
 the money-changers from the temple, and overthrew 
 their tables, than when the prophetical spirit bore this 
 testimony to Him : He shall not utrive nor ciy, neither 
 shall any one hear His voice in the streets. CEcolara- 
 padius was alarmed. In these two men were perfect 
 types of two diametrically opposite characters, aud yet 
 both worthy of admiration. " You have been sent," 
 wrote QCcoiam])adius to Farel, •' to draw men gently 
 to the truth, and not to drag them with violence, — to 
 bring glad tidings, and not to curse. Physicians have 
 I recourse to amputation only when other remedies are 
 useless. Conduct yourself as a physician, aud not as 
 j an e.vecutioner. I do not hold it enough for you to be 
 mild towards the friends of the AVord. You must also 
 ! gain its enemies. If the wolves arc driven away from 
 I the shcepfold, let the sheep, at least, hear the voice of 
 the Shepherd. Pour oil and wine into wounds, and 
 conduct yourself as an evangelist, and not as a tyi'ant." 
 I The uoisc of these doings spread over France and 
 
 ' Loiraiue, aud alarm began to be felt in the Sorbouue 
 and by the cardinal at this union of the refugees in 
 ' Bale and Montbeliard. It was wished to break up 
 I an alliance that gave imcasiness ; for error knows no 
 [ greater triumph than to win over deserters. Already 
 jiartial Mazurier and others had given the Galilean 
 papacy the joy produced by shameful defection ; but 
 if they could succeed in seducing one of these con- 
 fessors of Christ, who had taken refuge on the banks 
 of the Rhine, after having suffered much for the name 
 of the Lord, how great a Aictory to the pontifical 
 hierarchy! She accordingly prepared her batteries, 
 and singled out the youngest as the object of attack. 
 
 The primicier, the Cai-dinal of Lorraine, aud all who 
 belonged to the numerous circles which met at the 
 house of this prelate, deplored the sad fate of Peter 
 Toussaint, who had given them so many hopes. lie ' 
 is at Bale, it was said, in the very house of CEcolam- 
 padius, living with one of the leaders of heresy. They 
 wrote to him with earnestness, as if his eternal saha- 
 tion had been at stake. These letters tormented the 
 poor young man the more, that he could not help see- 
 ing in them an affection which he valued. One of his 
 relations, probably the primicier himself, called upon 
 him to go to Paris or Metz, or any place he pleased, 
 provided it was away from the Lutherans. This rela- 
 tive, who wa.s aware of all that Toussaint owed him, 
 did not doubt that he would immediately obey his 
 orders ; and hence, when he saw his efforts unavailing, 
 his affection was transformed into violent hatred. At 
 the same time, this refusal on the part of the young 
 refugee exasperated against him all his family and all 
 his friends. His mother, " who was mider the power 
 of the court," was applied to. The priests sun-oimded 
 her, frightened her, and persuaded her, that her son 
 
 had done things which could not be spoken of without 
 horror. The mother, in despair, wrote her son a 
 touching letter, as he expresses it, " full of tears," in 
 which, in the most heart-rending manner, she depicted 
 to him all her misfortunes. ''Ah! wretched mother," 
 said she ; " ah ! unnatural son : cursed be the breast 
 that nursed, and the knees that bore you 1" 
 
 Poor Toussaint was in consternation. AVhat was 
 he to do ] Return to France he could not. To quit 
 Bale for Zurich or Wittemberg, out of the reach of his 
 family, would have increased their sorrow. Uicolam- 
 padius suggested a middle course. '• Quit my house," 
 said he. He, in fact, did quit Gicolampadius with a 
 lieart fidl of sadness, and went to live with an ignorant 
 and obscure priest, well fitted to restore confidence to 
 his relations. What a change for Toussaint ! It wa.s 
 only at table he met his host. Tiiere they ceased 
 not to debate on matters of faith ; but as soon as the 
 meal was finished, Toussaint hastened again to shut 
 himself up in his chamber ; and there alone, free from 
 noise and dispute, he carefully studied the Word of 
 God. "The Lord is my witness," said he, "that in 
 this valley of tears I have only one wish, aud it is to 
 see the kingdom of Christ extended, so that all may 
 with one mouth glorify God." 
 
 One circumstance occurred which consoled Tous- 
 saint. The enemies of the Gospel were always be- 
 coming stronger in Metz. At his urgent request, 
 Chevalier d'Esch set out, in the course of January', 
 1525, to sti-engthen the evangelical Christians of that 
 town ; he crossed the forest of the Vosges, and arrived 
 at the place where Leclorc had yielded up his life, 
 carrying with hira several books, with which ho had 
 been furnished by Farel. 
 
 Lorraine was not the only quarter to which the 
 French refugees turned their eyes. Chevalier de Coct 
 received a letter from one of Farel's brothers, in which 
 the state of Dauphiny was pourtrayed in the darkest 
 colours. He took care not to shew it, for feai- of 
 alarming the weak ; and contented himself with pray- 
 ing earnestly to God that He would give the assist- 
 ance of His mighty hand. In December, 1524, a 
 messenger from Dauphiny, named Peter A^errier, 
 charged with commissions for Farel aud Aneraoud, 
 arrived on horseback at Montbeliard. The chevalier, 
 with his usual vivacity, resolved to return to France. 
 •'If Peter has brought money," wrote he to Farel, 
 " take it. If he has brought letters to me, open them, 
 take a duplicate, and then send them. Nevertheless, 
 don't sell the horse, but return it ; for, perhaps, I may 
 want it. I am induced to go secretly into France by 
 the way of Jacobus Faber, (Lefevre,) and Arandius. 
 Write me your opinion." 
 
 Such was the confidence between these two refugees; 
 the one opened the letters of the other, aud received 
 his money. It is true that de Coct owed thu'ty-six 
 crowns to Farel, w'hose purse w-as always open to his 
 friends. There was more zeal than prudence in the 
 knight's desire to retiu'n to France. He had too little 
 prudence not to expose himself to certain death. Of 
 this Farel, doubtless, convinced him. He quitted 
 Bale, and returned to a small town, where he had 
 " great hopes of having the German language, God 
 assisting." 
 
392 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Fare! continued to evangelize Montbeliard. His 
 soul was vexed within him when he saw the majority 
 of the inhabitants addicted to the worship of images. 
 It was, according to Farel, a renewal of the ancient 
 idolatry of Paganism. 
 
 Meanwhile, the exhortations of Qicolarapadius, and 
 the fear of compromising the truth, might long have 
 restrained him, but for an unforeseen circumstance. 
 One day, towards the end of February, (it was the 
 feast of St. Anthony.) Farel was walking near the 
 banks of a small stream which crosses the town, be- 
 neath the high rock on which the citadel stands, when, 
 on arriving at the bridge, he met a procession which was 
 advancing, repeating prayers to St. Anthony, and hav- 
 ing at its head two priests, with an image of the saint. 
 Farel tlius found himself suddenly brought face to 
 face with these superstitions without having sought 
 them. A violent struggle took place in his soul. Will 
 he give way? Will he hide himself ? "Would not this 
 be cowardly unbelief ? These dead images, carried on 
 the shoulders of ignorant priests, made his blood boil. 
 Farel came boldly forward, seized the holy hermit 
 out of the arms of the priests, and threw it from 
 the bridge into the river. Then, turning towards 
 the astonished people, he exclaimed : " Poor idolaters ! 
 will you never leave off your idolatry?" 
 
 The priests and the people stood still in amazement. 
 A religious dread seemed to chain the multitude. But 
 the stupor soon ceased. "The image is drowning!" 
 exclaimed one of the crowd ; and then to stupor and 
 silence succeeded transports and cries of fury. The 
 crowd were going to rush on the sacrilegious man, 
 who had thrown the object of their adoration into the 
 water. But Farel, we know not how, escaped then- 
 rage. 
 
 There is ground, we are aware, to regret that the 
 reformer allowed himself to be betrayed into this act, 
 which rather arrested the progress of the truth. No 
 man should think himself entitled violently to attack 
 any proceeding by public authority. Still, in tlie zeal 
 of the reformer, there is something more noble than 
 that cold prudence so common in the world, which 
 recoils before the least danger, and fears to make the 
 least sacrifice for the advancement of the kingdom of 
 God. Farel was not ignorant that he ran the risk of 
 losing his life, like Leclerc. But the testimony of his 
 conscience, urging him to seek only the glory of God, 
 took away all his fears. 
 
 After the day at the bridge, a characteristic feature 
 in Farel's history, the reformer was obliged to conceal 
 himself, and soon after to quit the town. He took 
 refuge in Bale, beside Oicolampadius ; but he always 
 regarded Montbeliard with the affection which a ser- 
 vant of God invariably feels for the first-fruits of his 
 ministry. 
 
 At Bale sad news awaited Farel. He was a fugi- 
 tive, and his friend, Anemond de Coct, was seriously 
 iU. Farel immediately sent him four gold crowns ; 
 but a letter from Oswald Myconius, of 25th March, 
 informed him of the knight's death. " Let us live," 
 wrote Oswald, " so as to gain the rest into which we 
 hope that the spirit of Anemond has already entered." 
 
 Thus Anemond, still young, full of activity, full 
 of strength, desirous by every means to evangelize 
 
 France, — qualities which made him worth a host, — 
 descended to a premature grave. God's ways are not 
 our wai/s. It was not long since, near Zurich, also, 
 another knight, Ulrich von Hiitten, had breathed his 
 last. There are some featui-es of resemblance between 
 the German and the French knight ; but the piety and 
 Christian virtues of the latter place him far above the 
 witty and dauntless enemy of priests and monks. 
 
 Shortly after the death of Anemond, Farel, unable 
 to remain at Bale, from which he had once been 
 banished, repaired to Strasburg, to his friends, Capito 
 and Bueer. 
 
 Thus at Montbeliard and at Bale, as at Lyons, 
 blows were given to the Eeformatiou. Among the 
 most devoted combatants some were carried off by 
 death, others by persecution or exile. In vain did the 
 soldiers of the Gospel try all means of assault ; they 
 were everywhere repulsed. But if the forces which 
 they had concentrated — first at Meaux, then at Lyons, 
 and then at Bale — were successively scattered, there 
 still remained, here and there, combatants who, in 
 Lorraine, at Meaux, at Paris even, struggled more or 
 less openly to maintain the Word of God in France. 
 If the Reformation saw its masses broken, there still 
 remained isolated soldiers. It was against them that 
 the Sorbonne and the parliament were going to turn 
 tlieir rage. They wished that on the soil of France 
 there should not remain one of the noble men who 
 had undertaken to plant the standard of Jesus Christ ; 
 and at this time unheard of misfortunes seemed to 
 conspire with the enemies of the Reformation, and 
 lend them a strong hand to finish their work. 
 
 (CHAPTER XI\^ 
 
 FraiiLis takeu at Pavia— Reactiou against the Reformation— Louisa consults 
 tlic Sorbonne — Commission against the Heretics— Bri^onuet Denounced 
 —Appeal to the Assembled Parliament— Fall— Reconciliation— Lefevre 
 Accused — Condemnation and Flight — Lefevi-e at Strasburg — Louis de 
 Berijuin Incarcerated — Erasmus Attacked — Schuch at Nantz — Uis 
 UtartjTdom— Contest with Caroli— Sadness of Pavanne— His Faggot 
 Pile— A Christian Hermit— Concourse at Xotre Dame. 
 
 During the later days of Farel's residence at Mont- 
 beliard, great events had taken place on the theatre 
 of the world. Lannoy and Pescaire, the generals of 
 Charles V., had retreated from France on the approach 
 of Francis I., who had passed the Alps, and proceeded 
 to blockade Pavia. On the 24th July, 1525, he was 
 attacked by Pescaire. Bonnovet, La Tremouille, La 
 Palisse, and Lescure, had been slain near the king. 
 The Duke d'Alencon, the husband of Margaret, and 
 first prince of the blood, had fled with the rearguard, 
 and gone to die of grief and shame at Lyons. Francis, 
 thrown from his horse, had surrendered his sword to 
 Charles de Lannoy, viceroy of Naples, who received 
 it with bended knee. The King of France was the 
 emperor's prisoner. The captivity of the king seemed 
 the greatest of misfortunes. "Of everything am I 
 stript save human life," wrote the king to his mother. 
 But no one felt a deeper grief than Margaret. The 
 
ACCUSATIONS AND MENACES. 
 
 303 
 
 glory of lior country compromised, — France without 
 a monarch, and exposed to the greatest dangers, — her 
 beloved brother the captive of liis proud enemy, — 
 her husband dishonoured and dead. . What 
 
 woes! But she had a Comforter; and wliile, to 
 console her, her brother repeated, "All is lost but 
 lionom-," she coidd say • 
 
 France, the princes, parliament, and the people, 
 were in consternation. Soon, as in the lirst centuries 
 of the Church, the calamity which had befallen the 
 country was imputed to the Christians, and from all 
 quarters fanatical voices demanded blood as a means 
 of warding off still greater misfortunes. The moment 
 Wius favourable. It was not enough to have driven 
 the evangelical Christians from the strong position 
 which they had taken up. It was necessary to take 
 ailvantage of the general terror to strike when the 
 iron was hot ; and to make this opposition, which was 
 becoming so formidable to the papacy, a tabula rasa 
 throughout the whole kingdom. 
 
 At the head of tlio conspiracy of these clamourers 
 was Bcda, Duchesne, and Lecouturier. These irre- 
 concilable enemies of the Gospel flattered themselves 
 that they should easily obtain from the public terror 
 the victims who had hitherto been refused them. 
 They immediately set every engine at work, — conver- 
 sation, fanatical sermons, complaints, menaces, defa- 
 matory writings, in order to stir up the wrath of the 
 realm, and especially of its leaders. They threw fire 
 and flames at tlieir opponents, and overwhelmed them 
 with the most scurrilous abuse. All means were 
 good. They picked out some words here and there, 
 left out what might have explained the quotation, sub- 
 stituted their own expressions for those of the teacher 
 whom they impugned, and retracted or added, accord- 
 ing as they wished to blacken their adversaries. This 
 is the testimony of Erasmus himself. 
 
 Nothing excited their rage so much as the funda- 
 mental doctrine of Christianity aud of the Reforma- 
 tion, — salvation by grace. " While I see," said Beda, 
 " three men, otherwise possessed of such penetrating 
 genius, Lefevre, Erixsraus, and Luther, uniting in a 
 conspiracy against works of merit, and laying the whole 
 weight of salvation on faith only, I am no longer as- 
 tonished that thousands of men, seduced by these 
 doctrines, come and say, ' Why shoidd I fast and 
 make a mart>T of my body?' Let us banish from 
 France this odious doctrine of grace. There is in this 
 neglect of merit a fatal delusion of the devil." 
 
 Thus the syndic of the Sorbonne attempted to combat 
 faith. He was to find support in a debauched court, 
 and another portion of the nation more respectable, 
 but not less op[)osed to the Gospel, I mean those grave 
 men of strict morals, who, given up to the study of the 
 law and legal forms, see in Christianity only a system 
 of legislation in the Church — oidy a moral police ; and 
 who, unable to reconcile the doctrine of the spiritual 
 incapacity of man, the new birth, aud justification by 
 faith, with their engrossing ideas of jurisprudence, 
 regard them as fantastic imaginations, dangerous to 
 the public morals and the prosperity of the state. 
 This hostile tendency to the doctrine of grace was 
 
 manifested in the sixteenth century by two very diffe- 
 rent extremes : in Italy and Poland by the dogmas of 
 Socinns, of an illustrious family of lawyers in Sienna; 
 and in France by the persecuting decrees and faggot 
 pilos of the Parliament. 
 
 Parliament, in fact, despising the great truths of the 
 Gospel which tlio reformers aniiouiicecl, ;iiid thinking 
 thciuseK, - (.lili-e,l io ,],, -oinelhinL' in tlie fearful cala- 
 mity A\llieli li:el lM.|:lllrii llie ri:ili..ii. ;nMr--.e(l a strong 
 
 remoM>traiiee in i,nin-M ..i' Sa\iiy on llie eomhictof the 
 government in regard to the new doctrine. ''Heresy," 
 it said, " has raised its head in the midst of us ; and 
 the king, by not causing scaffolds to be erected for 
 it, hiis brought down on the kingdom the wrath of 
 heaven." 
 
 At the same time the ptdpits resounded with com- 
 plaints, menaces, and maledictions ; prompt and ex- 
 emplary jiunishmont was demanded. Martial Mazurier 
 held a distinguished place among the preachers of 
 Paris, and seeking, by his violence, to make his old 
 connections with the adherents of the Reformation to 
 be forgotten, declaimed against the "hidden disciples 
 of Luther." "Know you," exclaimed he, "the rapidity 
 of this poison ? Know you its strength ? Ah ! let us 
 tremble for France. It acts with inconceivable energy; 
 aud iu a short time can put thousands of souls to 
 death." 
 
 It was not dirt'icult to excite the regent against the 
 adherents of the Reformation. Her daughter Margaret, 
 the great personages of the court, Louisa of Savoy her- 
 self — Louisa, always so devoted to the Roman pontiff 
 — were denounced by certain fanatics as favouring 
 Lefevre, Berquin, and other innovators. Had she 
 not read their tracts and translations of the Bible? 
 The queen mother wished to clear herself of these in- 
 sulting suspicions. She had already sent her confessor 
 to the Sorbonne to ask by what means heresy might 
 be extii-pated. " The detestable doctrine of Luther," 
 she had caused be said to the faculty, " is every day 
 gaining uew adherents." The faculty had smiled on 
 receiving this message. Previously their representa- 
 tions had been refused to be listened to, and now they 
 were humbly begged to call a council on the affair. 
 At length they had in their power that heresy which 
 they had long been desirous to stifle. Noel Beda was 
 appointed to reply to the regent. The fanatical syndic 
 did so. " Since the sermons, discussions, aud books, 
 in which we have so often opposed this heresy, have 
 not had the effect of arresting it, an ordinance should 
 be passed prohibiting all the writings of the heretics. 
 Force aud constraint must be employed against the 
 2)ersoii, even, of these false teachers. Those who resist 
 the light must be subdued to it by punishment and 
 terror." 
 
 Louisa had not even waited for their answer. 
 Scarcely had Francis I. fallen into the hands of Charles 
 v., than she had -written to the pope to ask his pleasin-e 
 in regard to heretics. It was of importance to the 
 politics of Louisa to secure the favour of a pontiff who 
 was able to raise Italy against the conqueror of Pavia, 
 and she was ready to purchase it at the price of a little 
 French blood. The pope, delighted at being able to 
 exercise severity, in the kingdom of his most Christian 
 majesty, against a heresy which he was unable to 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 arrest either iu Switzerland or Gormauj-, immediately 
 ordaiucd that the Inquisition should be lutroduccd into 
 France, and addressed a brief to the parliament. At 
 the same time, Duprat, whom the pontiff had made a 
 cardinal, and to whom he had given the archbishopric 
 of Sens, and a rich abbey, sought to return the fa- 
 vour of the court of Eome by displaying indefatigable 
 hatred against the heretics. Thus the pope, the regent, 
 the doctors of the Sorbonne, the parliament, the chan- 
 cellor, the ignorant and fanatical portion of the nation, 
 all together and at once, conspired the ruin of the 
 Gospel and the death of its confessors. 
 
 The parliament took the lead. Nothing less than 
 the first body in the kingdom was required to carry on 
 the campaign against this doctrine. Besides, as the 
 public safety was concerned, was it not their business? 
 The parliament, then, carried away by holy zeal and 
 fervour against these innovators, issued a decree, or- 
 daining, " that the Bishop of Paris and other bishops 
 should be held bound to lend their assistance to 
 Messieurs Philip Pot, president of requests, and 
 Andrew Verjus, councillor, and Messieurs "William 
 Duchesne, and Nicolas Lcclerc, doctors in theology, 
 in framing and conducting the process against such as 
 should be found infected with the doctrine of Luther. 
 
 " And in order that it might appear that these com- 
 niissaries were more under the authority of the Chris- 
 tian Church than the parliament, his holiness was 
 pleased to send his brief, (20th May, 1525,) approving 
 of the said named commissioners. 
 
 '•Following upon this, all who -were declared Lu- 
 therans by the bishops or judges of the Church, de- 
 puted to this effect, were given over to the secular arm, 
 that is to say, to the said parliament, which therefor 
 condemned them to be burned alive." So says a manu- 
 script of the period. 
 
 Such was the dreadful inquest appointed during the 
 captivity of Francis I., against the evangelical Chris- 
 tians of France, for the sake of public safety. It was 
 composed of two laymen and two ecclesiastics. One 
 of the latter was Duchesne, next to Beda the most 
 fanatical doctor in the company. Shame had not 
 allowed them to put their leader upon it, but his lu- 
 ll ucuce was thus only better secured. 
 
 Thus the machine was wound up • its springs were 
 in good order, and every blow which it struck woidd 
 be mortal. The question was, against whom should 
 the first attack be directed? Beda, Duchesne, Leclerc, 
 assisted by Philip Pot, president, and Andrew Verjus, 
 councillor, deliberated on this important question. 
 Was there not the Count of Moutbruu, the old friend 
 of Louis XII., the ex-ambassador to Komc, Briconnet, 
 bishop of Meaux? The committee of public safety, 
 met at Paris in 1525, thought, that by beginning with 
 a man of his high rank they woidd be sure to spread 
 terror over the kingdom. This reason was sufficient, 
 and this venerable bishop was served with a charge. 
 
 Far from allowing himself to be intimidated by the 
 persecution of 1523, Brifonnet had persisted, as well 
 as Lef evre, in opposing the popular superstitions. The 
 more eminent his place in the Church and in the State, 
 the more fatal his example ; and therefore the more 
 necessary to obtain from him a striking recantatiou, 
 or inflict a blow more striking still. The committee 
 
 of inquest hastened to collect the charges against him. 
 They stated the kind reception which the bishop 
 had given to heretics ; that eight days after the guar- 
 dian of the Cordeliers had preached at Meaux, iu 
 the church of St. Martin, conformably to the instruc- 
 tions of the Sorbonne, to re-establish sound doctrine, 
 Bri9onnet himself had mounted the pulpit, had replied 
 to him, and treated the preacher and the other Corde- 
 liers, his colleagues, as false prophets and hypocrites. 
 Not content with this public affront, he had made his 
 official prepare a charge, summoning the guardian to 
 appear in person. ... It would even appear from 
 a manuscript of the time, that the bishop had gone still 
 farther, and that, in the autumn of 1524, accompanied 
 by Lefcvre of Etaples, he had travelled, during three 
 niontlis, over his diocese, and burnt all the images, 
 except the crucifix. This bold procedure, which would 
 shew that Bri9onuet combined great hardihood with 
 much humility, cannot, if it is true, subject him to the 
 blame attached to other destroyers of images. When 
 he reformed these superstitious, he was at the head of 
 the Church, and acted within the sphere of his rights 
 and duties. 
 
 Be this as it may, Brl9ounet was to have guilt enough 
 in the eyes of the enemies of the Gospel. He had not 
 only attacked the Church in general, he had attacked 
 the Sorbonne itself, that company whose supreme law 
 was its own glory and preservative. Accordingly it 
 was delighted on hearing of the inquest directed 
 against its enemy. John Bochart, one of the most 
 celebrated advocates of the time supporting the charge 
 against Bri9onuet before the Parliament, exclaimed, 
 raising his voice ; " Against the Faculty neither 
 Bishop of Meaux, nor any other individual, can raise 
 the head or open the mouth. Neither is the Faculty 
 under auy obligation to go aud dispute, to caiTy and 
 state its reasons before the said bishop, who must not 
 resist the wisdom of this holy company, which he must 
 consider to be aided by God." 
 
 In consequence of this requisition, the Parliament, 
 on the 3d October, 1525, issued a decree, in which, 
 after ordering the personal apprehension of all those 
 who were specified, it ordained that the bishop should 
 be interrogated by James Menager and Andrew Verjus, 
 councillors of the court, on the facts with which he 
 was charged. 
 
 This decree of the Parliament terrified the bishop. 
 Briconnet, ambassador at Rome to two kings — Bri9on- 
 net, a bishop and prince, the friend of Louis XII. and 
 Francis I., about to be subjected to the interrogatives 
 of two councillors of the court ! . . . He who had 
 hoped that God would kindle in the heart of the king, 
 his mother, and his sister, a flame which would com- 
 municate itself to all the kingdom, saw the kingdom 
 turning against himself, in order to extinguish the 
 flame which he had received from heaven. The king 
 is a prisoner ; his mother is moving at the head of the 
 enemies of the Gospel ; and Margaret, dismayed at the 
 disasters which have fallen on France, dares not turn 
 aside the blows which are going to strike her dearest 
 friends, and first of all that spiritual father who has so 
 often consoled her ; or if she dares, she has not the 
 power. Recently she had written Bri9onnet a letter 
 full of pious ejaculations: "Oh! may the poor dead 
 
THE FALL OF BRICONNET. 
 
 305 
 
 heart feel some spark of the love in which it longs to 
 burn to ashes !" Now there was literally a question of 
 Leinj; burnt to ashes. This mystic language was now 
 out of place. He who would confess liis faitli, must 
 brave the scaffold. The poor bishop, who had hoped 
 so nnich to sec an evangelical Reformation spread 
 gradually and peacefully, was in fear and trembling 
 wiien he saw that it must now be purchased at the 
 expense of life. The dreadful thought, perluips, had 
 never before occurred to him, and he started back in 
 anguish and dismay. 
 
 Bri(,'onnet, liowevcr, had still a hope tliat he would 
 be permitted to appear before the assembled chambers 
 of parliament, — tliis being due to a personage of his 
 rank, — and in tiiat august and numerous court he 
 would tiud (he wiis sure of it) generous hearts, who 
 would understand his language, and undertake his 
 defence. He, accordingly, petitioned the court to 
 grant him tliis indulgence. But his enemies had like- 
 wise foreseen what the issue of such an audience 
 might be. Had not Luther been seen at Worms be- 
 fore the Germanic diet, shaking the most resolute 
 hearts .' Eager to keep away every chance of escape, 
 tliey did their work so well, that the parliament, by a 
 decree of the 25th October, 152.5, confirming the for- 
 mer one, refused Bri^onnet's application. 
 
 Here, then, was the Bishop of Meaux sent away, 
 like the most obscure priest, before Masters James 
 Jlenagcr and Andrew N'erjus. Tliese two lawyei-s, 
 docile instruments of the Sorbonue, could not be 
 moved by tlie elevated views to which the whole 
 chamber might have been sensible. They were mat- 
 ter-of-fact men. ILis the bishop been, or has he not 
 been, at variance with the company? This was all 
 they asked. Briconuet's coudemuatiou was, therefore, 
 certain. 
 
 While the sword was thus suspended by the parlia- 
 neut over the head of the bishop, the monks, priests, 
 and doctors, wei-e not losing their time. They per- 
 ceived that a recantation by Brifonnet would serve 
 then- purpose better even than his execution. His 
 death would inliame all those who shared his faith ; 
 but his apostacy woidd be a very great discourage- 
 ment. To work, then! He was visited and urged. 
 Martial Mazurier. in particular, laboured to make him 
 fall, as he luvd fallen himself; and he was not with- 
 out arguments whicli might seem specious to Brifon- 
 net. Was he willing to leave his place? Might he 
 not, by remaining in the Church, use his influence 
 over the king and the court, to do good, of which it 
 was in)])ossible to foresee the extent ? What would 
 become of his old friends when he was no longer in 
 power? How much might his resistance compromise 
 a reform which, in order to be salutary and durable, 
 must operate by the legitimate influence of the clergy? 
 How many would be shocked by his resistance to the 
 Church ? how many, on the contrary, should he attract 
 by yielding? . . . There was a wish like his own 
 for reform. Everything was insensibly leading to it. 
 At court, in the city, in the provinces, everywhere, 
 there was an advance. Could he feel glad at heart 
 while annihilating this fair ])rospect ? . . In reality 
 he was not asked for any sacrifice of doctrine, but 
 only to submit to the order established in the Chui'ch. 
 
 Was it well, when France was overwhelmed witli so 
 many disasters, to stir up new troubles? "In tlie 
 name of religion, — in tiie name of j'our country, — in 
 tlie name of your friends, — in the name of the Ecfor- 
 mation itself, — yield." By such sophisms the noblest 
 causes m'c lost. 
 
 Meanwhile every one of these words made some 
 impression on the bishop. The tempter, who would 
 have made our Saviour fall in the desert, j)rcsented 
 himself under specious forms, and Bri9onnet, instead 
 of exclaiming with his Miister, " Get thee behind mc, 
 .Satan," listened, received, weighed these discourses. 
 After this it was all over with his fidelity. 
 
 Brifonuet )iad never, like a Farel or a Luther, 
 entered fully into the movement which was then re- 
 generating the Church. Tliere was in him a certain 
 mystical tendency, whicli enfeebles the mind, and 
 deprives it of the firmness and courage which a faith 
 founded on the Word of God alone can give. The 
 o-oss, which he bclioved to take uj), in order to follow 
 .Jesus Christ, was too licavy. Shaken, frightened, 
 stupified, distracted, he tottered and stumbled over the 
 stone which was craftily tlirowu in the way. . . , 
 He fell. Instead of throwing himself into the arms of 
 Jesus Christ, he threw himself into those of Mazurier, 
 and by a shameful recantation sullied the glory of a 
 uoble "fidelity. 
 
 Thus fell Bri9onnet, the friend of Lefevre and of 
 Margaret: thus the first supporter of the Gospel in 
 France denied the glad tidings of grace, in the guilty 
 thought, that if he remained faithful to them he would 
 lose his influence on the Church, the court, and France. 
 But Avhat was presented to him as the salvation of his 
 country, became, perhaps, its ruin. What would have 
 happened if Bri^onnet had had the coiu-agc of a Luther? 
 If one of the first bishops of France, dear to the king, 
 dear to the people, had mounted the scaffold, and had 
 there, like the little ones in the estimation of the world, 
 sealed the truth of tiie C4ospel by a courageous confes- 
 sion and a Christian death, might not France have 
 been moved, and the blood of the Bishop of Meaux, 
 becoming, hke that of the Polycarps and Cyprians, the 
 seed of the Church, might not those countries, so 
 illustrious in so many respects, have been seen emerg- 
 ing from the long spiritual darkness in which they are 
 still plunged ? 
 
 Bri9onnet, as a matter of form, underwent the inter- 
 rogatory before Masters James Menager and Andrew 
 Verjus, who declared that he had sufficiently excul- 
 pated himself from the crime with which he was 
 charged. He was then brought to repentance, and 
 assembled a synod, in which he condemned the books 
 of Luther, retracted all that he had taught contrary to 
 the doctrine of the Church, re-established tlie worship 
 of saints, laboured to bring back those wlio had aban- 
 doned the worship of Rome, and wishing to leave no 
 doubt as to his reconciliation with the pope and the 
 Sorbonne, he, on the eve of Corpus C/tristi, held a 
 solemn fast, and ordered a pompous procession, in 
 which he appeared in person, giving pledges of his 
 faith by his magnificence and all sorts of devotion. 
 
 Brifonuet is, perhaps, the most celebrated instance 
 of backsliding which the Reformation presents. No- 
 where do we see a man so far engaged in the Refor- 
 
300 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 mation, and so sincerely pious, turn so suddenly against 
 it. Still it is necessary to form a distinct idea both of 
 his character and his fall. Briconnet was on the side 
 of Rome, and Lefevre was on the side of the Reforma- 
 tion. They are both of the jiiste-milieu, and properly 
 do not belong to any of the two parties ; but the one 
 is of the centre-droit, the other of the centre-gauche. 
 The doctor of Etaples inclines towards the Word, the 
 Bishop of Meaux towards the hierarchy ; and when 
 these two men who approximate each other are obliged 
 to decide, the oue arrays himself with Rome, and the 
 other with Jesus Christ. At the same time, we can- 
 not believe that Briconnet was altogether faithless to 
 the convictions of his faith. Even after his recanta- 
 tion the Roman doctors never had full conttdence in 
 him. He acted as did, at a later period, the Bishop of 
 Cambray, to whom he has more than one feature of 
 resemblance. He thought he could submit externally 
 to the pope, while he continued inwardly subject to 
 the Divine Word. This is a weakness incompatible 
 with the principles of the Reformation. Brifonnet 
 was oue of the heads of the mystic or quietest school 
 in France, and we know that one of its iirst principles 
 always was, to accommodate itself to the church in 
 which it happened to be, be that church what it might. 
 
 The guilty fall of Brifonnet went to the heart of 
 his old friends, and was the sad forerunner of those 
 deplorable apostacies which, in another age, the spirit 
 of the world so often obtained in France. This per- 
 sonage who, in regard to the Reformation, seemed to 
 hold the reins in his hand, was suddenly thrown out 
 of the chariot ; and the Reformation was thenceforth 
 to pursue its course in France without head, without 
 human guide, in humility and obscurity. But the dis- 
 ciples of the Gospel raised their head, and thenceforth 
 looked with still firmer faith to the heavenly Head, 
 whose fidelity they knew could not be shaken. 
 
 The Sorbonne triumphed : a great stride had been 
 made towards the annihilation of the Reformation in 
 France. It was necessary to hasten without longer 
 delay to another victory. Lefe^Te was the first 
 after Briconnet. Accordingly, Beda had immediately 
 directed his attacks against this distinguished teacher, 
 by publishing against him a book containing such gross 
 calumnies, that, as Erasmus expresses it, " Smiths and 
 cobblers might have pointed to them with their finger." 
 What especially excited his wrath was the doctrine 
 of justification by faith, which Lefevre had first pro- 
 claimed in Christendom. This was the point to which 
 Beda incessantly returned, — the article which, accord- 
 ing to him, subverted the Church. " What !" said he, 
 " Lefevre aflirms that whosoever ascribes to himself 
 the power of obtaining salvation, will perish ; while he 
 who, divesting himself of all strength, throws himself 
 entirely into the arms of Jesus Christ, will be saved. 
 . . . Oh ! what heresy thus to preach the impotence 
 of merit ! . . . What infernal error ! — what per- 
 nicious doctrine of the devil ! Let us oppose it with 
 all our might !" 
 
 The doctor of Etaples was immediately subjected to 
 the persecuting machinery which produced retraction 
 or death. They hoped to see Lefevre sharing the fate 
 either of the poor wool-carder Leclerc, or of the dis- 
 tinguished bishop Briconnet. His accusation was soon 
 
 drawn up, and a decree of the parliament (28th 
 August, 1525) condemned nine propositions drawn 
 from his commentaries on the Gospel, and classed his 
 translation of the Holy Scriptures among the prohi- 
 bited books. 
 
 This was only the prelude. Of this the learned 
 doctor was aware. From the first symptom of perse- 
 cution he had felt that, in the absence of Francis I., 
 he would fall under the attacks of his enemies, and 
 that the moment was come to observe the command 
 of the Lord: When they persecute you in this city, flee 
 ye into miother. Lefevre quitted Meaux, where, since 
 the fall of the bishop, he had drunk bitterness, and 
 seen all his activity paralyzed; and withdrawing from 
 Iiis persecutors, he shook off the dust of his feet against 
 them, "not to wish them any ill, but as a sign of the 
 ills which await them ; for he says somewhere, in the 
 same way, as this dust is shaken from our feet, arc 
 they shaken from the face of the Lord." 
 
 The persecutors had missed their victim ; but they 
 consoled themselves with thinking that France, at 
 least, was delivered from the parent of heretics. 
 
 Lefevre, a fugitive, arrived under a borrowed name 
 at Strasburg. He at once frankly joined the friends 
 of the Reformation. How great his joy at hearing 
 that Gospel publicly taught which he had been the 
 first to bring forward in the Church ! " Here is my 
 faith!" This, indeed, was what he had wished to be 
 able to say. Gerard Roussel, one of those evangelical 
 men who, like the doctor of Etaples, did not attain to 
 a complete emancipation, had also, like him, been 
 obliged to quit France. They, together, attended the 
 lectures of Capito aud Bucer; with these faithful 
 teachers they had special interviews ; and the rumour 
 even spread that they had been sent for this purpose 
 by Margaret, the king's sister. But reverence for the 
 ways of the Lord occupied Lefevre more than polemics. 
 Turning his eye upon Christendom, filled with astonish- 
 ment at the gi-eat things which were then taking place, 
 his heart stirred with gratitude and full of expectation, 
 he fell on his knees, and prayed the Lord " to perfect 
 what he theu saw commencing." 
 
 A joyful meeting awaited him at Strasburg. His 
 son Farel, whom persecution had separated from him 
 for nearly three years, had arrived there before him. 
 The old doctor of the Sorbonne found in this young 
 pupil a man in the full vigour of life — a Christian in 
 the full energy of faith. Farel respectfully clasped the 
 wrinkled hand which had guided his first steps, and 
 felt an iudesci-ibable joy in again finding his father 
 in an evangelical town, and in seeing him surrounded 
 with believing men. They together attended the pure 
 lessons of illustrious teachers ; they communicated at 
 the Lord's Supper, administered agreeably to the insti- 
 tution of Jesus Christ, and received touching evidence 
 of the charity of their brethren. "Do you remem- 
 ber," said Farel to him, " what you once said to me 
 when we were both plunged in darkness?" "Wil- 
 liam, God will renovate the world, and you shall see 
 it. . . . Here is the commencement of what you 
 then spoke to me." — "Yes," replied the old man, — 
 " yes, God is renewing the world. Oh, my son ! con- 
 tinue boldly to pi-each the holy Gospel of Jesus Christ !" 
 
 Lefevre, doubtless from an excess of prudence, 
 
LOUIS DB BERQUIN INCARCERATED. 
 
 ■wished to remain at Strasbiirg incognito, and had 
 taken the name of Anthony reregriuc ; while Rous- 
 sel took that of Sohiin. Bnt the illustrious old man 
 could not be concealed. Tiie whole town, even tiie 
 very children, soon bowed respectfully to the old 
 French doctor. He did not live by himself, but at 
 the house of Capito, with Farel, Roussel, Vedaste, — 
 whom everybody praised for his modesty, — and one 
 Simon, a recent Jewish convert. The houses of 
 Capito, CEcolarapadius, Zwiiigle, and Luther, were 
 thus a kind of inns. Such was the streugtii of bro- 
 therly love in those times. There were many other 
 Frenchmen in this town ou the banks of the Rhine, 
 and they here formed a church, in whicii Farel often 
 preached tlie doctrine of salvation. This Christian 
 society alleviated tiieir exile. 
 
 While tliese brethren thus enjoyed the 
 asylum which brotherly charity had open- .-^ 
 
 cd to them, those who were at Paris or 
 in otlier parts of France were exposed to 
 great dangers. Brifonnet had recanted; 
 Lefevre had left. This, doubtless, war; 
 something to the Sorbonne; but they w.r 
 still waiting for the punishments -w 1 
 they had advised. . . . Tiiei e w i 
 individual who irritated them still ni 
 than Brifonnet and Lefevre. I his wai 
 Louis de Berquin. Tlie gentlemim of Ar- 
 tois, of a more decided character than hi- 11 
 two masters, let no opportunity p i-- 
 assailing the theologians and monk-, 
 unmasking their fanaticism. Re-,idiiig \i\ 
 turns at Paris and in the countr) , he col- 
 lected the works of Erasmus and Luther, 
 and translated them. lie also him-elt com- 
 posed controversial writings. In short, he 
 defended and propagated the new doctrines 
 with all the zeal of a new con\ert He 
 was denounced by the Bishop of Araieus. 
 Beda supported tlie complaint; and the parliament 
 caused him to be thrown into prison. "This one," it 
 is said, "will not escape like Bri90nnet or Lefevre." 
 In fact, he was kept under bars and bolts. In vain 
 did the prior of the Carthusians, and others besides, 
 implore him to offer an apology. He declared dis- 
 tinctly tliat he would not yield in a single point. 
 " Then," says a chronicler, " it seemed that nothing 
 remained but to take him to the fire." 
 
 Margaret, in consternation at what had happened, 
 trembled at the thought of seeing Berquin dragged to 
 the scaffold, which the bishop had so disgracefully 
 escaped. She dared not to penetrate into his prison; 
 but she tried to send him some words of consolation ; 
 and it may have been for him the princess made the 
 touching complaint of the prisoner, when addressing 
 the Lord, he exclaims : 
 
 "Oh ! surety, safety, access, retUgc sure. 
 Of the afllicted. Judge of the orphan poor. 
 Treasure of consolations that endure ! 
 These btirs of iron, drawbridge, portal g-ate. 
 By which I here am held in sad estate. 
 Exclude all fHends who sorrow at my fate ; 
 But here or there, where'er my prison be. 
 No bar, no lock, can keep me far from thee. 
 For by my side thou art perpetually." 
 
 But Margaret did not confine herself to this. She 
 immediately wrote to her brother, soliciting him to 
 interfere in Berquin's behalf; happy if she could in 
 time deliver him from the hatred of his enemies. 
 
 While waiting for their victim, Beda resolved to 
 make the enemies of the Sorbonne and the monks 
 tremble by humbling the most celebrated of them. 
 Erasmus had attacked Luther; but no matter. If 
 they succeed in destroying Erasmus, d fortiori, the 
 ruin of Farel, Luther, and their associates, will be in- 
 evitable. Tlie surest way of striking an object is to 
 take aim beyond it. When once a foot was on the 
 neck of the philosopher of Rotterdam, who should 
 escape the vengeance of Rome? Already, Lecoutu- 
 rier, commonly called, from the translation of his 
 name into Latin, Siitur, had taken the first step by 
 
 launching at Erasmus from his solitary Carthusian cell a 
 most violent philippic, in which he called his opponents 
 theologasters, and little asses, and imputed to them scan- 
 dals, heresies, and blasphemies. Handling subjects 
 which he did not at all understand, he reminded one, 
 says Erasmus cuttingly, of the old adage : " X'e siitor 
 ultra crepidam — Let the cobbler only mend his shoes." 
 Beda hastened to the support of his colleague. He 
 told Ei'asmus not to write any more, and himself tak- 
 ing the pen, which he ordered the first writer of the 
 age to lay down, he made a selection of all the calum- 
 nies which the monks had invented against the distin- 
 guished philosopher, translated them into French, and 
 made a book of them, which he circulated at court, 
 and in the city, trying to arouse all France against 
 him. This book was the signal of attack. From all 
 quarters an assault was made on Erasmus. Nicholas 
 d'Ecmond, an old Carmelite of Lorraine, every time 
 he mounted the pulpit, exclaimed : " There is no dif- 
 ference between Erasmus and Luther, unless it be that 
 Erasmus is the greater heretic ;" and wherever the 
 Carmelite was, at table, travelling by land or water, 
 he called Erasmus a heresiarch and falsifier. The 
 faculty of Paris, moved by these brawlers, prepared a 
 censure of this illustrious author. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Erasmus was iu cousternation. Such, then, is the 
 result of all his managemeut, and even of his hostility 
 against Luther. More than auy other had he placed 
 himself in the breach ; and it was now wished to treat 
 him like a stepping-stone, and trample him under foot, 
 the more readily to reach the common enemy. He 
 revolts at the thought. He suddenly wheels round, 
 and has no sooner attacked Luther in front, than he 
 turns on the fanatical doctors, who had struck him 
 from behind. Never was his correspondence more 
 active. Looking all around him, his quick eye imme- 
 diately discovers in what hands his lot is placed. He 
 hesitates not. He will carry his complaints and cries 
 to the foot of the Sorbonne, the parliament, the king, 
 the emperor himself. Addressing those of the theo- 
 logians of the Sorbonne, from whom lie still hoped 
 for some impartiality, he says : " Who has caused this 
 immense fire of Luther? who has stirred it up but 
 Beda with his violence ? In war, a soldier who has 
 behaved well receives reward from his general ; but 
 all the reward I am to receive from you, the generals 
 of the war, is a book of calumnies by the Bodas and 
 the Lecouturiers !" 
 
 "What I" he wrote to the parliament of Paris; '"I 
 was combating these Lutherans, and while fighting a 
 fierce battle by oi'ders of the emperor, the pope, and 
 other princes, to the peril even of my life, Lecouturier 
 and Beda attack me from behind with furious libels. 
 Ah ! had not fortune carried off from us King Francis, 
 I would have besought that avenger of the muses 
 against this new invasion of the barbarians. But now 
 it is for you to lay an arrest on this injustice !" . . . 
 
 No sooner did he descry the possibility of getting a 
 letter to reach the king, than he wrote him also. His 
 penetrating eye coidd see in those fanatical doctors of 
 the Sorbonne the germs of the league — the predecessors 
 of those three priests who were one day to establish 
 the sixteen against the last of the Yalois. His genius 
 gave a prediction to the king of the crimes and mis- 
 fortunes which his descendants were to know but too 
 well. "They put faith in front," said he; "but they 
 aim at tyranny, even over princes. They march with 
 a sure step, though underground. Should the prince 
 refuse to be at their beck in everything, they will 
 forthwith declare that he may be deposed by the 
 Church, — that is, by some false monks, and some 
 false theologians, conspiring against the public peace." 
 Erasmus, in writing to Francis I., could not have 
 touched a better string. 
 
 Lastly, to make still more sure of escaping from his 
 enemies, Erasmus invoked the protection of Charles V. 
 himself. " Invincible emperor," said he, " men who, 
 under pretext of religion, wish to procure a triumph 
 for their belly and their despotism, are raising horrible 
 clamour against me. I fight under your banners and 
 those of Jesus Christ. Let your wisdom and your 
 power give peace to the Christian world." . . . 
 
 Thus the prince of literature made application to all 
 the great ones of the world. The danger was averted 
 from his head ; the princes of the world interposed, and 
 the vultures were obliged to abandon a prey which 
 they already thought within their talons. They then 
 turned tlieir eyes in another direction, seeking other 
 victims, and did not miss them. 
 
 It Avas in Lorraine that blood ^vas first again to flow. 
 From the first days of the Reformation there was a 
 copartnery of zeal between Paris and the country of 
 the Guises. If Paris reposed, Lorraine set to work, 
 and then Paris began anew, waiting till new supplies 
 reached Nancy or Metz. The first blows seemed to 
 fall upon an excellent man, one of the refugees of 
 B;"de, a friend of Farel and Toussaiut. At Metz, the 
 Chevalier d'Esch had been unable to escape the sus- 
 picious of the priests. It being known that he was 
 connected with the evangelical Christians, he was made 
 prisoner at Pont-a-Mousson, five miles from Metz, on 
 the banks of the Moselle. This news caused great 
 grief to the French refugees, and also to the Swiss 
 themselves. " O heart full of innocence ! " exclaimed 
 CEcolampadius ; " I have confidence in the Lord, that 
 He will preserve this man for us, whether in life to 
 announce His name as a preacher of righteousness, 
 or in death to confess Him as a martyr." But, 
 at the same time, CEcolampadius disapproved of the 
 vivacity, the impetuosity, the zeal — in his opinion 
 zeal without prudence^— which distinguished the French 
 refugees. " I wish," said he, " that my dear French 
 lords would not hasten to return into their country 
 imtil they have carefully examined all things, for the 
 devil is everywhere laying his snares. Nevertheless, 
 may they obey the Spirit of Christ, and may this Spirit 
 never abandon them." 
 
 In fact, there was ground to tremble for the cheva- 
 lier's fate. Tiiere was double hatred in Lorraine. 
 Friar Bonaventure Eenel, provincial of the Cordeliers, 
 confessor of Duke Anthony the Good, a forward mau 
 of indifferent morals, allowed this feeble prince, who 
 reigned from 1508 to 1544, great liberty in his plea- 
 sures, and persuaded him, almost as a kind of pen- 
 nance, to destroy all innovators without mercy. This 
 prince, so well counselled by Renel, used often to say : 
 "It is enough for each to know the Eater and Ace 
 Maria; the greatest doctors are the cause of the great- 
 est troubles." 
 
 Towards the end of 1524, it was learned at the court 
 of the duke, that a pastor named Schuch was preach- 
 ing a new doctrine in the town of St. Hippolyte, 
 situated at the foot of the Vosges. " Let them return 
 to order," said Anthony the Good; "if not, I march 
 against the town and fill every place with fire and 
 blood." 
 
 The faithful pastor resolved to sacrifice himself for 
 his sheep ; he repaired to Nancy, where the prince re- 
 sided. Immediately on his arrival he was cast into a 
 pestilential prison, under the guard of coarse and cruel 
 men. Friar Bonaventure then, at length, saw the 
 heretic in his prison. He presided at the inquest, and 
 addressed him as "Heretic! Judas! devil!" Schuch, 
 calm and collected, made no answer to those insults ; 
 but holding in his hand his Bible, all covered with 
 notes which he had written in it, he meekly and forcibly 
 confessed Jesus Christ crucified. Suddenly becoming 
 animated, he stood up boldly, raised his voice, as if 
 under an impulse from the Spirit above, and looking 
 the judges iu the face, denounced to them dreadful 
 judgments from God. 
 
 Friar Bonaventure and his companions, amazed and 
 transported with rage, rushed upon him with loud cries. 
 
MARTYRDOM OF SCHUCH AXD PAVANNE. 
 
 tore the Bible, ia which lie road his denunciations, out 
 of his hands ; and, like mad dogs, says the chronicler, 
 " unable to gnaw at his doctrine, they burnt it in their 
 convent." 
 
 The whole court of Lorraine rung with the obsti- 
 nacy and audacity of the minister of St. Hippolyte ; 
 and the prince, curious to hear the heretic, resolved to 
 be present at his la^t appearance, — but in secret, con- 
 cealed from every eye. The interrogatories having 
 been put in Latin, he conld not comprehend them; but 
 he was struck at seeing the minister witli a firm coun- 
 tenance, apparently neither vanquished nor astonished. 
 Anthony the ^ood, astonished at this obstinacy, rose 
 np, and, on going away, said : " Why debate any 
 more? He denies the sacrament of the mass; let 
 sentence be pronounced upon him." Schuch was im- 
 mediately condemned to be burnt alive. On learning 
 his sentence, he raised his eyes to heaven, and said 
 calmly : " / icas glad when then mM unto me, Let «.< (jo 
 into the house of the Lord." 
 
 On the 19tli August, the whole town of Xancy was 
 in movement. The bells were ringing the death of a 
 heretic. The sad procession began to move. The road 
 lay iu front of the convent of the Cordeliers, who, joy- 
 ous, and on the alert, had met at the gate. At the 
 moment when Schuch appeared, Father Bonaventure, 
 pointing to the images sculptured on the front of the 
 convent, exclaimed : " Heretic ! give honour to God, 
 His mother, and the saints I" "O hypocrites I" re- 
 plied Schuch, looking up at those pieces of wood and 
 stone, "C4od will destroy you, and bring your impos- 
 tures to light." . . . 
 
 The martyr having arrived at the pl.ace of execution, 
 the fu'st thing done was to burn his books iu his pre- 
 sence ; then he was summoned to recant ; but he re- 
 fused, saying: '-Thou, O God, hast called me, and will 
 confirm me imto the end." He theu began to repeat 
 aloud the fifty-first Psalm: '■• Have mercy upon me, 
 God, according to thi/ loring-h'ndnesi." After mounting 
 the scaffold, he continued to repeat the ps.ilm until 
 the smoke and flames choked his voice. 
 
 Thus the persecutors of France and Lorraine saw 
 their triumphs again begun. At length attention was 
 paid to their advice. The heretical ashes thrown to 
 the winds at Nancy, were a challenge to the capital of 
 France. ^\Tiat ! were Beda and Lecouturier to be the 
 last to shew their zeal for the pope ? Let flames answer 
 flames, and soon let heresy, swept from the soil of the 
 kingdom, be driven entirely beyond the Rhine! 
 
 Before succeeding, Beda had to fight a battle — h.ilf 
 in earnest, half in mockery — with one of those men 
 whom the struggle of the jiapacy is only a game of in- 
 tellect, not a matter of the heart. 
 
 Among the learned men whom Brifonnet had drawn 
 into his diocese, was a doctor of Sorbonne, named 
 Peter Caroli, a vain, giddy man, as full of blaster and 
 chicaneiy as Beda himself. Caroli saw in the new 
 doctrine the means of producing an effect, and of 
 thwarting Beda, whose ascendency he could not en- 
 dure. Accordingly, on his return from Jleaux to 
 Paris, he made a great sensation by eaiTving into all 
 the pulpits what was called •' the new mode of preach- 
 ing." An incessant struggle now commenced between 
 the two doctors. It was blow for blow, and wile for 
 
 wile. Beda summons Caroli before the Sorbonne, and 
 Caroli, to repay the honour, hands him over to the 
 Olficiality. The faculty proceeds with its inquest, and 
 Caroli intimates an appeal to the parliament. He is 
 interdicted from taking his turn in the chair, and he 
 preaches in all the churches of Paris. He is expressly 
 excluded from all the puljjits, and he publicly expounds 
 the Psalms in the College of Cambray. The faculty 
 prohibits him to contiime this exercise, and he asks 
 permission to finish the exposition of the twenty-second 
 Psalm, which he had commenced. At length his re- 
 quest is refused, and he placards the college gates with 
 the following notice: "Peter Curoli, desirous to ohei) 
 the orders of the sacred faculty, ceases to teach. He 
 will resume his lectures (when it shall jilease God) at the 
 verse where he .^topped: Tiiev pierced my hands and 
 Jiv FEET." Thus Beda had at last found his match. 
 Had Caroli defended the truth in earnest, the fire 
 would soon have done him justice; but he had too 
 profane a spirit to be put to death. How was it pos- 
 sible to execute a man who put his judges out of 
 countenance? Neither the officiality, nor the parlia- 
 ment, nor the council, could ever judge his cause 
 definitively. Two men like Caroli Avould have woni 
 out the activity of a Beda; but the Reformation did 
 not see two. 
 
 This annoying contest ended, Beda set himself to 
 more serious affairs. Happily for the syndic of Sor- 
 bonne, there were men who furnished better subjects 
 for persecution than Caroli. It is true, Brieounet, 
 Erasmus, Lefevre, and Berquin, had escaped him ; 
 but since he cannot reach great personages, he will 
 content himself with humble ones. The poor youth, 
 James Pavauue, since his abjuration at Christmas, 
 1524, had always been sighing and weeping. He was 
 seen with a melancholy air, his eye fixed on the ground, 
 inwardly groaning, and keenly reproaching himself for 
 having denied his Saviour and his God. 
 
 Pavanne was no doubt one of the most modest and 
 inoffensive of men. But no matter. He had been at 
 Meaux at this time ; no more was required. The cry 
 was raised : " Pavanne has relapsed ; The dog has re- 
 turned to his vomit, and the sow that was trashed to her 
 wallowing in the mii-e." He was forthwith seized, cast 
 into prison, and taken before the judges. This was 
 the very thing that young blaster James longed for. 
 He felt comforted so soon as he was in irons, and re- 
 covered strength to make a fuU confession of Jesus 
 Christ. The cruel smiled to see that this time nothing 
 could deprive them of their victim, — no recantation, 
 no flight, no powerful protector. Neither the mildness 
 of the young man, nor his candour and courage — no- 
 thing could soften his adversaries. He looked at them 
 with love ; for, in throwing him into chains, they had 
 restored him his tranquility and joy. But this tender 
 look only hardened their hearts the more. His accu- 
 sation was quickly drawn up, and the Place de Greve 
 soon saw a scaffold erected, on which Pavanne died 
 joyfully, by his example strengthening all who in this 
 gi-eat city openly or secretly believed in the Gospel of 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 This was not enough for the Sorbonne. If those in 
 humble life are sacrificed, quality must be redeemed 
 by number. The flames of the Place de Greve have 
 
400 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 spread terror over Paris and France ; but a new pile, 
 kindled in some other place, will double the terror. It 
 will be spoken of at court, in colleges, and the work- 
 shops of the people. Such examples will shew better 
 than all edicts, that Louisa of Savoy, the Sorbonne, 
 and the parliament, are determined to sacrifice every 
 remaining heretic to the aimtheraas of Rome. 
 
 In the forest of Livry, three leagues from Paris, not 
 far from the place where stood the ancient abbey of 
 the Augustines, lived a hermit, who, having met in his 
 wanderings with some individuals from Meaux, had 
 received the Gospel into his heart. The poor hermit 
 had found himself very ricli in his ixtirement, when one 
 
 day, along with his coarse loaf which public chai-ity 
 gave him, he had brought back with him Jesus Christ 
 and His grace. Thereupon he understood how it was 
 better to give than reouivc He ^\■^■n[. from house to 
 
 house in the surrounding villages, and had no sooner 
 opened the doors of the pool peasants, whom he visited 
 in their humble huts, than he spoke to them of the 
 Gospel, of the complete pardon which it gave to 
 agonized sonls, and which was better than ab- 
 solutions. The good hermit of Livry was soon 
 known in the environs of Paris. He was sought 
 aftei in his poor hermitage, and became a gentle 
 and fci \ ent missionary to the poor of the dis- 
 tiict 
 
 A 1 eport of the doings of the new evangelist 
 ■« tN not long of reaching the ears of the Sor- 
 li nne and the tribunals of Paris. The hermit 
 u IS ap])i ehended, dragged from his hermitage, 
 ti )m \u> forest, and from the places which he 
 d lily t] a\ ersed, thrown into a dungeon in the 
 great city which he had always shunned, there 
 tiled, convicted, and condemned to be " exemp- 
 laiily punished with the punishment of slow 
 tiic" 
 
 It was resolved, in order to make the ex- 
 ample more striking, that he should be burnt 
 di\o m the square of Notre Dame, in front 
 of this celebrated basilisk and majestic symbol 
 of Rom in Catholicism. The whole clergy 
 
MARTYRDOM OF THE HERMIT OF LIVRY. 
 
 nsscmblcd, and prcat pom|) was displayed as on the 
 most solenui festivals. The wish would have been 
 to a.sscmblo all Paris aronnd tlii'^ pilo, "ihe <;reat bell 
 of tlic teni|)le of ^'otre Dame riii'jiti"," >.i\ 
 
 '■ with full peal, to warn the whole i)eople of the town." 
 In fact, the people thronged into the sfpiare through 
 all tlic streets that opened into it. The deep tones of 
 
 bell arrested the workman in liis shun, the scholar 
 
 NOTRE DAME 
 
 in his studies, the merchant in his traffic, and the 
 soldier in his idleness. The whole square was already 
 
 CATHEDRAL, NOYON. 
 
 filled by an immense crowd, while the people still kept 
 tlocking. The hermit, arrayed in the clothing assigned 
 to obstinate heretics, his head and feet bare, had been 
 brought before the gates of the cathedral. Calm, firm, 
 and collected, his only answer to the exhortations of 
 the confessors, who presented the crucifi.v to him, was 
 to declare that his hope was solely in the pardon of 
 God. The doctors of the Sorboune, who were in the 
 front seat of the spectators, seeing his constancy, and 
 the effect which it produced upon the people, cried 
 aloud, " He is damned : they are taking him to hell- 
 fire!" Meanwhile the large bell continued to peal, and 
 its sounds, stunning the ears of the people, increased 
 i the solemnity of this sad festival. At last the bell 
 1 was silent, and the martyr, having replied to the last 
 questions of his enemies, that he wished to die in the 
 faith of the Lord Jesus Christ, was, as his sentence 
 bore, "burnt with a slow fire." Thus died peacefully 
 on the pavement of Notre Dame, amid the shouts and 
 agitation of a whole people, under the towers reared 
 by the piety of Louis the Young, one whose name even 
 histoi-y has not preserved — " the Hermit of Livry." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A Scholar of Noyon— Charactet of Young Calvin— Early Education— He is 
 devoted to Tlicology-"The Bishop gives him the Tonsure— He quits 
 Noyon because of the Plague— The Reformation creates new Languages 
 — Persecution and Terror — Toussaint put into Prison— Persecution 
 gives new strength- Death of Du Blet, Merlin, and Papillon— God 
 saves the Church— Project of Margaret— Departure for Spain. 
 
 While in France men were thus putting the confessors 
 2d 
 
402 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 of Jesus Christ to death, God was preparing more 
 powerful confessors. Beda, in dragging to execution 
 a modest scholar, a humble hermit, almost thought he 
 was dragging with him the whole Reformation. But 
 Providence has resources which the world knows not. 
 The Gospel, like the fabulous bird, carries in it a prin- 
 ciple of life which the flames cannot consume. It rises 
 from its ashes. It is often at the very moment when 
 the storm is at its heiglit, when the thunder seems to 
 Lave struck down the truth, and when the darkness of 
 night covers it, that a sudden gleam shines forth and 
 announces a gi-eat deliverance. At this time, when all 
 human powers in France were arming for the total de- 
 struction of the Reformation, God was preparing an 
 instrument, feeble in appearance, which should one day 
 maintain His rights and defend His cause with an in- 
 trepidity more than human. Amid the persecution and 
 faggot piles which succeed and press close on each 
 other ever since Francis was the prisoner of Charles, 
 let us cast an eye on a child who should afterwards be 
 called to place himself at the head of a great army in 
 the holy wars of Israel. 
 
 Among the inhabitants of the town and the colleges 
 of Paris who heard the sounds of the great bell, was a 
 young student of sixteen, of middle stature, of a pale 
 complexion, with piercing eyes, and an animated ex- 
 pression, betokening an intellect of uncommon sagacity. 
 His dress, remarkable at once for its cleanness and 
 perfect simplicity, indicated order and modesty. This 
 young man, named John Cauvin, or Calvin, was then 
 studying at the college of La Marche, under Mathurin 
 Cordier, a regent celebrated for his probity, his erudi- 
 tion, and the talents he had received for instructing 
 youth. Brought up in all the superstitions of tlic 
 papacy, the scholar of Noyon was blindly submissive 
 to the Church, devoted with docility to its observances, 
 and persuaded that the heretics richly deserved the 
 flames which had consumed them. The blood which 
 then flowed in Paris only served in his eyes to magnify 
 the crime of heresy. But thougli naturally of a timid 
 temper, which he himself has called soft and pusillani- 
 mous, he had that integrity and generosity of heart 
 which dispose the possessor to sacrifice everything for 
 the convictions once acquired. Accordingly, in vain 
 was his youth struck with these frightful spectacles, in 
 vain, on the Place de Greve and the square of Notre 
 Dame, did murderous flames consume the faithful dis- 
 ciples of the Gospel ; the remembrance of their horrors 
 could not hinder him from one day entering this new 
 path, where apparently he could only expect imprison- 
 ment and the scaffold. In the character of young 
 Calvin already appeared traits which announced what 
 he was to become. The strictness of his morals was a 
 prelude to the strictness of his doctrine, and iu tlio 
 student of sixteen might have been recognised a man 
 who would take in earnest whatever he should receive, 
 and who would require from others what he himself 
 felt it quite simple to do. Quiet and grave during the 
 lectures, iu the hours for recreation taking no part in 
 the amusements and follies of his fellow-students, but 
 keeping himself apart ; impressed with horror at sin, 
 he occasionally censured their irregularities sharply, 
 and even with some degree of bitterness. Accordingly 
 a canon of Noyon assures us that his fellows had sur- 
 
 named him the accimttivc. He was among them the 
 representative of conscience and duty, so far was he 
 from being what some slanderers have wished to make 
 him. The pale hue, the piercing eye of the student of 
 sixteen, already inspired his comrades with more re- 
 spect than the black gown of their teachers ; and this 
 child of Picardy, of little stature and timid air, who 
 came daily to take his seat on the benches of the 
 college of La Marche, was even now, without thinking 
 it, by the gravity of his speech and deportment, a 
 master and a reformer. 
 
 It was not in these respects only that the boy of 
 Noyon was above his fellow-students. His great 
 timidity sometimes prevented him from manifesting 
 the hatred which he felt for vanity and vice ; but he 
 was already devoting to study the whole strength of 
 his intellect and his will. On seeing him, one might 
 have had presentiment of a man who would wear out 
 his life in exertion. He comprehended everything 
 with inconceivable facility; he ran in his studies, 
 when his fellows only crept on slowly; and engraved 
 deeply on his young genius what others took much 
 time to learn superficially. Hence his masters were 
 obliged to take him out of the class, and make him 
 Iiass by himself to new studies. 
 
 Among his fellow-students were the young De Mom- 
 mors, belonging to the first nobility of Picardy. John 
 Calvin was intimately connected with them, especially 
 with Claude, who was at a later period abbot of St. 
 Eloi, and to whom he dedicated his " Commentary on 
 Seneca." Calvin had gone to Paris in the company of 
 these young nobles. His father, Gerard Cauvin, a 
 notary apostolic, procurator-fiscal of the county of 
 Noyon, secretary to the bishopric, and procurator of 
 the chapter, was a judicious and able man. By his 
 talents he had obtained those offices which were sought 
 by the first families, and gained the esteem of all the 
 gentlemen of the district, iu particidar of the illus- 
 trious family of Mommor. Gerard lived at Noyou. 
 He had married a young lady of Cambray, of remark- 
 able beauty, and retiring piety, named Jean Lefranti. 
 She had already given him a son, named Charles, when 
 on the 10th July, 1509, she had a second son, who was 
 named John, and baptized in the church of St. Gode- 
 bert. A third sou, named Anthony, who died in early 
 life, and two daughters, completed the family of the 
 procurator-fiscal of Noyon. 
 
 Gerard Cauvin, living in intimate relation with the 
 heads of the clergy and nobles of the province, wished 
 his son to receive the same education as those of the 
 best families. John, who had shewn precocious talents, 
 was brought up with the sons of the house of Mommor. 
 He was like one of themselves, and received the same 
 lessons as young Claude. In tliis family he learnt the 
 first elements of literature and life, and had thus a 
 higher culture than that which he seemed destined to 
 receive. At a later period he was sent to the college 
 of Capettes, founded in the town of Noyon. The boy 
 had few recreations. Sternness, which was one of the 
 features in the character of the son, was in the father 
 also. Gerard brought him up strictly. John, from 
 liis most tender years, behoved to bend under the in- 
 flexible rule of duty. He was early trained to this, 
 and in this way the influence of the father counter- 
 
CALVIN'S EAKLY EDUCATION. 
 
 noted thivt of tlic family of Moinmnr. Calvin, of a 
 timid disposition, and somewhat rustic nature, as lie 
 himself describes it, rendered still more timid by the 
 severity of his father, shunned the splendid apart- 
 ments of his patrons, and loved to dwell alone in tlic 
 shade. Ilis young soul was thus formed iu retirement 
 for great thoughts. It appears that he sometimes went 
 to I'ont I'Evciiue, near Noyon, where his grandfather 
 dwelt in a cottage, and where other relations besides, 
 who afterwards changed their name from hatred to tlio 
 hcresiarch, then gave a kind welcome to the son of the 
 procurator-fiscal. But young Calvin's time was espe- 
 cially devoted to study. While Luther, who was to 
 act upon the people, wiis brought up as a child of the 
 ])e(jple, Calvin, who was to act chiclly as a theologian, 
 as a thinker, and to become the legislator of the reno- 
 vated Church, received from infancy a more liberal 
 education. 
 
 At an early period a spirit of piety was disclosed in 
 the heart of the child. An aiitlior relates, that they 
 had accustomed him, when a child, to pr.ay in the open 
 air, under the vault of heaven ; and this contributed to 
 keep a feeling of the Divine presence alive in his heart. 
 But though Calvin may from infancy have heard the 
 voice of God in his heart, there was not a person in 
 Noyou more strict than he iu the observance of eccle- 
 siivstical rules. Hence Gerard, struck with this dis- 
 position, conceived the design of devoting his son to 
 theology. This prospect, doubtless, contributed to 
 give his soul that grave form, that theological cha- 
 racter, which distinguished him at a later period. 
 His mind was of a description to receive strong im- 
 pressions, and to familiarize itself from youth witii the 
 most elevated thoughts. The report that he was at 
 this time one of the boys of the choir, has no founda- 
 tion, according to tlie testimony of his enemies them- 
 selves. But they confidently assert, that when ho was 
 a boy he was seen in processions bearing a sword with 
 a cross guard, to represent a cross, — a presage, they 
 add, of what he was one day to be. The servant of 
 the Loi'd says in Isaiah : The Lord has made >n>/ mouth 
 like a sliai-p sword. The same may be said of Calvin. 
 
 Gerard was poor. The education of his sou cost 
 him much, and he desired to attach him to the Church 
 irrevocably. The Cardinal of Lorraine had, at the 
 age of fourteen, been appointed coadjutor to the 
 Bishop of Mctz. It was then common to give offices 
 and ecclesiastical revenues to children. Alphonso of 
 Portugal was made a cardinal at eight, by Leo X. ; 
 and Odot of Chatilon, by Clement VII., at eleven. 
 At a later period, the celebrated mother Angelica, of 
 Tort Royal, was appointed coadjutress of the monas- 
 tery at seven. Gerard, who died a good catholic, was 
 in the good graces of the Bishop of Noyon, Messirc 
 Charles de Ilaugest, and his vicai-s-general. Accord- 
 ingly, the chaplain of Gesine having resigned his 
 office, the bishop, on the 21st May, 1521, gave the 
 living to John Calvin, who was then about twelve. 
 This was communicated to the chapter twelve days 
 after. On the eve of Corpus Christi, the bishop, in 
 due form, cut the hair of the boy; and by this cere- 
 mony of the tonsure, John entered the clerical order, 
 and became capable of being admitted to holy orders, 
 and of possessing benefice without residence. 
 
 Thus Calvin was called, as a child, to make upon 
 himself an experiment of the abuses of the Church of 
 Komo. There was not a tonsured individual in tho 
 kingdom more in earnest iu his piety than the chap- 
 lain of Gesine ; and the grave child was, perhaps, him- 
 self astonished at the work performed by the bishop 
 and Lis vicars-general. But in his simplicity he had 
 too much veneration for those high personages, to 
 allow himself to entertain the least 8usj)iciou as to 
 tlic legitimacy of his tonsure. He had held the office 
 for two years, when Noyon was visited by a dreadful 
 plague. Several canons applied to the chapter for 
 pei-mission to quit the town. Many of the inhabitants 
 had been struck by the "great death," and Gerard 
 began to be afraid that the plague might, in a moment, 
 bereave him of his son John, the hope of his life. 
 The young Momniors were going to i)rosecute their 
 studies at Paris. This was the very thing which the 
 procurator-fiscal had over desired for his son. Why 
 should he separate John from his fellow-students .' 
 Accordingly, on the 5th August, 1523, he presented 
 a petition to the chapter, requesting leave for the 
 young chaplain " to go wherever should seem to him 
 good during the plague, without forfeiture of his liv- 
 ing." This was granted till tho foiist of St. Kemy. 
 John Calvin thus quitted the paternal roof at the age 
 of fourteen. It requires great effrontery in slander to 
 attribute his departure to other causes, and thus boldly 
 encounter the disgrace which justly recoils on the pro- 
 moters of charges whose falsehood has been so com- 
 pletely demonstrated. Calvin, it would seem, alighted 
 in Paris at the house of one of his uncles, Richard 
 Cauvin, who lived near the church of St. Germain 
 I'Auxerrois. "Thus fleeing the plague," says the 
 canon of Noyou, "he was to catcli it elsewhere." 
 
 In the metropolis of literature a new world opened 
 on the young student. He availed himself of it, set 
 himself to study, and made groat progress in Latin. 
 He familiarized himself with Cicero, and learned of 
 this great master to use the language of the Romans 
 with a facility, purity, and grace, which excited the 
 admiration even of his enemies. But at the same time 
 he found in this language riches which he was at a 
 later period to transfer to his own. 
 
 Till now Latin had been the only literary language. 
 It was, and to our day has remained, the language of 
 the Church. It was the Reformation which created, 
 or at least everysvhere emancipated, modern languages. 
 The exclusive character of the priests had ceased : the 
 people were called to learn and know. In this fact 
 alone there was an end to the language of the priest, 
 and the introduction of the language of the people. 
 It was no longer to the Sorbonne merely, it was no 
 longer to some monks, some ecclesiastics, that now 
 ideas were to be addressed. It was to the noble, the 
 citizen, the mechanic. All were to be preached to ; 
 and what is more, all were going to preach — carders 
 of ^^ool and knights, as well as curates and doctors. 
 A new tongue, then, was required, or, at least, the 
 vulgar tongue must undergo an imraousc transforma- 
 tion — a great emancipation. Drawn from the com- 
 mon uses of life, it must receive from renovated Chris- 
 tianity its patent of nobility. The Gospel, which had 
 so long slept, was awake : it spoke, it addressed the 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 whole nation, and everywhere enkindled the most gen- 
 erous affections. It opened the treasures of heaven 
 to a generation which was thinking only of the petty 
 interests here below. It moved the masses. It spoke 
 to them of God, of man, of good and evil, of the pope, 
 of the Bible, of a crown in heaven, and, it might be, a 
 scaffold upon earth. The popular idiom, which till 
 now had been only the language of chroniclers and 
 troubadours, was called by the Reformation to act a 
 new jiai'l. :iii(l ruiisciiuunlly to underiro new develop- 
 
 which give language so much vivacity and life. But 
 there are resources which Tie beyond their reach, and 
 can only come from men of intellect. Calvin, being 
 called to discuss and prove, gave the language connec- 
 tions, relations, shades, transitions, and dialectic forms, 
 which it did not previously possess. 
 
 All these elements were already at work in the head 
 of the young student of the college La Mai-che. This 
 youth, who was to be so mighty in wielding the human 
 heart, was also to conquer the lanauaire which he was 
 called to tmplo^ Piotestint Liantc wis formed, ^t 
 a later pel 10 1 on tbi. IrLiich of Cd\in ind rrote->- 
 tant Fi in \ il 1 i I 1 i i 1 il Mitim 
 
 
 ments. Society saw a new world begin, and this new 
 world must have new languages. The Reformation 
 freed the French language from the swaddling bands 
 in which it had till then been wrapt up, and enabled 
 it to reach the age of majority. Thenceforth this lan- 
 guage was in full possession of those exalted rights 
 which relate to the things of mind and tlie blessings 
 of heaven, and of which it had been deprived under 
 the tutelage of Rome. No doubt the people form 
 their own lanciunw. It is tliey who form those happy 
 
 words, those 
 
 .AUXERROIS PARIS 
 
 j From it came forth those families of literati and high 
 
 \ magistracy which had so powerful an influence on the 
 
 j culture of the people : from it came forth Port Royal, 
 
 I one of the greatest instruments which contributed to 
 
 I form French prose and even French poetry, and whicA, 
 
 j having attempted to carry into the Gallican Catholi- 
 
 I cism the doctrine and language of the Reformation, 
 
 failed in the one project, but succeeded in the other. 
 
 For Roman Catholic France had to come and learn of 
 
 its Jansenist and reformed opponents how to wield 
 
 those weapons of language without which she could 
 
 not combat them. 
 
 Meantime, while thus in the college of La Marche 
 was being formed the future reformer of religion, and 
 even of language, all was in agitation around the 
 youthful and the gi-ave student, wlio, as yet, took 
 no part in the great movement which was stiiTing 
 society. The flames which had consumed the her- 
 mit uul Pdvanne, had spread terror over Paris. 
 1 111 tiiL persecutors were not satisfied; a system of 
 till V 1^ put in operation throughout France. 
 11k tiitnds of the Reformation durst no longer 
 orrc^pond with each other, lest their letters, being 
 intercepted, should mark out for the vengeance of 
 the tiibunils both themselves and those to whom 
 Mthty wcie addressed. One man, however, ventured 
 i^ to c 11 r^ iiLws from Paris and France to the refugees 
 / rof 15 lit by sewing unsigned letters into his doublet. 
 jll lie c ciptd the platoons of arquebusiers, all the 
 ^'!l iinr hahiien of the different communes, the scru- 
 tiny of tlie provosts and lieutenants, and arrived 
 U B dc without the mysterious doublet having been 
 torn up His statements struck Toussaint and his 
 friends with terror. "It is dreadful to hear of the 
 p^ieit ciuelties which are there done," exclaimed 
 Toussaint. A short time before had arrived at 
 
TOUSSATNT IMPRISONED AT PARIS. 
 
 Hide, with the iilliccrs of justice iit their heels, two 
 monks of St. Francis, one of whom, mimed John 
 rrevost, had prcaclied at Meaux, and been nfter^vards 
 cast into prison at Paris. What they told of Paris 
 and Lyons called fortli the deepest sympathy in the 
 refugees. "May our Lord send thither His graae!" 
 wrote Toussaint to Farel. " I assure you I sometimes 
 feel myself in great anguish and tribulation." 
 
 Still these excellent men did not lose cour- 
 age. In vain were all the parliaments on the r?" 
 watch ; in vain did the spies of the Sorbonne 
 and of the monks come into churches, colleges, _ 
 and even private families, to pry into every 
 evangelical word that might be pronounced ; in 
 vain did the king's gens (r<iim€s arrest on the 
 roads everything that seemed to bear the stamp 
 of the Reformation. These Frenchmen, whom 
 Home and her partisans tracked and cruslieil. 
 had faith in a better future, and already hailed 
 the end of this Babylonish captivit}', as thej 
 termed it. "At length," said they, "the seven- 
 tieth year will come, the year of deliverance, 
 and liberty of mind and conscience will be given 
 us." But the seventy years were to last for 
 three centuries, and it was only after unheard 
 of disasters that their hopes were to be realized 
 It was not, however, from men that tlie refugee-, 
 hoped anything. "Those who have begun the 
 dance," said Toussaint, " will not stop by the 
 way." But they believed that the Lord " knew 
 those that were His, and would himself work out a 
 mighty deliverance." 
 
 Chevalier d'Esch had, in fact, been delivered. Hav- 
 ing escaped from the prisons of Pont-a-Mousson, he 
 had hastened to Strasburg. There, however, he did 
 not remain long. Toussaint had immediately written 
 to Farel : " For the glory of God try and get the 
 knight, our good master, to return as quickly as may 
 be ; for the other brethren have great need of such a 
 captain." In fact, the French refugees had new fears. 
 They trembled lest this dispute on the Lord's Supper, 
 which had distressed them so much in Germany, should 
 cross the Rhine, and bring new sorrows into France. 
 Francis Lambert, the monk of Avignon, after being 
 at Zurich and Wittemberg, had come to Mctz ; but 
 there was not complete confidence in him. It was 
 feared that he might bring Luther's sentiments, and 
 by useless controversies, "monstrous," Tous- 
 saint calls them, arrest the progress of the Re- 
 formation. Esch then returned to Lorraine ; 
 but it was to be exposed anew to great dangers, 
 " with all those who then sought the glory of 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 Toussaint was not of a character to send others 
 to the battle without going himself. Deprived 
 of daily intercourse with CEcolampadius, con- 
 fined to the society of a coarse priest, he hul 
 sought the presence of Christ, and his couragt 
 had increased. If he could not retire to Mttz, 
 might he not at least go to Paris? The piles ot ^J. 
 the hermit and Pavanne were still smoking, it i-, " 
 true, and served to warn off from the capital all 
 who had a similar faith. But if the colleges and 
 streets of Paris were terror-struck, so that nc 
 
 person now dared to pronounce the word Gospel or Re- 
 formation, was not this a reason for repairing thither ? 
 Toussaint quitted Bale, and came within that enclosure 
 where fanaticism had taken the ])hice of festivities and 
 dissipation. He sought, while advancing in Christian 
 studies, to connect himself with the brethren in the 
 colleges, and especially in that of Cardinal Lcmoine, 
 where Lefevrc and Farel had t;iiif,'lit. But lie wns not 
 
 CHURCH OF ST THOMAS, STRASBURO. 
 
 long at libeity to do 'o The tyranny of the commis- 
 sioners of tlie i><ii!iament and the theologians reigned 
 supreme in the capital, and every one who displeased 
 them was by them accused of heresy. A duke and an 
 abbot, whose names are not given, denounced Tous- 
 saint as a heretic ; and one of the king's Serjeants 
 arrested the youth from Lorraine, and threw him into 
 prison. Separated from all his friends, and treated as 
 a criminal, Toussaint felt his wretchedness the more 
 keenly. "O Lord!" exclaimed he, "take not thy 
 Spirit from me ; for without Him, I am only flesh and 
 blood, and a sink of iniquity." While his body was 
 in fetters, he thought of all those who were still com- 
 bating freely for the Gospel. There was CEcolampa- 
 dius, his father, he " whose work we are in the Lord ;" 
 there was Lefevre, whom he thought, doubtless on 
 account of his age, " incapable of bearing the burden 
 
 ' ^-i^/^ 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 
 
 of the Gospel ;" Roussel, " by whom he hoped that the 
 Lord would perform great things ;" Vaugris, who dis- 
 played all the charity "of the most affectionate bro- 
 ther," in order to deliver him from his enemies ; in 
 fine, there was Farel, to whom he wrote : " I commend 
 myself to your prayers, that I may not fall in this 
 combat." Oh! how all the names of these beloved 
 men alleviated the bitterness of his imprisonment! 
 Indeed, he was not ready to fall. Death, it is true, 
 threatened to overtake him in this city, in which the 
 blood of a multitude of his brethren was to be poured 
 out like water ; while the friends of his mother, and 
 his iiucle, the primicier of Metz, and the Cardinal 
 Lorraine, made him the most splendid offers. . . . 
 "I despise them," he replied. "I know that it is a 
 temptation from God : I would rather be hungry, I 
 would rather be a door-keeper in the house of the 
 Lord, than dwell with great riches in the palaces of 
 the ungodly." At the same time he made an open 
 profession of his faith: "I glory," said he, "in being 
 called a heretic by those whose life and doctrine are 
 opposed to Jesus Christ." This interesting and in- 
 trepid young man signed liis letters, " Peter Toussaint, 
 unworthy of being called a Christian." 
 
 Thus, in the absence of the king, new blows were 
 struck at the Reformation. Berquin, Toussaint, and 
 many others, were in prison; Schuch, Pavanne, and 
 the hermit of Livry, had been put to death ; Farel, 
 Lefcvre, Roussel, and a great many more defenders 
 of sound doctrine, were in exile. The lips of the 
 eloquent were mute. The light of the Gospel day 
 was becoming more and more overcast, and the storm, 
 incessantly growling, bent, shook, and threatened, as 
 it were, to root up the still tender tree which the hand 
 of God had planted in the soil of France. 
 
 Nor was this all. To the humbler victims who had 
 been sacrificed, more illustrious were to succeed. The 
 enemies of the Reformation in France, not having been 
 able to succeed when they began at the top, had be- 
 come resigned to begin at the bottom ; but with the 
 hope of rising step by step in condemnation and death, 
 until they should reach the highest pinnacles. This 
 inverted course succeeded. Scarcely had the ashes 
 with which persecution had covered the Place-do- 
 Greve and the pavement of Notre Dame been 
 dispersed, when new blows were struck. Messire 
 Anthony du Blet, that excellent man, that merchant 
 of Lyons, fell under the attacks of the enemies of the 
 truth, with another disciple, Francois Moulin, though 
 we do not know the details of his death. They went 
 farther still, and took a higher aim. There was an 
 illustrious personage, one they could not reach in per- 
 son, but they could strike her in those who were dear 
 to her. This was the Duchess d'Alenfon. Michael 
 d'Arande, chaplain to the king's sister, for whom Mar- 
 garet had dismissed all her other preachers, and who 
 preached the pure Gospel before her, became the 
 object of attack by the persecutors, and was threat- 
 ened with imprisonment and death. Almost at the 
 same time Anthony Papillon, for whom the princess 
 had procured the office of first master of requests to 
 the Dauphin, died suddenly, and the universal rumour, 
 even among the enemy, was, that he had been poisoned. 
 
 Thus persecution extended in the kingdom, and 
 
 always drew nearer to Margaret. After the forces of 
 the Reformation, concentrated at Meaux, Lyons, and 
 B:"de, had been dispersed, the isolated combatants who 
 had here and there maintained her cause, were cut off 
 in detail. A few efforts more, and the French soil 
 will be purged of heresy! Silent manoeuvres, secret 
 wiles, succeed to clamour and the scaffold. The war 
 will be carried on in open day, but at the same time 
 also in darkness. If fanaticism employs the tribunal 
 and the scaffold for the ignoble, it will reserve poison 
 and the poniard for the great. The teachers of a cele- 
 brated society have only too much patronized the use 
 of it, and even kings have fallen under the daggers of 
 the assassin. But if Rome has always had Seides, it 
 has also seen Vincent Pauls and Fenelons. These 
 blows, struck in darkness and silence, were well fitted 
 to spread universal terror. To this perfidious course, 
 to these fanatical persecutions within, were joined 
 fatal defeats without. The whole kingdom was veiled 
 in mourning. There was not a family, especially 
 among the nobility, iu which tears did not flow for a 
 father, a husband, or a son, left on the plains of Italy, 
 or one where the heart did not tremble for the liberty 
 or life of one of its members. The great reverses 
 which had overtaken the kingdom diffused a leaven of 
 hatred against the heretics. The people, the parlia- 
 ment, the Church, the throne even, lent a hand. 
 
 Was it not enough that the defeat of Pavia had de- 
 prived the Duchess d'Alen^on of her husband, and 
 cast her brother into prison 1 Must she see the Gospel 
 torch, in whose soft light she had always rejoiced, ex- 
 tinguished, perhaps for ever? The news from Spain 
 increased the general grief. Chagrin and sickness 
 were endangering the life of the haughty Francis I. 
 If the king continues prisoner, if he dies, if the regency 
 of his mother continues for many long years, is it not 
 all over with the Reformation ? " But though all 
 seems lost," said the young scholar of Noyon at a later 
 period, " God saves and guards His Church iu a mira- 
 culous manner." The Church of France, which was 
 travaUiug as in birth, was to have a time of refresh- 
 ing before new sorrows; and in order to give it to 
 her, God employed a feeble woman, who never de- 
 clared decidedly in favour of the Reformation. She 
 was then thinking more of saviug the king and the 
 kingdom, than of delivering obscure Christians, who, 
 however, put great hope iu her. But under the glare 
 of worldly affairs, God often conceals the mysterious 
 means by which He governs His people. A noble pro- 
 ject was formed in the breast of the Duchess d'Alen- 
 <jon: — to cross the sea or the Pyrenees to rescue 
 Francis I. from the hands of Charles V. Such is 
 henceforth the aim of her life. 
 
 Margaret de Valois intimated her design, and France 
 hailed her with a shout of gratitude. Her great talents, 
 the reputation which she had acquired, the love which 
 she had for her brother, and that which Francis had 
 for her, were, in the eyes of Louisa and Duprat, a 
 counterbalance for her attachment to the new doc- 
 trine. All turned their eyes towards her as the only 
 person capable of delivering the kingdom from the 
 peril in which it was placed. Let Margaret herself, 
 then, go to Spain, — let her speak to the mighty 
 emperor and his ministers, — and let her employ the 
 
MARGARET'S PROJECT. 
 
 407 
 
 admirable taleuU which Providence lias bestowed 
 upon her, in the deliverance of her brother and her 
 kinn;. 
 
 Meanwhile very various feelings filled the hearts of 
 the nobles and the people when they saw the Duchess 
 d'Alen<;on placing herself amid the hostile councils and 
 tierce soldiery of the catholic king. 
 
 Every one admired the courage and devotedness of 
 this young female, but without participating in them. 
 The friends of the princess luul fears for her, which 
 were well-nigh realized. But the evangelical Chris- 
 tians were full of hope. The ea|)tivity of Francis I. 
 had brought unparalleled severities on the friends of 
 the Reformation, and it was thought that his liberation 
 might put an end to them. To open the gates of Spain 
 to the king, wius to shut those of the ollicialities and 
 castles into which the servants of the Word of God 
 were thrown, Margaret strengthened herself in a de- 
 sign on which her whole soul was bent, by all these 
 different motives : 
 
 No lifight of heaven can bar my way, 
 Xor depth beneath, my soul dismay ; 
 E'en hell must on-n my Saviour's sway ! 
 
 Ilcr weak female heart was strengthened by the faith 
 which gives the victory over the world, and her resolu- 
 tion was unmoved. Everything was prepared in haste 
 for this important and dangerous voyage. 
 
 The Arclibishop of Embrun, since Cardinal of Tour- 
 non, and the president De Selves, were already at 
 Madrid to negotiate the deliverance of the king. They 
 were made subordinate to Margaret, as was also the 
 Bishop of Tarbes, since Cardinal de Graramont. Full 
 powers were given to the princess alone. At the same 
 time, Montmorency, who at a later period was so hostile 
 to the Reformation, was sent in all haste into Spain, in 
 order to obtain a safe-conduct for the king's sister. 
 The emperor made difficulties. He said that it was for 
 his ministers alone to arrange the affair. " One hour 
 of conference," exclaimed Selves, "between your 
 majesty, the king, my master, and the Duchess d'Alen- 
 
 9on, will advance the treaty more than a month of 
 discussion between lawyers ! " 
 
 Margaret, impatient to arrive because of the sick- 
 ness of the king, set out without a safe-conduct, with 
 an imposing retinue. She quitted the court, and 
 passed through Lyons, proceeding towards the Medi- 
 
 terranean. As she was on the way, Montmorency 
 returned with letters from Chai-les, who guaranteed 
 j her liberty for three montlis only. She arrived at 
 Aigues-Mortes, and here the sister of Francis I. em- 
 barked in the vessel prepared for her. Led by God 
 into Spain rather to deliver humble Christians from 
 oppression, than to bring the mighty monarch of Franco 
 out of captivity, Margaret committed herself to the 
 I billows of the same sea which had borne her captive 
 I brother after the disastrous battle of Pavia. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK XIII. 
 
 THE TROTEST AND THE CONFERENCE. — 1526-1529. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Twofold Movement of Reform— Reform the Work of God— First Diet of 
 Spires— Palladium of Reform— Firmness of the Reformers— Proceed- 
 ings of the Diet — Report of tl* Commissioners — The Papacy Painted 
 and Described by Luther— The Destruction of Jerusalem— Instractions 
 of Seville— Change of Policy— Holy League— Religious Liberty Pro- 
 posed — Crisis of the Reformation. 
 
 We have witnes.sed the commencement, the struggles, 
 the reverses, and the progress of the Reformation ; but 
 the conflicts hitherto described have been only partial ; 
 we are entering upon a new period, — that of general 
 battles. Spires (1529) and Augsburg (1530) are names 
 that shine forth with more immortal glory than Mara- 
 thon, Pavia, or Marengo. Forces that up to the pre- 
 sent time were separate, are now uniting into one 
 energetic band ; and the power of God is at work in 
 those brilliant actions which open a new era in the 
 history of nations, and communicate an irresistible im- 
 pulse to mankind. The passage from the IVIiddle Ages 
 to modern times has arrived. 
 
 A great protest is about to be accomplished ; and 
 although there have been Protestants in the Church 
 from the very beginning of Christianity, since liberty 
 and truth could not be maintained here below, save by 
 protesting continually against despotism and error, 
 Protestantism is about to take a new step. It is about 
 to become a body, and thus attack with greater energy 
 that " mystery of iniquity " which for ages has taken 
 a bodily shape at Rome, in the very temple of God. 
 
 But although we have to treat of protests, it must 
 not, however, be imagined that the Reformation is a 
 negative work. In every spliere in which anything 
 great is evolved, whether in nature or society, tliere is 
 a principle of life at work, — a seed that God fertilizes. 
 The Reformation, when it appeared in the sixteenth 
 century, did not, indeed, perform a new work, for a 
 reformation is not a formation ; but it tiu-ned its face 
 toward the beginnings of Christianity ; it seized upon 
 them with affection, and embraced them with adora- 
 tion. Yet it was not satisfied with this return to 
 primitive times. Laden with its precious burden, it 
 again crossed the interval of ages, and brought back to 
 fallen and lifeless Christendom the sacred fire that was 
 destined to restore it to light and life. In this two- 
 fold movement consisted its action and its strengtli. 
 Afterwards, no doubt, it rejected superannuated forms, 
 and combated error ; but this was, so to speak, only 
 the least of its works, and its third movement. Even 
 the protest of which we have to speak, had for its end 
 and aim the re-establishment of truth and of life, and 
 was essentially a positive act. 
 
 This powerful and rapid twofold action of reform, 
 by which the apostolic times were re-established at the 
 opening of modern history, proceeded not from man. 
 
 A reformation is not arbitrarily made, as charters and 
 revolutions are in some countries. A real reformation, 
 prepared during many ages, is the work of the Spirit 
 of God. Before tlie appointed hour, the greatest 
 geniuses, and even the most faithful of God's servants, 
 cannot produce it ; but when the reforming time is 
 come, when it is God's pleasure to renovate the affairs 
 of the world, the Divine life must clear a passage ; and 
 it is able to create of itself the humble instruments by 
 which this life is communicated to the human race. 
 Then, if men are silent, the very stones will cry out. 
 
 It is to the protest of Spires (1529) that we are now 
 about to turn our eyes; but the way to this protest 
 was prepared by years of peace, and followed by 
 attempts at concord that we shall have also to describe. 
 Nevertheless, the formal establishment of Protestantism 
 remains the great fact that prevails in the history of 
 the Reformation from 1526 to 1529. 
 
 The Duke of Brunswick had brought into Germany 
 the threatening message of Charles the Fifth. That 
 emperor was about to repair from Spain to Rome, to 
 come to an understanding with the pope, and from 
 thence to pass into Germany to constrain the heretics. 
 The last summons was to be addressed to them by the 
 Diet of Spires, 152G.' The decisive hour for the 
 Reformation was on the point of striking. 
 
 On the 25th June, 1526, the diet opened. In the 
 instructions, dated at Seville, 23d March, the emperor 
 ordered that the Church customs should be maintained 
 entire, and called upon the diet to punish those who 
 refused to carry out the edict of Worms. Ferdinand 
 himself was at Spires, and his presence rendered these 
 orders more formidable. Never had the hostility 
 which the Romish partizans entertained against the 
 evangelical princes appeared in so striking a manner. 
 " The Pharisees," said Spalatin, " are inveterate iu 
 their hatred against Jesus Christ." 
 
 Never, also, had the evangelical princes shewed so 
 much hope. Instead of coming forward frightened and 
 trembling, like guilty men, they were seen advancing, 
 surrounded by the ministers of the Word, with uplifted 
 heads and cheerful looks. Tlieir first step was to ask 
 for a place of worship. The Bishop of Spires, count- 
 palatine of the Rhine, having indignantly refused this 
 strange request, the princes complained of it as an act 
 of injustice, and ordered their ministers to preach daily 
 in the halls of their palaces, which were immediately 
 filled by an immense crowd from the city and the 
 country, amounting to many thousands. In vain, on 
 the feast days, did Ferdinand, the ultramontane princes, 
 and the bishops, assist in the pomps of the Roman 
 
FIRST DIET OF SPIRES. 
 
 worship in the beautiful cathedral of Spires ; the un- 
 adorued Word of God, preached in the Protestant 
 vestibules, engrossed all hearers, and the mass was 
 celebrated in an empty church. 
 
 It was not only the ministers, but the knights and 
 the grooms, " mere idiots," who, unable to control 
 their zeal, everywhere eagerly extolled the Word of 
 the Lord. All the followers of tlie evangelical princes 
 wore these letters embroidered on their right sleeves: 
 " V. D. M. I. iE.," that is to say. The Word of the 
 Lord endureth for ever. Tiie same inscription miglit be 
 read on the escutcheons of the princes, suspended over 
 tlieir hotels. Tiie Word of God — such from this 
 moment was the palladium of the Reformation. 
 
 Tiiis was not all. The Protestants knew that the 
 mere worship would not suffice; tlio landgi-ave had, 
 therefore, called upon the elector to abolish certain 
 "court customs" which dishonoured the Gospel. 
 These princes had consequently drawn up an order of 
 living which forbade drunkenness, debauchery, and 
 other vicious customs prevalent during a diet. 
 
 Perhaps the Protestant princes sometimes put for- 
 ward their dissent beyond what prudence would have 
 required. Not only did they not go to mass, and did 
 not observe the prescribed fasts, but still further, on 
 the fust days, their attendants were seen publicly 
 bearing dishes of meat and game, destined for their 
 niasters' tables, and crossing, says Cochlffius, in the 
 presence of tlic whole auditory, the halls in which the 
 worship w;is celebrating. " It wa.s," says this writer, 
 "with the intent of attracting the catholics by the 
 savour of the meats and of the wines." 
 
 The elector, in effect, had a numerous court, — seven 
 hundred persons formed his retinue. One day he gave 
 a banquet at which twenty-six princes, with their 
 gentlemen and councillors, were present. They cou- 
 tinued playing until a very late hour — ten at night. 
 Everything in Duke John announced the most power- 
 ful prince of the empire. The youthful landgrave of 
 Hesse, full of zeal and knowledge, and in the strength 
 of a first Christian love, made a still deeper impression 
 on those who approached him. He would fretjuently 
 dispute with the bishops, and, owing to his acquaint- 
 ance with the Holy Scriptures, easily stopped their 
 mouths. 
 
 This firmness in the friends of the Reformation 
 produced results that surpassed their expectation. It 
 was no longer possible to be deceived : the spirit that 
 was manifested in these men was the spirit of the 
 Bible. Everywhere the sceptre was falling from the 
 hands of Rome. "The leaven of Luther," said a 
 zealous papist, " sets all the people of Germany iu a 
 ferment, and foreign nations themselves are agitated 
 by formidable movements." 
 
 It was immediately seen how great is the strength of 
 deep convictions. The states that were well-disposed 
 towards the reform, but which had not ventured to 
 give their adhesion publicly, became emboldened. The 
 neutral states, demanding the repose of the empire, 
 formed the resolution of opposing the edict of Worms, 
 the execution of which would have spread trouble 
 through all Germany; and the papist states lost their 
 boldness. The how of the might// was broken ! 
 
 Ferdinand did not think proper, at so critical a 
 
 moment, to communicate to the diet the severe in- 
 structions he had received from Seville.' He substi- 
 tuted a proposition calculated to satisfy both parties. 
 
 The hijTnen immediately recovered the influence of 
 which the clergy had dispossessed them. The eccle- 
 siastics resisted a proposal in the college of princes 
 tliat the diet should occupy itself with church abuses ; 
 but their exertions were unavailing. Undoubtedly a 
 non-political assembly would liavc been preferable to 
 the diet, but it was already a point gained, that reli- 
 gious matters were no longer to be regulated solely by 
 the priests. 
 
 As soon as this resolution was communicated to the 
 deputies from the cities, they called for the abolition 
 of every usage contrary to the faith in Jesus Christ, 
 la vain did the bishops exclaim that, instead of doing 
 away with pretended abuses, they would do much 
 better to burn all the books with which Germany had 
 been inundated during the last eight years. " You 
 desire," was the reply, " to bury all wisdom and know- 
 ledge." The request of the cities was agreed to, and 
 the diet was divided into committees for the abolition 
 of abuses. 
 
 Then was manifested the profound disgust inspired 
 by the priests of Rome. " The clergy," said the de- 
 puty for Frankfort, " make a jest of the public good, 
 and look after their own interests only." " The lay- 
 men," said the deputy from Duke George, " have the 
 salvation of Christendom much more at heart than the 
 clergy." 
 
 The commissioners made their report ; people were 
 astonished at it. Never had men spoken out so freely 
 against the pope and the bishops. The commission of 
 the princes, iu which the ecclesiastics and laymen were 
 in equal numbers, proposed a fusion of popery and 
 reform. " The priests would do bettor to marry," said 
 they, "than to keep women of ill fame iu their houses ; 
 every man should be at liberty to communicate under 
 one or both forms ; German and Latin may be equally 
 employed in the Lord's Supper and iu Baptism ; as for 
 the other sacraments, let them be preserved, but let 
 them be administered gratuitously. Finally, let the 
 Word of God be preached according to the interpreta- 
 tion of the Church, (this was the demand of Rome;) 
 but always explaining Scripture by Scripture," (this 
 was the great principle of the Reformation.) Thus 
 the first step was taken towards a national nniou. 
 Still a few more efforts, and the whole German race 
 would be walking in the direction of the Gospel. 
 
 The evangelical Christians, at the sight of this glo- 
 rious prospect, redoubled their exertions. " Stand 
 fast in the doctrine," said the Elector of Saxony to his 
 councillors. At the same time hawkers in every part 
 of the city were selling Christian pamphlets, short and 
 easy to read, written in Latin and in German, and orna- 
 mented with engravings, in which the errors of Rome 
 were vigorously attacked. One of these books was 
 entitled, " The Papacy, vnih. its Members painted and 
 
 1 Some historians appear to think that these instructiong were commoni- 
 cated in reality at the very opening of the diet. Ranke shews that this was 
 not the case ; but adds, that he sees no reason why the commissaries should 
 have thought themselves authorized to make any other proposition. The 
 motives that I have a.ssigned appear to mo the true ones. 1 shall state 
 below why the commissaries returned afterwards to the imperial instructions. 
 
410 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 described, by Doctor Luther." In it figured the pope, 
 the cardinals, and all the religious orders, exceeding 
 sixty, each with their costumes, and description in 
 verse. Under the pictm-e of one of these orders were 
 the following lines : 
 
 Greedy priests, see, roll in gold. 
 Forgetful of tUe humble Jesu : 
 
 under another; 
 
 and under a third : 
 
 We can fast and pray the harder 
 With an overflowing larder. 
 
 " Not one of these orders," said Luther to the reader, 
 " thinks either of faith or charity. This one wears 
 the tonsure, the other a hood; this a cloak, that a 
 robe. One is white, another black, a third gray, and 
 a fourth blue. Here is one holding a looking-glass, 
 there one with a pair of scissors. Each has his play- 
 things. . . . Ah! these are the palmer- worms, the 
 locusts, the canker-worms, and the caterpillars, which, 
 as Joel saith, have eaten up all the earth." 
 
 But if Luther employed the scourges of sarcasm, he 
 also blew the trumpet of the prophets ; and this he did 
 in a work entitled, "The Destruction of Jerusalem." 
 Shedding tears, like Jeremiah, he denounced to the 
 German people a ruin similar to that of the holy city, 
 if like it they rejected the Gospel. " God has imparted 
 to us all His treasures," exclaimed he ; " He became 
 man. He has served us. He died for us, He has risen 
 again, and He has so opened the gates of heaven that 
 ail may enter. . . . The hour of grace is come. 
 . . . The glad tidings are proclaimed. . . But 
 where is the city, where is the prince that has received 
 them ? They insult the Gospel : they draw the sword, 
 and, daring, seize God by the beard. . . . But 
 wait. . . . He will turn round ; with one blow 
 will He break their jaws, and all Germany will be one 
 vast ruin." 
 
 These works had a very great sale. They were 
 read not only by the peasants and townspeople, but 
 also by the nobles and princes. Leaving the priests 
 alone at the foot of the altar, they threw themselves 
 into the arms of the new Gospel. The necessity of a 
 reform of abuses was proclaimed on the 1st of August 
 by a general committee. 
 
 Then Rome, which had appeared to slumber, awoke. 
 Fanatical priests, monks, ecclesiastical princes, all ga- 
 thered round Ferdinand. Cunning, bribery, nothing was 
 spared. Did not Ferdinand possess the instructions of 
 Seville ? To refuse their publication was to effect the 
 ruin of the Church and of the empire. Let the voice 
 of Chai-les, said they, oppose its powerful veto to the 
 dizziness that is hurrying Germany along, and the 
 empire will be saved ! Ferdinand made up his mind, 
 and at length, on the 3d August, published the decree 
 drawn up more than four months previously in favour 
 of the edict of Worms. 
 
 The persecution was about to begin ; the reformers 
 would be thrown into dungeons, and the sword drawn 
 on the banks of the Guadalquivir would at last pierce 
 the bosom of the Reformation. 
 
 The effect of the imperial ordinance was immense. 
 The breaking of an axle-tree does not more violently 
 check the velocity of a i-ailway train. The elector 
 and the landgrave announced that they were about to 
 quit the diet, and ordered theii" attendants to prepare 
 for their departure. At the same time the deputies 
 from the cities drew towards these two princes, and 
 the Reformation appeared as if it would enter imme- 
 diately upon a contest with the pope and Charles tho 
 Fifth. 
 
 But it was not yet prepared for a general struggle. 
 The tree was destined to strike its root deeper before 
 the Almighty unchained the stormy winds against it. 
 A spirit of blindness, similar to that which in former 
 times was sent out upon Said and Herod, then seized 
 upon the great enemy of the Gospel ; and thus was it 
 that Divine Providence saved the Reformation in its 
 cradle. 
 
 The first movement of trouble being over, the friends 
 of the Gospel began to consider the date of the impe- 
 rial instructions, and to weigh the new political com- 
 binations which seemed to announce to the world the 
 most unlooked-for events. " When the emperor wrote 
 these letters," said the cities of Upper Germany, " he 
 was on good terms with the pope ; but now everything 
 is changed. It is even asserted that he told Margaret, 
 his representative in the Low Countries, to proceed 
 gently with respect to the Gospel. Let us send him a 
 deputation." That was not necessary. Charles had 
 not waited imtil now to form a different resolution. 
 The course of public affau-s, taking a sudden turn, had 
 rushed into an entirely new path. Years of peace 
 were about to be granted to the Reformation. 
 
 Clement VIL, whom Charles was about to visit, 
 according to the instructions of Seville, in order to 
 receive the imperial crown in Rome itself and from 
 his sacred hands, and in return to give up to the 
 pontiff the Gospel and the Reformation, — Clement 
 VIL, seized with a strange infatuation, had suddenly 
 turned against this powerful monarch. The emperor, 
 unwilling to favour his ambition in every point, had 
 opposed his claims on the states of the Duke of Fer- 
 rara. Clement immediately became exasperated, and 
 cried out that Charles wished to enslave the peninsula, 
 but that the time was come for re-establishing the 
 independence of Italy. This great idea of Italian 
 independence, entertained at that period by a few 
 literary men, had not, as in our days, penetrated the 
 mass of the nation. Clement, therefore, hastened to 
 have recourse to political combinations. The pope, 
 tho Venetians, and the King of France, who had 
 scarcely recovered his liberty, formed a holy league, 
 of which the King of England was by a bull nomi- 
 nated the preserver and protector. In June, 152G, 
 tlie emperor caused the most favourable propositions 
 to be presented to the pope ; but his advances were 
 ineffectual, and the Duke of Sessa, Charles's ambas- 
 sador at Rome, returning on horseback from his last 
 audience, placed a court-fool behind him, who, by a 
 thousand monkey tricks, gave the Roman people to 
 understand how little they cared for the pope and his 
 projects. Clement responded to these bravadoes by a 
 brief, in which he threatened the emperor with excom- 
 munication, and without loss of time pushed his troops 
 
RELIGIOUS LIBERTY PROPOSED. 
 
 411 
 
 into Lombai-ily; whilst Milan, Florcuce, auJ PieJiuont, 
 dechircd for the holy league. Thus was Europe pre- 
 paring to be avenged for the triumph of Pavia. 
 
 Charles did not hesitate. He wheeled to the right 
 as quickly as the pope had done to the left, and turned 
 abruptly towards the evangelical princes. "Let us 
 suspend the edict of Worms," wrote he to his brother ; 
 "let us bring back Luther's parlizans by mildness, 
 and by a good council cause tlio triumpli of evan- 
 gelical truth." At the same time he demanded that 
 the elector, the landgrave, and their allies, should march 
 with him against the Turks, or against Italy, for the 
 common good of Christendom. 
 
 Ferdinand hesitated. To gain the friendship of the 
 Lutherans was to forfeit that of the other princes, who 
 were already begiiuiing to utter violent threats. The 
 Protestauts themselves were not very eager to take the 
 emperor's hand. " It is God, God himself," they said, 
 " who will save Ilis cliurchcs." 
 
 What was to be done? The edict of Worms could 
 neither bo repealed nor carried into execution. 
 
 So strange a situation led of necessity to the desired 
 solution — religious liberty. The first idea of this 
 occurred to the deputies of the cities. "In one place," 
 said they, "the ancient ceremonies have been pre- 
 served; in another they have been abolished; and 
 both think they arc right. Let us allow every man to 
 do as he thinks lit, until a council shall re-establish 
 the desired unity by the Word of God." This idea 
 gained favour, and the recess of the diet, dated the 
 17tli August, decreed that a universal, or at least a 
 national free council, should be convoked within a year; 
 that they should request the emperor to return speedily 
 to Germany; and that, until then, each state should 
 behave in its own territory in such a manner its to be 
 able to render an account to God and to the emperor. 
 
 Tlius they escaped from their ditliculty by a middle 
 course; and this time it was really the true path. 
 Each one maintained his rights, while recognising 
 another's. The diet of 1526 forms an important epoch 
 in history : an ancient power, that of the Middle Ages, 
 is shaken ; a new power, that of modern times, is 
 advancing ; religious liberty boldly takes its stand in 
 front of Komish despotism ; a lay spirit prevails over 
 the sacerdotal spirit. In this single step there is a 
 complete victory : the cause of the reform is won. 
 
 Yet it was little suspected. Luther, on the morrow 
 of the day on which the I'ecess was published, wrote to 
 a friend : "The diet is sitting at Spires in the German 
 fashion. They drink and gamble, and there is nothing 
 done except that." "ie congres danse ct ne marche 
 pas," has been said in our days. Great things arc 
 often transacted under an appearance of frivolity, and 
 God accomplishes His designs unknown even to tliose 
 whom He employs as His instruments. In this diet a 
 gravity and love of liberty of conscience were mani- 
 fested, which are the fruits of Christianity, and which 
 in the sixteenth century had its earliest, if not its most 
 energetic development, among the German nations. 
 
 Yet Ferdinand still hesitated. Mohammed himself 
 came to the aid of the Gospel. Louis, king of Hungary 
 and Bohemia, drowned at Mohacz on the 29th August, 
 1526, as he was fleeing from before Soliman II., had 
 bequeathed the crown of these two kingdoms to Ferdi- 
 
 nand. But the Duke of Bavaria, the Waywodo of 
 Transylvania, and, above all, the terrible Soliman, 
 contested it against him. This was sulRcient to occupy 
 Charles's brother : he left Luther, and hastened to dis- 
 pute two throucs. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Italian War-tho Emperor's Manifesto— Marcli on Home— Revolt of tlio 
 Troops— Tlio Sack of Rome— German Humours— Violence of the Spani- 
 ards-Clement VII. Capitulates. 
 
 The emperor immediately reaped the fruits of his new 
 policy. No longer having his hands tied by Germany, 
 he turned them against Home. The Reformation was 
 to be exalted and the Papacy abased. The blows 
 aimed at its pitiless enemy were about to open a new 
 career to the evangelical work. 
 
 Ferdinand, who was detained by his Hungarian 
 affaii-s, gave the charge of the Italian expedition to 
 Freundsberg, that old general who had in so friendly 
 a manner patted Luther ou the shoulder as the re- 
 former was about to appear before the Diet of Worms. 
 This veteran who, as a contemporary observes, " bore 
 in his chivalrous heart God's holy Gospel, well fortified 
 and flanked by a strong wall," pledged his wife's jewels, 
 sent recruiting parties into all the towns of Upper 
 Germany, and, owing to the magic idea of a war 
 against the pope, soon witnessed crowds of soldiers 
 flocking to his standard. "Announce," Charles had 
 said to his brother, — '• announce that the army is to 
 march against the Turks ; every one will know what 
 Turks are meant." 
 
 Thus the puissant Charles, instead of marching with 
 the pope against the Reformation, .is he had threatened 
 at Seville, marches with the Reformation against the 
 pope. A few days had sufliced to produce this change 
 of direction ; there arc few periods of history in which 
 the hand of God is more plainly manifested. Charles 
 immediately assumed all the airs of a reformer. On 
 the 17th September he addressed a manifesto to the 
 pope, in which he reproaches him for behaving, not 
 like the father of the faithful, but like an insolent and 
 haughty man ; and declares his astonishment that he, 
 Christ's vicar, should dare shed blood to acquire earthly 
 possessions, " which," added he, "is quite contrary to 
 the evangelical doctrine." Luther could not have 
 spoken better. "Let your holiness," continued Charles 
 the Fifth, "return the sword of vSt. Peter into the 
 scabbard, and convoke a holy and universal council." 
 But the sword was much more to the pontiff's taste 
 than the council. Is not the papacy, according to the 
 Romish doctors, the source of the two powers? Can 
 it not depose kings, and consequently fight against 
 them? Charles prepared to requite ei/e for eye, and 
 tooth for tooth. 
 
 Now began that terrible campaign during which the 
 storin burst on Rome and on the Papacy that had 
 been destined to fall on Germany and the Gospel. By 
 the violence of the blows inflicted ou the pontifical 
 city, we may judge of the severity of those that would 
 
412 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 liave dashed in pieces the reformed churches. "While 
 retracing such scenes of horror, we Iiave constant 
 need of calling to mind that the chastisement of the 
 seven-hilled city had been predicted by the Holy 
 Scriptures.' 
 
 In the month of November, Freundsberg, at the 
 head of fifteen thousand men, was at the foot of the 
 Alps. The old general, avoiding the military roads, 
 that were well guarded by the enemy, flung himself 
 into a narrow path, over frightful precipices, that a 
 few blows of the mattock would have rendered im- 
 passable. The soldiers were forbidden to look behind 
 them; nevertheless their heads turned, their feet 
 slipped, and horse and foot rolled from time to time 
 into the abyss. In the most difficult passes, the surest- 
 footed of the infantry lowered their long pikes to the 
 right and left of their aged chief by way of barrier, 
 and Freundsberg advanced, clinging to the lansquenet 
 in front, and pushed ou by the one behind. In three 
 days the Alps were crossed, and on the lOtli November 
 the army reached the territory of Brescia. 
 
 The constable of Bourbon, who succeeded to the 
 chief command of the imperial army after the death of 
 Pescara, had just taken possession of the duchy of 
 Milan. The emperor having promised him this con- 
 quest for a recompense, Bourbon was compelled to 
 remain there some time to consolidate his power. At 
 length, on the 12tli February, he and his Spanish 
 troops joined the army of Freundsberg, which was 
 becoming impatient at his delays. The constable had 
 many men, but no money; he resolved, therefore, to 
 follow the advice of the Duke of Ferrara, that in- 
 veterate enemy of the princes of the Church, and 
 proceed straight to Rome. The whole army received 
 this news with a shout of joy. The Spaniards were 
 filled with the desire of avenging Charles V., and the 
 Germans were overflowing with hatred against the 
 pope ; all exulted in the hope of receiving their pay, 
 and of having their labours richly repaid at last by 
 those treasures of Christendom that Rome had been 
 accumulating for ages. Their shouts re-echoed beyond 
 the Alps. Every man in Germany thought that the 
 last hour of the papacy had arrived, and prepared to 
 contemplate its fall. '-The emperor's forces are 
 triumphing in Italy," wrote Luther ; " the pope is 
 visited from every quarter. His destruction di-aweth 
 nigh : his hour and his end are come." 
 
 A few slight advantages gained by the papal soldiers 
 in the kingdom of Naples led to the conclusion of a 
 truce that was to be ratified by the pope aud by the 
 emperor. As soon as this was known, a frightful 
 tumult broke out in the constable's army. The Span- 
 ish troops revolted, compelled him to flee, and pillaged 
 his tent. Then, approaching the lansquenets, they 
 began to shout as loudly as they could, the only 
 German words they knew: '■'■Lance! lance! money! 
 money!" Such cries found an echo in the bosoms of 
 the Imperialists ; they were moved in their turn, and 
 also began to shout with all their might : " Lance ! 
 lance ! money ! money !" Freundsberg beat to muster, 
 aud having drawn up the soldiers around him and his 
 principal officers, calmly demanded if he had ever 
 
 1 Rev. xviii. We should not, however, restrict this prediction to the in- 
 complete sack of 1527, from which the city recovered. 
 
 deserted them. All was useless. The old affection 
 which the lansquenets bore to their leader seemed 
 extinct. One chord alone vibrated in their hearts : 
 they must have pay and war. Accordingly, lowering 
 their lauces, they presented them as if they would slay 
 their officers, and again began to shout, " Lance ! 
 lance! money! money!" When Freimdsbcrg, whom 
 no army however large had ever frightened — Freunds- 
 berg, who was accustomed to say, "the more enemies, 
 the greater the honour," saw these lansquenets, at whose 
 head he had grown grey, aiming their murderous steel 
 against him, he lost all power of utterance, and fell 
 senseless upon a drum, as if struck with a thunderbolt. 
 The strength of the veteran general was broken for 
 ever. But the sight of their dying captain produced 
 on the lansquenets an effect that no speech could have 
 made. All the lances were upraised, and the agitated 
 soldiers retired with downcast eyes. Four days later 
 Freundsberg recovered his speech. " Forward," said 
 he to the constable ; " God himself will bring us to the 
 mark." "Forward! forward!" repeated the lansque- 
 nets. Bourbon had no alternative : besides, neither 
 Charles nor Clement would listen to any proposals of 
 peace. Freundsberg was carried to Ferrara, and 
 afterwards to his castle of Mindelheim, where he died 
 after an illness of eighteen months ; and, on the 18th 
 April, Bourbon took that high road to Rome which so 
 many formidable armies coming from the north had 
 already trodden. 
 
 Whilst the storm descending from the Alps was 
 approaching the eternal city, the pope lost his presence 
 of mind, sent away his troops, and kept only his body- 
 guard. More than 30,000 Romans, capable of bearing 
 arms, paraded their bravery in the streets, dragging 
 their long swords after them, quarrelling and fighting ; 
 but these citizens, eager in the pursuit of gain, had 
 little thought of defending the pope; and hoping to 
 derive great profit from his stay, they desired, on the 
 contrary, that the magnificent Charles would come and 
 settle in Rome. 
 
 On the evening of the 5th May, Bourbon arrived 
 under the walls of the capital; and he would have 
 begun the assault at that very moment had he been 
 provided with ladders. On the morning of the 
 6th, the army, concealed by a thick fog which hid 
 their movements, was put in motion, the Spaniards 
 marching to their station above the gate of the Holy 
 Ghost, and the Germans below. The constable, wish- 
 ing to encourage his soldiers, seized a scaling-ladder, 
 mounted the wall, and called on them to follow him. 
 At this moment a ball struck him : he fell, and expired 
 an hour after. Such was the end of this unhappy 
 man, a traitor to his king and to his country, and sus- 
 pected even by his new friends. 
 
 His death, far from checking, served only to excite 
 the army. Claudius Seidenstucker, grasping his long 
 sword, first cleared the wall ; he was followed by 
 Michael Hartmann, and these two reformed Germans 
 exclaimed that God himself was marching before them 
 in the clouds. The gates were opened, the army 
 poured in, the suburbs were taken, and the pope, 
 surrounded by thirteen cardinals, fled to the castle of 
 St. Angelo. The Imperialists, at whose head was now 
 the Prince of Orange, offered him peace on condition 
 
THE SACK OF ROME. 
 
 413 
 
 of his paying 300,000 crowns. But Clement, who 
 thought that tlie holy league was on the point of de- 
 livering him, and fancied he already saw their lead- 
 ing horsemen, rejected every proposition. After four 
 hours' repose the attack was renewed, and by sunset 
 the army was master of all the city. It remained 
 luidor aiins and in good order until midnight, the 
 Spaniards in the Piazza Navona, and the Germans in 
 the Campofiore. At last, seeing no demonstrations 
 cither of war or peace, the soldiers disbanded, and ran 
 to pillage. 
 
 Then began the famous "Sack of Rome." The 
 papacy had for centuries put Christendom in the press. 
 Prebends, annates, jubilees, ))ilgrimiigcs, ecclesiastical 
 graces, — she had made money of them all. These 
 greedy troops, that for months had lived in wretched- 
 ness, determined to make her disgorge. No one was 
 spared, the imperial not more than the ultramontane 
 party, the Ghibellines not more than the Guelfs. 
 Churches, palaces, convents, private houses, basilisks, 
 banks, tombs — everything was pillaged, even to the 
 golden ring that the corpse of Julius II. still wore on 
 its finger. The Spaniards displayed the greatest skill, 
 scenting out and discovering treasures in the most 
 mysterious hiding-places; but the Neapolitans were 
 the most outrageous. " On every side were heard," 
 says Guicciardiui, "the piteous shrieks of the Roman 
 women and of the nuns, whom the soldiers dragged 
 away by companies to satiate their lust." 
 
 At first the Germans found a certain pleasure in 
 making the papists feel the weight of their swords. 
 15ut ere long, happy at procuring victuals and drink, 
 they were more pacific than their allies. It Wiis upon 
 those things whicli the liomans called " holy " that the 
 anger of the Lutherans was especially discharged. 
 They took away the chalices, the pyxes, the silver 
 remontranccs, and clothed their servants and camp- 
 boys witli the sacerdotal garments. The Campofiore 
 was changed into an immense gambling-house. The 
 soldiers brought thither golden vessels and bags full of 
 crowns, staked them upon one throw of the dice, and 
 after losing them went in search of othcis. A certain 
 Simon Baptista, who had foretold the sack of the 
 city, had been thrown into prison by the pope, — the 
 Germans liberated him, and made him drink with 
 tliem. But, like Jeremiah, he prophesied against all : 
 " Rob, plunder," cried he to his liberators ; " you shall, 
 however, give back all, — the money of the soldiers, and 
 the gold of the priests, will follow the same road." 
 
 Nothing pleased the Germans more than to mock 
 the papal court. " Many prelates," says Guicciardiui, 
 " were paraded on ivsses through all the city of 
 Rome." After this procession, the bishops paid their 
 ransom ; but they fell into the hands of the Spaniards, 
 who made them pay it a second time. 
 
 One day a lansquenet, named Guillaume de Saiute 
 Celle, put on the pope's robes, and placed the triple 
 crown upon his head; others gathered round him, 
 adorning themselves with the red hats and long robes 
 of the cardinals ; and, going in procession upon asses 
 through the streets of the city, they all arrived at 
 last before the castle of St. Angclo, to which Clement 
 VII. had retired. Here the soldier-cardinals alighted, 
 and lifting up the front of their robes, kissed the feet 
 
 of the pretended pontiff. The latter drank to the 
 health of Clement VII., the cardinals kneeling did the 
 same, and exclaimed that henceforward they would be 
 pious pcjpes and good cardinals, careful not to excite 
 wars :»s their predecessors had done. They then 
 formed a conclave, and the pope having announced to 
 his consistory that it was his intention to resign the 
 papacy, all hands were immediately raised for the 
 election, aud they cried out, "Luther is pope! Luther 
 is pope! " Never had pontiff been proclaimed with 
 such perfect unanimity. Such were the humours of 
 the Germans. 
 
 The Spaniards did not let the Romans off so easily. 
 Clement VII. Iiad called them " Moors," and had pub- 
 lished a plenary indulgence for whoever should kill 
 any of them. Nothing, therefore, could restrain their 
 fury. These faithful Catholics put the prelates to death 
 in the midst of horrible cruelties, destined to extort 
 their treasures from them : they spared neither rank, 
 sex, nor age. It was not until the sack had lasted ten 
 days, and a booty of ten millions of golden crowns had 
 been collected, and from five to eight thousand victims 
 had perished, that quiet began to be in some degree 
 restored. 
 
 Thus did the pontifical city decline in the midst of a 
 long and cruel pillage, and that splendour with which 
 Rome from the beginning of the sixteenth century had 
 filled the world, faded in a few hours. Nothing could 
 preserve this haughty capital from chastisement, not 
 even the prayers of its enemies. " I would not have 
 Rome burnt," Luther had exclaimed ; " it would be a 
 monstrous deed." The fears of Mclancthon were still 
 keener : " I tremble for the libraries," said he ; " we 
 know how hatefid books arc to Mars." But in despite 
 of these wishes of the reformers, the city of Leo X. 
 fell under the judgment of God. 
 
 Clement VII., besieged in the castle of St. Angclo, 
 and fearful that the enemy would blow his asylum 
 into the air with their mines, at last capitulated. He 
 renounced every alliance against Charles the Fifth, 
 and bouud himself to. remain a prisoner until he had 
 paid the army four hundred thousand ducats. The 
 evangelical Christians gazed with astonishment on this 
 judgment of the Lord. " Such," said they, " is the 
 empire of Jesus Christ, that the emperor, pursuing 
 Luther on behalf of the pope, is constrained to ruin 
 the pope instead of Luther. All things minister unto 
 the Lord, aud turn against His adversaries." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 rroatable Calm— Constitution of the Church— Philip of Hesse -The Monk 
 of Marburg— Lambert's Paradoxes— Friar Boniface — Disputation at 
 Ilambiu^— Triumph of the Gospel in Hesse— Constitution of the Church 
 —Bishops — SjTiods — Two Elements of the Church— Luther on the 
 Ministry— Organization of the Church — Luther's Contradictions on 
 State Interference- Luther.to the Elector — German Mass — Melancthon's 
 Instructions — Disaffection — Visitation of the Reformed Churches— 
 Kcsults— The Reformation advances — Elizabeth of Brandenburg. 
 
 The Reformation needed some years of repose, that it 
 might increase and gain strength; and it could not 
 
414 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 enjoy peace, unless its great enemies were at war with 
 each other. The madness of Clement VII. was, as it 
 were, tlie lightning-conductor of the Eeformation, and 
 the ruins of Rome built up the Gospel. It was not 
 only a few months' gain; from 152G to 1520 there 
 was a calm in Germany, by which the Eeformation 
 profited to organize and extend itself. A constitution 
 was now to be given to the renovated Church. 
 
 As the papal yoke had been broken, the ecclesiasti- 
 cal order required to be re-established. It was impos- 
 sible to restore their ancient jurisdiction to the bishops; 
 for these continental prelates maintained that they 
 were, in an especial manner, the pope's servants. A 
 new state of things was therefore called for, under 
 pain of seeing the Church fall into anarchy. This 
 was immediately provided against. It was then that 
 the evangelical nations separated definitely from that 
 despotic dominion which had for ages kept all the 
 West in bondage. 
 
 The diet had already, on two occasions, wished to 
 make the reform of the Church a national work, — the 
 emperor, the pope, and a few princes, were opposed 
 to it ; the Diet of Spires had, therefore, resigned to 
 each state the task that it could not accomplish itself. 
 
 But what constitution were they about to substitute 
 for the papal hierarchy? 
 
 They could, while suppressing the pope, preserve 
 the episcopal order: it was the form nearest approxi- 
 mating that which was on the point of being destroyed. 
 This was done in England, where we have an Episco- 
 palian Church ; but, as we have just observed, it could 
 not be realized on the continent. There were no 
 Latimers, no Cranmers, among the continental bishops. 
 
 They might, on the contrary, re-construct the eccle- 
 siastical order, by having recourse to the sovereignty 
 of God's Word, and by re-establishing the rights of 
 the Christian people. "This form was the most remote 
 from the Roman hierarchy. Between these two ex- 
 tremes there were several middle courses. 
 
 The latter plan was Zwingle's; but the reformer 
 of Zurich had not fully carried it out. He had not 
 called upon the Christian people to exercise the sove- 
 reignty, and had stopped at the Council of Two Hun- 
 dred as representing the Church. 
 
 The step before which Zwingle had hesitated might 
 be taken, and it was so. A prince did not shrink 
 from what had alarmed even republicans. Evangeli- 
 cal Germany, at the moment when she began to try 
 her hand on ecclesiastical constitutions, began with 
 that which trenched deepest on the papal monarchy. 
 
 It was not, however, from Germany that such a 
 system could ])roceed. If aristocratic England was 
 destined to cling to the episcopal form, docile Ger- 
 many was destined the rather to stop in a govern- 
 mental medium. The democratic extreme issued from 
 Switzerland and France. One of Calvin's predecessors 
 now hoisted that flag which the powerful arm of the 
 Genevesc reformer was to lift again in after years, and 
 plant in France, Switzerland, Holland, Scotland, and 
 even in England, whence it was, a century later, to 
 cross the Atlantic, and summon North America to take 
 its rank among the nations. 
 
 Philip of Hesse, who has been compared to Philip 
 of Macedon in subtlety, and to his son Alexander in 
 
 courage, was the most enterprising of all the evangeli- 
 cal princes. Philip comprehended that religion was 
 at length acquiring its due importance ; and far from 
 opposing the great development that was agitating 
 the people, ho put himself in harmony with the new 
 ideas. 
 
 The morning-star had risen for Hesse almost at the 
 same time as for Saxony. In 1517, when Luther, in 
 Wittemberg, was preaching the gratuitous remission of 
 sins, men and women in Marburg were seen repamug 
 secretly to one of the ditches of the city, and there, 
 collected round a solitary loophole, listening eagerly 
 to the words of consolation that issued from within. 
 It was tlie voice of the Franciscan, James Limburg, 
 who, having declared that for fifteen centuries the 
 priests had falsified the Gospel of Christ, had been 
 thrown into this gloomy dungeon. These mysterious 
 assemblies lasted a fortnight. On a sudden the voice 
 was silent ; these lonely meetings had been discovered, 
 and the Franciscan, torn from his cell, had been hur- 
 ried away across the Lahnberg towards some unknown 
 spot. Not far from the Ziegenberg, some weeping 
 citizens of Marburg came up with him, and hastily 
 pulling aside the awning that covered his car, they 
 asked him : " Whither are you going ?" — " Where God 
 wills," calmly replied the friar. He was never heard 
 of again, and it is not known what became of him. 
 These disappearances are usual in the papacy. 
 
 No sooner had Philip prevailed in the Diet of Spires, 
 than he resolved on devoting himself to the reforma- 
 tion of his hereditary states. 
 
 His resolute character made him incline towards 
 the Swiss reform: it was not, therefore, one of the 
 moderates that he wanted. He had formed a connec- 
 tion at Spires with James Sturm, the deputy from 
 Strasburg, who spoke to him of Francis Lambert of 
 Avignon, who was then at Strasburg. Of a pleasing 
 exterior and decided character, Lambert combined 
 with the fire of the south all the perseverance of the 
 north. He was the first in France to throw off the 
 cowl, and from that time he had never ceased to call 
 for a thorough reform in the Church. " Formerly," 
 said he, " when I was a hypocrite, I lived in abund- 
 ance ; now I consume frugally my daily bread with 
 my small family; but I had rather bo poor in Christ's 
 kingdom than possess abundance of gold in the disso- 
 lute dwellings of the pope." The landgrave saw that 
 Lambert was just the man he required, and invited 
 him to his court. 
 
 Lambert, desiring to clear the way for the refor- 
 mation of Hesse, drew up one hundred and fifty-eight 
 theses, which he entitled "Paradoxes," and posted 
 them, according to the custom of the times, on the 
 church doors. 
 
 Friends and enemies immediately crowded round 
 them. Some Roman Catholics would have torn them 
 down, but the reformed townspeople kept watch, and 
 holding a synod in the public square, discussed, de- 
 veloped, and proved these propositions, ridiculing at 
 the same time the anger of the papists. 
 
 Boniface Dorneraann, a young priest, full of self- 
 conceit, whom the bishop, on the day of his consecra- 
 tion, had extolled above Paul for his learnuig, and 
 above the Virgin for his chastity, finding himself too 
 
LAMBERT'S PARADOXES. 
 
 short to rciich Lambert's placard, borrowed a stool, 
 and, surrouuded by a numerous audience, began to 
 read the propositions aloud. 
 
 "All that is deformed ought to be reformed. Tlio 
 Word of God alone teaches us what ought to be so, 
 and all reform that is effected otherwise is v.iin." 
 
 This was the lirst llicses. "Hem! ' said the young 
 priest, " I shall not attack that." lie continued : 
 
 " It belongs to tlie Cliurch to judge on matters of 
 faith. Now the Church is the congregation of those 
 who are united by the same Spirit, the same faith, the 
 same God, the same Mediator, the same Word, by 
 which alone they arc governed, and in which alone 
 they have life." 
 
 " I cannot attack that proposition," said the priest. 
 lie continued reading from his stool. 
 
 "Tiie Word is the true key. Tlie kingdom of 
 heaven is open to him who believes the Word, and 
 shut against him who believes it not. Whoever, 
 therefore, truly possesses the Word of God, has the 
 power of the keys. All other keys, all the decrees of 
 the councils and popes, and all the rules of the monks, 
 are valueless." 
 
 Friar Boniface shook his head aud continued : 
 '• Since the priesthood of the law has been abolished, 
 Christ is the only immortal and eternal priest, and He 
 docs not, like men, need a successor. Neither the 
 Bishop of Rome, nor any other person in the world, is 
 His representative here below. But all Christians, 
 since the commencement of the Church, have been and 
 arc participators in His priesthood." 
 
 This proposition smelt of heresy. Dornemann, 
 however, was not discouraged; aud whether it was 
 from weakness of mind, or from the dawning of light, 
 at each proposition that did not too niucli shock his 
 prejudices, he repeated: "Certainly I sluill not attack 
 that one !" The jjcople listened in iistoiiislinicnt, when 
 one of them, (whether he was a fanatical Koniauist, a 
 fanatical reformer, or a mischievous wag, I cannot 
 tell,) tired with these continual repetitions, exclaimed : 
 " Get down, you knave, who cannot iind a word to 
 impugn." Then, rudely pulling away the stool, be 
 threw the unfortunate clerk flat in the mud. 
 
 On the 21st October, at seven in the morning, the 
 gates of the principal church at Homburg were thrown 
 open, and prelates, abbots, priests, counts, knights, 
 and deputies of the towns, entered in succession, and 
 among them was Philip, in his quality of first member 
 of the Church. 
 
 After Lambert had explained and proved his theses, 
 he added : " Let him stand forth who has anything to 
 say against them." At first there was a profound 
 silence ; but at length Nicholas Ferber, superior of 
 the Franciscans of Marburg, who in 1524, applying to 
 Rome's favourite argument, had entreated the laud- 
 grave to employ the sword against the heretics, began 
 to speak with drooping head and downcast eyes. As 
 he invoked Augustine, Peter Lombard, aud other 
 doctors to his assistance, the landgi-ave observed to 
 him : " Do not put forward the wavering opinions of 
 men, but the Word of God, which alone fortifies and 
 strengthens our hearts." The Franciscan sat down in 
 confusion, saying, " This is not the place for replying." 
 The disputation, however, recommenced, and Lambert, 
 
 shewing all the power of truth, so astonished his adver- 
 sary, that the superior, alarmed at what he called 
 " thunders of blasphemy, and lightnings of impiety," 
 sat down again, observing a second time, " This is not 
 the place for reply." 
 
 In vain did the Chancellor Feigc declare to him 
 that each man had the right of maintaining his opinion 
 with full liberty; in vain did the landgrave liimself 
 exclaim that the Church was sighing after truth : 
 silence had become Rome's refuge. "I will defend 
 the doctrine of purgatory," a priest had said prior to 
 the discussion; "I will attack tlic paradoxes under the 
 sixtli head, (on the true priesthood,)" had said another; 
 and a third had exclaimed : " I will overthrow those 
 under the tenth head, (on images ;)" but now they were 
 all dumb. 
 
 Upon this Lambert, clasping his hands, exclaimed 
 with Zacharias : ^^ Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; 
 for He hath visited and redeemed His people," 
 
 After three days of discussion, which had been a 
 continual triumph for the evangelical doctrine, men 
 were selected and commissioned to constitute the 
 churches of Ilessc in accordance with the Word of 
 God. They were more than throe days occupied in 
 the task, and their new constitution was then pub- 
 lished in the name of the synod. 
 
 The first ecclesiastical constitution produced by the 
 Reformation should have a place in history, and the 
 more so as it was then put forward as a model for the 
 new churches of Christendom. 
 
 The autonomy or self-government of the Church is 
 its fundamental principle ; it is from the Church, from 
 its representatives assembled in the name of the Lord, 
 that this legislation emanates ; there is no mention in 
 the prologue either of state or of landgrave. Philip, 
 content with having broken for himself and for his 
 people the yoke of a foreign priest, had no desire to 
 put himself in his place, and was satisfied with that 
 external superintendence which is necessary for the 
 maintenance of order. 
 
 A second distinctive feature in this constitution is 
 its simplicity both of government and worship. The 
 assembly conjures all futiu-c synods not to load the 
 churches with a multitude of ordinances, " seeing that 
 where orders abound, disorder superabounds." They 
 would not even continue the organs in the churches, 
 " because," said they, " men should understand what 
 they hear." The more the human mind has been bent 
 in one direction, the more violent is the reaction when 
 it is unbent. The Church passed at that time from 
 the extreme of symbols to the extreme of simplicity. 
 These are the principal features of this constitution : — 
 
 "The Church can only be taught and governed by 
 the Word of its .Sovereign Pastor. Whoever has re- 
 course to any other word shall be deposed and excom- 
 municated. 
 
 " Every pious man, learned in the Word of God, 
 whatever be his condition, may be elected bishop if 
 he desire it, for he is called inwardly of God. 
 
 " Let no one believe that by a bishop we understand 
 anything else than a simple minister of the Word of 
 God. 
 
 " The ministers are servants, and consequently they 
 ought not to be lords, princes, or governors. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 " Let the faithful assemble and choose their bishops 
 and deacons. Each church should elect its own pastor. 
 
 "Let those who are elected bishops be consecrated 
 to their office by the imposition of the hands of three 
 bishops ; and as for the deacons, if there are no minis- 
 ters present, let them receive the laying on of hands 
 from the elders of the Church. 
 
 " If a bishop causes any scandal to the Church, by 
 his effeminacy, by the splendour of his garments, or 
 by levity of conduct, and if, on being warned, he per- 
 sists, let him be deposed by the Church. 
 
 " Let each church place its bishop in a condition to 
 live with his family, and to be hospitable, as St. Paul 
 enjoins ; but let the bishops exact nothing for their 
 casual duties. 
 
 '• On every Sunday let there be, in some suitable 
 place, an assembly of all the men who are in the num- 
 ber of the saints, to regulate, with the bishop, accord- 
 ing to God's Word, all the affairs of the Church, and 
 to excommunicate whoever gives occasion of scandal 
 to the Church; for the Church of Christ has never 
 existed without exercising the power of excommunica- 
 tion. 
 
 " As a weekly assembly is necessary for the direc- 
 tion of the particular churches, so a general synod 
 should be held annually for the direction of all the 
 churches in the country. 
 
 "All the pastors are its natural members; but each 
 church shall further elect from its body a man, full of 
 the Spirit and of faith, to whom it shall entrust its 
 powers for all that is in the jurisdiction of the synod. 
 
 " Three visitors shall be elected yearly, with com- 
 mission to go through all the churches, to examine 
 those who have been elected bishops, to confirm those 
 who have been approved of, and to provide for the 
 execution of the decrees of the synod." 
 
 It will, no doubt, be found that this first evangelical 
 constitution went, in some points, to the extreme of 
 ecclesiastical democracy; but certain institutions had 
 crept in that were capable of increase, and of chang- 
 ing its nature. Six superintendents for life were after- 
 wards substituted for the three annual visitors, (who, 
 according to the primitive institution, might be simple 
 members of the church ;) and, as has been remarked, 
 the encroachments, whether of these superintendents 
 or of the state, gradually paralyzed the activity and 
 independence of the churches of Hesse. This constitu- 
 tion fared like that of the Abbe Sieyes, in the year 8, 
 (a. d., 1799,) which, intended to be republican, served, 
 through the influence of Napoleon Bonaparte, to estab- 
 lish the despotism of the empire. 
 
 It was not the less a remarkable work. Romish 
 doctors have reproached the Reformation for making 
 the Church a too interior institution.' In effect, the 
 Reformation and Popery recognise two elements in 
 the Church — the one exterior, the other interior; but 
 while Popery gives precedence to the former, the Re- 
 formation assigns it to the latter. If, however, it be 
 a reproach against the Reformation for having an 
 inward Church only, and for not creating an external 
 one, the remarkable constitution of which we have 
 just exhibited a few features, will save us the trouble 
 
 1 Tliis is the orinion set forth in the "Symbolik" of Dr. Mijhkr, the 
 most celebrated defender of the Romish doctrine among our contemporaries. 
 
 of reply. The exterior ecclesiastical order, which then 
 sprung from the very heart of the Reformation, is far 
 more perfect than that of Popery. 
 
 One great question presented itself: Will these 
 principles be adopted by all the churches of the Re- 
 formation 1 
 
 Everything seemed to indicate that they would. 
 At that time the most pious men were of opinion that 
 the ecclesiastical power proceeded from the members 
 of the Church. On withdrawing from the hierarchi- 
 cal extreme, they flung themselves into a democratical 
 one. Luther himself had professed this doctrine as 
 early as 1523. When the Callixtins of Bohemia 
 found that the bishops of their country refused them 
 ministers, they had gone so far as to take the first 
 vagabond priest. " If you have no other means of 
 procuring pastors," wrote Luther to them, " ratiier do 
 without them, and let each head of a family read the 
 Gospel in his own house, and baptize his children, 
 sighing after the sacrament of the altar, as the Jews 
 at Babylon did for Jerusalem. The consecration of 
 the pope creates priests — not of God, but of the devil, 
 ordained solely to trample Jesus Christ under foot, to 
 bring His sacrifice to naught, and to sell imaginary 
 holocausts to the world in His name. Men become 
 ministers only by election and calling, and that ought 
 to be effected in the following manner : — 
 
 " First, seek God by prayer ; then, being asse 
 together with all those whose hearts God has touched, 
 choose in the Lord's name him or them whom you 
 shall have acknowledged to be fitted for this ministry. 
 After tliat, let the chief men among you lay their 
 hands on them, and recommend them to the people 
 and to the Church." 
 
 Luther, in thus calling upon the people alone to 
 nominate their pastors, submitted to the necessities of 
 the times in Bohemia. It was requisite to constitute 
 the ministry; and as the ministry had no existence, it 
 could not then have the legitimate part that belongs to 
 it in the choice of God's ministers. 
 
 But another necessity, proceeding in like manner 
 from the state of affairs, was to incline Luther to 
 deviate in Saxony from the principles he had formerly 
 laid down. 
 
 It can hardly be said that the German Reformation 
 began with the lower classes, as in Switzerland and 
 France ; and Luther could scarcely find anywhere that 
 Christian people which should have played so great a 
 part in his new constitution. Ignorant men, conceited 
 townspeople, who would not even maintain their minis- 
 ters — these were the members of the Church. Now 
 what could be done with such elements ? 
 
 But if the people were indifferent, the princes were 
 not so. They stood in the foremost rank of the great 
 battle of the Reformation, and sat on the first bench in 
 the council. The democratic organization was there- 
 fore compelled to give way to an organization conform- 
 able to tlie civil government. The Church is composed 
 of Christians, and they are taken wherever they are 
 found — high or low. It was particiUarly in high 
 stations that Luther found them. He admitted the 
 princes (as Zwingle did the Council of Two Hundred) 
 as representatives of the people, and henceforward the 
 influence of the state became one of the principal 
 
LUTHER'S CONTRADICTIONS ON STATE-INTERFERENCE. 
 
 417 
 
 elements iu the constitution of the evangelical Church 
 in Germany. 
 
 Thus Luther, setting out in principle from the de- 
 mocratic, arrived in fact at the Erastiau extreme. 
 Never, perhaps, was there so inunense a space be- 
 tween tiic premises laid down by any man and the 
 conduct he adopted. If L\ither crossed that wide 
 interval without hesitation, it was not from mere 
 inconsistency on his part; ho yielded to the neces- 
 sities of the times. The rules of Church government 
 are not, like the doctrines of the Gospel, of an abso- 
 lute nature ; their application depends in a measure 
 on the state of the Church. Nevertheless there was 
 some inconsistency iu Luther: he often expressed 
 himself in a contradictory manner on what princes 
 ought and ought not to do in the Church. This is 
 a point upon which the reformer and liis age had no 
 very settled opinions: there were other questions to 
 be cleared up. 
 
 In the mind of the reformer the tutelage of the 
 princes was only to be provisional. The faithful be- 
 ing still in their minority, they had need of a guar- 
 dian ; but the era of the Church's majority might 
 an-ive, and then would come its emancipation. 
 
 As we said in another place, we will not decide on 
 this great controversy of Church and State. But there 
 arc certain ideas which can never be forgotten. God 
 is the principle from which every being emanates, and 
 who ought to govern the whole world — societies as 
 well as individuals — the State not less than the Church. 
 God has to do with governments, and governments 
 with God. The great truths of which the Church is 
 the depository are given from above to exert their 
 intluouce on the whole nation, — on him who is seated 
 on the tlu'one, as well as on the peasant in his cottage; 
 and it is not only as an individual that the prince must 
 be partaker of this heavenly light, it is also that he 
 may receive a Divine wisdom as governor of his people. 
 God must be in the .State. To place nations, govern- 
 ments, social and political life, on one side, — and God, 
 His Word, and His Church, on the other, as if there 
 were a great gulf between them, and that these two 
 orders of things should never meet, — would be at once 
 high treason against man and against God. 
 
 But if there ought to be a close union between these 
 two spheres, (the Church and State,) we ought to seek 
 the means best calculated to obtain it. Now, if the 
 direction of the Church is entrusted to the civil go- 
 vernment, as was the case in Saxony, there is great 
 reason to fear lest the reality of this union should be 
 compromised, and the infiltration of heavenly strength 
 into the body of the nation be obstructed. The Church, 
 administered by a civil department, will often be sacra- 
 ficed to political ends, and, gi-adually becoming secu- 
 larized, will lose its pristine vigour. This, at least, has 
 taken place in Germany, where in some places religion 
 has sunk to the rank of a temporal administration. 
 In order that any created being may exercise all the 
 influence of which it is capable, it ought to have a 
 free development. Let a tree grow unconfined iu the 
 open fields, you will better enjoy its cool shade, and 
 gather more abundant fruits, than if you planted it in 
 a vase, and shut it up in your chamber. Such a tree 
 is the Church of Christ. 
 
 The recourse to the civil power, which was, perhaps, 
 at that time necessary in Germany, had still another 
 consequence ; when Protestantism became an affair of 
 governments, it ceased to be universal. The new spu-it 
 was capable of creating a new earth. But instead of 
 opening new roads, and of purposing the regenoratioa 
 of all Christendom, and the conversion of the whole 
 world, Protestantism shrank back, and Protestants 
 sought to settle themselves as comfortably as possible 
 in a few German duchies. This timidity, which has 
 been called prudence, did immense injury to the Re- 
 formation. 
 
 The organizing power being once discovered in the 
 councils of the princes, the reformers thought of organ- 
 ization, and Luther applied to the task ; for although 
 he was in an especial manner an assailant, and Calvin 
 an organizer, these two qualities, as necessary to the 
 reformers of the Church as to the founders of empires, 
 were not wanting in either of these great servants of 
 God. 
 
 It was necessary to compose a new ministry, for 
 most of the priests who had quitted the papacy were 
 content to receive the watchword of reform, without 
 having personally experienced the sanctifying virtue 
 of the truth. There was even one parish in which 
 the priest preached the Gospel in his principal church, 
 and sang mass in its succursal. 
 
 But something more was wanting: a Christian 
 people had to be created. "Alas!" said Luther, of 
 some of the adherents of the reform, "they have 
 abandoned their Romish doctrines and rites, and thev 
 scoff at ours." 
 
 Luther did not shrink from before this double neces- 
 sity; and he made provision for it. Convinced that a 
 general visitation of the churches was necessary, he 
 addressed the elector on this subject, on the 22d Octo- 
 ber, 1526. "Your highness, in your quality of guar- 
 dian of youth, and of all those who know not how to 
 take care of themselves," said he, "should compel the 
 inliabitants, who desire neither pastors nor schools, to 
 receive these means of grace, as they are compelled to 
 work on the roads, on bridges, and such like services. 
 The papal order being abolished, it is your duty to 
 regulate these things : no other person cares about 
 them, no other can, and no other ought to do so. 
 Commission, therefore, four persons to visit all the 
 country; let two of them inquire into the tithes and 
 church property; and let two take charge of the doc- 
 trine, schools, churches, and pastors." It may be 
 asked, on reading these words, whether the Church 
 which was formed in the first century without the 
 support of princes, could not in the sixteenth be re- 
 formed without them ? 
 
 Luther was not content with soliciting in writing 
 the intervention of the prince. He was indignant at 
 seeing the courtiers, who, in the time of the Elector 
 Frederick, had shewn themselves the inveterate ene- 
 mies of the Reformation, now rushing, "sporting, 
 laughing, skipping," as he said, on the spoils of the 
 Church. Accordingly, at the end of this year, the 
 elector having come to Wittemberg, the reformer re- 
 paired immediately to the palace, made his complaint 
 to the prince-electoral, whom he met at the gate ; and 
 then, without caring about those who would have 
 2e 
 
418 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFOKMATION. 
 
 stopped him, forced bis Way into the elector's bed- 
 chamber, and, addressing this prince, who was sur- 
 prised at so unexpected a visit, begged him to remedy 
 the evils of the Church. The visitation of the churches 
 was resolved upon, and Melancthon was commissioned 
 to draw up the necessary instructions. 
 
 In 1526, Luther published his " German Mass," by 
 which he signified the order of church service in 
 general. " The real evangelical assemblies," he said, 
 "do not take place publicly, pell-mell, admitting 
 people of every sort ; but they are formed of serious 
 Christians, who confess the Gospel by their words and 
 by their lives, and in the midst of whom we may 
 reprove and excommunicate those who do not live 
 according to the rule of Christ Jesus. I cannot insti- 
 tute such assemblies, for I have no one to place in 
 them ; but if the thing becomes possible, I shall not be 
 wanting in this duty." 
 
 It was with a conviction that he must give the 
 Church, not the best form of worship imaginable, 
 but the best possible, that Melancthon, like Luther, 
 laboured at his instructions. 
 
 The German Eeformation at that time tacked about, 
 as it were. If Lambert, in Hesse, had gone to the 
 extreme of a democratical system, Melancthon, in 
 Saxony, was approximating the contrary extreme of 
 traditional principles. A conservative principle was 
 substituted for a reforming one. Melancthon wrote 
 to one of the inspectors : " All the old ceremonies that 
 you can preserve, pray do so. Do not innovate much, 
 for every innovation is injurious to the people." 
 
 They retained, therefore, the Latin liturgy, a few 
 German hymns being mingled with it ; the communion 
 in one kind for those only who scrupled from habit to 
 take it in both ; a confession made to the priest with- 
 out being in any way obligatory; many saints' days, 
 the sacred vestments, and other rites, " in which," said 
 Melancthon, "there is no harm, whatever Zwingle may 
 say." And at the same time they set forth with reserve 
 the doctrines of the Reformation. 
 
 It is but right to confess the dominion of facts and 
 circumstances upon these ecclesiastical organizations ; 
 but there is a dominion which rises higher stiU — that 
 of the Word of God. 
 
 Perhaps Melancthon did all that could be effected 
 at that time ; but it was necessary for the work to be 
 one day resumed and re-established on its primitive 
 plan, and this was Calvin's glory. 
 
 A cry of astonishment was heard both from the camp 
 of Kome and from that of the Reformation. " Our 
 cause is betrayed," exclaimed some of the evangelical 
 Christians: "the liberty is taken away that Jesus 
 Christ had given us." 
 
 On their part the Ultramontanists triumphed in 
 Melancthon's moderation : they called it a retracta- 
 tion, and took advantage of it to insult the reform. 
 Cochlceus published a "horrible" engraving, as he 
 styles it himself, in which, from beneath the same 
 hood, was seen issuing a seveu-headcd monster re- 
 presenting Luther. Each of these heads had different 
 features, and all, uttering together the most frightful 
 and contradictory words, kept disputing, tearing, and 
 devouring each other. 
 
 The astonished elector resolved to communicate 
 
 Melancthon's paper to Luther. But never did the 
 reformer's respect for his friend shew itself in a more 
 striking manner. He made only one or two unimpor- 
 tant additions to this plan, and sent it back accom- 
 panied with the highest eulogiums. The Romanists 
 said that the tiger caught in a net was licking the 
 Jiands that clipped his talons. But it was not so. 
 Luther knew that the aim of Melancthon's labours 
 was to strengthen the very soul of the Reformation in 
 all the churches of Saxony. That was sufficient for 
 him. He thought, besides, that in everything there 
 must be a transition ; and, being justly convinced 
 tliat his friend was more than himself a man of transi- 
 tion, he frankly accepted his views. 
 
 The general visitation began. Luther in Saxony, 
 Spalatin in the districts of Altenburg and Zwickau, 
 Melancthon in Thuringia, and Thuring in Franconia, 
 with ecclesiastical deputies and several lay colleagues, 
 commenced the work in October and November, 1528. 
 
 They purified the clergy by dismissing every priest 
 of scandalous life ; assigned a portion of the Church 
 property to the maintenance of public worship, and 
 placed the remainder beyond the reach of plunder. 
 They continued tlie suppression of the convents, and 
 everywhere established unity of instruction. "Luther's 
 greater and smaller catechisms," which appeared in 
 1529, contributed more, perhaps, than any other writ- 
 ings to propagate throughout the new churches the 
 ancient faith of the apostles. The visitors commis- 
 sioned the pastors of the great towns, imder the title 
 of superintendents, to watch over the churches and the 
 schools ; they maintained the abolition of celibacy ; 
 and the ministers of the "Word, become husbands and 
 fathers, formed the germ of a third estate, whence in 
 after years were diffused in all ranks of society learn- 
 ing, activity, and light. This is one of the truest 
 causes of that intellectual and moral superiority which 
 indisputably distinguishes the evangelical nations. 
 
 The organization of the churches in Saxony, not- 
 withstanding its imperfections, produced, for a time at 
 least, the most important results. It was because the 
 Word of God prevailed ; and because, wherever this 
 Word exercises its power, secondary errors and abuses 
 are paralyzed. The very discretion that was employed 
 really originated iu a good principle. The reformers, 
 unlike the enthusiasts, did not utterly reject an institu- 
 tion because it was corrupted. They did not say, for 
 example, "The sacraments are disfigured, let us do 
 without them! the ministry is corrupt, let us reject 
 it!" — but they rejected the abuse, and restored the 
 use. This prudence is the mark of a work of God ; 
 and if Luther sometimes permitted tlie chaff to remain 
 along with the wlieat, Calvin appeared later, and more 
 thoroughly purged the Christian threshing-floor. 
 
 The organization which was at that time going on 
 in Saxony exerted a strong reaction on all the German 
 empire, and the doctrine of the Gospel advanced with 
 gigantic strides. God's design in turning aside from 
 the reformed states of Germany the thunderbolt that 
 He caused to fall upon the seven-hilled city, was 
 clearly manifest. Never were years more usefully 
 employed ; and it was not only to framing a constitu- 
 tion that the Reformation devoted itself, it was also to 
 extend its doctrine. 
 
ELIZABETH OP BEANDENBURa. 
 
 419 
 
 Tho clucliios of Luncburg and Brunswick, many of 
 the most important imperial cities, as Nuremberg, 
 Augsburp;, Ulm, Stnisburg, Gottingeii, Gosslar, Nord- 
 bauseii, Lubeck, Bremen, and Hamburg, removed the 
 tapers from the chapels, and substituted iu their place 
 the l)rightcr torch of tlio Word of God. 
 
 In vain did the friglitcncd canons allege tlie authority 
 of the Church. "The authority of the Church," re- 
 plied Kempe and Zechenhagen, tho reformer of Ham- 
 burg, "cannot be acknowledged unless the Church her- 
 self obeys lier pastor Jesus Christ." Pomeranus visited 
 many places to put a finishing hand to the reform. 
 
 In Frauconia, the Margrave George of Branden- 
 burg, having reformed Anspach and Bayreuth, wrote 
 to his ancient protector, Ferdinand of Austria, who 
 had knit liis brows on being informed of these pro- 
 ceedings : " I have acted thus by God's order ; for He 
 commands princes to take care not only of the bodies 
 of their subjects, but also of their souls." 
 
 In East Friesland, on New-year's day, 1527, a 
 Dominican, named Resins, having put on his hood, 
 ascended the pulpit at Noordcn, and declared himself 
 ready to maintain certain theses according to the tenor 
 of the Gospel. After silencing the Abbot of Noorden 
 by the soundness of his arguments, Resius took off his 
 cowl, left it on the pulpit, and was received in the 
 nave by the acclamations of the faithful. Erelong 
 the whole of Friesland laid aside the uniform of 
 popery, as Resius had done. 
 
 At Berlin, Elizabeth, electress of Brandenburg, 
 having read Luther's works, felt a desire to receive 
 the Lord's Supper in conformity with Christ's institu- 
 tion. A minister secretly administered it at the 
 festival of Easter, 1.528; but one of her children in- 
 formed the elector. Joachim was greatly exasperated, 
 and ordered his wife to keep her room for several 
 days ; it was even rumoured that he intended shutting 
 Lcr up. This princess, being deprived of all religious 
 support, and mistrusting the perfidious manoeuvres of 
 the Romish priests, resolved to escape by flight ; and 
 claimed the assistance of her brother. Christian II. of 
 Denmark, then residing at Torgau. Taking advantage 
 of a dark night, she quitted the castle in a peasant's 
 dress, and got into a rude country-waggon that was 
 •waiting for her at the gate of the city. Elizabeth 
 urged on the driver, when, in a bad road, the wain 
 broke down. The electress, hastily unfastening a 
 handkerchief she wore round her head, Hung it to the 
 man, who employed it in repairing the damage, and 
 erelong Elizabeth arrived at Torgau. "If I should 
 expose you to any risk," said she to her uncle, the 
 Elector of Saxony, "I am ready to go wherever Pro- 
 vidence may lead me." But John assigned her a 
 residence iu the castle of Lichtcnberg, on the Elbe, 
 near Wittemberg. Without taking upou ns to approve 
 of Elizabeth's flight, let us acknowledge the good that 
 God's providence derived from it. This amiable lady, 
 ■who lived at Lichteuberg iu the study of His Word, 
 seldom appeai-ing at court, frequently going to hear 
 Luther's sermons, and exercising a salutary influence 
 over her children, who sometimes had permission to 
 see her, was the first of those pious princesses whom 
 the house of Brandenburg has counted, and even still 
 counts, among its members. 
 
 At the same time, Ilolstein, Sloswick, and Silesia, 
 decided in favour of the Reformation ; and Hungary, 
 as well as Bohemia, saw tho number of its adherents 
 increase. 
 
 In every place, instead of a hierarchy seeking its 
 righteousness in the works of man, its glory in ex- 
 ternal pomp, its strength in a material power, the 
 Church of the Apostles reappeared, humble as in 
 primitive times, and like the aucient Christians, look- 
 ing for its righteousness, its glory, and its power, solely 
 in the blood of the Lamb, and in the Word of God. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Edict of Ofen—Persocutions— Winkler, Carpenter, and Keyser— AJarm !n 
 Germany— Paclt'3 Forgery — League of the Reformed Princes — Advico 
 of the Reformci-s— Lutbei''8 Paeifio Counsel— Surprise of the Papist 
 Prinees— Pacli's Scheme not Improbable— Vigour of the Reformation. 
 
 These triumphs of the Gospel could not pass nnper- 
 cei\ed ; there was a powerful reaction, and until 
 political circumstances should permit a grand attack 
 upon the Reformation on the very soil where it was 
 established, and of fighting against it by means of 
 diets, and, if necessary, by armies, the adversaries 
 began to persecute it in detail iu the Romish countries 
 with tortures and the scaffold. 
 
 On the 20th August, 1527, King Ferdinand, by the 
 edict of Ofeu, in Hungary, published a tariff of crimes 
 and penalties, in which he threatened death by the 
 sword, by fire, or by water, against whoever should 
 say that Mary was like other women ; or partake of 
 the sacrament in an heretical manner ; or consecrate 
 the bread and wine, not being a Romish priest ; and 
 further, iu the second case, the house in which the 
 sacrament should have been administered was to be 
 confiscated or razed to the ground. 
 
 Such was not the legislation of Luther. Link having 
 asked him if it were lawful for the magistrate to put 
 the false prophets to death, meaning the Sacraraent- 
 arians, whose doctrines Luther had so violently at- 
 tacked, the reformer replied : " I am slow whenever 
 life is concerned, even if the offender is exceedingly 
 guilty. I can by no means admit that the false teach- 
 ers should be put to death : it is sufiicient to remove 
 them." For ages the Romish Church has bathed iu 
 blood. Luther was the first to profess the great prin- 
 ciples of humanity and religious liberty. 
 
 Recourse was sometimes had to more expeditious 
 means than the scaffold itself. George AVinkler, pastor 
 of Halle, having been summoned before Archbishop 
 Albert, in the spring of 1527, for having administered 
 the sacrament in both kinds, had been acquitted. As 
 this minister was returning home along an unfre- 
 quented road in the midst of the woods, he was 
 suddenly attacked by a number of horsemen, who 
 murdered him, and immediately fled through the 
 thickets without taking anything from his person. 
 "The world," exclaimed Luther, "is a cavern of 
 assassins under the command of the devil; an iim, 
 
HISTOEY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 whose lamllord is a brigand, and which bears this 
 sign, Lies and Murder: and none are more readily 
 put to death therein than those who proclaim Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
 At Munich, George Carpenter was led to the 
 scaffold for having denied that the baptism of water 
 is able, by its own virtue, to save a man. " "When you 
 are thrown into the fire," said some of his brethren, 
 "give us a sign by which we may know that you per- 
 severe in the faith." — " As long as I can open my 
 mouth, I will confess the name of the Lord Jesus." 
 The executioner stretched him on a ladder, tied a 
 small bag of gunpowder round his neck, and then 
 flung him into the flames. Carpenter immediately 
 cried out, "Jesus! Jesus!" and while the executioner 
 was turning him again and again with his hooks, the 
 martyr several times repeated the word " Jesus," and 
 expired. 
 
 At Landbbeig muu poi on^ -wcio consigned to the 
 flames, and at Munich twenty-nine weie thi own into 
 the water. At Scherdiug, Leonard Kejser, a friend 
 and disciple of Luther, having been condemned by the 
 bishop, had his head shaved, and being dressed in a 
 smock-frock, was placed on horseback. As the execu- 
 tioners were cursing and swearing, because they could 
 not disentangle the ropes with which his limbs were to 
 be tied, he said to them mildly : " Dear friends, your 
 bonds are not necessary ; my Lord Christ has already 
 bound me." When he drew near the stake, Keyser 
 looked at the crowd and exclaimed : " Behold the 
 harvest ! O Master, send forth thy labourers ! " He 
 then ascended the scaffold, and said : " O Jesu, save 
 me ! I am thine." Tliese were his last words. " Who 
 am I — a wordy preacher," cried Luther, when he re- 
 ceived tlie news of his death, "in comparison with 
 this great doer ! " 
 
 Thus the Reformation manifested by such striking 
 works the truth that it had come to re-establish; 
 namely, that faith is not, as Rome maintains, an 
 historical, vain, dead knowledge, but a lively faith, 
 the work of the Holy Ghost, the channel by which 
 Christ fills the heart with new desires, and with new 
 affections, the true worship of the living God. 
 
 These martyrdoms filled Germany with horror, and 
 gloomy forebodings descended from the thrones among 
 the ranks of the people. Around the domestic hearth, 
 
 in the long winter evenings, the conversations wholly 
 turned on prisons, tortures, scaffolds, and martyrs ; 
 the slightest noise alarmed the old men, women, and 
 children. Such narratives gathered strength as they 
 passed from mouth to mouth ; the rumour of a univer- 
 sal conspiracy against the Gospel spread thi-ough all 
 the empire. Its adversaries, taking advantage of this 
 terror, announced with a mysterious air, that they 
 must look during this year (1528) for some decisive 
 measure against the reform. One scoundrel (Pack) 
 resolved to profit by this state of mind to satisfy his 
 avarice. 
 
 No blows are more terrible to a cause than those 
 which it inflicts upon itself. The Reformation, seized 
 with a dizziness, was on the verge of self-destruction. 
 There is a spirit of error that conspires against the 
 cause of truth, beguiling by subtlety ; the Reformation 
 was about to experience its attacks, and to stagger un- 
 der the most formid- 
 able assaults — pertur- 
 bition of thought and 
 estrangement from 
 the ways of wisdom 
 and truth. 
 
 Otho Pack, vice- 
 chiuceUor to Duke 
 George of Saxony, 
 « as a crafty and dissi- 
 pated man, who tooli 
 id\ antageof hisoiHce, 
 \nd had recourse to 
 ill sorts of practices 
 to procure money. 
 The duke having on 
 one occasion sent him 
 to the diet of Nurem- 
 bei^ Is las itpiLsOutatuc, the Bishop of Merseburg 
 confided to him his contribution towards the imperial 
 government. The bishop having been afterwards 
 called upon for this money, Pack declared that he had 
 paid it to a citizen of Nuremberg, whose seal and 
 signature he produced. This paper was a forgery — 
 Pack himself was the author of it. The wretch, how- 
 ever, put an impudent face on the matter, and having 
 escaped conviction, preserved the confidence of his 
 master. Erelong an opportunity presented itself of 
 exercising his criminal talents on a larger scale. 
 
 No one entertained greater suspicions with regard to 
 the papists than the Landgrave of Hesse. Young, 
 susceptible, and restless, he was always on the alert. 
 In the month of February, 1528, Pack happening to 
 be at Cassel to assist Pliilip in some difficult business, 
 the landgrave imparted to him his fears. If any one 
 could have had any knowledge of the designs of the 
 papists, it must have been the vice-chancellor of one 
 of the greatest enemies to the Reformation. Tiie 
 crafty Pack heaved a sigh, bent down his eyes, and 
 was silent. Philip immediately became uneasy, en- 
 treated him, and promised to do nothing that would 
 injure the duke. Then Pack, as if he liad allowed an 
 important secret to be torn from him with regret, con- 
 fessed that a league against the Lutherans had been 
 concluded at Breslau on the Wednesday foUowiug 
 Juhilate Sunday, 12th May, 1527; and engaged to 
 
PACK'S FORGERY. 
 
 procure the original of this act for the laudpfravc, wlio 
 offered him for this service a remuneration of ten 
 tliousand florins. Tiiis was the greatest transaction 
 that the wretched man had ever undertaken; but it 
 tended to nothing less than the utter overthrow of the 
 empire. 
 
 The landgrave was amazed ; ho restrained himself, 
 however, wishing to see the act with his own eyes 
 before informing his allies. lie therefore repaired to 
 Dresden. " I cannot," said Pack, " furnish you with 
 the original: the duke always carries it about his 
 person to read it to other princes whom he hopes to 
 pain over. Recently, at Leipsic, he shewed it to Duke 
 Henry of Brunswick. But here is a copy made by 
 his highnoss's order." The landgrave took the doeu- 
 m. nt. ulii.Ii In,,-.' all the marks of the most i.rvtVrt 
 
 authenticity. It was crossed by a cord of black silk, 
 and fastened at both ends by the seal of the ducal 
 chancery. Above was an impression from the ring 
 Duke George always wore on his finger, with the 
 three quarterings that Philip had so often seen ; at 
 the top, the coronet, and at the bottom the two lions, 
 lie had no more doubts as to its authenticity. But 
 how can we describo his indignation as he read this 
 guilty document? King Ferdinand, the Electors of 
 Mentz and of Brandenburg, Duke George of Saxony, 
 the Dukes of Bavaria, the Bishops of Salzburg, Wurtz- 
 burg, and Bamberg, had entered into a coalition to call 
 upon the Elector of Saxony to deliver up the arch- 
 heretic Luther, with all the apostate priests, monks, 
 and nuns, and to re-establish the ancient worship. If 
 ho. m^,\o ,l,^f:iiilt. hU .-tntP^ w.To to lip invnd^d. and 
 
 ^^.^^ 
 
 Jl 
 
 *< ::'-J '■ 
 
 *^l--iPi»eif-*i '"^^-^^^ 
 
 this prince and his descendants for ever dispossessed. 
 The same measure was next to be applied to the land- 
 grave, only ("it was your father-in-law, Duke George," 
 said Puck to Philip, ''who got this clause inserted ") 
 his states were to be restored to him in consideration 
 of his yout'.i, if he became fully reconciled to the holy 
 Church. The document stated, moreover, the contin- 
 gents of men and money to bo provided by the con- 
 federates, and tlie share they were to have in the spoils 
 of the two heretical princes. 
 
 Many circumstances tended to confirm the authen- 
 ticity of this paper. Ferdinand, Joachim of Branden- 
 burg, and George of Saxony, had, in fact, met at 
 Breslau on the day indicated; and an evangelical 
 prince, the Margrave George, had seen Joachim leave 
 Ferdinand's apartments, holding in his hand a large 
 
 parchment, to which several seals were attached. The 
 agitated landgrave caused a copy to be taken of this 
 document, promised secrecy for a time, paid Pack four 
 thousand florins, and engaged to make up the sum 
 agreed upon, if he would procure him the original. 
 And then, wishing to prevent the storm, he hastened 
 to Weimar to inform the elector of this unprecedented 
 1 conspiracy. 
 
 " I have seen," said he to John and his son, " nay, 
 more — I have had in my hands a duplicate of this 
 horrible treaty. Signatures, seals, nothing was want- 
 ing. Here is a copy, and I bind myself to place the 
 original before your eyes. The most frightful danger 
 threatens us — ourselves, our faithful subjects, and the 
 Word of God." 
 
 The elector had no reason to doubt the account the 
 
422 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 landgi-ave had just given him ; he was stunned, con- 
 founded, and overpowered. The promptest measures 
 alone could avert such unprecedented disasters ; every- 
 thing must be risked to extricate them from certain 
 destruction. The impetuous Philip breathed fire and 
 flames ; his plan of defence was already prepared. He 
 presented it, and in the first moment of consternation 
 carried the consent of his ally, as it were, by assault. 
 On the 9th March, 1528, the two princes agreed to 
 employ all their forces to defend themselves, and even 
 to take the offensive, and sacrifice life, honour, rank, 
 subjects, and states, that they might preserve the 
 Word of God. The dukes of Prussia, Mecklenburg, 
 Luneburg, and Pomerania, the kings of Denmark and 
 Poland, and the Margrave of Brandenburg, were to be 
 iuvited to enter into this alliance. Six hundred thou- 
 sand florins were destined for the expenses of the war ; 
 and to procure them, they would raise loans, pledge 
 their cities, and sell the offerings in the churches. 
 They had already begun to raise a powerful army. 
 The landgrave set out in person for Nuremberg and 
 Anspach. The alarm was general in those countries ; 
 the commotion was felt throughout all Germany, and 
 even beyond it. John Zapolya, king of Hungary, at 
 that time a refugee at Cracow, promised a hundred 
 thousand florins to raise an army, and twenty thousand 
 florins a month for its maintenance. Thus a spirit of 
 error was misleading the princes: if it should carry 
 away the reformers also, the destruction of the Refor- 
 mation would not be far distant. 
 
 But God was watching over them. Supported on 
 the rock of the Word, Melancthon and Luther replied : 
 "/« is icritten. Thou shall not teinpt the Lord thj God." As 
 soon as these two men whom the danger threatened, 
 (for it was they who were to be delivered up to the 
 papal jDowcr,) saw the youthful landgrave drawing 
 the sword, and the aged elector himself putting his 
 hand on the hilt, they uttered a cry, and this cry, 
 which was heard in heaven, saved the Reformation. 
 
 Luther, Pomeranus, and Melancthon immediately 
 forwarded the following advice to the elector : "Above 
 all things, let not the attack proceed from our side, 
 and let no blood be shed through our fault. Let us 
 wait for the enemy, and seek after peace. Send an 
 ambassador to the emperor to make him acquainted 
 with this hateful plot." 
 
 Thus it was that the faith of the children of God, 
 which is so despised by politicians, conducted them 
 aright, at the very moment when the diplomatists 
 were going astray. The elector and his son declared 
 to the landgrave that they would not assume the 
 offensive. Philip was in amazement. "Are not the 
 preparations of the papists worthy an attack ? " asked 
 he. " What ! we will threaten war, and yet not make 
 it ! We will enflame the hatred of our antagonists, 
 and leave them time to prepare their forces ! No, no ; 
 forward ! It is thus we shall secure the means of an 
 
 honourable peace." "If the landgrave desires to 
 
 begin the war," replied the reformer, " the elector is 
 not obliged to observe the treaty ; for we must obey 
 God rather than men. God and the right are above 
 every alliance. Let us beware of painting the devil on 
 our doors, and inviting him as godfather. But if the 
 landgrave is attacked, the elector ought to go to his 
 
 assistance ; for it is God's will that we preserve our 
 faith." This advice which the reformers gave, cost 
 them dear. Never did man, condemned to the torture, 
 endure a punishment like theirs. The fears excited 
 by the landgrave were succeeded by the terrors in- 
 spired by the papist princes. This cruel trial left 
 them in great distress. " I am worn away with 
 sorrow," cried Melancthon ; " and this anguish puts 
 me to the most horrible torture. The issue," added 
 he, " will be found on our knees before God." 
 
 The elector, drawn in different directions by the 
 theologians and the politicians, at last took a middle 
 course ; he resolved to assemble an army, " but only," 
 said he, " to obtain peace." Philip of Hesse at length 
 gave way, and forthwith sent copies of the famous 
 treaty to Duke George, to the dukes of Bavaria, and 
 to the emperor's representatives, calling upon them to 
 renounce such cruel designs. "I would rather have a 
 limb cut off," said he to his father-in-law, " than know 
 you to be a member of such an alliance." 
 
 The surprise of the Gemian courts, when they read 
 this document, is beyond description. Duke George 
 immediately replied to the landgrave, that he had 
 allowed himself to be deceived by unmeaning absur- 
 dities ; that he who protended to have seen the original 
 of this act was an infamous liar, and an incorrigible 
 scoundrel ; and called upon the landgrave to give up 
 his authority, or else it might well be thought that ho 
 was himself the inventor of this impudent fabrication. 
 King Ferdinand, the Elector of Brandenburg, and all 
 the pretended conspirators, made similar replies. 
 
 Philip of Hesse saw that he had been deceived ; his 
 confusion was only exceeded by his anger. He had in 
 this affair justified the accusations of his adversaries, 
 who called him a hot-headed young man, and had 
 compromised to the highest degree the cause of the 
 Reformation and that of his people. He said after- 
 wards : " If that business had not happened, it would 
 no more happen now. Nothing that I have done in 
 all my life has caused me greater vexation." 
 
 Pack fled in alarm to the landgrave, who caused 
 him to be arrested ; and envoys from the several 
 princes whom this scoundrel had compromised met 
 at Cassel, and proceeded to examine him. He main- 
 tained that the original act of the alliance had really 
 existed in the Dresden archives. In the following 
 year the landgrave banished him from Hesse, proving 
 by this action that he did not fear him. Pack was 
 afterwards discovered in Belgium ; and to the demand 
 of Duke George, who had never shewn any pity to- 
 wards him, he was seized, tortured, and finally be- 
 headed. 
 
 The landgrave was unwilling to have taken up arms 
 to no purpose. The Archbishop-elector of Mentz was 
 compelled, on the 11th June, 1528, to renounce, in the 
 camp of Herzkirchen, all spiritual jurisdiction in Saxony 
 and Hesse. This was no small advantage. 
 
 Scarcely had the arms been laid aside before Luther 
 took up his pen, and began a war of another kind. 
 " Impious princes may deny this alliance as long aa 
 they please," wrote he to Link ; " I am very certain 
 tliat it is not a chimera. Tliese insatiable leeches will 
 take no repose until they see the whole of Germany 
 flowing with blood." This idea of Luther's was the 
 
ALLIANCE BETWEEN CHARLES AND CLEMENT VIL 
 
 I one generally entertained. " The document presented 
 j to the laudgi-avc may be," it was said, 'Tack's inven- 
 tion ; but all this fabric of lies is founded on some 
 ' truth. If the alliance has not been concluded, it has 
 I been conceived." 
 
 Jlelancholy were the results of tliis affair. It in- 
 ] spired division in the bosom of the Keforniatiou, and 
 fanned the hatred between the two parties. The 
 sparks from the piles of Kcyser, Winkler, Carpenter, 
 and so many other martyrs, .idded strenp;th to tlic lire 
 that was already threatening to set the empire in 
 flames. It was under such critical circumstances, and 
 with such menacing dispositions, that the famous Diet 
 1 of Spires was opened in March, lu21>. The empire 
 i and the papacy were in reality preparing to annihilate 
 the Reformation, although in a manner different from 
 I what Pack had pretended. It was still to be learnt 
 [ ■whether more vital strength would be found in tlic 
 revived Church than in so many sects that Home had 
 I easily crushed. Happily the faith had increased, and 
 I the constitution given to the Church liad imparted 
 I gi'cater power to its adherents. All were resolved on 
 defending a doctrine so pure, and a Church govern- 
 ment so superior to that of popery. During three 
 years of tranquillity the Gospel tree had struck its 
 roots deep ; and if the storm should biu^t, it would 
 now be able to brave it. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 •VUianco bftwcen Charles and Clement VII.— Omens— Hostility of the 
 rapists— Arbitrary Proposition of Charles— Resolutions of the Diet— 
 The Reformation in Danger— Decision of the Trinccfl — Violence of 
 Ferdinana— The Schism completed. 
 
 TuE sack of Rome, by exasperating the adherents of 
 the papacy, had given arms to all the enemies of 
 Charles V. The French army, under Lautrec, had 
 forced the imperial army, enervated by the delights of 
 B new Capua, to hide itself within the walls of Naples. 
 Doria, at the head of his Genoese galleys, had destroyed 
 the Spanish fleet; and all the imperial power seemed 
 drawing to an end in Italy. But Doria suddenly de- 
 clared for the emperor; pestilence carried off Lautrec 
 and half of his troops; and Charles, suffering only 
 from alarm, had again gr.isped the power with a lirm 
 resolution to unite hencefonvard closely with the pon- 
 tiff, whose humiliation had nearly cost him so dear. 
 On his side Clement VIL, hearing the Italians re- 
 proach him for his illegitimate birth, and even refuse 
 him the title of pope, said atoud, that he would rather 
 be the emperor's groom than the sport of his people. 
 On the 2iJth June, 1528, a peace between the heads 
 of the empire and of the Church was concluded at 
 Barcelona, based on the destruction of heresy; and in 
 November a diet was convoked to meet at Spires on 
 the 21st February, 1529. Charles was resolved to 
 endeavour at first to destroy the reform by a federal 
 vote ; but if this means did not sutlice, to employ his 
 whole power .tgainst it. The road being thus traced 
 out, they were about to commence operations. 
 
 Germany felt the seriousness of the position. Mourn- 
 
 ful omens filled every mind. About the middle of 
 January, a great brightness in the sky had suddenly 
 dispersed the darkness of the night. " What that for- 
 bodes," exclaimed Luther, "God only knows!" At 
 the beginning of April there was a rumour of an 
 earthquake tiiat had engulfed castles, cities, and whole 
 districts, in Carinthia and Istria, and split the tower of 
 St. Mark at Venice into four parts. " If that is true," 
 said the reformer, " these protligies are the forerunners 
 of the d.ty of Jesus Christ." The astrologers declared 
 that the aspect of the quartiles of Saturn and Jupiter, 
 and the generiil position of the stars, Wiis ominous. 
 The waters of the Elbe rolled thick and stormy, and 
 stones fell from the roofs of churches. "All these 
 things," exclaimed the terrified Melancthou, "excite 
 me in no trifling degree." 
 
 The letters of convocation issued by the imperial 
 government agreed but too well with these prodigies. 
 The emperor, writing from Toledo to the elector, ac- 
 cused him of sedition and revolt. Alarming whispers 
 passed from mouth to mouth that were sufficient to 
 cause the fall of the weak. Duke Henry of Mecklen- 
 burg and the elector-palatine hastily returned to the 
 side of popery. 
 
 Never had the sacerdotal party appeared in the diet 
 in such numbers, or so powerful and decided. On the 
 5th March, Ferdinand, the president of the diet; after 
 him the dukes of Bavaria ; and lastly, the ecclesiasti- 
 cal electors of Mentz and Treves, had entered the 
 gates of Spires surrounded by a numerous armed 
 escort. On the loth March, the Elector of Saxony 
 arrived, attended only by Melancthou and Agricola. 
 But Philip of llcsse, faithful to his character, entered 
 the city on the 18th March to the, sound of trumpets, 
 and with two hundred horsemen. 
 
 The divergence of men's minds soon became mani- 
 fest. A papist did not meet an evangelical in the 
 street without casting angry glances upon him, and 
 secretly threatening him with perfidious machinations. 
 The elector-palatine passed the Saxons without appear- 
 ing to know them ; and although John of Saxony was 
 the most important of the electors, none of the chiefs 
 of the opposite party visited him. Grouped around 
 their tables, the Roman Catholic princes seemed ab- 
 sorbed in games of hazard. 
 
 But erelong they gave positive marks of their hos- 
 tile disposition. The elector and the landgrave were 
 prohibited from having the Gospel preached in their 
 mansions. It was asserted, even at this early period, 
 that John was about to be turned out of Spires, and 
 deprived of his electorate. "We are the execration 
 and the sweepings of the world," said Melancthon ; 
 " but Christ will look down on His poor people, and 
 v.'ill preserve them." In truth, God was with the wit- 
 nesses to His Word. The people of Spires thii-sted 
 for the Gospel, and the elector wrote to his son on 
 Palm Sunday: "About eight thous.aud persons were 
 present to-day in my chapel at morning and evening 
 worship." 
 
 The Roman party now quickened their proceedings : 
 
 their plan was simple, but energetic. It was necessary 
 
 to put down the religious liberty that had existed for 
 
 more than three years, and for this purpose they must 
 
 1 abrogate the decree of 1526, and revive that of 1521. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 On the 15tli March the imperial commissaries an- 
 nounced to the diet that the last resolution of Spires, 
 ■which left all the states free to act in conformity with 
 the inspirations of their consciences, having given rise 
 to great disorders, the emperor had annulled it by 
 virtue of his supreme power. This arbitrary act, 
 which had no precedent in the empire, as well as the 
 despotic tone in which it was notified, filled the 
 evangelical Christians with indignation and alarm. 
 " Christ," exclaimed Sturm, " has again fallen into the 
 hands of Caiaphas and Pilate." 
 
 A commission was charged to examine the imijerial 
 proposition. The Archbishop of Salzburg, Faber, and 
 Eck, — that is to say, the most violent enemies of the 
 Reformation, — were among its members. " The Turks 
 are better than the Lutherans," said Faber, " for the 
 Turks observe fast-days, and the Lutherans violate 
 them. If we must choose between the Holy Scrip- 
 tures of God and the old errors of the Church, we 
 should reject the former." " Every day in full assembly 
 Faber ciists some new stone at us Gospellers," says 
 Melancthon. " Oh, what an Iliad I should have to 
 mmpnso," added he, " if I were to report all these 
 
 The pnrsts rMcd l.u- tin- cx^ruliOJl of the edict of 
 Worms, 1521, and the evangelical members of the 
 commission, among whom were the Electors of Saxony 
 and Sturm, demanded, on the contrary, the mainte- 
 nance of the edict of Spires, 152C. The latter thus 
 remained within the bounds of legality, whilst their 
 adversaries were driven to coups d'etat. In fact, a new 
 order of things having been legally established in the 
 empire, no one could infringe it ; and if the diet pre- 
 sumed to destroy by force what had been constitu- 
 tionally established three years before, the evangelical 
 states had the right of opposing it. The majority of 
 the commission felt that the re-establishment of the 
 ancient order of things would be a revolution no less 
 complete than the Reformation itself. How could 
 they subject anew to Rome, and to her clergy, those 
 nations in whose bosom the Word of God had been so 
 richly spread abroad '? For this reason, equally reject- 
 ing the demands of the priests and of the evangelicals, 
 the majority came to a resolution, on the 24th March, 
 that every religious innovation should continue to be 
 interdicted in the places where the edict of Worms had 
 been carried out; and that in those where the people 
 
 had deviated from it, and where they could not con- 
 forfti to it without danger of revolt, they should, at 
 least, effect no new reform, they should touch upon no 
 controverted point, they should not oppose the cele- 
 bration of the mass, they should permit no Roman 
 Catholic to embrace Lutheranisni, they should not de- 
 cline the episcopal jurisdiction, and should tolerate no 
 Anabaptists or Sacramentarians. The status-quo, and 
 no proselytism — such were the essentials of this reso- 
 lution. 
 
 The majority no longer voted as in 1526 : the wind 
 had turned against the Gospel. Accordingly, this pro- 
 position, after having been delayed a few days by the 
 festival of Easter, was laid before the diet on the 6th 
 April, and passed on the 7th. 
 
 If it became a law, the Reformation could neither 
 be extended into those places where it was as yet 
 unknown, nor be established on solid foundations in 
 those where it already existed. The re-establishment 
 of the Romish hierarchy, stipulated in the proposition, 
 would infallibly bring back the ancient abuses ; and 
 the least deviation from so vexatious an ordinance 
 would easily furnish the Romanists with a pretext for 
 completing the destruction of a work already so vio- 
 lently shaken. 
 
 The Elector, the Landgrave, the Margrave of Bran- 
 1 nburg, the Prince of Anhalt, and the Chancellor of 
 
 I uneburg, on one side, and the deputies for the cities 
 II the other, consulted together. An entirely new 
 
 I I der of things was to proceed from this council. If 
 ey had been animated by selfishness, they would, 
 
 perhaps, have accepted this decree. In fact, they 
 A\ ere left free, in appearance at least, to profess their 
 filth : ought they to demand more ? could they do so ? 
 AVere they bound to constitute themselves the cham- 
 pions of liberty of conscience in all the world ? Never, 
 erhaps, had there been a more critical situation ; but 
 these noble-minded men came victorious out of the 
 tiial. What! should they legalize by anticipation the 
 scaffold and the torture? Should they oppose the 
 Holy Ghost in its work of converting souls to Christ ? 
 Should they forget their Master's command: Go ye 
 into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature ? 
 If one of the states of the empire desired some day to 
 follow their example, and be reformed, should they 
 take away its power of doing so '? Having themselves 
 entered the kingdom of heaven, should they shut the 
 door after them? No! rather endure everything, 
 sacrifice everything, even their states, their crowns, 
 and their lives. 
 
 "Let us reject this decree," said the princes. "In 
 matters of conscience the majority has no power." 
 "It is to the decree of 1526," added the cities, "that 
 we are indebted for the peace that the empire enjoys : 
 its abolition would fill Germany with troubles and 
 divisions. The diet is incompetent to do more than 
 preserve religious liberty until a council meets." Such, 
 in fact, is the grand attribute of the State ; and if in 
 our days the Protestant powers should desire to influ- 
 ence the Romish governments, they should strive solely 
 at obtaining for the subjects of the latter that reli- 
 gious liberty which the pope confiscates to his own 
 advantage wherever he reigns alone, and by which 
 he profits greatly in every evangelical state. Some of 
 
VIOLENCE OF FERDINAND. 
 
 the deputies proposed refusing all assistance against 
 the Turlis, hoping thus to force tiie emperor to inter- 
 fere in this religious question. IJut Slurm called upon 
 them not to mix up political matters witli the salva- 
 tion of souls. They resolved, therefore, to reject the 
 proposition; but without holding out any threats. It 
 was tiiis noble resolution that gained for modern times 
 liberty of thought, and independence of faith. 
 
 Ferdinand and the priests, who were no less resolute, 
 dotermiued, however, on vanquishing wliat they called 
 a during obstinacy; and they commenced with the 
 weaker states. They began to frigliteu and divide 
 the cities, which had hitherto pursued a common 
 course. On the 12th April tliey were summoned 
 before the diet : in vaiu did they allege the absence 
 of some of their number, and ask for delay. It was 
 refused, and the call was hurried on. Twenty-one 
 free cities accepted the proposition of the diet, and 
 fom-teen rejected it. It was a bold act on the part of 
 the latter, and was accomplished in the midst of the 
 most painful sufferings. " This is the first trial," said 
 Pfarrer, second deputy of Strasburg; "now will come 
 the second : wo must cither deny the Word of God or 
 — be burnt." 
 
 A violent proceeding of Ferdinand's immediately 
 commenced the series of humiliations that were re- 
 served for the evangelical cities. A deputy of Stras- 
 burg should, in conformity with the decree of AVorms, 
 have been a member of the imperial government from 
 the commencement of April. He was declared ex- 
 cluded from his rights until the re-establishuicnt of 
 the mass in Strasburg. All the cities united in pro- 
 testing against this arbitrary act. 
 
 At the same time, the elector-palatine and King 
 Ferdinand himself begged the princes to accept the 
 decree, assuring them that the emperor would be ex- 
 ceedingly pleased with them. " We will obey the em- 
 peror," replied they calmly, " in everything that may 
 contribute to maintain peace and the honour of God." 
 
 It was time to put an end to this struggle. On the 
 18tli April it was decreed that the evangelical states 
 should not be heard again ; and Ferdinand prepared to 
 inflict the decisive blow on the morrow. 
 
 When the day came, the king appeared in the diet, 
 surrounded by the other commissaries of the empire, 
 and by several bishops. He thanked the Roman 
 Catholics for their fidelity, and declared that the re- 
 solution having been definitively agreed to, it was 
 about to be drawn up in the form of an imperial 
 decree. He then announced to the elector and his 
 friends, that their only remaining course was to sub- 
 mit to the majority. 
 
 The evangelical princes, who had not expected so 
 positive a declaration, were excited at this summons, 
 and passed, according to custom, into an adjoining 
 chamber to deliberate. But Ferdinand was not in a 
 humour to wait for their answer. He rose, and the 
 imperial commissaries with him. Vain were all en- 
 deavours to stop him. " I have received an order 
 from his imperial majesty," replied he ; " I have exe- 
 cuted it. AH is over." 
 
 Thus did Charles's brother notify an order to the 
 Christian princes, and then retire without caring even 
 if there was any reply to be made ! To no purpose 
 
 they sent a deputation entreating the king to return. 
 "It is a settled affair," repeated Ferdinand; "submis- 
 sion is all that remains." This refusal completed the 
 schism : it separated Rome from the Gospel. Perhaps 
 more justice on the part of the empire and of the 
 papacy miglit have prevented the rupture that since 
 then has divided the Western Church. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Tho Protest— Principles of the Protest— Supremacy of the Gospel- Chris- 
 tian Union — Ferdinand rejects tho Protest— Attempt at Conciliation 
 —Exultation of tho Papists— Evangelical Appeal— Christian Unity a 
 Reality— Dangers of tho Protestants— Tlio Protestants leave Spires- 
 Tho Princes tho True Kcfonners- Germany and Reform. 
 
 If the imperial party displayed such contempt, it was 
 not without a cause. They felt that weakness was on 
 the side of tho Reformation, and strength with Charles 
 and the pope. But the weak have also their strength ; 
 and of this the evangelical princes were aware. As 
 Ferdinand paid no attention to their complaints, they 
 ought to pay none to his absence, to appeal from the 
 report of the diet to the AYord of God, and from the 
 Emperor Charles to Jesus Christ, the King of kings 
 and Lord of lords. 
 
 They resolved upon this step. A declaration was 
 drawn up to that effect, and this was the famous Pro- 
 test that henceforward gave the name of Protestant to 
 the renovated Church. The elector and his allies hav- 
 ing returned to the common hall of the diet, thus 
 addressed the assembled states :' — 
 
 " Dear Lords, Cousins, Uncles, and Friends ! — 
 Having repaired to this diet at the simimons of his 
 majesty, and for the common good of the empire and 
 of Christendom, we have heard and learnt that the 
 decisions of the last diet concerning our holy Christian 
 faith are to be repealed, and that it is proposed to 
 substitute for them certain restrictive and onerous 
 resolutions. 
 
 " King Ferdinand and the other imperial commis- 
 saries, by affixing theii- seals to the last Recess of Spires, 
 had promised, however, in the name of the emperor, 
 to carry out sincerely and inviolably all that it con- 
 tained, and to permit nothing that was contrary to it. 
 In like manner, also, you and we, electors, princes, 
 prelates, lords, and deputies of the empire, bound our- 
 selves to maintain always and with our whole might 
 every article of that decree. 
 
 " We cannot, therefore, consent to its repeal : — 
 
 " Firstly, because we believe that his imperial ma- 
 jesty (as well as you and we) is called to maintain 
 firmly what has been unanimously and solemnly re- 
 solved. 
 
 "Secondly, because it concerns the glory of God 
 and the salvation of our souls, and that in such matters 
 we ought to have regard, above all, to the command- 
 ment of God, who is King of kings and Lord of lords; 
 
 1 Tliere are two copies of this act ; one of them is brief, and the other, 
 which is longer, was transmitted in writing to the imperial commissaries. 
 It is from the latter we extrsct the passages in the text. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 each of us rendering Him account for himself, with- 
 out caring the least in the world about majority or 
 minority. 
 
 "We form no judgment on that which concerns you, 
 most dear lords ; and we are content to pray God daily 
 that He will bring us all to unity of faith, in truth, 
 charity, and holiness, through Jesus Christ, our throne 
 of grace, and our only Mediator. 
 
 " But in what concerns ourselves, adhesion to your 
 resolution (and let every honest man be judge !) would 
 be acting against our conscience, condemning a doc- 
 trine that we maintain to be Christian, and pronounc- 
 ing that it ought to be abolished in our states, if we 
 could do so without trouble. 
 
 " This would be to deny our Lord Jesus Christ, to 
 reject His holy Word, and thus give Him just reason 
 to deny us in turn before His Father, as He has 
 threatened. 
 
 " What ! we ratify this edict! We assert that when 
 Almighty God calls a man to His knowledge, this man 
 cannot, however, receive the knowledge of God ! Oh ! 
 of what deadly backslidings shoidd we not thus become 
 the accomplices, not only among our own subjects, but 
 also among yours ! 
 
 " For this reason we reject the yoke that is imposed 
 on us. And although it is universally known that in 
 our states the holy sacrament of the body and blood of 
 our Lord is becomingly administered, we cannot adhere 
 to what the edict proposes against the Sacrameutarians, 
 seeing that the imperial edict did not speak of them, 
 that they have not been heard, and that we cannot 
 resolve upon such important points before the next 
 council. 
 
 "Moreover," — and this is the essential part of the 
 protest, — " the new edict declaring the ministers shall 
 preach the Gospel, explaining it according to the writ- 
 ings accepted by the holy Christian Church ; we think 
 that, for tjiis regulation to have any value, we should 
 first agree on what is meant by the true and holy 
 Church. Now, seeing that there is great diversity of 
 opinion in this respect ; that there is no sure doctrine 
 but such as is conformable to the Word of God ; that 
 the Lord forbids the teaching of any other doctrine; 
 that each text of the Holy Scriptures ought to be 
 explained by other and clearer texts ; that this holy 
 book is in all things necessary for the Christian, easy 
 of understanding, and calculated to scatter the dark- 
 ness : we are resolved, with the grace of God, to main- 
 tain the pure and exclusive preaching of His holy 
 Word, such as it is contained in the biblical books of 
 the Old and New Testament, without adding anything 
 thereto that may be coutrary to it. This Word is the 
 only truth ; it is the sure rule of all doctrine, and of 
 all life, and can never fail or deceive us. He who 
 builds on this foundation shall stand against all the 
 powers of hell, whilst all the human vanities that are 
 set up against it shall fall before the face of God. 
 
 "For these reasons, most dear lords, uncles, cousins, 
 and friends, we earnestly entreat you to weigh care- 
 fully our grievances and our motives. If you do not 
 yield to our request, we Protest by these presents, 
 before God, our only Creator, Preserver, Redeemer, 
 and Saviour, and who will one day be our Judge, as 
 well as before all men and all creatures, that we, for 
 
 us and for our people, neither consent nor adhere in 
 any manner whatsoever to the proposed decree, in any- 
 thing that is contrary to God, to His Holy Word, to 
 our right conscience, to the salvation of our souls, and 
 to the last decree of Spu-es. 
 
 " At the same time we are in expectation that his 
 imperial majesty will behave towards us like a Chris- 
 tian i^rince who loves God above all things ; and we 
 declare ourselves ready to pay unto him, as well as 
 unto you, gracious lords, all the affection and obedi- 
 ence that are our just and legitimate duty." 
 
 Thus, in presence of the diet, spoke out those cour- 
 ageous men whom Christendom will henceforward 
 denominate The Pkotestaxts. 
 
 They had barely finished when they announced their 
 intention of quitting Spires on the morrow. 
 
 This protest and declaration produced a deep im- 
 pression. The diet was rudely interrupted and broken 
 into two hostile parties, — thus preluding war. The 
 majority became the prey of the liveliest fears. As 
 for the Protestants, relying, jure kumano, upon the 
 edict of Spires, a.ni, jure Diviiio, upon the Bible, they 
 were full of courage and firmness. 
 
 The principles contained in this celebrated protest 
 of the 19th April, 1529, constitute the very essence of 
 Protestantism. Now this protest opposes two abuses 
 of man in matters of faith : the first is the intrusion 
 of the civil magistrate, and the second the arbitrary 
 authority of the Church. Instead of these abuses. 
 Protestantism sets the power of conscience above the 
 magistrate ; and the authority of the Word of God 
 above the visible Church. In the fii-st place, it rejects 
 the civil power in divine things, and says with the 
 prophets and apostles, We must obey God rather than 
 man. In presence of the crown of Charles the Fifth, 
 it uplifts the crown of Jesus Christ. But it goes 
 farther: it lays down the principle, that all human 
 teaching should be subordinate to the oracles of God. 
 Even the primitive Church, by recognising the writ- 
 ings of the apostles, had performed an act of submis- 
 sion to this supreme authority, and not an act of 
 authority, as Rome maintains ; and the establishment 
 of a tribunal charged with the interpretation of the 
 Bible, had terminated only in slavishly subjecting man 
 to man in what should be the most unfettered — con- 
 science and faith. In this celebrated act of Spires uo 
 doctor appears, and the Word of God reigns alone. 
 Never has man exalted himself like the pope ; never 
 have men kept in the background like the reformers. 
 
 A Romish historian maintains that the word Pro- 
 testant signifies enemtj of the emperor and of the 2wpe. If 
 ho means that Protestantism, in matters of faith, rejects 
 the intervention both of the empire and of the papacy, 
 it is well. But even this explanation does not exhaust 
 the signification of the word, for Protestantism threw 
 off man's authority solely to place Jesus Christ on the 
 throne of the Church, and His Word in the pulpit. 
 There has never been anything more positive, and at 
 the same time more aggressive, than the position of 
 the Protestants at Spires. By maintaining that their 
 faith alone is capable of saving the world, they de- 
 fended with intrepid courage the rights of Christian 
 proselytisra. We cannot abandon this proselytism 
 without deserting the Protestant principle. 
 
atte:mpt at conciliation. 
 
 427 
 
 The Protestants of Spires were not content to exalt 
 the truth : tliey defended charity. Faber and the 
 other papal partisans had endeavoured to separate the 
 princes, who in general walked witli Luiiier, from the 
 cities that ranged themselves rntiicr on the side of 
 Zwinglc. Oicolampadius had immediately written to 
 Melancthon, and enlightened him on the doctrines of 
 the Zurich reformer. lie had indignantly rejected 
 the idea tiiat Clirist was baiiit^licd into a corner of 
 heaven, and had energetically declared that, according 
 to tiio Swi^s Christians, Christ was in every place, np- 
 Iiuliliiig all things by tlie Word of His power. "With 
 the visible symbols," he added, " we give and we re- 
 ceive the invisible grace, lilic all the faithful." 
 
 Tliese declarations were not useless. There were at 
 Spires two men who, from different motives, opposed 
 the efforts of Faber, and seconded those of fficolam- 
 padius. Tlic landgrave, ever revolving projects of 
 alliance in his mind, felt clearly that if the Christians 
 of Saxony and of Hesse allowed the condemnation of 
 the churches of Switzerland and of Upper Germany, 
 they would by that very moans deprive themselves of 
 powerful auxiliaries. Melancthon, who, unlike the 
 landgrave, was far from desiring a diplomatic alliance, 
 lest it should hasten on a war, defended the great prin- 
 ciples of justice, and exclaimed: "To what just re- 
 proaches should we not be exposed, were we to recog- 
 nise in our adversaries the right of condemning a 
 doctrine witliout haviiia: hoard fliose who defend it!" 
 The union of all r\ iiii'_'rlli:il Christians is therefore a 
 principle of priuiiii\ '- I'mii -uiiiti.sm. 
 
 As Ferdinand h;id uut hcai-a the protest of the 19th 
 April, a deputation of the evangelical states went the 
 next day to present it to him. The brother of Charles 
 the Fifth received it at first, but immediately after 
 desired to return it. Then was witnessed a strange 
 scene — the king refusing to keep the protest, and the 
 deputies to take it back. At last the latter, out of 
 respect, received it from Ferdinand's hands ; but they 
 laid it boldly iipon a table, and directly quitted the hall. 
 
 The king and the imperial commissaries remained in 
 presence of this formidable writing. It was there — 
 before their eyes — a significant mouumeut of the cour- 
 age and faith of the Protestants. Irritated against this 
 silent but mighty witness, which accused his tyranny, 
 and left him the responsibility of all the evils that were 
 about to burst upon the cm|)iro, the brother of Charles 
 the Fifth called some of his councillors, and ordered 
 them instantly to carry the important document back 
 to the Protestants. 
 
 All this was unavailing ; the protest had been regis- 
 tered in the annals of the world, and nothing could 
 erase it. Liberty of tliought and of conscience had 
 been conquered for ages to come. Thus all evan- 
 gelical Germany, foreseeing these things, was moved 
 at this counigeous act, and adopted it as the expression 
 of its will and of its faith. Men in every quarter 
 beheld in it not a mere political event, but a Christian 
 action, and the youthful electoral prince, John Frede- 
 rick, in this resjiect the organ of his age, cried to the 
 Protestants of Spires : " May the Almiglity, who has 
 given you grace to confess energetically, freely, and 
 fearlessly, preserve you in that Christian firmness 
 until the day of eternity 1" 
 
 AVhilc the Christians were filled with joy, their 
 enemies were frightened at their own work. The 
 very day on which Ferdinand had declined to receive 
 the protest, (Tuesday, 20th April,) at one in the after- 
 noon, Henry of Brunswick, and Philip of Baden, pre- 
 sented themselves as mediators, announcing, however, 
 that they were acting solely of their own authorit}'. 
 They proposed that there should be no more mention 
 of the decree of Worms, and that the first decree of 
 Spires should be maintained, but with a few modifica- 
 tions ; that the two parties, while remaining free until 
 the next council, should oppose every new sect, and 
 tolerate no doctrine contrary to the sacrament of the 
 Lord's body. 
 
 On AVeduesday, 21st April, the evangelical states 
 did not appear adverse to these propositions ; and even 
 those who had embraced the doctrines of Zwingle de- 
 clared boldly that such a proposal would not compro- 
 mise their existence. " Only let us call to mind," said 
 they, " that in such difficult matters we must act, not 
 with the sword, but with the sure Word of God. For, 
 as St. Paul says, W/ial is not of faith is sin. If, 
 therefore, we constrain Christians to do what they 
 believe unjust, instead of leading them by God's Word 
 to acknowledge what is good, we force them to sin, 
 and incur a terrible responsibility." 
 
 The fanatics of the Roman party trembled as they 
 saw the victory nearly escaping from them ; they re- 
 jected all compromise, and desu-ed purely and simply 
 the re-establishment of the papacy. Their zeal over- 
 came everything, and the negotiations were broken off. 
 
 On Thursday, 22d April, the diet re-assembled at 
 seven in the morning, and the -Recess was read pre- 
 cisely as it had been previously drawn up, without 
 even mentioning the attempt at conciliation which had 
 just failed. 
 
 Faber triumphed. Proud of having the ear of kings, 
 he tossed himself furiously about; and to look at him, 
 one would have said (according to an eye-witness) 
 that he was a Cyclops forging in his cavern the mon- 
 strous chains with which he was about to bind the 
 Eeformation and the reformers. The papist princes, 
 carried away by the tumult, gave the spur, says Me- 
 lancthon, and flung themselves headlong into a path 
 filled with dangers. Nothing was left for the evan- 
 gelical Christians but to fall on their knees and cry to 
 the Lord. "All that remains for us now to do," re- 
 peated Melancthon, "is to call upon the Son of God." 
 
 The last sitting of the diet took place on the 24th 
 April. The princes renewed their protest, in which 
 fourteen free and imperial cities joined ; and they 
 next thought of giving their appeal a legal form. 
 
 On Sunday, 25th April, two notaries, Leonard 
 Stetner of Freysingen, and Pangrace Saltzmanu of 
 Bamberg, were seated before a small table in a narrow 
 chamber on the ground-floor of a house situated in 
 St. John's Lane, near the church of the same name in 
 Spires, and around them were the chancellors of the 
 princes and of the evangelical cities, with several 
 witnesses. 
 
 This little house belonged to an humble pastor, 
 Peter Muterstatt, deacon of St. John's, who, taking 
 the place of the elector or of the landgrave, had offered 
 a domicile for the important act that was preparing. 
 
HISTOKY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 His name shall in consequence be transmitted to pos- 
 terity. The document having been definitively drawn 
 lip, one of the notaries began reading it. " Since there 
 is a natural communion between all men," said the 
 Protestants, " and since even persons condemned to 
 death are permitted to unite and appeal against their 
 condemnation ; how much more are we, who are 
 members of the same spiritual body, the Church of 
 the Son of God, children of the same heavenly Father, 
 and consequently brothers in the Spirit, authorized to 
 unite when our salvation and eternal condemnation are 
 concerned " 
 
 After reviewing all that bad passed in the diet, and 
 after intercalating in their appeal the principal docu- 
 ments that had reference to it, the Protestants ended 
 by saying : " We therefore appeal for ourselves, for 
 our subjects, and for all who receive, or who shall 
 hereafter receive, the Word of God, from all past, 
 present, or future vexatious measures, to his Imperial 
 Majesty, and to a free and universal assembly of holy 
 Christendom." This document filled twelve sheets of 
 parchment; the signatures and seals were affixed to 
 tlie thirteenth. 
 
 Thus, in the obscure dwelling of the chaplain of St. 
 John's, was made the first confession of the true Chris- 
 tian union. In presence of the wholly mechanical 
 imity of the pope, these confessors of Jesus raised the 
 banner of the living unity of Christ ; and, as in the 
 days of our Saviour, if there were many synagogues in 
 Israel, there was at least but one temple. The Chris- 
 tians of Electoral Saxony, of Lunebnrg, of Anhalt, of 
 Hesse and the Margravate, of Strasburg, Nuremberg, 
 
 Ulm, Constance, Lindau, Memmingen, Kempten, Nord- 
 lingen, Heilbronn, Eeutlingen, Isny, Saint Gall, Weis- 
 semburg, and Windsheim, took each other's hands on 
 tlie 25th April, near the church of St. John, in the 
 face of threatening persecutions. Among them might 
 be found those who, like Zwingle, acknowledged in 
 the Lord's Supper the entirely spiritual presence of 
 Jesus Christ, as well as those who, with Luther, ad- 
 mitted His corporeal presence. There existed not at 
 that time in the evangelical body any sects, hatred, or 
 schism : Christian unity was a reality. That upper 
 chamber in which, during the early days of Chris- 
 tianity, the apostles, with the women and the brethren, 
 continued ii'ith one accord in prayer and supplication, and 
 that lower chamber where, in the first days of the 
 Eeformation, the renewed disciples of Jesus Christ 
 presented themselves to the pope and the emperor, to 
 the world and to the scaffold, as forming but one body, 
 are the two cradles of the Church ; and it is in this, its 
 hour of weakness and humiliation, that it shines forth 
 with the brightest glory. 
 
 After this appeal each one returned in silence to his 
 dwelling. Several tokens excited alarm for the safety 
 of the Protestants. A short time previously Melanc- 
 thon hastily conducted through the streets of Spires, 
 toward the Rhine, his friend Simon Grynteus, pressing 
 him to cross the river. The latter was astonished at 
 such precipitation. "An old man of grave and solemn 
 air, but who is unknown to me," said Melancthon, 
 " appeared before me and said. In a minute officers of 
 justice will be sent by Ferdinand to arrest Grynasus." 
 As he was intimate with Faber, and had been scandal- 
 ized at one of his sermons, Grynasus went to him, and 
 begged him no longer to make war against the truth. 
 Faber dissembled his anger, but immediately after re- 
 paired to the king, from whom he had obtained an 
 order against the importunate professor of Heidelberg. 
 Melancthon doubted not that God had saved his friend 
 by sending one of His holy angels to forewarn him. 
 Motionless, on the banks of the Rhine, he waited until 
 the waters of that stream had rescued GrynKus from 
 his persecutors. " At last," cried Melancthon, as he 
 saw him on the opposite side, — " at last he is torn from 
 the cruel jaws of those who thirst for innocent blood." 
 When he returned to his house, Melancthon was in- 
 formed that officers in search of Grynajus had ran- 
 sacked it from top to bottom. 
 
 There was nothing to detain the Protestants longer 
 in Spires, and accordingly, on the morning after their 
 appeal, (Monday, 26th April,) the elector, the land- 
 grave, and the dukes of Luneburg, quitted the city, 
 reached Worms, and then returned by Hesse into their 
 own states. The appeal of Spires was published by 
 the landgrave on the 5th, and by the elector on the 
 13 th of May. 
 
 Melancthon had returned to Wittemberg on the 6 th 
 of May, persuaded that the two parties were about to 
 draw the sword. His friends were alarmed at seeing 
 him agitated, exhausted, and like one dead. "It is a 
 great event that has just taken place at Spires," said 
 he ; " an event pregnant with dangers, not only to the 
 empire, but to religion itself. All the pains of hell 
 oppress me." 
 
 It was Melancthon's greatest affliction, that these 
 
GERMANY AND REFORM. 
 
 evils were attributed to him, as indeed ho ascribed 
 them himself. "One single thing has injured us," 
 said he, " our not having approved, aa was required 
 of us, the edict against the Zwinglians." Luther did 
 not take this gloomy view of affairs ; but he was far 
 from comproheudiiig the force of the protest. " Tlie 
 diet," said he, "has come to an end almost without 
 results, except that those who scourge Jesus Christ 
 have not been able to satisfy their fury." 
 
 Posterity has not ratilied this decision, and, on the 
 contrary, dating from this epoch the definitive forma- 
 tion of "Protestantism, it has hailed in the Protest of 
 Spires one of the greatest movements recorded in 
 history. 
 
 Let us see to whom the chief glory of this act be- 
 longs. The part taken by the princes, and especially 
 by the Elector of Saxony, in the German Reforma- 
 tion, must strike every impartial observer. These are 
 the true reformers — the true mart}TS. The Holy 
 Ghost, that bloweth where it listeth, had inspired 
 them with the courage of tiie ancient confessors of the 
 Church ; and the God of election was glorified in 
 them. Somewhat later, perhaps, this great part played 
 by the princes may have produced deplorable conse- 
 quences : there is no grace of God that man cannot 
 pervert. But nothing should prevent us from render- 
 ing honour to whom honour is due, and from adoring 
 the work of the eternal Spirit in these eminent men 
 who, under God, were, in the sixteenth century, the 
 liberators of Christendom. 
 
 Tiie Reformation had taken a bodily form. It was 
 Luther alone who had said No at the Diet of Worms ; 
 but churches and ministers, princes and people, said 
 No at the Diet of Spires. 
 
 In no country had superstition, scholasticism, hier- 
 archy, and popery, been so powerful as among the 
 Germanic nations. These simple and candid people 
 had humbly bent their neck to the yoke that came 
 
 from the banks of the Tiber. But there was in them 
 a depth, a life, a need of interior liberty, which, sanc- 
 tified by the Word of God, might render them the 
 most energetic organs of Christian truth. It was 
 from them that was destined to emanate the reaction 
 against that material, external, and legal system, 
 which had taken the place of Christianity; it Wiis 
 they who were called to shatter in pieces the skeleton 
 which had been substituted for the spirit and the life, 
 and restore to the heart of Christendom, ossified by 
 the hierarchy, the generous beatings of which it had 
 been deprived for so many ages. The universal 
 Church will never forget the debt it owes to the 
 princes of Spires and to Luther. 
 
 CHAPTER VU. 
 
 Union necessary to Reform— Luther's Doctrine on the Lord's Supper — A 
 Lutheran Warning— Proposed Conference at Marburg— Melancthon and 
 Zwingle— Zwinglo leaves Zurich— Rumours in Zurich— The Reformers 
 at Marburg— Carlstadt'a Petition — Preliminary Discussions — Holy 
 Ghost— Original Sin— Baptism— Luther, Melancthon, and Zwingle— 
 Opening of the Conference — Tlie Prayer of the Church — Hoc est Corpus 
 Jfcum— Syllogism of (Ecolampadius— The Flesh profiteth nothing- 
 Lambert Convinced — Luther's Old Song — Agitation iu the Conference — 
 Arrival of New Deputies— Christ's Humanity Finite— Mathematics and 
 Poetry— Testimony of the Fathers— Testimony of Augustine — ^Argument 
 of the Velvet Cover- End of the Conference— The Landgrave Mediates 
 — Necessity of Union— Luther rejects Zwingle's hand — Sectarian Spirit 
 of the Germans — Bucer's Dilemma— Christian Cliarity prevails— Luther's 
 Report— Unity of Doctrine— Unity ill li:\,i-ii) --ijmlnres— Two Ex- 
 tremes-Three Views— Germ of PopL i . I' I . li'ir's Dejection 
 — Turks before Vienna— Luther's Bat I ;. ,- ', ,: \ ■■ ny— Luther's 
 Firmness — Victorj- — Exasperation of tli-- IVii i ■= riii'j^teDing Pros- 
 pects. 
 
 The Protest of Spires had still further increased the 
 indignation of the papal adherents ; and Charles the 
 Fifth, according to the oath be had made at Barcelona, 
 set about preparing " a suitable antidote for the pesti- 
 lential disease with which the Germans were attacked, 
 and to avenge in a striking manner the insult offered 
 to Jesus Christ." The pope, on his part, endeavoured 
 to combine all the other princes of Christendom in this 
 crusade ; and the peace of Cambray, concluded on the 
 oth August, tended to the accomplishment of his cruel 
 designs. It left the emperor's hands free against the 
 heretics. After having entered their protest at Spires, 
 it was necessary for the evangelicals to think of main- 
 taining it. 
 
 The Protestant states that had already laid the foun- 
 dation of an evangelical alliance at Spires, had agreed 
 to send deputies to Rothach ; but the elector, staggered 
 by the representations of Luther, who was continually 
 repeating to him : " In returning and rest shall ye be 
 saved ; in quietness and in confidence shall be your 
 strength ;" ordered his deputies to listen to the propo- 
 sitions of his allies, but to decide upon nothing. They 
 adjourned to a new conference, which never took place. 
 Luther triumphed ; for human alliances failed. "Christ 
 the Lord will know how to deliver us without the land- 
 grave, and even against the landgrave," said he to his 
 friends. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Philip of Hesse, who was vexed at Luther's obsti- 
 nacy, was convinced that it arose from a dispute about 
 words. "They will hear no mention of alliances be- 
 cause of the Zwinglians," said he; "well, then, let us 
 put an end to the contradictions that separate them 
 j from Luther." 
 
 ! The union of all the disciples of the Word of God 
 seemed in fact a necessary condition to the success of 
 the Reformation. How could the Protestants resist 
 the power of Rome and of the empire if they were 
 divided? Tlie laudgrave, no doubt, wished to unite 
 their minds, that he might afterwards be able to unite 
 their arms ; but the cause of Christ was not to triumph 
 by the sword. If they should succeed in uniting their 
 hearts and prayers, the Reformation would then find 
 such strength in the faith of its children, that Philip's 
 spearmen would no longer be necessary. 
 
 Unfortunately, tliis union of minds, that was now to 
 be sought after above all things, was a very difficult 
 task. Luther, in 1519, had at first appeared not only 
 to reform, but entirely renovate the doctrine of the 
 Lord's Supper, as the Swiss did somewhat later. " I 
 go to the sacrament of the Lord's Supper," he had 
 said, " and I there receive a sign from God that 
 Christ's righteousness and passion justify me ; such is 
 the use of the sacrament." This discourse, which had 
 gone through several impressions in the cities of Upper 
 Germany, had prepared men's minds for the doctrine 
 of Zwingle. Accordingly, Luther, astonished at tlie 
 reputation he had gained, published this solemn decla- 
 ration in 1527: "I protest before God and before the 
 whole world, that I have never walked with the Sacra- 
 mentarians." 
 
 Luther, in fact, was never Zwinglian as regards the 
 Communion. Far from that, in 1519, he still believed 
 in Transubstantiation. "Why, then, should he speak 
 of a sign 1 It was for tliis reason : While, according 
 to Zwingle, the bread and wine are signs of the body 
 and blood of Christ ; according to Luther, the very 
 body and blood of Jesus Christ are signs of God's 
 grace. These opinions are widely different from one 
 another. 
 
 Erelong this disagreement declared itself. In 
 1527, Zwingle, in his " Friendly Expositiou," refuted 
 Luther's opinion with mildness and respect. Un- 
 luckily the pamphlet of the Saxon reformer, " against 
 the enthusiasts," was then issuing from the press, and 
 in it Luther expressed his indignation that his adver- 
 saries should dare to speak of Christian unity and 
 peace. "Well," exclaimed he, "since they thus in- 
 sult all reason, I will give them a Lutheran wai'niug ! 
 Cursed be this concord! — cursed be this charity! — 
 down, down with it to the bottomless pit of hell ! If 
 I should murder your father, your mother, your wife, 
 your child, and then, wishing to murder you, I should 
 say to you, ' Let us be at peace, my dear friend !' what 
 answer would you make '? — It is thus tliat the enthu- 
 siasts, who murder Jesus Christ my Lord, God the 
 Father, and Christendom my mother, wish to murder 
 me also ; and then they say, Let us be friends ! " 
 
 Zwingle wrote two replies " to the excellent Martin 
 Luther," in a cold tone and with a haughty calmness 
 more difficult to pardon than the invectives of the 
 Saxon doctor. " We ought to esteem you a vessel of 
 
 honour, and we do so with joy," said he, " notwith- 
 standing your faults." Pamphlet followed pamphlet, 
 Luther always ■m-iting with the same impetuosity, and 
 Zwingle with unalterable coolness aud irony. 
 
 Such were the doctoi-s whom the landgrave under- 
 took to reconcile. Already, during the sitting of the 
 Diet of Spires, Philip of Hesse, who was afflicted at 
 hearing the papists continually repeating : " You boast 
 of your attachment to the pure Word of God, and yet 
 you are, nevertheless, disunited," had made overtures 
 to Zwingle in writing. He now went farther, and 
 invited the theologians of the different parties to meet 
 at Marburg. These invitations met with various recep- 
 tions. Zwingle, whose heart was large aud fraternal, 
 answered the landgrave's call ; but it was rejected by 
 Luther, who discovered leagues and battles behind this 
 pretended concord. 
 
 It seemed, however, that great difficulties would 
 detain Zwingle. The road from Zurich to Marburg 
 lay through the territories of the emperor and of other 
 enemies to the Reformation ; the landgrave himself 
 did not conceal the dangers of the journey; but in 
 order to obviate these difficulties, he promised an escort 
 from Strasburg to Hesse, and for the rest " the pro- 
 tection of God." These precautions were not of a 
 nature to reassure the Zurichers. 
 
 Reasons of another kind detained Luther and Me- 
 lancthon. " It is not right," said they, " that the 
 laudgrave has so much to do with the Zwinglians. 
 Their eiTor is of such a nature that people of acute 
 minds are easily tainted by it. Reason loves what it 
 understands, jiarticularly when learned men clothe 
 their ideas in a scriptural dress." 
 
 Melancthon did not stop here, but put forth the very 
 extraordinary notion of selecting papists as judges of 
 the discussion. " If there were no impartial judges," 
 said he, " the Zwinglians would have a good chance 
 of boasting of victory." Thus, according to Melanc- 
 thon, papists would be impartial judges when the real 
 presence was the subject of discussion ! He went still 
 farther. "Let the elector," he wrote on the 14th May 
 to the Prince Electoral, " refuse to permit our journey 
 to Marburg, so that we may be able to allege this 
 excuse." The elector would not lend himself to so 
 disgraceful a proceeding ; aud the reformers of Wit- 
 temberg found themselves compelled to accede to the 
 request of Philip of Hesse. But they did so with 
 these words : "If the Swiss do not yield to us, all your 
 trouble will be lost ;" and they wrote to the theologians 
 among their friends who were convoked by the prince : 
 " Stay away if you can ; your absence will be very 
 useful to us." 
 
 Zwingle, on the contrary, who would have gone to 
 the end of the world, made every exertion to obtain 
 permission from the magistrates of Zm-ich to visit 
 Marburg. "I am convinced," said he to the secret 
 council, "that if we doctors meet face to face, the 
 splendour of truth will illuminate our eyes." But the 
 council, that had only just signed the first religious 
 peace, and who feared to see war burst out afresh, 
 positively refused to allow the departure of the re- 
 former. 
 
 Upon this Zwingle decided for himself. He felt that 
 his presence was necessary for the maintenance of 
 
THE REFORMERS AT MARBURG. 
 
 431 
 
 peace in Zurich ; but tlie welfare of all Christendom 
 summoned him to Marburg. Accordingly, raising his 
 cyos towards heaven, ho resolved to depart, exclaiming : 
 " O God ! tliou hast never abandoned us ; thou wilt 
 perform tliy will for thine own glory." During the 
 night of the 31st August, Zwingle, who was unwilling 
 to wait for the landgrave's safe-conduct, ))repared for 
 liis journey. Rodolpli Collins, tlie Greelc professor, 
 was alone to accompany him. Tlie reformer wrote to 
 the Smaller and to the Great Council : "If I leave 
 without informing you, it is not. most wise lords, be- 
 cause I despise your authority; but, knowing the love 
 you bear towards me, I foresee that your anxiety Avill 
 opjiosc my going." 
 
 As he was writing these words, a fourth message 
 arrived from the landgrave, more pressing still than 
 the preceding ones. The reformer sent the prince's 
 letter to the burgomaster with his own ; he then 
 quitted his house privily by night, concealing his 
 departure both from friends, whose importunity he 
 feared, and from enemies, whose snares he had good 
 cause to dread. He did not even tell his wife where 
 he was going, lest it should distress her. He and 
 Collins then mounted two horses tliat had been hired 
 for the purpose, and rode off rapidly in the direction 
 of Bale. 
 
 During the day the rumour of Zwingle's absence 
 spread through Zurich, and his enemies were elated. 
 "He has ilcd the country," said they; "he has run 
 away with a pack of scoundrels ! " " As he was cross- 
 ing the river at Bruck," said others, " the boat upset 
 and he Avas drowned." " The devil," alRrnicd many, 
 with a malicious smile, '• appeared to him bodily and 
 carried him off." — " There was no end to their stories," 
 says Bullinger. But the council immediately resolved 
 on acceding to the wish of the reformer. On the very 
 day of his departure they appointed one of the coun- 
 cillors, Ulrieh Funck, to accompany him to Marburg, 
 who forthwith set out with one domestic and an arque- 
 busier. Strasburg and Bale in like manner sent states- 
 men in company with their theologians, under the idea 
 that this conference would doubtless have, also, a 
 political object. 
 
 Zwingle arrived safely at Bale, and embarked on 
 the river on the 6th September with CEcolampadius 
 and several merchants. In thirteen hours they reached 
 Strasburg, where the two reformers lodged in tlie house 
 of Matthew Zell, the cathedral preacher. Catherine, 
 the pastor's wife, prepared the dishes in the kitchen, 
 waited at table, according to the ancient German 
 manners, and then sitting down near Zwingle, listened 
 attentively, and spoke with so much piety and know- 
 ledge, that the latter soon ranked her above many 
 doctors. 
 
 After discussing with the magistrates the means of 
 resisting the Romish league, and the organization to 
 be given to the Cliristian confederacy, Zwingle quitted 
 Strasburg; and he and his friends, conducted along 
 by-roads, through forests, over mountains and valleys, 
 by secret but sure paths, at length reached Marburg, 
 escorted by forty Hessian cavaliers. 
 
 Luther, on his side, accompanied by Melancthon, 
 Cruciger, and Jonas, had stopped on the Hessian fron- 
 tier, declaring that nothing should induce him to cross 
 
 it without a safe-conduct from the landgrave. This 
 document being obtained, Lutlicr arrived at Alsfeld, 
 where the scholars, kneeling under the reformer's 
 windows, chanted their pious hymns. lie entered 
 Marburg on the 30th September, a day after the 
 arrival of the Swiss. Both parties went to inns ; but 
 tliey had scarcely alighted before the landgrave in- 
 vited them to come and lodge in the castle, thinking 
 by this means to bring the opposing parties closer lo- 
 getiicr. Philip entertained them in a manner truly 
 roj-al. "Ah!" said the pious Jonas, as he wandered 
 through the halls of the palace, "it is not in honour of 
 tlie Muses, but in honour of God and of His Christ, 
 that we are so munificently treated in these forests of 
 Hesse ! " After dinner, on the first day, CEcolam- 
 padius, Hedio, and Bucer, desirous of entering into the 
 prince's views, went and saluted Luther. The latter 
 conversed affectionately witli CEcolampadius in the 
 castlc-com-t ; but Bucer, with whom he had once been 
 very intimate, and who was now on Zwingle's side, 
 having approached him, Luther said to him, smiling, 
 and making a sign with his hand : " As for you, you 
 are a good-for-nothing fellow aii'l a knave !" 
 
 The unhappy CarlstaiU, \vlio h;ul begun this dispute, 
 was at that time in Frieslaml, preaching the spii'itual 
 presence of Christ, and living in such destitution that 
 he had been forced to sell his Hebrew Bible to procure 
 bread. The trial had crushed his pride; and he wrote 
 to the landgrave : " We ai-e but one bod}', one house, 
 one people, one sacerdotal race ; we live and die by 
 one and the same Saviour. For this reason, I, poor 
 and in exile, humbly pray your highness, by the blood 
 of Jesus Christ, to allow me to be present at the dis- 
 putation." 
 
 But how bring Luther and Cai'lstadt face to face? 
 and yet how repel the unhappy man ? The landgrave, 
 to extricate himself from this difllcully, referred him 
 to the Saxon reformer. Carlstadt did not appear. 
 
 Philip of Hesse desired that, previously to the public 
 conference, the theologians should have a private in- 
 terview. It was, however, considered dangerous, says 
 a contemporary, for Zwingle and Luther, who were 
 both naturally violent, to contend with one another at 
 the very beginning ; and as CEcolampadius and Me- 
 lancthon were the mildest, they were apportioned to 
 the roughest champions. On Friday, the 1st October, 
 after Divine service, Luther and CEcolampadius were 
 conducted into one chamber, and Zwingle and Melanc- 
 thon into another. The combatants were then left to 
 struggle two and two. 
 
 The principle contest took place in the room of 
 Zwingle and Melancthon. " It is affirmed," said Me- 
 lancthon to Zwingle, " that some among you speak of 
 C4od after the manner of the Jews, as it' Christ was 
 not essentially God." — " I think on the Holy Trinity," 
 replied Zwingle, " with the Council of Nice and the 
 Athanasian creed." " Councils ! creeds ! — what does 
 that mean? " asked Melancthon. "Have you not con- 
 tinually repeated that you recognise no other authority 
 than that of Scripture?" — "We have never rejected 
 the councils," replied the Swiss reformer, " when they 
 are based on the authority of the Word of God. The 
 four first councils are truly sacred as regards doctrine, 
 and none of the faithful have ever rejected them." 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 This impoi-taut declaration, handed down to us by 
 CEcolampadius, cliaracterizes the reformed theology. ' 
 
 "But you teach," resumed Melancth on, "like Thomas 
 Munster, that the Holy Ghost acts quite alone, inde- 
 pendently of the sacraments and of the Word of God." 
 — " The Holy Ghost," replied Zwingle, " works in us 
 justification by the AVord ; but by the Word preached 
 and understood, by the soul and the marrow of the 
 Word, by the mind and will of God clothed in human 
 language." 
 
 "At least," continued Melancthon, "you deny 
 oiiginal sin, ind make sm consist only in actual and 
 extemil -noiks like the Pelignns, the philosophers, 
 and th P 11 1 I " 
 
 This -svas the pimcipal diflicult). "Since man 
 naturally loves himself," replied Zwingle, " instead of 
 loving God ; in that there is a crime, a sin that con- 
 demns him." He had more than once before expressed 
 the same opinion ; and yet Melancthon exulted on 
 hearing him : " Our adversaries," said he afterwards, 
 "have given way on all these points !" 
 
 Luther had pursued the same method with Q^colam- 
 padius as Melancthon with Zwingle. The discussion 
 had in particular turned on baptism. Luther com- 
 plained that the Swiss would not acknowledge that by 
 this simple sacrament a man became a member of the 
 Church. " It is true," said QScolampadius, " that we 
 requii-e faith — either an actual or a future faith. Why 
 should we deny it? Who is a Christian, if it be not 
 he who believes in Christ ? However, I should be 
 unwilling to deny that the water of baptism is in a 
 certain sense a water of regeneration ; for by it he 
 whom the Church knew not becomes its child." 
 
 These four theologians were in the very heat of 
 their discussions, when domestics came to inform them 
 that the prince's dinner was on the table. They im- 
 mediately arose, and Zwingle and Melancthon meeting 
 Luther and QScolampadius, who were also quitting 
 their chamber, the latter approached Zwingle, and 
 whispered mournfully iu his ear : " I have fallen a 
 second time into the hands of Dr. Eck." In the 
 
 language of the reformers nothing stronger could bo 
 said. 
 
 It does not appear that the conference between 
 Luther and CEcolampadius was resumed after dinner. 
 Luther's manner held out very little hope; but Me- 
 lancthon and Zwingle returned to the discussion, and 
 the Zurich doctor, finding the Wittemberg professor 
 escape him like an eel, as he said, and take, "like 
 Proteus, a thousand different forms," seized a pen in 
 order to fix his antagonist. Zwingle committed to 
 writing whatever Melancthon dictated, and then wrote 
 his reply, giving it to the other to read. In this 
 manner they spent six hours, three in the morning, 
 and three iu the afternoon. They prepared for the 
 general conference. 
 
 Zwingle requested that it should be an open one : 
 this Luther resisted. It was eventually resolved that 
 the princes, nobles, deputies, and theologians, should 
 be admitted ; but a great crowd of citizens, and even 
 many scholars and gentlemen, who liad come from 
 Frankfort, from the Ehine districts, from Strasburg, 
 from Bale, and other Swiss towns, were excluded, 
 lirentz speaks of fifty or sixty hearers; Zwingle, of 
 twenty-four only. 
 
 On a gentle elevation, watered by the Lahn, is 
 situated an old castle, overlooking the city of Mar- 
 burg; in the distance may be seen the beautiful valley 
 of the Lahn, and beyond, the mountain-tops rising one 
 tibove another, until they are lost in the horizon. It 
 was beneath the vaults and Gothic arches of an an- 
 tique chamber in this castle, known as the Knight's 
 Hall, that the conference was to take place. 
 
 On Saturday morning, 2d October, the landgrave 
 took his seat in the hall, surrounded by his court, but 
 in so plain a dress that no one would have taken him 
 for a prince. He wished to avoid all appearance of 
 acting the part of a Constantine in the affau-s of the 
 Church. Before him was a table which Luther, 
 Zwingle, Melancthon, and Qilcolampadius approached. 
 Luther, taking a piece of chalk, bent over the velvet 
 cloth which covered it, and steadily wrote four words 
 in large characters. AH eyes followed the movement 
 of his hand, and soon they read. Hoc est Corpus 
 Meum. Luther wished to have this declaration con- 
 tinually before him, that it might strengthen his own 
 faith, and be a sign to his adversaries. 
 
 Behind these four theologians were seated their 
 friends, — Hedio, Sturm, Funck, Frey, Eberhard, 
 Thane, Jonas, Cruciger, and others besides. Jonas 
 cast an inquiring glance upon the Swiss. " Zwingle," 
 said he, " has a certain rusticity and arrogance ; if he 
 is well versed in letters, it is in spite of Minerva and 
 of the Muses. In Oiicolampadius there is a natural 
 goodness and admirable meekness. Hedio seems to 
 have as much liberality as kindness ; but Bucer pos- 
 sesses the cunning of a fox, that knows how to give 
 himself an air of sense and prudence." Men of mode- 
 rate sentiments often meet with worse treatment than 
 those of the extreme parties. 
 
 Other feelings animated those who contemplated 
 this assembly from a distance. The great men who 
 had led the people in their footsteps, on the plains of 
 Saxony, on the banks of the Rhine, and in the lofty 
 valleys of Switzerland, were there met face to face : 
 
SYLLOGISM OF CECOLAMPADIUS. 
 
 433 
 
 the cliiefs of Christeniloin wlio Iiad sep.inited from 
 Kome, were coino together to see if thoy could remain 
 cue. Accordingly, from all parts of (U'niiany prayers 
 and anxious looks were directed towards Marburg. 
 "Illustrious princes of the Word," cried the evangeli- 
 cal Church through the mouth of the poet Cordus, 
 "penetrating Luther, mild (Ecolampadius, magnani- 
 mous Zwingic, pious Snepf, eloquent Melancthon, 
 courageous Bucer, candid Hedio, excellent Osiander, 
 valiant Brentz, amiable Jonas, fiery Craton, Mainus, 
 whose soul is stronger than his body, great Dionysius, 
 and you, Mycouius — all you whom Prince Philip, that 
 illustrious hero, has summoned, ministers and bishops, 
 whom the Christian cities have sent to terminate the 
 schism, and to shew us the way of truth ; the suppliant 
 Church falls weeping at your feet, and begs you, by 
 the bowels of Jesus Christ, to bring this matter to a 
 happy issue, that the world may acknowledge in your 
 resolution the work of the Holy Ghost himself." 
 
 The landgrave's chancellor, John Feigc, having re- 
 minded them in the prince's name that the object of 
 this colloijuy was the re-establishment of union, "I 
 protest," said Luther, " that I differ from my adver- 
 saries with regard to the doctrine of the Lord's Supper, 
 and that I shall always differ from them. Christ lias 
 said, This is my bod;/. Let them shew me that a body 
 is not a body. I reject reason, common sense, carnal 
 arguments, and mathematical proofs. God is above 
 mathematics. AVe have the Word of God ; we must 
 adore it and perform it ! " 
 
 "It cannot be denied," said QScolampadius, "that 
 there are figures of speech in the Word of God, as — 
 John is Elias, — the rock tvas Christ, — / am the vine. 
 The expression, This is my body, is a figure of the 
 same kind." Luther granted that there were figures 
 in the Bible, but denied that this last expression was 
 figurative. 
 
 All the various parties, however, of which the 
 Christian Church is composed see a figure in these 
 words. In fact, the Romanists declare that This is 
 my body, signifies not only " my body," but also " my 
 blood," " my soul," and even " my Divinity," and 
 " Christ wholly." ' These words, therefore, according 
 to Rome, are a synecdoche, a figure by which a part 
 is taken for the whole. And, as regards the Luther- 
 ans, the figure is still more evident. Whether it be 
 synecdoche, metaphor, or metonymy, there is still a 
 figure. 
 
 In order to prove it, fficolampadius employed this 
 syllogism : — 
 
 " What Christ rejected in the sixth chapter of 
 St. John, he could not admit in the words of the 
 Eucharist. 
 
 " Now Christ, who said to the people of Capernaum, 
 The flesh profiteth nothing, rejected by those very words 
 the oral manducation of His body. 
 
 "Therefore lie did not establish it at the institution 
 of His Supper." 
 
 Luther. — " I deny the minor, (the second of these 
 propositions;) Christ has not rejected all oral mandu- 
 
 1 If any one denies that the body and blood of our Saviour Jcsu3 Christ, 
 with His soul and His Divinity, and, consequently, the whole Jesus Christ, 
 ((o(um fJrislum,) is contained in the sacrament of the Eucharist, let him bo 
 anathema. Council of Trent, scss. 13. 
 
 cation, but only a material manducation, like that of 
 the flesh of oxen or of swine." 
 
 (Ecolampaditis. — " There is danger in attributing too 
 much to mere matter." 
 
 Luther. — "Everything that God commands becomes 
 spirit and life. If we lift up a straw by the Lord's 
 order, in that very action we perform a spiritual work. 
 We must pay attention to Him who speaks, and not to 
 what He says. God speaks : men, worms, listen ! — 
 God commands : let the world obey! and let us alto- 
 gether fall down and humbly kiss the Word." 
 
 Qlcolampculius. — " But since we have the spiritual 
 eating, what need of the bodily one?" 
 
 Luther. — " I do not ask what need we have of it ; 
 but I see it written. Eat, this is my body. We must, 
 therefore, believe and do. We must do — we must 
 do ! — If God should order me to eat dung, I would 
 do it, with the assurance that it would be salutary." 
 
 At this point Zwinglo interfered in the discussion. 
 
 " We must explain Scripture by Scripture," said he. 
 " We cannot admit two kinds of corporeal manduca- 
 tion, as if Jesus had spoken of eating, and the Caper- 
 naites of tearing in pieces, for the same word is em- 
 ployed in both cases. Jesus says that to eat His flesh 
 corporeally profiteth nothing, (John vi. 63;) whence 
 it would result that He had given us in the Supper a 
 thing that would be useless to us. — Besides, there are 
 certain words that seem to me rather childish, — the 
 dung, for instance. The oracles of the demons were 
 obscure, not so are those of Jesus Christ." 
 
 Luther. — " When Christ says the flesh profiteth 
 nothing. He speaks not of His own flesh, but of ours." 
 
 Zwinrjle. — "The soul is fed with the Spirit, and not 
 with the flesh." 
 
 Luther. — " It is with the mouth that we eat the 
 body; the soul does not eat it." 
 
 Zwingle. — " Christ's body is therefore a corporeal 
 nourishment, and not a spiritual." 
 
 Luther. — " You are captious." 
 
 Zwingle. — "Not so; but you utter contradictory 
 things." 
 
 Luther. — " If God should present me wild apples, I 
 should eat them spiritually. In the Eucharist, the 
 mouth receives the body of Christ, and the sotil be- 
 lieves in His words." 
 
 Zwingle then quoted a great number of passages 
 from the Holy Scriptures, in which the sign is de- 
 scribed by the very thing signified ; and thence con- 
 cluded that, considering our Lord's declaration in St. 
 John, The flesh profiteth nothing, we must explain the 
 words of the Eucharist in a similar manner. 
 
 Many hearers were struck by these arguments. 
 Among the Marburg professors sat the Frenchman 
 Lambert ; his tall and spare frame was violently 
 agitated. He had been at first of Luther's opinion, ^ 
 and was then hesitating between the two reformers. 
 As he went to the conference, he said : " I desire to be 
 a sheet of blank paper, on which the finger of God 
 may write His truth." Erelong he exclaimed, after 
 hearing Zwingle and Qicolampadius: "Y'es! the Spirit, 
 'tis that which vivifies." When this conversion was 
 known, the AVittembergers, shrugging their shoulders, 
 called it " Gallic fickleness." " What ! " replied Lam- 
 
 1 See his Commentary ou St. Luke, xxii. 19, 20. 
 
 2 P 
 
434 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 bert, " was St. Paul fickle because he was converted 
 from Pharisaism? And have we ourselves been fickle 
 in abandoning the lost sects of Popery?" 
 
 Luther was, however, by no means shaken. " This 
 is my body" repeated he, pointing with his finger to 
 the words written before him. " This is my boch/. The 
 devil himself shall not drive mo from that. To seek 
 to understand it, is to fall away from the faith." 
 
 " But, doctor," said Zwingle, " St. John explains 
 how Christ's body is eaten, and you will be obliged at 
 last to leave off singing always the same song." 
 
 " You make use of unmannerly expressions," re- 
 plied Luther. The "Wittembergers themselves called 
 Zwinglc's argument "his old song." Zwingle con- 
 tinued without being disconcerted : " I ask you, doctor, 
 whether Christ, in the sixth chapter of St. John, did not 
 wish to reply to the question that had been put to Him?" 
 
 Luther. — "Master Zwingle, you wish to stop my 
 mouth by the arrogancy of your language. That 
 passage has nothing to do here." 
 
 Zwingle {hastily.) — " Pardon me, doctor, that passage 
 breaks your nock." 
 
 Luther. — " Do not boast so much ! You are in Hesse, 
 and not in Switzerland. In this country we do not 
 break people's necks." 
 
 Then, turning towards his friends, Luther complained 
 bitterly of Zwingle ; as if the latter had really wished 
 to break his neck. " He makes use of camp terms 
 and blood-stained words," said he. Luther forgot that 
 he had employed a similar expression in speaking of 
 Carlstadt. 
 
 Zwingle resumed : " In Switzerland also there is 
 strict justice, and we break no man's neck without 
 trial. That expression signifies merely that your cause 
 is lost and hopeless." 
 
 Great agitation prevailed in the Knight's Hall. The 
 roughness of the Swiss and the obstinacy of the Saxon 
 had come into collision. The landgrave, fearing to 
 behold the failure of his project of conciliation, nodded 
 assent to Zwingle's explanation. " Doctor," said he to 
 Luther, "you should not be offended at such common 
 expressions." It was in vain : the agitated sea could 
 not again be calmed. The prince, therefore, arose, 
 and they all rcpaii-ed to the banqueting hall. After 
 dinner they resumed their tasks. 
 
 " I beheve," said Luther, " that Christ's body is in 
 heaven ; but I also believe that it is in the sacrament. 
 It concerns mo little whether it be against nature, pro- 
 vided that it be not against faith. Christ is substan- 
 tially in the sacrament, such as He was born of the 
 Virgin." 
 
 (Ecolampadius, {quoting a passage from St. Paul.) — 
 '■'■We know not Jesus Christ after ihejlesh." 
 
 Luther. — ^^ After ihejlesh means, in this passage, after 
 our carnal affections." 
 
 Qicolampadius. — " You will not allow that there is 
 a metaphor in these words, 27ms ia my body,, and yet 
 you admit a synecdoche." 
 
 Luther. — " Metaphor permits the existence of a sign 
 only; but it is not so with synecdoche. If a man says 
 he wishes to drink a bottle, we understand that he 
 means the beer in the bottle. Christ's body is in the 
 bread, as a sword in the scabbard, or as the Holy 
 Ghost in the dove." 
 
 The discussion was proceeding in this manner when 
 Osiander, pastor of Nuremberg; Stephen Agricola, pas- 
 tor of Augsburg; and Brentz, pastor of Halle, in Swabia, 
 author of the famous Syngramma, entered the hall. 
 These also had been invited by the landgrave. But 
 Brentz, to whom Luther had written that he should 
 take care not to appear, had no doubt, by his indeci- 
 sion, retarded his own departure as well as that of his 
 friends. Places were assigned them near Luther and 
 Melancthon. "Listen, and speak if necessary," they 
 were told. They took but little advantage of this per- 
 mission. "All of us, except Luther," said Melauc- 
 thon, " were silent personages." 
 
 The struggle continued. 
 
 When Zwingle saw that exegesis was not sufficient 
 for Luther, he added dogmatical theology to it, and, 
 subsidiarily, natural philosophy. 
 
 " I oppose you," said he, "with this article of our 
 faith : Ascendit in ca::liwi-—'He ascended into heaven. If 
 Christ is in heaven, as regards His body, how can 
 He be in the bread ? The AVord of God teaches us 
 that He was like His brethren in all things, (Heb. ii. 
 17.) He therefore cannot be in several places at 
 once." 
 
 Luther. — "Were I desirous of reasoning thus, I 
 would undertake to prove that Jesus Christ had a 
 wife ; that He had black eyes, and lived in our good 
 country of Germany. I care little about mathematics." 
 
 " There is no question of mathematics here," said 
 Zwingle, " but of St. Paul, who writes to the Philip- 
 
 pians, nop<piii/ Sov\ov Aapajv.'"- 
 
 Luther., {internipting him.) — " Kead it to us in Latin 
 or in German, not in Greek." 
 
 Zwingle {in Latin.) — "Pardon me: for twelve years 
 past I have made use of the Greek Testament only." 
 Then, continuing to read the passage, he concluded 
 from it that Christ's humanity is of a finite natiu'e like 
 
 our own. 
 
 Luther, {pointing to the words written before him.) — 
 " Most dear sirs, since my Lord Jesus Christ says. Hoc 
 est corpus meu7n, I believe that His body is really there." 
 
 Here the scene grew animated. Zwingle started 
 from his chair, sprung towards Luther, and said, strik- 
 ing the table before him : 
 
 "You maintain then, doctor, that Christ's body is 
 locally in the Eucharist ; for you say Christ's body is 
 really there — there — there" repeated Zwingle. " There 
 is an adverb of place. Christ's body is then of such 
 a nature as to exist in a place. If it is in a place, 
 it is in heaven, whence it follows that it is not iu 
 the bread." 
 
 Luther. — " I repeat that I have nothing to do with 
 mathematical proofs. As soon as the words of conse- 
 cration are pronounced over the bread, the body is 
 there, however wicked be the priest who pronounces 
 them." 
 
 Zwingle. — " You are thus re-establishing Popery." 
 
 Luther. — "This is not done through the priest's 
 merits, but because of Christ's ordinance. I will not, 
 when Christ's body is in question, here speak of a par- 
 ticular place. I absolutely will not." 
 
 Zwingle. — "Must everything, then, exist precisely 
 as you will it ? " 
 
 1 Having taken tlie form of a sen-ant, (riiil. iL 7.) 
 
TESTIMONY OF THE FATHERS. 
 
 43o 
 
 Tlie landgi-avo perceived that the discussion was 
 p-owing hot ; and as the repast was waiting, he broke 
 off the contest. 
 
 The conference was continued on the next day, 
 (Sunday, the 3d October,) perluips because of an epi- 
 (loniic (the Sweating Sickness) that had just broken 
 out at Marburg, and whicli did not allow any great 
 prolongation of the colloquy. Luther, returning to the 
 discussion of the previous evening, said : 
 
 "Christ's body is in the sacrament; but it is not 
 there as in a place." 
 
 ZwiiKjle. — " Then it is not there at all." 
 
 Luther. — " Sophists say, that a body may very well 
 bo in several places at once. The universe is a body, 
 and yet wo cannot assert that it is in a particular 
 place." 
 
 ZwiiKjIe. — " Ah ! you speak of sophists, doctor ; are 
 you really, after all, obliged to return to the onions 
 and flesh-pots of Egypt? As for what you say, that 
 the universe is in no particular place, I beg all intelli- 
 gent men to weigh this proof." Then Zwingle, who, 
 whatever Luther may have said, had more than one 
 arrow in his quiver, after establishing his proposition 
 by exegesis and philosophy, resolved on confirming it 
 by the testimony of the Fathers of the Church. 
 
 " Listen," said he, " to what Fulgentius, bishop of 
 Kuspa, in Numidia, said, in the fifth century, to Trasa- 
 nvond, king of the Vandals: 'The Son of God took 
 the attributes of true humanity, and did not lose 
 those of true Divinity. Born in time, according to His 
 mother. He lives in eternity according to the Divinity 
 that He holds from the Father: coming from man. He 
 is man, and consequently in a place ; proceeding from 
 the Father, He is God, and consequently present in 
 every place. According to His human nature. He was 
 absent from heaven while He was upon earth, and 
 quitted the earth when He ascended into heaven ; but, 
 according to His Divine nature. He remained in heaven 
 when He came down thence, and did not abandon the 
 earth when He returned thither.'" 
 
 But Luther still replied: "It is written, This is my 
 hodi/." Zwingle, becoming impatient, said : " All that 
 is idle wrangling. An obstinate disputant might also 
 maintain this expression of our Savioiu- to His mother. 
 Behold thj son., pointing to St. John. Vain would be 
 every explanation, he would continue crying, No, no ! 
 He said Eccefilitis tuns — Behold thy son, behold thy 
 son ! Listen to a new testimony; it is from the great 
 Augustine: 'Let us not think,' says he, 'that Christ, 
 according to His human form, is present in every 
 place; let us beware, in our endeavour to establish 
 His Divinity, of taking away His truth from His body. 
 Christ is now everywhere present, like God ; and yet, 
 in consequence of His real body, He is in a definite 
 part of heaven.'" 
 
 " St. Augustine," replied Luther, " is not here speak- 
 ing of the Eucharist. Christ's body is not in the 
 Eucharist, as in a place." 
 
 CEcolampadius saw that he might take advantage of 
 this assertion of Luther's. " The body of Christ," said 
 he, " is not locally in the Eucharist, therefore no real 
 body is there ; for every one knows that the essence of 
 a body is its existence in a place." 
 
 Here finished the morning's discussion. 
 
 CEcolampadius, upon reflection, felt convinced that 
 Luther's assertion might be looked upon as an approxi- 
 mation. "I remember," said he after dinner, "that 
 the doctor conceded this morning that Christ's body 
 was not in the sacrament as in a place. Let us, there- 
 fore, inquire amicably what is the nature of Christ's 
 bodily presence." 
 
 " You will not make me take a step farther," ex- 
 claimed Luther, who saw where they wished to drag 
 him; "you have Fulgentius and Augustine on your 
 side ; but all the other Fathers are on ours." 
 
 CEcolampadius, who seemed to the Wittembergers 
 to be vexatiously precise, then said: "Name these 
 doctors. We will take upon ourselves to prove that 
 tliiey are of our opinion." 
 
 " We will not name them to you," said Luther. " It 
 was in his youth," added he, " that Augustine wrote 
 what you have quoted ; and, besides, he is an obscure 
 author." Then retreating to the ground which he had 
 resolved never to quit, he was no longer content to 
 point his finger at the inscription, Hoc est corpus mciim, 
 but seized the velvet cover on which the words were 
 written, tore it off the table, held it up in front of 
 Zwingle and CEcolampadius, and placing it before 
 their eyes, "See!" said he, "see! This is our text: 
 you have not yet driven us from it, as you had boasted, 
 and we care for no other proofs." 
 
 "If this be the case," said CEcolampadius, "we had 
 better leave off the discussion. But I will first declare, 
 that, if we quote the Fathers, it is only to free our 
 doctrine from the reproach of novelty, and not to sup- 
 port our cause by their authority." No better defini- 
 tion can be given of the legitimate use of the doctors 
 of the Church. 
 
 There was no reason, in fact, for prolonging the 
 conference. "As Luther was of an intractable and 
 imperious disposition," says even his great apologist, 
 Seckendorf, " he did not cease from calling upon the 
 Swiss to submit simply to his opinion." 
 
 The chancellor, alarmed at such a termination of 
 the colloquy, exhorted the theologians to come to some 
 imderstanding. "I know but one means for that," 
 said Luther; "and this it is: Let our adversaries be- 
 lieve as we do." — " We cannot," answered the Swiss. 
 "Well, then," rejoined Luther, "I abandon you to 
 God's judgment, and pray that He will enlighten you." 
 " AVe will do the same," added CEcolampadius. 
 
 While these words were passing, Zwingle sat silent, 
 motionless, and deeply moved; and the liveliness of 
 his affections, of which he had given more than one 
 proof during the conference, was then manifested in a 
 very different manner. He burst into tears in the pre- 
 sence of all. 
 
 The conference was ended. It had been in reality 
 more tranquil than the documents seem to shew, or 
 perhaps the chroniclers appreciated such matters dif- 
 ferently from ourselves. "AVith the exception of a 
 few sallies, all had passed off quietly, in a courteous 
 manner, and with very great gentleness," says an eye- 
 witness. " During the colloquy no other words than 
 these were heard: 'Sir, and very dear friend, your 
 charity,' or other similar expressions. Not a word of 
 schism or of heresy. It might have been said that 
 Luther and Zwingle were brothers, and not adver- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 saries." This is the testimony of Brentz. But these 
 fiowcrs concealed an abyss, and Jonas, also an eye- 
 witness, styles the conference " a very sharp contest." 
 The contagion that had suddenly broken out in Mar- 
 burg was creating frightful ravages, and filled every- 
 body with alarm. All were anxious to leave the city. 
 " Sirs," remarked the landgrave, " you cannot separate 
 thus." And desirous of giving the doctors' an oppor- 
 tunity of meeting one another with minds unoccupied 
 with theological debates, he invited them to his table. 
 This was Sunday night. 
 
 Philip of Hesse had all along shewn the most con- 
 stant attention, and each one imagined him to be on 
 his side. " I would rather place my trust in the simple 
 words of Christ, than in the subtle thoughts of man," 
 was a remark he made, according to Jonas; but Zwingle 
 affirmed that this prince entertained the same opinions 
 as himself, although with regard to certain persons he 
 dissembled the change. Luther, sensible of the weak- 
 ness of his defence as to the declarations of the Fathers, 
 transmitted a note to Philip, in which several passages 
 were pointed out from Hilary, Chrysostom, Cyprian, 
 Irenreus, and Ambrose, which he thought were in his 
 favour. 
 
 The time of departure drew near, and nothing had 
 been done. The landgrave toiled earnestly at the 
 union, as Luther wrote to his wife. He invited the 
 theologians one after another into his closet; he pressed, 
 entreated, wai-ned, exhorted, and conjured them. 
 " Think," said he, " of the salvation of the Christian 
 republic, and remove all discord from its bosom." 
 Never had general at the head of an army taken such 
 pains to win a battle. 
 
 A final meeting took place, and undoubtedly the 
 Chiu-ch has seldom witnessed one of greater solemnity. 
 Luther and Zwingle — Saxony and Switzerland — met 
 for the last time. The sweating sickness was carry- 
 ing off men around them by thousands ; Charles the 
 Fifth and the pope were uniting in Italy; Ferdinand 
 and the Roman Catholic princes were preparing to 
 tear in pieces the Protest of Spires ; the thunder-cloud 
 became more threatening every day; union alone seemed 
 capable of saving the Protestants, and the hour of de- 
 parture was about to strike — an hoiu" that would sepa- 
 rate them, perhaps, for ever. 
 
 " Let us confess our union in all things in which we 
 agree," said Zwingle; "and as for the rest, let us 
 remember that we are brothers. There will never be 
 peace between the churches if, while we maintain the 
 gi-and doctrine of salvation by faith, we cannot differ 
 on secondary points." Such is, in fact, the true prin- 
 ciple of Christian union. The sixteenth century was 
 still too deeply sunk in scholasticism to understand 
 this : let us hope that the nineteenth century will com- 
 prehend it better. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " exclaimed the landgrave ; " you agree ! 
 Give, then, a testimony of your unity, and recognise 
 one another as brothers." — "There is no one upon 
 earth with whom I more desire to be united, than with 
 you," said Zwingle, approaching the Wittemberg doc- 
 tors. Qicolarapadius, Bucer, and Hedio, said the same. 
 " Acknowledge them ! — acknowledge them as bro- 
 thers ! " continued the landgrave. Their hearts were 
 moved ; they were on the eve of unity: Zwingle, burst- 
 
 ing into tears, in the presence of the prince, the cour- 
 tiers, and divines, (it is Luther himself who records 
 this,) approached Luther, and held out his hand. The 
 two families of the Reformation were about to be 
 united : long quarrels were about to be stifled in their 
 cradle ; but Luther rejected the hand that was offered 
 him : " You have a different spirit from ours," said he. 
 These words communicated to the Swiss, as it were, 
 an electric shock. Their hearts sunk each time Luther 
 repeated them, and he did so frequently. He himself 
 is our informant. 
 
 A brief consultation took place among the Wittem- 
 berg doctors. Luther, Melancthon, Agricola, Brentz, 
 Jonas, and Osiander, conferred together. Convinced 
 that their peculiar doctrine on the Eucharist was essen- 
 tial to salvation, they considered all those who rejected 
 it as without the pale of the faith. "What folly!" 
 said Melancthon, who afterwards nearly coincided with 
 Zwingle's sentiments : " they condemn us, and yet they 
 desire we should consider them as our brothers ! " 
 "What versatility!" added Brentz: " they accused us 
 but lately of worshipping a bread-god, and they now 
 ask for communion with us !" Then, turning towards 
 Zwingle and his friends, the Wittembergers said : 
 " You do not belong to the communion of the Chris- 
 tian Church; we cannot acknowledge you as brethren !" 
 The Swiss were far from partaking of this sectarian 
 spirit. " We think," said Bucer, " that your doctrine 
 strikes at the glory of Jesus Christ, who now reigns at 
 the right hand of the Father. But seeing that in all 
 things you acknowledge your dependence on the Lord, 
 we look at your conscience, which compels you to 
 receive the doctrine you profess, and we do not doubt 
 that you belong to Christ." 
 
 " And we," said Luther — " we declare to you once 
 more that our conscience opposes our receiving you as 
 brethren." — "If such is the case," replied Bucer, "it 
 would be folly to ask it." 
 
 " I am exceedingly astonished that you wish to con- 
 sider me as your brother," pursued Luther. " It shews 
 clearly that you do not attach much importance to 
 your own doctrine." 
 
 " Take your choice," said Bucer, proposing a dilemma 
 to the reformer : " either you should not acknowledge 
 as brethren those who differ from you on any point — 
 and if so, you will not find a single brother in your 
 own ranks — or else you will receive some of those who 
 differ from you, and then you ought to receive us." 
 
 The Swiss had exhausted their solicitations. " We 
 are conscious," said they, " of having acted as if in the 
 presence of God. Posterity will be our witness." They 
 were on the point of retiring : Luther remained like a 
 rock, to the landgi'ave's great indignation. The Hes- 
 sian divines — Kraft, Lambert, Snepf, Lonicer, and Me- 
 lander — united their exertions to those of the prince. 
 
 Luther was staggered, and conferred anew with his 
 colleagues. " Let us beware," said he to his friends, 
 " of wiping our noses too roughly, lest blood should 
 come." 
 
 Then, turning to Zwingle and Qicolampadius, they 
 said : " We acknowledge you as friends ; we do not 
 consider you as brothers and members of Christ's 
 Church. But we do not exclude you from that uni- 
 versal charity which we owe even to our enemies." 
 
UNITY OF DOCTRINE. 
 
 The hearts of Zwingle, CEcoIampadius, and Bucer, 
 were ready to burst, for this concessioQ was ahnost a 
 new insult. " Let us carefully avoid all harsh and 
 violent words and writings," said they; '"and let each 
 one defend himself without railing," 
 
 Luther then advanced towards the Swiss, and said : 
 " Wo consent, and I offer yon the hand of peace and 
 charity." The Swiss rushed in great emotion towards 
 the Wittembergers, and all shook hands. Luther him- 
 self was softened: Christian charity resumed her 
 rights in his heart. " Assuredly," said he, " a great 
 portion of the scandal is taken away by the suppres- 
 sion of our tierce debates ; we could not have hoped 
 for so much. May Christ's hand remove the la.st 
 obstacle that separates ns, and if wc persevere in 
 prayer, brotherhood will come." 
 
 It was desirable to confirm this important result by 
 a report. " We must let the Christian world know," 
 said the landgrave, " that, except the manner of the 
 presence of the body and blood in the Eucharist, you 
 ore agreed in all the articles of faith." This Wiis 
 resolved on ; but who should be charged with drawing 
 up the paper? All eyes were turned upon Luther. 
 The Swiss themselves appealed to his impartiality. 
 
 Luther retired to his closet, lost in thought, uneasy, 
 and finding the task very diiTicult. "On the one 
 hand," said he, " I should like to spare their weak- 
 ness; but, on the other, I would not in the least degree 
 strike at the holy doctrine of Christ." He did not 
 know how to set about it, and his anguish increased. 
 He got free at last. " I will draw up the articles," 
 said he, "in the most accurate manner. Do I not 
 know that whatever I may write, they will never sign 
 them?" Erelong fifteen articles were committed to 
 paper, and Luther, holding them in his hand, repaired 
 to the theologians of the two parties. 
 
 These articles are of importance. The two doctrines 
 that were evolved in Switzerland and in Saxony, inde- 
 pendently of each other, were brought together and 
 compared. If they were of man, there would be found 
 in them a servile uniformity, or a remarkable opposi- 
 tion. This was not the case. A great unity was 
 found between the German and the Swiss Reforma- 
 tions, for they both proceeded from the same Divine 
 teaching ; and a diversity on secondary points, for it 
 was by man's instrumentality that God had effected 
 them. 
 
 Luther took his paper, and reading the first article, 
 said : 
 
 " First, we believe that there is one sole, true, and 
 natural God, Creator of heaven and earth, and of all 
 creatures ; and that this same God, one in essence and 
 in nature, is three-fold in person, that is to say, Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost, as was declared in the Nicene 
 Council, and as all the Christian Church professes." 
 
 To this the Swiss gave their assent. 
 
 They were agreed also on the Divinity and humanity 
 of Jesus Christ ; on His death and resurrection, on 
 original sin, justification by faith, the operation of the 
 Holy Ghost and of the Word of God, baptism, good 
 works, confession, civil order, and tradition. 
 
 Thus far all were imited. The Wittembergers could 
 not recover from their astonishment. The two parties 
 had rejected, on the one hand, the errors of the Papists, 
 
 who make religion little more than an outward form ; 
 and, on the other, those of the Enthusiasts, who speak 
 exclusively of internal feelings ; and they were found 
 drawn u]) under the same banners, between these two 
 camps. But the moment was come that would separate 
 them. Luther had kept till the last the article on the 
 Eucharist. 
 
 The reformer resumed : 
 
 " We all believe, with regard to the Lord's Supper, 
 that it ought to be celebrated in both kinds, according 
 to the primitive institution ; that the mass is not a work 
 by which a Christian obtains pardon for another man, 
 whether dead or alive ; that the sacrament of the altar 
 is the sacrament of the very body and very blood of 
 Jesus Christ; and that the spiritual manducation of 
 this body and blood is specially necessary to every 
 true Christian." 
 
 It was now the turn of the Swiss to be astonished. 
 Luther continued : 
 
 "In like manner, as to the use of the sacrament, we 
 are agreed that, like the Word, it was ordained of 
 Almighty God, in order that weak consciences might 
 be excited by the Holy Ghost to faith and charity." 
 
 The joy of the Swiss was redoubled. Luther con- 
 tinued : "And, although at present we are not agreed 
 on the question whether the real body and blood of 
 Christ are corporeally present in the bread and wine, 
 yet both the interested parties shall cherish more and 
 more a truly Christian charity for one another, so far 
 as conscience permits ; and we will all earnestly im- 
 plore the Lord to condescend, by His Spirit, to confirm 
 us in the sound doctrine." 
 
 The Swiss obtained what they had asked : unity in 
 diversity. It was immediately resolved to hold a 
 solemn meeting for the signature of the articles. 
 
 They were read over again. OScoIampadius, Zwingle, 
 Bucer, and Hedio, signed them first on one copy; while 
 Luther, Melancthon, Jonas, Osiander, Brentz, and 
 Agricola, wrote their names on the other ; both parties 
 then subscribed the copy of their adversaries, and this 
 important document was sent to the press. ' 
 
 Thus the Reformation had made a sensible step at 
 Marbm-g. The opinion of Zwingle on the spiritual 
 presence, and of Luther on the bodily presence, are 
 both found in Christian antiquity; but both the ex- 
 treme doctrines have been always rejected : that of the 
 Rationalists on the one hand, who behold in the Eu- 
 charist nothing but a simple commemoration ; and of 
 the Papists, on the other, who adore in it a transub- 
 stantiation. These are both errors; while the doctrines 
 of Luther and Zwingle, and the medium taken by 
 Calvin, already maintained by some of the Fathers, 
 were considered in ancient times as different views of 
 the same truth. If Luther had yielded, it might have 
 been feared that the Church would fall into the ex- 
 treme of Rationalism ; if Zwingle, that it would rush 
 into the extreme of Popery. It is a salutary thing for 
 the Church that these different views should be enter- 
 tained ; but it is a pernicious thing for individuals to 
 attach themselves to one of them in such a manner 
 as to anathematize the other. "There is only this 
 
 1 Bullinger and others indicate the 3d October .as the day on which the 
 articlea were signed; Osiander, an eye-witness, and whose narrative is very 
 exact, says it was the 4th, which agrees with all the other data. 
 
438 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 little stumbling-block," -wrote Melancthon, " that em- 
 barrasses the Church of our Lord." 
 
 AH — Komanists and Evangelicals, Saxons and 
 Swiss — admitted the presence, and even the real 
 presence of Christ ; but here was the essential point 
 of separation : Is this presence effected by the faith of 
 the communicant, or by the opus operatum of the priest? 
 The germs of Popery, Sacerdotalism, Puseyism, are 
 inevitably contained in this latter thesis. If it is main- 
 tained that a wicked priest (as has been said) operates 
 this real presence of Christ by tliree words, we enter 
 the church of the pope. Luther appeared sometimes 
 to admit this doctrine, but he has often spoken in a 
 more spiritual manner ; and taking this great man in 
 his best moments, we behold merely an essential unity 
 and a secondary diversity in the two parties of the 
 Reformation. Undoubtedly the Lord has left His 
 Church outward seals of His grace ; but He has not 
 attached salvation to these signs. The essential point 
 is the connection of the faithful with the Word, witli 
 the Holy Ghost, with the Head of the Church. This 
 is the great truth which the Swiss reform proclaims, 
 and whicli Lutheranism itseK recognises. After the 
 Marburg conference, the controversy became more 
 moderate. 
 
 There was another advantage. The evangelical 
 divines at Marburg marked with one accord their 
 separation from the Papacy. Zwingle was not without 
 fear (unfounded, no doubt) with regard to Luther : 
 these fears were dispersed. "Now that we are 
 agreed," said he, "the Papists will no longer hope 
 that Luther will ever be one of them." The Marburg 
 articles were the first bulwark erected in common by 
 the reformers against Rome. 
 
 It was not, then, in vain that, after the Protest of 
 Spires, Philip of Hesse endeavoured, at Marburg, to 
 bring together the friends of the Gospel. But if the 
 religious object was partially attained, the political 
 object almost entirely failed. They could not arrive 
 at a confederation of Switzerland and Germany. 
 Nevertheless, Philip of Hesse and Zwingle, with a 
 view to this, had numerous secret conversations, which 
 made the Saxons uneasy, as they were not less opposed 
 to Zwingle's politics than to his theology. " When 
 you have reformed the peasant's cap," said Jonas to 
 him, " you wiU also claim to reform the sable hat of 
 princes." 
 
 The landgrave having collected all the doctors at his 
 table on the last day, they shook hands in a friendly 
 manner, and each one thought of leaving the town. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 5th October, Philip of Hesse 
 quitted Marburg early, and in the afternoon of the 
 same day, Luther departed, accompanied by his col- 
 leagues ; l)ut he did not go forth as a conqueror. A 
 spirit of dejection and alarm had taken possession of 
 his mind. He writhed in the dust, like a worm, accord- 
 ing to his own expression. He fancied he should never 
 see his wife and children again, and cried out that he, 
 "the consoler of so many tortured souls, was now 
 without any consolation ! " 
 
 This state might partly arise from Luther's want of 
 brotherly feeling ; but it had other causes also. SoU- 
 man had come to fulfil a promise made to King 
 Ferdinand. The latter having demanded, in 1528, 
 
 the surrender of Belgrade, the sultan had haughtily 
 replied that he would bring the keys himself to Vienna. 
 In fact, the Grand Turk, crossing the frontiers of 
 Germany, had invaded countries " on which the hoofs 
 of the Mussulman war-horses had never trod;" and 
 eight days before the conference at Marburg, he had 
 covered with his innumerable tents the plain and the 
 fertile hills in the midst of which rise the walls of 
 Vienna. The struggle had begun under ground, the 
 two parties having dug deep galleries beneath the ram- 
 parts. Three different times the Turkish mines were 
 exploded ; the walls were thrown down ; " the balls 
 flew through the air like a flight of small birds," says 
 a Turkish historian ; " and there was a horrible ban- 
 quet, at which the genii of death joyously drained their 
 glasses." 
 
 Luther did not keep in the background. He had 
 already written against the Turks, and now he pub- 
 lished a Battle- Sermon. "Mohammed," said he, "exalts 
 Christ as being without sin ; but he denies that He 
 was the true God ; he is therefore His enemy. Alas ! 
 to this hour the world is such that it seems everywhere 
 to rain disciples of Mohammed. Two men ought to 
 oppose the Turks ; the first is Christian, that is to say. 
 Prayer; the second is Charles, that is to say. The 
 sword." And in another place, "I know my dear 
 Germans well, fat and well-fed swine as they are, — no 
 sooner is the danger removed than they tliink only of 
 eating and sleeping. Wretched man ! if thou dost not 
 take up arms, the Turk will come ; he will carry thee 
 away into his Turkey ; he will there sell thee like a 
 dog ; and thou shalt serve him night and day, under 
 the rod and the cudgel, for a glass of water and a 
 morsel of bread. Think on this ; be converted, and 
 implore the Lord not to give thee the Turk for thy 
 schoolmaster." 
 
 The two arms pointed out by Luther were, in reality, 
 vigorously employed ; and Soliman, perceiving at last 
 that he was not "the soul of the universe," as his poets 
 had styled him, but that there was a strength in the 
 world superior to his own, raised the seige of Vienna 
 on the 16th October; and "the shadow of God over 
 the two worlds," as lie called himself, " disappeared, 
 and vanished in the Bosphorus." 
 
 But Luther imagined that, when retiring from before 
 the walls of Vienna, " the Turk, or at least his god, 
 who is the devil," had rushed upon him ; and that it 
 was this enemy of Christ, and of Christ's servants, 
 that he was destined to combat and vanquish in his 
 frightful agony. There is an immediate reaction of 
 the violated law upon him who violates it. Now 
 Luther had transgressed the royal law, which is 
 charity, and he suffered the penalty. At last he re- 
 entered Wittemberg, and flung himself into the arms 
 of his friends, "tormented by the angel of death." 
 
 Let us not, however, overlook the essential qualities 
 of a reformer that Luther manifested at Marburg. 
 There are in God's work, as in a drama, different 
 parts. What various characters we see among the 
 apostles, and among the reformers ! It has been said 
 that the same characters and the same parts were 
 assigned to St. Peter and to Luther, at the time of the 
 Formation and of the Reformation of the Church. ' 
 
THE -VICTORY— EXASPERATION OF THE PAPISTS. 
 
 They were both, in fact, men of the initiative, who 
 start forward (juite alone, but around whom an army 
 soon collects at the sight of the standard which they 
 wave. But there wsis, perhaps, in the reformer a 
 characteristic not existing to the same degree in the 
 apostle: this was firmness. 
 
 As for Zwingle, he quitted Marburg in alarm at 
 Luther's intolerance. " Luthcranism," wrote he to the 
 landgrave, "will lie as heavy upon us as Popery." He 
 reached Zurich on tlie I'Jth October. "The truth," 
 said he to his friends, " has prevailed so manifestly, 
 that if ever any one has been defeated before all tlic 
 world, it is Luther, although he constantly exclaimed 
 that he was invincible." On his side Luther spoke in 
 a similar strain. "It is through fear of their follow- 
 citizeus," added he, " that the Swiss, although van- 
 qnislied, arc unwilling to retract." 
 
 If it should be asked on which side the victory really 
 was, perhaps we ought to say that Luther assumed the 
 air of a conqueror, but Zwingle was so in reality. The 
 conference propagated through all Germany tlie doc- 
 trine of the Swiss, which had been little kno^vn there 
 until then, and it was adopted by an immense number 
 of persons. Among these were Laffards, fii-st rector 
 of St. Martin's school at Brunswick, Dionysius Me- 
 lander, Justus Leniug, Ilartmann, Ibach, and many 
 others. Tlie landgrave himself, a short time before 
 his death, declared that this conference had induced 
 him to renounce the oral manducation of Christ. 
 
 Still the dominant principle at this celebrated epoch 
 
 was imity. The adversaries are the best judges. The 
 Roman Catholics were exasperated that the Lutherans 
 and Zwinglians had agreed on all the essential points 
 of faith. "They have a fellow-feeling against the 
 Catholic Church," said the)', "as Herod and Pilate 
 against Jesus Christ." The enthusiastic sects said the 
 same, and the extreme hierarchical as well as the 
 extreme radical party deprecated alike the unity of 
 Marburg. 
 
 Erelong a gi-eater agitation eclipsed all these rumours, 
 and events which threatened the whole evangelical 
 body, proclaimed its great and intimate union with 
 new force. The emperor, it was everywhere said, 
 exasperated by the protest of Spires, had landed at 
 Genoa with the pomp of a conqueror. After having 
 sworn at Barcelona to reduce the heretics under the 
 power of the pope, he was going to visit this pontiff, 
 humbly to bend the knee before him ; and he would 
 rise only to cross the Alps and accomplish his terrible 
 designs. " The Emperor Charles," said Luther, a few 
 days after the landing of this prince, "has determined 
 to shew himself more cruel against us than the Turk 
 himself, and he h;is already uttered the most horrible 
 threats. Behold the hour of Christ's agony and weak- 
 ness. Let us pray for all those who will soon have to 
 endure captivity and death." 
 
 Such was the news that then agitated all Germany. 
 The grand question was, whether the Protest of Spires 
 could be maintained against the power of the emperor 
 and of the pope. This was seen in the year 1530. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK XIV. 
 
 THE AUGSBURG CONFESSION — 1530. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Two Striking Lessons-Charles V. in Italy— The German Envoys— Their 
 Boldness— The Landgrave's Present-The Envoys under Arrest— Their 
 Release and Departure— Meeting of Charles and Clement— Gattinara's 
 Proposition— Clement's Anns— War Imminent— Luther's Objections— 
 The Saviour's Coming— Charles's Conciliatory Language— The Emperor's 
 Motives. 
 
 The Reformation was accomplished in the name of a 
 spiritual principle. It had proclaimed for its teacher 
 the Word of God; for salvation, faith; for king, 
 Jesus Christ ; for arms, the Holy Ghost ; and had by 
 these very means rejected all worldly elements. Rome 
 had been established by the law of a carnal command- 
 ment ; the Reformation, by the poiver of an endless life, 
 (Hebrews vii. 16.) 
 
 If there is any doctrine that distinguishes Christian- 
 ity from every other religion, it is its spirituality. A 
 heavenly life brought it down to man — such is its 
 work ; thus the opposition of the spirit of the Gospel 
 to the spirit of the world, was the great fact which 
 signalized the entrance of Christianity among the 
 nations. But what its Founder had separated had 
 soon come together again ; the Church had fallen into 
 the arms of the world, and by this criminal union it 
 had been reduced to the deplorable condition in which 
 we find it at the era of the Reformation. 
 
 Thus one of the greatest tasks of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury was to restore the spiritual element to its rights. 
 The Gospel of the Reformers had nothing to do with 
 the world and with politics. AVhile the Roman hier- 
 archy had become a matter of diplomacy and a court 
 intrigue, the Reformation was destined to exercise no 
 other influence over princes and people than that which 
 proceeds from the Gospel of peace. 
 
 If the Reformation, having attained a certain point, 
 became untrue to its nature, began to parley and tem- 
 porize with the world, and cease thus to follow up the 
 spiritual principle that it had so loudly proclaimed, it 
 was faithless to God and to itself. 
 
 Henceforward its decline was at hand. 
 
 It is impossible for a society to prosper if it be 
 unfaithful to the principles it lays down. Having 
 abandoned what constituted its life, it can find naught 
 but death. 
 
 It was God's will that this great truth should be 
 inscribed on the very threshold of the temple He was 
 then raising in the world ; and a striking contrast was 
 to make this truth stand gloriously prominent. 
 
 One portion of the reform was to seek the alliance 
 of the world, and in this alliance find a destruction 
 full of desolation. 
 
 Another portion, looking up to God, was haughtily 
 to reject the arm of the flesh, and by this very act of 
 faith secure a noble victory. 
 
 If three centuries have gone astray, it is because 
 they were unable to comprehend so holy and so solemn 
 a lesson. 
 
 It was in the beginning of September, 1529, that 
 Charles V., the victor by battles or by treaties over 
 the pope and the King of France, landed at Genoa 
 The shouts of the Spaniards had saluted him as ho 
 quitted the Iberian peninsula ; but the dejected eyes, 
 the bended heads, the silent lips of the Italians given 
 over to his hands, alone welcomed him to the foot of 
 the Apennines. Everything led to the belief that 
 Charles would indemnify himself on them for the 
 apparent generosity with which he had treated the 
 pope. 
 
 They were deceived. Instead of those barbarous 
 chiefs of the Goths and Huns — instead of those proud 
 and fierce emperors, who more than once had crossed 
 the Alps and rushed upon Italy, sword in hand, and 
 with cries of vengeance, the Italians saw among them 
 a young and graceful prince, with pale features, a 
 delicate frame, and weak voice, of winning manners, 
 having more the air of a courtier than of a warrior, 
 scrupulously performing all the duties of the Romish 
 religion, and leading in his train no teirible cohorts of 
 German barbarians ; but a brilliant retinue of Spanish 
 grandees, who condescendingly paraded the pride of 
 their race, and the splendour of their nation. This 
 prince, the victor of Europe, spoke only of peace and 
 amnesty; and even the Duke of Ferrara, who of all 
 the Italian princes had most cause of fear, having at 
 Modena placed the keys of the city in his hands, heard 
 from his friendly lips the most unexpected encourage- 
 ments. 
 
 Whence did this strange conduct proceed ? Charles 
 had shewn plainly enough, at the time of the captivity 
 of Francis I., that generosity towards his enemies was 
 not his dominant virtue. It was not long before this 
 mystery was explained. 
 
 Almost at the same time with Charles, there arrived 
 in Italy, by way of Lyons and Genoa, three German 
 burgesses, whose whole equipage consisted of six horses. 
 These were John Ehinger, burgomaster of Memmingeu, 
 who carried his head high, scattered money around 
 him, and who was not remarkable for great sobriety; 
 Michael Caden, syndic of Nuremberg, a worthy, pious, 
 and brave man, but detested by the Count of Nassau, 
 the most influential of Charles's ministers ; and, lastly, 
 Alexis Frauentraut, secretary to the Margrave of 
 Brandenburg, who, having married a nun, was in very 
 bad odour among the Roman Catholics. Such were 
 the three men whom the Protestant princes, assembled 
 fit Nuremberg, commissioned to bear to the emperor 
 the famous Protest of Spires. They had purposely 
 
THE GERMAN ENVOYS. 
 
 441 
 
 chosen these deputies from a middle station, under the 
 impression that they would incur less danger. To 
 carry such a message to Charles V. was, to say the 
 truth, a task that few persons cared to execute. 
 Accordingly, a pension had been secured to the 
 widows of these envoys in case of misfortune. 
 
 Charles was on his way from Genoa to Bologna, 
 and staying at Piacenza, when the three Protestant 
 deputies overtook him. These plain Germans pre- 
 sented a singular contnust in the midst of that Spanish 
 pomp and Koinish fervour by which the young prince 
 was surrrounded. Cardinal Gattinara, the emperor's 
 chancellor, who sincerely desired a reform of the 
 Church, procured tliem an audience of Charles V. for 
 the 22d of September; but they were recommended to 
 be sparing in their words, for there was nothing the 
 emperor so much disliked as a Protestant sermon. 
 
 The deputies were not chocked by these intimations ; 
 and, after handing the protest to Charles, Frauontraut 
 began to speak : '-It is to the Supreme Judge tiiat each 
 one of us must render an account," said he, " and not 
 to creatures who turu at every wind. It is better to 
 fall into the most cruel necessity, than to incur the 
 anger of God. Our nation will obey no decrees that 
 are based on any other foundation than the Holy 
 Scriptures." 
 
 Such was the proud tone held by those German 
 citizens to the emperor of the West. Charles said not 
 a word — it would have been paying them too much 
 honour; but he charged one of his secretaries to an- 
 nounce an answer at some future time. 
 
 There was no hurry to send back those paltry am- 
 bassadors. In vain did they renew their solicitations 
 daily. Gattinara treated them with kindness, but 
 Nassau sent them away with bitter words. A work- 
 man, the armourer to the court, having to visit Augs- 
 burg to purchase arms, begged flio Count of Nassau 
 to despatch the Protestant deputies. " You may tell 
 them," replied the minister of Charles V., " that we 
 will terminate their business in order that you may 
 have travelling companions." But the armourer having 
 found other company, they were compelled to wait. 
 
 These envoys endeavoured, at least, to make a good 
 use of their time. " Take this book," said the land- 
 grave to Caden, at the very moment of departure, 
 giving him a French work bound in velvet, and richly 
 ornamented, " and deliver it to the emperor." It was 
 a summary of the Christian Faith which the landgrave 
 had received from Francis Lambert, and which had 
 probably been written by that doctor. Caden sought 
 an opportunity of presenting this treatise ; and did so 
 one day, as Charles was going publicly to mass. The 
 emperor took the book, and passed it immediately to a 
 Spanish bishop. The Spaniard began to read it, and 
 lighted upon that passage of Scripture in which Christ 
 enjoins His apostles not to exercise lorclship, (Luke xxii. 
 26.) The author took advantage of it to maintain 
 that the minister, charged with spiritual matters, 
 should not interfere with those which are temporal. 
 The papist prelate bit his lips, and Charles, who per- 
 ceived it, having asked, " Well, what is the matter ? " 
 the bishop, in confusion, had recourse to a falsehood. 
 "This treatise," replied he, "takes the sword from the 
 Christian magistrate, and grants it only to nations 
 
 that are strangers to the faith." Immediately there 
 was a great uproar : the Spaniards, above all, were 
 beside themselves. "The wretches that have endea- 
 voured to mislead so young a prince," said they, " de- 
 serve to be hung on the first tree by the wayside 1" 
 Charles swore, in fact, that the bearer should suffer 
 the penalty of his audacity. 
 
 At length, on the 12th October, Alexander Schweiss, 
 imperial secretary, transmitted the emperor's reply to 
 the deputies. It said that the minority ought to sub- 
 mit to the decrees passed in diet, and that if the Duke 
 of Saxony and his allies were contumacious, means 
 would not be wanting to compel them. 
 
 Upon this Ehinger and Caden read .aloud the appeal 
 to the emperor drawn up at Spires, whilst Frauentraut, 
 who had renounced his quality of deputy, and assumed 
 that of a notary, took notes of what was passing. 
 When the reading was iinished, the deputies advanced 
 towards Schweiss, and presented the appeal. The 
 imperial secretary rejected the document with amaze- 
 ment ; the deputies insisted ; Schweiss continued firm. 
 They then laid the appeal on the table. Schweiss was 
 staggered ; he took the paper, and carried it to the 
 emperor. 
 
 After dinner, just as one of the deputies (Caden) 
 had gone out, a tumult in the hotel announced some 
 catastrophe. It was the imperial secretary who re- 
 turned duly accompanied. " The emperor is exceed- 
 ingly imtated against you on account of this appeal," 
 said he to the Protestants ; " and he forbids you, under 
 pain of confiscation and death, to leave your hotel, to 
 write to Germany, or to send auy message whatsoever." 
 Thus Charles put ambassadors under arrest, as he 
 would the officers of his guard, desirous in this manner 
 of shewing his contempt, and of frightening the princes. 
 
 Caden's servant slipped in alarm out of the hotel, 
 and ran to his master. The latter, still considering 
 himself free, wrote a hasty account of the whole busi- 
 ness to the senate of Nuremberg, sent off his letters by 
 express, and returned to share in the arrest of his 
 colleagues. 
 
 On the 23d of October, the emperor left Piacenza, 
 carrying the three Germans with him. But on the 
 30th he released Ehinger and Frauentraut, who, 
 mounting their horses in the middle of the night, 
 rushed at full speed along a route thronged with 
 soldiers and robbers. " As for you," said Granvelle 
 to Caden, "you will stay under pain of death. The 
 emperor expects that the book you presented to him 
 will be given to the pope." Perliaps Charles thought 
 it pleasant to shew the Roman pontiff this prohibition 
 issued against the ministers of God to mingle in the 
 government of nations. But Caden, profiting by the 
 confusion of the court, secretly procured a horse, and 
 fled to Ferrara, thence to Venice, from which place he 
 returned to Nuremberg. 
 
 The more Charles appeared iiritated against Ger- 
 many, the greater moderation he shewed towards the 
 Italians ; heavy pecuniary contributions were all that 
 he required. It was beyond the Alps, in the centre of 
 Christendom, by means of these very religious contro- 
 versies, that he desired to establish his power. He 
 pressed on, and required only two things : behind him 
 — ^peace ; with him — money. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 On the 5th of November he entered Bologna. Every- 
 thing was striking about him: the crowd of nobles, the 
 splendour of the equipages, the haughtiness of the 
 Spanisli troops, the four thousand ducats that were 
 scattered by handfuls among tlie people ; but above all, 
 the majesty and magnificence of the young emperor. 
 The two chiefs of Romish Christendom were about to 
 meet. The pope quitted his palace with all his court ; 
 and Charles, at the head of an army which would have 
 conquered the whole of Italy in a few days, affecting 
 the humility of a child, feU on his knees, and kissed 
 the pontiff's feet. 
 
 The emperor and the pope resided at Bologna in two 
 adjoining palaces, separated by a single wall, througii 
 which a doorway had been opened, of which each had 
 a key; and the young and politic emperor was often 
 seen visiting the old and crafty pontiff, carrying papers 
 in his hand. 
 
 Clement obtained Sforza's forgiveness, who appeared 
 before the emperor, sick and leaning on a staff. Venice 
 also was forgiven : a million of crowns arranged these 
 two matters. But Charles could not obtain from the 
 pope the pardon of Florence. That illustrious city 
 was sacrificed to the Medici, "considering," it was 
 said, " that it was impossible for Christ's vicar to 
 demand anything that is unjust." 
 
 The most important affair was the Reformation. 
 Some represented to the emperor that, victor over all 
 his enemies, he should caiTy matters with a high hand, 
 and constrain the Protestants by force of arms. Charles 
 was more moderate, he preferred weakening the Pro- 
 testants by the Papists, and then the Papists by the 
 Protestants, and by this means raising his power above 
 them both. 
 
 A wiser course was, nevertheless, proposed in a so- 
 lemn conference. "The Church is torn in pieces," 
 said Chancellor Gattinara. "You (Charles) are the 
 head of the empire ; you (the pope) the head of the 
 Church. It is your duty to provide, by common accord, 
 against unprecedented wants. Assemble the pious men 
 of all nations, and let a free council deduce from the 
 Word of God a scheme of doctrine such as may be 
 received by every people." 
 
 A thunderbolt falling at Clement's feet could not 
 have startled him more. The offspring of an illegiti- 
 mate union, and having obtained the papacy by means 
 far from honourable, and squandered the treasures of 
 the Church in an unjust war, this pontiff had a thou- 
 sand personal motives for dreading an assembly of 
 Christendom. "Large congregations," replied he, 
 " serve only to introduce popular opinions. It is not 
 by the decrees of councils, but with the edge of the 
 sword, that we should decide controversies." 
 
 As Gattinara still persisted : " What !" said the pope, 
 angrily interrupting him, "you dare contradict me, and 
 excite your master against me !" Charles rose up ; all 
 the assembly preserved profound silence, and the 
 prince resuming his seat, seconded his chancellor's 
 request. Clement was content to say that he would 
 reflect upon it. He then began to work upon the 
 young emperor in their private conferences, and 
 Charles promised at last to constrain the heretics 
 by violence, while the pope should summon all other 
 princes to hLs aid. " To overcome Germany by force, 
 
 and then erase it from the surface of the earth, is the 
 sole object of the Italians," they wrote from Venice to 
 the elector. 
 
 Such was the sinister news which, by spread- 
 ing alarm among the Protestants, should also have 
 united them. Unfortunately, a contrary movement 
 was then taking place. Luther and some of his 
 friends had revised the Marburg articles in a sense 
 exclusively Lutheran, and the ministers of the Elector 
 of Saxony had presented them to the conference at 
 Schwabach. The reformed deputies from Ulm and 
 Strasburg had immediately withdrawn, and the con- 
 ference was broken up. 
 
 But new conferences had erelong become necessary. 
 The express that Caden had forwarded from Piacenza 
 had reached Nuremberg. Every one in Germany 
 understood that the arrest of the princes' deputies 
 was a declaration of war. The elector was staggered, 
 and ordered his chancellor to consult the theologians 
 of Wittemberg. 
 
 " We cannot on our conscience," replied Luther, on 
 the 18th November, " approve of the proposed alliance. 
 We would rather die ten times than see our Gospel 
 cause one drop of blood to be shed. Our part is to be 
 like lambs of the slaughter. The cross of Christ must 
 be borne. Let your highness be without fear. We 
 shall do more by our prayers than all our enemies by 
 their boastings. Only let not your hands be stained 
 with the blood of your brethren ! If the emperor 
 requu-es us to be given up to his tribunals, we are 
 ready to appear. Y'ou cannot defend our faith : eacli 
 one should believe at his own risk and peril." 
 
 On the 29th November an evangelical congress was 
 opened at Smalkald, and an unexpected event rendered 
 this meeting stiU more important. Ehinger, Caden, 
 and Frauentraut, who had escaped from the grasp of 
 Charles V., appeared before them. The landgrave 
 had no further doubts of the success of his plan. 
 
 He was deceived. No agreement between contrary 
 doctrines, no alliance between politics and religions- 
 were Luther's two principles, and they still prevailed. 
 It was agreed that those who felt disposed to sign the 
 articles of Schwabach, and those only, should meet at 
 Nuremberg on the 6th of January. 
 
 The horizon became hourly more threatening. The 
 Papists of Germany wrote one to another these few 
 but significant words : " The Saviour is coming." 
 "Alas!" exclaimed Luther, "what a pitiless saviour 1 
 He will devour them all, as well as us." In effect, 
 two Italian bishops, authorized by Charles V., de- 
 manded in the pope's name aU the gold and silver 
 from the churches, and a thu-d part of the ecclesiasti- 
 cal revenues : a proceeding which caused an immense 
 sensation. "Let the pope go to the devil," replied a 
 canon of Paderborn, a little too freely. " Yes, yes !" 
 archly replied Luther, "this is your saviour that is 
 coming !" The people already began to talk of fright- 
 ful omens. It was not only the living who were 
 agitated: a child still in its mother's womb had uttered 
 horrible shrieks. " All is accomplished," said Luther ; 
 " the Turk has reached the highest degree of his power, 
 the glory of the papacy is declining, and the world is 
 spUtting on every side." The refoi m t, dreading lest 
 the end of the world should arrive before he had trans- 
 
CORONATION OF CHARLES V. 
 
 latcd all the Bible, published the prophecies of Daniel 
 eeparntoly, — " a work," said he, "for these latter times." 
 "Historians tell us," he added, "that Alexander the 
 Great always placed Homer inidcr his pillow : the 
 prophet Daniel is worthy not only that kings and 
 princes should lay him under their heads, but carry 
 him in their hearts ; for he will teach them that the 
 government of nations proceeds from the power of 
 God. We arc balanced in the hand of the Lord, as a 
 sliip upon the sea, or a cloud in the sky." 
 
 Yet the frightful ])hantom that Philip of Hesse had 
 not ceased to point out to his allies, and wiiose threat- 
 ening jaws seemed already opening, suddenly vanished, 
 and they discovered la its place the graceful image of 
 the most amiable of princes. 
 
 On the 21st January, Charles had summoned all the 
 states of the empire to Augsburg, and had endeavoured 
 to employ the most conciliatory language. "Let us 
 put an end to all discord," he said, " let us renounce 
 our antipathies, let us offer to our Saviour the sacrifice 
 of all our errors, let us make it our business to com- 
 prehend and weigh with meekness the opinions of 
 others. Let us annihilate all that has been said or 
 done on both sides contrary to right, and let us seek 
 after Christian truth. Let us all fight under one and 
 the same leader, Jesus Christ, and let us strive thus to 
 meet in one communion, one church, and one unity." 
 
 What language ! How was it that this j)rince, who 
 liitherto had spoken only of the sword, sliould now 
 speak only of peace ? Some may say that the wise 
 Gattiuara had a share in it ; that the act of convoca- 
 tion was drawn up under the impression of the terror 
 caused by the Turkish invasion ; that the emperor 
 already saw with how little eagerness the Roman 
 Catholics of Germany seconded his views ; that he 
 wished to intimidate the pope ; that this language, so 
 full of graciousness, was but a mask which Charles 
 employed to deceive his enemies ; that he wished to 
 manage religion in true imperial fashion, like Theodo- 
 sius and Constantine, and seek first to unite both par- 
 ties by the influence of his wisdom and of his favours, 
 reserving to himself, if kindness should fail, to employ 
 force afterwards. It is possible that each of these 
 motives may have exercised a certain influence on 
 Charles, but the latter appears to us nearer the truth, 
 and more conformable to the character of this prince. 
 
 If Charles, however, shewed any inclination to mild- 
 ness, the fanatical Ferdinand was at hand to bring him 
 back. " I will continue negotiating without coming to 
 any conclusion," wrote he to his brother ; " and should 
 I even be reduced to that, do not fear ; pretexts will 
 not be wanting to chastise these rebels, and you will 
 find men enough who will be happy to aid you in your 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Tlio Coronation— The Emperor made a Deacon— The Romish Church and 
 the State— Alarm of tlie Protestants— Luther Advocates Tassive Besist- 
 ance— Brucli's Noble Advice— Articles of Faith Prepared— Luther's 
 Strong Tower— Luther at Coburg— Charles at Innspruck— Two Parties 
 at Court— Gattinara— The King of Denmark won over by Charles— Piety 
 of the Elector— Wiles of the Romanists. 
 
 Chaju,es, like Charlemagne in former times, and Na- 
 
 poleon in later days, desired to bo crowned by the pope, 
 and had at first thouglit of visiting Rome for that 
 purpose; but Ferdinand's pressing letters compelled 
 him to choose Bologna. He ajjpointcd the 22d Feb- 
 ruary for receiving the iron crown, as king of Lom- 
 bardy, and resolved to assume the golden crown, as 
 emperor of the Romans, on the 21th of the same 
 month, — his birthday, and the anniversary of the 
 battle of Pavia, and which he thought was always 
 fortunate to him. 
 
 The offices of honour that belonged to the electors of 
 the empire were given to strangers ; in the coronation 
 of the Emperor of Germany all was Spanish or Italian. 
 The sceptre was carried by the Marquis of Montferrat, 
 the sword by tlie Duke of Urbino, and the golden 
 crown by the Duke of Savoy. One single German 
 prince of little importance, the Count-palatine Philip, 
 was present: he carried the orb. After these lords 
 came the emperor himself between two cardinals; then 
 the members of his council. All this procession defiled 
 across a magnificent temporary bridge erected between 
 the palace and the church. At the very moment the 
 emperor drew near the church of San Pctronio, where 
 the coronation was to take place, the scaffolding cracked 
 behind him and gave way: many of his train were 
 wounded, and the multitude fled in alarm. Charles 
 calmly turned back and smiled, not doubting that his 
 lucky star had saved him. 
 
 At length Charles V. arrived in front of the throne 
 on which Clement was seated. But before being 
 made emperor, it was necessary that he should be pro- 
 moted to the sacred orders. The pope presented him 
 with the surplice and the amice to make him a canon 
 of St. Peter's and of St. John Lateranus ; and the 
 canons of these two churches immediately stripped him 
 of his I'oyal ornaments, and robed him with the sacer- 
 dotal garments. The pope went to the altar and began 
 mass, the new canon drawing near to wait upon him. 
 After the offertory, the imperial deacon presented the 
 water to the pontiff ; and then kneeling down between 
 two cardinals, he communicated from the pope's hand. 
 The emperor now returned to his throne, where the 
 princes robed him with the imperial mantle brought 
 from Constantinople, all sparkling with diamonds, 
 and Charles humbly bent the knee before Clement 
 VII. 
 
 The pontiff, having anointed him with oil and given 
 him the sceptre, presented him with a naked sword, 
 saying: "Make use of it in defence of the Chm-ch 
 against the enemies of the faith!" Next taking the 
 golden orb, studded with jewels, which the count- 
 palatine held, he said : " Govern the world with piety 
 and firmness ! " Last came the Duke of Savoy, who 
 carried the golden crown enriched with diamonds. The 
 prince bent down, and Clement put the diadem on his 
 head, saying : " Charles, emperor invincible, receive 
 this crown which we place on your head as a sign to 
 all the earth of the authority that is conferred upon 
 you." 
 
 The emperor then kissed the white cross embroidered 
 on the pope's red slipper, and exclaimed: "I swear to 
 be, with all my powers and resources, the perpetual 
 defender of the pontifical dignity and of the Church of 
 
444 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 The two princes now took their seats under the same 
 canopy, but on tlirones of unequal height, the emperor's 
 being half a foot lower than the pontiff's, and the 
 cardinal-deacon proclaimed to the people "The in- 
 vincible emperor, Defender of the Faith." For the 
 next half-hour nothing was heard but the noise of mus- 
 ketry, trumpets, drums, and fifes, all the bells of the 
 city, and the shouts of the multitude. Thus was pro- 
 claimed anew the close union of politics with religion. 
 The mighty emperor, transformed to a Roman deacon, 
 and humbly serving mass, like a canon of St. Peter's, 
 had typified and declared the indissoluble union of the 
 Romish Church with the State. This is one of the 
 essential doctrines of Popery, and one of the most 
 striking characteristics that distinguish it from the 
 evangelical and the Christian Church. 
 
 Nevertheless, during the whole of the ceremony, the 
 pope seemed ill at ease, and sighed as soon as men's 
 eyes ceased to gaze on him. Accordingly, the French 
 ambassador ivrote to his court that these four months 
 which the emperor and pope had spent together at 
 Bologna, would bear fruit of which the King of France 
 would assuredly have no cause to complain. 
 
 Scarcely had Charles V. risen from before the altar 
 of Saa Petronio, ere he turned his face towards Ger- 
 many, and appeared on the Alps as the anointed of the 
 Papacy. The letter of convocation, so indulgent and 
 benign, seemed forgotten : all things were made new 
 since the pope's blessings : there was but one thought 
 in the imperial train, the necessity of rigorous mea- 
 sures ; and the legate Campeggio ceased not to in- 
 sinuate irritating words into Charles's ear. "At the 
 first rumour of the storm that threatens them," said 
 Granvelle, "we shall see the Protestants fiying on 
 every side, like timid doves upon which the Alj^ine 
 eagle pounces." 
 
 Great indeed was the alarm throughout the empire ; 
 already even the affrighted people, apprehensive of tlie 
 greatest disasters, repeated everywhere that Luther and 
 Melancthon were dead. " Alas ! " said Melancthon, 
 consumed by sorrow, when he heard these reports, 
 " the rumour is but too true, for I die daily." But 
 Luther, on the contrary, boldly raising the eye of 
 faith towards heaven, exclaimed : " Our enemies 
 triumph, but erelong to perish." In truth, the councils 
 of the elector displayed an unprecedented boldness. 
 "Let us collect our troops," said they; "let us march 
 on the Tyrol, and close the passage of the Alps against 
 the emperor." Philip of Hesse uttered a cry of joy 
 when he heard of this. The sword of Charles had 
 aroused his indolent allies at last. Immediately fresh 
 couriers from Ferdinand were sent to hasten the 
 arrival of Charles, and all Germany was in expecta- 
 tion. 
 
 Before carrying out this gigantic design, the elector 
 desired to consult Luther once more. The emperor in 
 the midst of the electors was only the first among his 
 equals ; and independent princes were allowed to resist 
 another prince, even if he were of higher rank than 
 themselves. But Luther, dreading above all things the 
 intervention of the secular arm in Church affairs, was 
 led to reply, on the 6th March, in this extraordinary 
 manner : " Our prince's subjects are also the emperor's 
 subjects, and even more so than princes are. To pro- 
 
 tect by arms the emperor's subjects against the emperor, 
 would be as if the burgomaster of Torgau wished to 
 protect by force his citizens against the elector." 
 
 "What must be done then?" — "Listen," replied 
 Luther. " If the emperor desires to march against us, 
 let no prince undertake our defence. God is faithful : 
 He will not abandon us." All preparations for war 
 were immediately suspended, the landgrave received a 
 polite refusal, and the confederation was dissolved. It 
 was the will of God that His cause should appear be- 
 fore the emperor without league and without soldiers, 
 having faith alone for its shield. 
 
 Never, perhaps, has such boldness been witnessed in 
 feeble and unarmed men; but never, although under 
 an appearance of blindness, was there so much wisdom 
 and understanding. 
 
 The question next discussed in the elector's council 
 was, whether he should go to the diet. The majority 
 of the councillors opposed it. "Is it not risking every- 
 thing," said they, " to go and shut oneself up within 
 the walls of a city with a powerful enemy?" Bruck 
 and the prince-electoral were of a different opinion. 
 Duty, in their eyes, was a better councillor than fear. 
 " What ! " said they, " would the emperor insist so 
 much on the presence of the princes at Augsburg only 
 to draw them into a snare ? We cannot impute such 
 perfidy to him." The landgrave, on the contrary, 
 seconded the opinion of the majority. " Remember 
 Piacenza," said he. " Some unfortunate circumstance 
 may lead the emperor to take aU his enemies in one 
 cast of the net." 
 
 The chancellor stood firm. " Let the princes only 
 comport themselves with courage," said he, " aud 
 God's cause is saved." The decision was in favour of 
 the nobler plan. 
 
 This diet was to be a lay council, or at the very least 
 a national convention. The Protestants foresaw that 
 a few unimportant concessions would be made to them 
 at first, aud then that they would be required to sacri- 
 fice their faith. It was therefore necessary to settle 
 what were the essential articles of Christian truth, in 
 order to know whether, by what means, and how far 
 they might come to an understanding with their adver- 
 saries. The elector accordingly had letters sent, on the 
 14th March, to the four principal theologians of Wit- 
 temberg, setting them this task before all other busi- 
 ness. Thus, instead of collecting soldiers, this prince 
 drew up articles : they were the best armament. 
 
 Luther, Jonas, and Melancthon, (Pomeranus remain- 
 ing at Wittemberg,) arrived at Torgau in Easter week, 
 asking leave to deliver their articles in person to 
 Chai-les the Fifth. " God forbid ! " replied the elector ; 
 "I also desire to confess my Lord." 
 
 John having then confided to Melancthon the defini- 
 tive arrangement of the confession, and ordered general 
 prayers to be offered up, began his joiu-ney on the 3<1 
 April, with one hundred and sixty horsemen, clad in 
 rich scarlet cloaks embroidered with gold. 
 
 Every man was aware of the dangers that threatened 
 the elector, and hence many in his escort marched with 
 downcast eyes and sinking hearts. But Luther, full 
 of faith, revived the courage of his friends, by compos- 
 ing and singing with his fine voice that beautiful hymn, 
 since become so famous : EM fiste Burg ist unser 
 
LUTHER AT COBURG-CHARLES AT INNSPRUCK. 
 
 Qotte — Our God is a strong tower. ' Never did soul that 
 knew his own weakness, but which, looking to God, 
 despised every fear, liud such noble accents : — 
 
 With our own strength wo nought can do, 
 
 Destruction yawns on every aide : 
 He lliihts for ua, our champion true, 
 
 Eleit of Ood to bfl our guide. 
 What ia Hia namot— Tlio anoinUd One, 
 
 Tho God of armiea lie ; 
 Of cartb and heaven tho Lord alono — 
 Willi Him, on Held of iMttlo won, 
 AbideUi victory. 
 
 This hymn was sung during the diet, not only at 
 Augsburg, but in all the churches of Saxony, and its 
 energetic strains were often seen to revive and inspirit 
 the most dejected minds. 
 
 On Easter-eve the troop reached Coburg, and on the 
 23d April the elector resumed his journey; but at tho 
 very moment of departure Luther received an order to 
 remain. "Some one has said, 'Hold your tongue, you 
 have a harsh voice,' " wrote he to a friend, lie sub- 
 mitted, however, without hesitation, setting an example 
 of that passive obedience which he so boldly advocated. 
 The elector feared that Luther's presence would still 
 further exasperate his adversaries, and drive Charles 
 to extreme measures : tho city of Augsburg had also 
 >\Titten to him to that effect. But at the same time 
 John was anxious to keep the reformer within reach, 
 that he might be able to consult him. IIo w;\s there- 
 fore left at Coburg, in the castle overlooking the town 
 and the river Itz, in the upper story on the south side. 
 It was from this place he wrote those numerous letters 
 dated from the region of birds ; and it was there that 
 for many months he had to maintain with his old 
 enemy of the Wartburg, Satan, a struggle full of dark- 
 ness and of anguish. 
 
 On tho 2d May the elector reached Augsburg: it 
 had been expected that he would stay away, and to 
 tiie great astonishment of all, he was the first at the 
 rendezvous. He immediately sent Dolzig, marshal of 
 the court, to meet the emperor and to compliment him. 
 On the 12th May, Philip of Hesse, who had at last 
 resolved on not separating himself from his ally, arrived 
 with an escort of one hundred and ninety horsemen ; 
 and almost at the same time the emperor entered Inn- 
 spruck, in the Tyrol, accompanied by his brother, the 
 queens of Hungary and Bohemia, the ambassadors of 
 France, England, and Portugal, Campeggio the papal 
 legate, and other cardinals, with many princes and 
 nobles of Germany, Spain, and Italy. 
 
 How to bring back the heretics to obedience to the 
 Church, was the great topic of conversation in this 
 brilliant court, among nobles and priests, ladies and 
 soldiei-s, councillors and ambassadors. Tiiey, or Charles 
 at least, were not for making them ascend the scaffold ; 
 but tiicy wished to act in such a manner that, un- 
 true to their faith, they should bend the knee to 
 tlie pope. Charles stopped at Innspruck to study the 
 situation of Germany, and ensure the success of liis 
 schemes. 
 
 Scarcely was his arrival known ere a crowd of 
 
 people, high and low, flocked round him on every side, 
 
 and more than 270,000 crowns, previously raised in 
 
 1 Wc have attempted a very fe'^lile translation of the second stanza. 
 
 Italy, served to make the Germans understand the 
 justice of Rome's cause. "All these heretics," was 
 the cry, " will fall to the ground and crawl to the feet 
 of the pope." 
 
 Charles did not think so. He was, on the contrary, 
 astonished to see what power the Reformation had 
 gained. He momentarily even entertained the idea of 
 leaving Augsburg alone, and of going straight to 
 Cologne, and there proclaiming his brother king of tho 
 Romans. Thus, religious interests would have given 
 way to dynastic interests, — at least so ran the report. 
 But Charles the Fifth did not stop at this idea. The 
 question of the Reformation was there before him, 
 increasing hourly in strength, and it could not be 
 eluded. 
 
 Two parties divided the imperial court. The one, 
 numerous and active, called upon the emperor to revive 
 simply the edict of Worms, and, without hearing the 
 Protestants, condemn their cause. The legate was at 
 the head of this party. " Do not hesitate," said he to 
 Charles ; " confiscate their property, establish the in- 
 quisition, and punish these obstinate heretics with fire 
 and sword." The Spaniards, who strongly seconded 
 these exhortations, gave way to their accustomed de- 
 bauchery, and many of them were arrested for seduc- 
 tion. This was a sad specimen of the faith they 
 wished to impose on Germany. Rome has always 
 thought lightly of morality. 
 
 Gattinara, although sick, had painfully followed in 
 Charles's train to neutralize the influence of the legate. 
 A determined adversary of the Roman policy, he 
 thought that the Protestants might render important 
 services to Christendom. " There is nothing I desire 
 so much," said he, " as to see the Elector of Saxony 
 and his allies persevere courageously in the profession 
 of the Gospel, and call for a free religious council. If 
 they allow themselves to be checked by promises or 
 threats, I hesitate myself, I stagger, and I doubt of the 
 means of salvation." The enlightened and honest 
 members of the Papal Church (and of whom there 
 is always a small number) necessarily sympathize with | 
 the Reformation. 
 
 Charles V., exposed to these contrary influences, 
 desired to restore Germany to religious unity by his 
 personal intervention : for a moment he thought him- 
 self on the eve of success. 
 
 Amongst the persons who crowded to Innspruck 
 was the unfortunate Christian, king of Denmark, 
 Charles's brother-in-law. In vain had he proposed 
 to his subjects undertaking a pilgrimage to Rome in 
 expiation of the cruelties of which he was accused : 
 his people had expelled him. Having repaired to 
 Saxony, to his uncle the elector, he had there heard 
 Luther, and had embraced the evangelical doctrines, 
 as far at least as external profession goes. This poor 
 dethroned monarch could not resist the eloquence of 
 the powerful ruler of two worlds, and Christian, won 
 over by Charles the Fifth, publicly placed himself 
 again under the sceptre of the Roman hierarchy. All 
 the papal party uttered a shout of triumph. Nothing 
 equals their credulity, and the importance they attach 
 to such valueless accessions: "I cannot describe the 
 emotion with which this news has filled me," wrote 
 Clement VH. to Charles, his hand trembling with joy; 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 " the brightness of your majesty's virtues begins at last 
 to scatter the diU'kness : this example will lead to num- 
 berless conversions." 
 
 Things were in this slate when Duke George of 
 Saxony, Duke William of Bavaria, and the Elector 
 Joachim of Brandenburg, tlie three German princes 
 who were tlie greatest enemies to the Reformation, 
 hastily arrived at Innspruck. 
 
 The tranquility of the elector, whom they had seen 
 at Augsburg, had alarmed them, for they knew not the 
 source whence John derived his courage : they fancied 
 be was meditating some perfidious design. " It is not 
 without reason," said they to Charles, " that the Elector 
 John has repaired the first to Augsburg, and that he 
 appeared there with a considerable train : he wishes to 
 seize your person. Act, then, with energy, and allow 
 us to offer your majesty a guard of six tliousand horse." 
 Conference upon conference immediately took place. 
 Tlie Protestants were affrighted. " They are holding 
 a diet at Innspruck," said Melancthon, " on the best 
 means of having our heads." But Gattinara prevailed 
 on Charles to preserve his neutrality. 
 
 While this agitation prevailed in the Tyi-ol, the 
 evangelical Christians, instead of mustering in arms, as 
 they were accused, sent up their prayers to heaven ; 
 and the Protestant princes were jsreparing to render 
 an account of their faith. 
 
 The Elector of Saxony held the first rank among 
 them. Sincere, upright, and pure, from his youth, 
 early disgusted with the brilliant tourneys in which he 
 had at first taken part, John of Saxony had joyfuUy 
 hailed the day of the Reformation, and the Gospel 
 light had gradually penetrated his serious and reflec- 
 tive mind. His gi-eat pleasure was to have the Holy 
 Scriptures read to him during the latter hours of the 
 day. It is true that, having arrived at an advanced 
 age, the pious elector sometimes fell asleep, but he soon 
 awoke with a start, and repeated the last passage 
 aloud. Although moderate, and a friend of peace, he 
 yet possessed an energy that was powerfully aroused 
 by the great interests of the faith. There is no prince 
 in the sixteenth century, and none, perhaps, since the 
 primitive times of the Church, who has done so much 
 as John of Saxony for the cause of the Gospel. Ac- 
 cordingly, it was against him that the first efforts of 
 the Papists were directed. 
 
 In order to gain him over, they wished to put in 
 operation very different tactics from those which had 
 been previously employed. At Spires, the evangelicals 
 had met with angry looks in every quarter ; at Augs- 
 burg, on the contrary, the Papists gave them a hearty 
 welcome ; they represented the distance that separated 
 the two parties as very trifling, and in their private 
 conversations made use of the mildest language, " seek- 
 ing thus to entice the credulous Protestants to take the 
 bait," says an historian. The latter yielded with sim- 
 plicity to these skilful manoeuvres. 
 
 Charles the Fifth was convinced that the simple 
 Germans would not be able to resist his star. " The 
 King of Denmark has been converted," said his cour- 
 tiers to him, "why should not the elector follow his 
 example? Let us draw him into the imperial atmos- 
 phere." John was immediately invited to come and 
 converse familiarly with the emperor at Innspruck, 
 
 with an assurance that he might reckon on Charles's 
 particular favour. 
 
 The prince-electoral, John Frederick, who on seeing 
 the advances of the Papists had at first exclaimed : 
 " We conduct our affairs with such awkwardness, that 
 it is quite pitiable ! " allowed himself to be caught by 
 this stratagem. " The Papist princes," said he to his 
 father, " exert every means of blackening our charac- 
 ters. Go to Innspruck in order to put a stop to these 
 underhand practices ; or if you are unwilling, send me 
 in your place." 
 
 This time the prudent elector moderated his son's 
 precipitancy, and replied to Charles's ministers, that it 
 was not proper to treat of the affairs of the diet in any 
 other place than that which the emperor had himself 
 appointed, and begged, in consequence, that his majesty 
 would hasten his arrival. This was the first check 
 that Charles met with. 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
 Atigstiurg— The Gospel Preached— The Emperor'a Message— The Sermons 
 Prohibited— Firmness of the Elector— The Elector's Reply— Preparation 
 of the Confession— Lather's Sinai— His Son and his Father— Luther's 
 Merriment— Luther's Diet at Cohurg— Saxony, a Paradise below— To 
 the Bishops— Travail of the Church— Charles— The Pope's Letter- 
 Melancthon on Fasting— The Church, the Judge— The Landgrave's 
 Catholic Spirit. 
 
 Meantime Augsburg was filling more and more every 
 day. Princes, bishops, deputies, gentlemen, cavaliers, 
 soldiei-s in rich uniforms, entered by every gate, and 
 thronged the streets, the public places, inns, churches, 
 and palaces. All that was most magnificent in Ger- 
 many was there about to be collected. The critical 
 circumstances in which the empire and Christendom 
 were placed, the presence of Charles V., and his kindly 
 manners, the love of novelty, of grand shows, and of 
 lively emotions, tore the Germans from their homes. 
 All those who had great interests to discuss, without 
 reckoning a crowd of idlers, flocked from the various 
 provinces of the empire, and hastily made their way 
 towards this illustrious city. 
 
 In the midst of the crowd the elector and the land- 
 grave were resolved to confess Jesus Christ, and to 
 take advantage of this convocation in order to convert 
 the empire. Scarcely had John arrived when he or- 
 dered one of his theologians to preach daily, with open 
 doors, in the church of the Dominicans. On Sunday, 
 the 8th May, the same was done in the church of St. 
 Catherine; on the 13th, Philip of Hesse opened the 
 gates of the cathedral, and his chaplain, Snepff, there 
 proclaimed the Word of salvation ; and on tlie follow- 
 ing Sunday (May 15) this prince ordered Cellarius, 
 minister of Augsburg, and a follower of Zwiugle, to 
 preach in the same temple. Somewhat later the land- 
 grave firmly settled himself in the church of St. Ulrich, 
 and the elector in that of St. Catherine. These were 
 the two positions taken up by these illustrious princes. 
 Every day the Gospel was preached in these places to 
 an immense and attentive crowd. 
 
 The partisans of Rome were amazed. They expected 
 
THE EMPEROR'S MESSAGE. 
 
 to see criminals endeavouring to dissemble tlieir faults, 
 and they met with confessors of Ciirist, wilh uplifted 
 heads and words of ])ower. Desirous of counterbalanc- 
 ing these sermons, the Bishop of Auf;sbnrg ordered his 
 suffragan and liis chaplain to ascend liie pnlpit. But 
 the Romisli priests understood better how to say mass 
 than to preach the Gospel. ''They shout, tlicy bawl," 
 said sonic. "They arc stupid fellows," added all their 
 hearers, shrugging their shoulders. 
 
 The Romanists, ashamed of their own priests, began 
 to grow angry, and unable to hold their ground by 
 preaching, had recourse to the secular power. "The 
 priests are setting wondrous machines at work to gain 
 Cicsar's mind," said Melaucthon. They succeeded, and 
 Charles made known his displeasure at the hardihood 
 of the princes. The friends of the pope then drew 
 near the I'rotestants, and whispered into their ears, 
 '• that the emperor, victor over the King of France 
 and the Komnn pontiff, would appear in Germany 
 to crush all the Gospellers." The anxious elector 
 demanded tlie advice of his theologians. 
 
 Before the answer was ready, Charles's orders ar- 
 rived, brought by two of his most influential ministei-s, 
 the counts of Nassau and of Nuenar. A more skilful 
 choice could not have been made. These two nobles, 
 although devoted to Charles, were favourable to the 
 Gospel, which they professed not long after. The 
 elector was, therefore, fully disposed to listen to their 
 counsel. 
 
 On the 24th May, the two counts delivered their 
 letters to John of Saxony, and declared to him tlic 
 emperor's exceeding grief that religious controversies 
 should disturb the good understanding which had for 
 so many years united the houses of Saxony and Austria ; 
 that he was astonished at seeing the elector oppose au 
 edict (tliat of Worms) which had been unanimously 
 j)assed by all the states of the empire ; and that the 
 alliances he had made tended to tear asunder the unity 
 of Germany, and might inundate it with blood. They 
 required at last that the elector would immediately put 
 a stop to the evangelical preachings, and added, in a 
 confidential tone, that they trembled at the tliought 
 of the immediate and deplorable consequences which 
 would certainly follow the elector's refusal. "This," 
 said they, " is only the expression of our own personal 
 sentiments." It was a diplomatic manoeuvre, the em- 
 peror having enjoined them to give utterance to a few 
 threats, but solely as if proceeding from themselves. 
 
 The elector was greatly agitated. " If his majesty 
 forbids the preaching of the Gospel," exclaimed he, 
 " I shall immediately return home." He waited, how- 
 ever, for the advice of his theologians. 
 
 Luther's answer was ready first. " The emperor is 
 oiu- master," said he ; " the town and all that is in it 
 belong to him. If your highness should give orders at 
 Torgau for this to be done, and for that to be left 
 undone, the people ought not to resist. I should pre- 
 fer endeavouring to change his majesty's decision by 
 humble and respectful solicitation ; but if he persists, 
 might makes right ; we have but done our duty." Thus 
 spoke the man who has often been represented as a 
 rebel. 
 
 Melaucthon and the others were nearly of the same 
 opinion, except that they insisted more on the necessity 
 
 of representing to the emperor, " that in their sermons 
 nothing controversial was introduced, but they were 
 content simply to teach tlio doctrine of Christ the 
 Saviour. Let us beware, above all," continued they, 
 " of leaving the city. Let your highness, with an in- 
 trepid heart, confess in presence of his majesty by what 
 wonderful ways you have attained to a right under- 
 standing of the truth, and do not allow yourself to be 
 alarmed at these thunder-claps that fall from the lips 
 of our enemies." To confess the truth — such was the 
 object to which, according to the reformers, everything 
 else should be subordinate. 
 
 Will the elector yield to this first demand of Charles, 
 and thus begin, even before the emperor's arrival, that 
 list of sacrifices, the end of which cannot be foreseen ? 
 
 No one in Augsburg was firmer than John. In vain 
 did the reformers represent that they were in the 
 emperor's city, and only strangers ; the elector shook 
 his head. Melaucthon, in despair, wrote to Luther: 
 "Alas ! how untractable is our old man !" Neverthe- 
 less he again returned to the cliarge. Fortunately 
 there was an intrepid man at the elector's right hand, 
 the chancellor Bruck, who, feeling convinced that 
 policy, honour, and above all, duty, bound the friends 
 of the Reformation to resist the menaces of Charles, 
 said to the elector : "The emperor's demand is but a 
 worthy beginning to bring about the definitive abolition 
 of the Gospel. If we yield at present, they will crush 
 us by and by. Let us, therefore, hiunbly beg his 
 majesty to permit the continuance of the sermons." 
 Thus, at that time, a statesman stood in the foremost 
 rank of the confessors of Jesus Christ. This is one of 
 the characteristic features of this great age, and it must 
 not be forgotten, if we would understand its history 
 aright. 
 
 On the 31st May, the elector sent his answer in 
 writing to Charles's ministers. "It is not true," it 
 bore, " that the edict of Worms was approved of by 
 the six electors. How could the elector, my brother, 
 and myself, by approving it, have opposed the ever- 
 lasting AVord of Almighty God 1 Accordingly, suc- 
 ceeding diets have declared this edict impossible to 
 be executed. As for the relations of friendship that I 
 have formed, their only aim is to protect me against 
 acts of violence. Let my accusers lay before the eyes 
 of his majesty the alliances they have made; I am 
 ready to produce mine, and the emperor shall decide 
 between us. — Finally, as to the demand to suspend our 
 preachings, nothing is proclaimed in them but the 
 glorious truth of God, and never was it so necessary to 
 us. We cannot, therefore, do without it ! " 
 
 This reply must necessarily hasten the arrival of 
 Charles ; and it was m-gent they should be prepared to 
 receive him. To proclaim their belief, and then be 
 silent, was the whole plan of the Protestant campaign. 
 A confession was therefore necessary. One man, of 
 small stature, frail, timid, and in great alarm, was 
 commissioned to prepare this instrument of war. 
 Philip Melaucthon worked at it night and day: he 
 weighed every expression, softened it down, changed 
 it, and then frequently returned to his first idea. He 
 was wasting away his strength ; his friends trembled 
 lest he should die over his task ; and Luther enjoined 
 him, as early as the 12th of May, under pain of 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 anathema, to take measures for the preservation of "his 
 little body," and not "to commit suicide for the love 
 of God." "God is as usefully served by repose," 
 added he, " and, indeed, man never serves Him better 
 than by keeping himself tranquil. It is for this reason 
 God willed that the Sabbath should be so strictly 
 observed." 
 
 Notwithstanding these solicitations, Melancthon's 
 application augmented, and he set about an exposition 
 of the Christian faith, at once mild, moderate, and as 
 little removed as possible from the doctrine of the 
 Latin Church. At Coburg he had already put his 
 hand to the task, and traced out, in the first part, the 
 doctrines of the faith, according to the articles of 
 Schwabach ; and in the second, the abuses of the 
 Church according to the articles of Torgau, making 
 altogether quite a new work. At Augsburg he gave a 
 more correct and elecjant fcirm to this confession. 
 
 'Cr^il'^^^W 
 
 The Apology, as it was then called, was completed 
 on the 11th May; and the elector sent it to Luther, 
 begging him to mark what ought to be changed. " I 
 have said what I thought most useful," added Melanc- 
 thon, who feared that his friend would find the con- 
 fession too weak ; " for Eck ceases not to circulate 
 against us the most diabolical calumnies, and I have 
 endeavoured to oppose an antidote to his poisons." 
 
 Luther replied to the elector on the 1,5th May: "I 
 have read Master Philip's apology ; I like it well 
 enough, and have no corrections to make. Besides, 
 that would hardly suit me, for I cauuot walk so 
 meekly and so silently. May Christ our Lord grant 
 that this work may produce much and great fruit." 
 
 Each day, however, the elector's councillors and 
 theologians, in concert with Melancthon, improved the 
 confession, and endeavoured to render it such that the 
 charmed diet should, in its own despite, hear it to the 
 very end. 
 
 While the struggle was thus preparing at Augsburg, 
 Luther at Coburg, on the summit of the hill, " on his 
 
 Sinai," as he called it, raised his hands, like Moses, to- 
 wards heaven. He was the real general of the spiritual 
 war that was then waging ; his letters ceased not to 
 bear to the combatants the directions which they 
 needed, and numerous pamphlets issuing from his 
 stronghold, like discharges of musketry, spread confu- 
 sion in the enemy's camp. 
 
 The place where he had been left was, by its soli- 
 tude, favourable to study and to meditation. " I shall 
 make a Zion of this Sinai," said he, on the 22d April, 
 "and I shall build here three tabernacles, — one to 
 
 the Psalms, another to the Prophets, and a third 
 
 to ^sop ! " This last word may well startle us. The 
 association belongs neither to the language nor the 
 spirit of the Apostles. It is true that iEsop was not 
 to be his principal study : the fables were soon laid 
 aside, and truth alone engaged Luther. " I shall weep, 
 I shall pray, I shall never be silent," wrote he, " until 
 I know that my cry has been 
 - i™^3«^-<c!i;=^^ssi^i5>^ lieard in heaven." 
 
 j Besides, by way of relaxa- 
 tion, he had something better 
 ' ;lian JEsop ; he had those do- 
 ustic joys whose precious 
 ; Lusures the Reformation had 
 nened to the ministers of the 
 .\'ord. It was at this time he 
 Mote that charming letter to 
 i- infant son, in which he 
 r.^cribes a delightful garden 
 here children dressed in gold 
 lie sporting about, picking up 
 a]iples, pears, cherries, and 
 plums ; they sing, dance, and 
 enjoy themselves, and ride 
 pretty little horses, with golden 
 bridles and silver sadiUes. '■ 
 
 But the reformer was soon 
 drawn away from these pleas- 
 ing images. About this time 
 he learnt that his father had 
 gently fallen asleep in the 
 faith which is in Jesus Christ. 
 "Alas!" exclaimed he, shedding tears of filial love, 
 " it is by the sweat of his brow that he made me what 
 I am." Other trials assailed him ; and to bodily pains 
 were added the phantoms of his imagination. One 
 night, in particular, he saw three torches pass rapidly 
 before his eyes, and at the same moment heard claps 
 of thunder in his head, which he ascribed to the devil. 
 His servant ran in at the moment he fainted, and after 
 having restored him to animation, read to him the 
 Epistle to the Galatiaus. Luther, who had fallen 
 asleep, said as he awoke : " Come, and despite of the 
 devil, let us sing the Psalm, Out of the depths have I 
 cried unto thee, Lord!" They both sang the hymn. 
 WhUe Luther was thus tormented by these internal 
 noises, he translated the prophet Jeremiah, and yet he 
 often deplored his idleness. 
 
 He soon devoted himseK to other studies, and poured 
 out the floods of his irony on the mundane practices of 
 courts. He saw Venice, the pope, and the King of 
 
 1 Tlus letter, which is a masterpiece of its kind, may bo found in Luther's 
 Epp., iv. 41, and also in Riddle's "Luther and his Times," p. 208. 
 
SAXONY A PARADISE BELOW. 
 
 449 
 
 France, giving their liands to Charles V. to crush tlie 
 Gospel. Then, alone in his chamber in the old castle, 
 he bnrst into irrcsistiblo laughter. " Mr. Par-ma-fo;/, 
 (it was thus he designated Francis 1.,) In-nomine- 
 Domini, (the pope,) and the republic of Venice, pledge 
 their goods and their bodies to the emperor. . . . 
 Si(nctissimiim/u(lus. A most holy alliance truly! This 
 league between these four powers belongs to the chap- 
 ter yoii-credimtis. Venice, the pope, and France be- 
 come imperialists! . . . But tlicso are three persons 
 in one substance, tilled with unspeakable hatred against 
 the emperor. Mr. Par-ma-foij cannot forget his defeat 
 at Pavia; Mr. In-nomine-Doinini, is, 1st, an Italian, 
 which is already too much ; 2d, a Florentine, which is 
 worse ; 3d, a bastard, — that is to say, a child of the 
 devil ; 4ti), ho will never forget the disgrace of the 
 sack of Rome. As for the Venetians, they are Vene- 
 tians, — that is quite enough ; and they have good 
 reason to avenge themselves on the posterity of Maxi- 
 milian. AU this belongs to the chapter Firmiter-crcdi- 
 miis. But God will help tlie pious Charles, who is 
 a sheep among wolves. Amen." The ex-monk of 
 Erfurt had a surer political foresight than many 
 diplomatists of his age. 
 
 Impatient at seeing the diet put off from day to day, 
 Luther formed his resolution, and ended by convoking 
 it even at Coburg. "We are already in full assembly," 
 ■wrote he, on the 28th April and the 9th May. " You 
 might here see kings, dukes, and other grandees, de- 
 liberating on the affaire of their kingdom, and with 
 indefatigable voice publishing their dogmas and decrees 
 in the air. They dwell not in those caverns which you 
 decorate with the name of palaces: the heavens are 
 their canopy; the leafy trees form a floor of a thousand 
 colours; and their walls are the ends of the earth. They 
 have a horror of all the unmeaning luxury of silk and 
 gold ; they ask neither courses nor armour ; and have 
 all the same clothing and the same colour. I have not 
 seen or heard their emperor ; but if I can understand 
 them, they have determined this year to make a pitiless 
 
 war upon the most excellent fruits of the earth. 
 
 — Ah ! my dear friends," said he to his colleagues, to 
 whom he was writing, "these are the sophists, the 
 Papists, who are assembled before me from all quarters 
 of the world to make me hear their sermons and their 
 cries." These two letters, dated from the " empire of 
 ravens aiid crows," finish in the following mournful 
 strain, which shews us the reformer descending into 
 himself after this play of his imagination : " Enough 
 of jesting! — jesting which is, however, sometimes 
 necessary to dispel the gloomy thoughts that over- 
 whelm me." 
 
 Luther soon returned to real life, and thrilled with 
 joy at beholding the fruits that the Reformation was 
 already bearing, and which were for him a more power- 
 ful " apology" than even the confession of Melancthon. 
 "Is there in the whole world a single country to be 
 compared to your highness's states," wrote he to the 
 elector, " and which possesses preachers of so pure a 
 doctrine, or pastors so fitted to bring about the reign 
 of peace ? Where do wc see, as in Saxony, boys and 
 girls well instructed in the Holy Scriptures and in the 
 Catechism, increasing in wisdom and in stature, pray- 
 ing, believing, talking of God and of Christ better than 
 
 has been done hitherto by all the universities, convents, 
 and chapters of Christendom?" — "My dear Duke 
 Joiui, says the Lord to you, I commend this paradise 
 to thee, the most beautiful that exists in the world, 
 tiiat thou mayest be its gardener." And then he 
 added : " Alas ! the madness of the papist princes 
 changes this paradise of God into a dirty slough, and 
 corrupting the youth, daily peoples with real devils 
 their states, their tables, and their palaces." 
 
 Luther, not content with encouraging his prince, 
 desired also to frighten his adversaries. It was with 
 this intent that he wrote at that time an address to 
 the members of the clergy assembled at Augsburg. 
 A crowd of tlioughts, like lansquenets armed cap-a-pie', 
 " rushed in to fatigue and bewilder him ;" and in fact, 
 there is no want of barbed words in the discourse he 
 addresses to the bishops. " In short," said he to them, 
 in conclusion, " we know, and you know, that we have 
 the Word of God, and that you have it not. O pope ! 
 if I live I shall be a pestilence to thee ; and if I die, I 
 shall be thy death ?" 
 
 Thus w;is Luther present at Augsburg, although in- 
 visible; and he effected more by his words and by 
 prayers than Agricola, Breutz, or Melancthon. These 
 were the days of travail for the Gospel truth. It was 
 about to appear in the world with a might, destined to 
 eclipse all that had been done since the time of St. 
 Paul ; but Luther only announced and manifested the 
 things that God was effecting: he did not execute 
 them himself. He was, as regards the events of the 
 Church, what Socrates was to philosophy: " I imitate 
 my mother, (she was a midwife,)" this philosopher was 
 in the habit of saying ; " she does not travail herself, 
 but she aids others." Luther — and he never ceased 
 repeating it — has created nothing ; but lie has brought 
 to light the precious seed, hidden for ages in the bosom 
 of the Church. The man of God is not he who seeks 
 to form his age according to his own peculiar ideas; 
 but he who, distinctly perceiving God's truth, such as 
 it is found in His Word, and as it is hidden in His 
 Church, brings it to his contemporaries with courage 
 and decision. 
 
 Never had these qualities been more necessary, for 
 matters were taking an alarming aspect. On the 4th 
 June died Chancellor Gattinara, who was to Charles 
 the Fifth " what Ulpian was to Alexander Severus," 
 says Melancthon, and with him all the human hopes 
 of the Protestants vanished. " It is God," Luther had 
 said, " who has raised up for us a Naaman in the court 
 of the King of Syria." In truth, Gattinara alone 
 resisted the pope. When Charles brought to him the 
 objections of Rome : " Remember," said the chancellor, 
 "that you are master!" Henceforward, everything 
 seemed to take a new direction. The pope required 
 that Charles should be satisfied with being his " lictor," 
 as Luther says, to carry out his judgments against the 
 heretics. Eck, whose name (according to Melancthon) 
 was no bad imitation of the cry of Luther's crows, 
 heaped one upon another a multitude of pretended 
 heretical propositions, extracted from the reformer's 
 writings. They amounted to four hundred and four, 
 and yet ho made excuse that, being taken unawares, 
 he was forced to restrict himself to so small a num- 
 ber, and he called loudly for a disputation with the 
 
450 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFOEMATION. 
 
 Lntlierans. They retorted ou these propositions by a 
 number of ironical and biting theses on " wine, Venus, 
 and baths, against John Eck ;" and the poor doctor 
 became the general laughing-stock. 
 
 But others went to work more skilfully than he. 
 Cochloeus, wlio became chaplain to Duke George of 
 Saxony in 1527, begged an interview with Melanc- 
 thou, " for," added he, " I cannot converse with your 
 married ministers." Melancthon, who was looked 
 upon with an evil eye at Augsburg, and who had 
 complained of being more solitary there than Luther 
 in his castle, was touched by this coiu-tesy, and -was 
 still more fully penetrated with the idea that things 
 should be ordered in the mildest manner possible. 
 
 The Romish priests and laymen made a great uproar, 
 because on fast days meat was usually eaten at the 
 elector's com't. Melancthon advised his prince to 
 restrict the liberty of his attendants in this respect. 
 " This disorder," said he, " far from leading the simple- 
 minded to the Gospel, scandalizes them." He added 
 in his ill-humour : " A fine holiness truly, to make it a 
 matter of conscience to fast, and yet to be night and 
 day given up to wine and folly!" The elector did not 
 yield to Melancthou's advice ; it would have been a 
 mark of weakness of Avhich his adversaries would have 
 known how to take advantage. 
 
 On the 31st May, the Saxon Confession was at 
 length communicated to the other Protestant states, 
 who required that it should be presented in common 
 in the name of them all. But at the same time they 
 desired to make their reservations with regard to the 
 infiuenee of the state. " We appeal to a council," said 
 Melancthon ; " we will not receive the emperor as our 
 judge ; the ecclesiastical constitutions themselves for- 
 bid him to pronounce in spiritual matters. Moses 
 declares that it is not the civil magistrate who decides, 
 but the sons of Levi. St. Paul also says, (1 Cor. xiv.,) 
 'ct the others judge, which cannot be understood except 
 of an entire Christian assembly; and the Saviour him- 
 elf gives us this commandment : Tell it unto tlie Church. 
 vVe pledge, therefore, our obedience to the emperor in 
 all civil matters; but as for the Word of God, we 
 demand liberty." 
 
 All were agreed on this point ; but the dissent came 
 from another quarter. The Lutherans feared to com- 
 promise theii- cause if they went hand-in-hand with 
 the Zwinglians. " This is Lutheran madness," replied 
 Bucer: " it will perish of its own weight." But, far 
 from allowing this madness " to perish," the reformed 
 augmented the disunion by exaggerated complaints. 
 " In Saxony they are beginning to sing Latin hymns 
 again," said they; "the sacred vestments are resumed, 
 and oblations are called for anew. We would rather 
 be led to the slaughter than be Christians after that 
 fashion." 
 
 The afflicted landgrave, says Bucer, was " between 
 the hammer and the anvil ;" and his allies caused him 
 more uneasiness than his enemies. He applied to 
 llhegius, to Brcntz, to Melancthon, declaring that it 
 was his most earnest wish to see concord prevail among 
 all the evangelical doctors. " If these fatal doctrines 
 arc not opposed," replied Melancthon, " there will be 
 rents in the Church that will last to the end of the 
 world. Do not the Zwinglians boast of their full 
 
 coffers, of having soldiers prepared, and of foreign 
 nations disposed to aid them? Do they not talk of 
 sharing among them the rights and the property of the 
 bishops, and of proclaiming liberty? Good God ! shall 
 we not think of posterity, which, if we do not repress 
 these guilty seditions, will be at once without throne 
 and without altar?" — "No, no! we are one," replied 
 this generous prince, who was so much in advance of 
 his age ; " we all confess the same Christ, we all pro- 
 fess that we must eat Jesus Christ, by faith, in the 
 Eucharist. Let us unite." All was unavailing. The 
 time in which true catholicity was to replace this 
 sectarian spirit, of which Rome is the most perfect 
 expression, had not yet arrived. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Agitation in Augsbnrg — Violence of the Imperialists — Charles at Btunich — 
 Charles's Arrival— The Nuncio's Blessing— The Imperial Procession- 
 Charles's Appearance — Enters Augsburg — Te Deum — The Benediction 
 — Charles desii-es the Sermons to be discontinued — Brandenburg offei-a 
 his Head — The Emperor's Request for Corpus Christi — Refusal of the 
 Princes— Agitation of Chai-les— The Princes oppose Tradition— Proces- 
 sion of Corpus Christi — Exasperation of Charles. 
 
 In proportion as the emperor drew near Augsburg, the 
 anxieties of the Protestants continued increasing. The 
 burghers of this imperial city expected to see it become 
 the theatre of strange events. Accordingly they said, 
 that if the elector, the landgrave, and other friends of 
 the Reformation, Avere not in the midst of them, they 
 woiUd all desert it. "A great destruction threatens 
 us," was repeated on every side. One of Charles's 
 haughty expressions above all disquieted the Protes- 
 tants. " What do these electors Avant with me ?" he 
 had said impatiently; "I shall do what I please!" 
 Thus arbitrary rule was the imperial law destined to 
 prevail in the diet. 
 
 To this agitation of men's minds was added the 
 agitation of the streets, or rather, one led to the other. 
 Masons and locksmiths were at work in all the public 
 places and crossings, laboriously fastening barriers and 
 chains to the walls, that might be closed or stretched 
 at the first cry of alarm. At the same time, about 
 eight hundred foot and horse soldiers were seen patrol- 
 ling the streets, dressed in velvet and silk, whom the 
 magistrates had enrolled in order to receive the em- 
 peror with magnificence. 
 
 Matters were in this state, and it was about the 
 middle of May, when a number of insolent Spanish 
 quartermasters arrived, who, looking with contemp- 
 tuous eyes on these wretched burghers, entered their 
 houses, conducted themselves with violence, and even 
 rudely tore down the arms of some of the princes. 
 The magistrates having delegated councillors to treat 
 with them, the Spaniards made an impudent reply. 
 "Alas !" said the citizens, "if the servants are so, what 
 will their masters be?" The ministers of Charles were 
 grieved at their impertinence, and sent a German quar- 
 termaster, who employed the forms of German polite- 
 ness to make them forget this Spanish haughtiness. 
 
ARRIVAL OF CHARLES V. AT MUNICH. 
 
 That did not last long, and they soon felt more 
 serious alarm. The Council of Augsburg were asked 
 what was the meaning of these chains and soldiers, 
 and they were ordered, in the emperor's name, to take 
 down the one, and disband the other. The magis- 
 trates of the city answered in alarm : " For more than 
 ten years past we have intended putting up these 
 chains ; and as for the soldiers, our object is simply to 
 pay due honour to his majesty." After many parleys 
 it was agreed to dismiss the troops, and that the impe- 
 rial commanders should select afresh a thousand men, 
 who should make oath to the emperor, but be paid by 
 the city of Augsburg. 
 
 The imperial quartermasters then resumed all their 
 insolence ; and no longer giving themselves the trouble 
 of entering the houses and the shops, they tore down 
 the signboards of the Augsburg citizens, and wrote in 
 their place how many men and horses the latter would 
 be required to lodge. 
 
 Such were the preludes to the work of conciliation 
 that Charles V. had announced, and that he was so 
 slow in beginning. Accordingly, his delay, attributed 
 by some to the crowds of people who surrounded him 
 with their acclamations ; by others, to the solicitations 
 of the priests, who opposed his entry into Augsburg 
 until he had imposed silence on the ministers ; and by 
 others, finally, to the lessons the pope had given him 
 in the arts of policy and stratagem, still more estranged 
 the elector and his allies. 
 
 At last Charles, having quitted Innspruck two days 
 after Gattinara's death, arrived at Munich on the 10th 
 June. His reception was magnificent. About two 
 miles from the town a temporary fortress had been 
 erected, around which a sham-fight took place. .Sol- 
 diers mounted to the assault, mines were exploded ; 
 discharges of artillery, clouds of smoke, the clash of 
 arms, the shouts of the combatants, delighted the eyes 
 and ears of the emperor ; within the city, theatres had 
 been raised in the open air, in which the Jewish Esther, 
 the Persian Camhyses, and other pieces not less famous, 
 were represented ; and the whole, combined with splen- 
 did fire-works, formed the welcome given by the 
 adherents of the pope to him whom they styled their 
 saviour. 
 
 Charles was not far distant from Augsburg. As 
 early as the 11th June, every day and every hour 
 members of the imperial household, carriages, waggons, 
 and baggage, entered the city, to the sound of the 
 clacking whip and of the horn ; and the burghers, in 
 amazement, gazed with dejected eyes on all this inso- 
 lent train, that fell upon their city like a flight of 
 locusts. 
 
 At five o'clock in the morning of the 15th June, the 
 elector, the princes, and their councillors, assembled at 
 the town-hall, and erelong arrived the imperial com- 
 missaries,, with orders for them to go out and meet 
 Charles. At three in the afternoon the princes and 
 deputies quitted the city, and, having reached a little 
 bridge across the river Lech, they were halted, and 
 waited for the emperor. The eyes of every member 
 of the brilliant assemblage, thus stopping on the smil- 
 ing banks of an alpine toiTent, were directed along the 
 road to Munich. At length, after waiting two or three 
 hours, clouds of dust and a loud noise aonounced the 
 
 emperor. Two thousand of the imperial guard marched 
 first ; and as soon as Charles had come to within fifty 
 paces of the river, the electors and princes alighted. 
 Their sons, who had advanced beyond the bridge, per- 
 ceiving the emperor preparing to do the same, ran to 
 him and begged him to remain on horseback ; but 
 Charles dismounted without hesitation, and approach- 
 ing the princes with an amiable smile, cordially shook 
 hands witii them. Albert of Mentz, in his quality of 
 arch-chancellor of the empire, now welcomed the em- 
 peror, an 1 the Count-palatine Frederick replied in 
 behalf of Charles. 
 
 While this was passing, three individuals remained 
 apart on a little elevation; these were the Roman 
 legate, proudly seated on a mide, glittering with purple, 
 and accompanied by two other cardinals, the Arch- 
 bishop of Salzburg, and the Bishop of Trent. The 
 nuncio, beholding all these great personages on the 
 road, raised his hands, and gave them his blessing. 
 Immediately the emperor, the king, and the princes 
 who submitted to the pope, fell on their knees ; the 
 Spaniards, Italians, Netherlanders, and Germans in 
 their train, imitated their movements, casting, however, 
 a side-glance on the Protestants, who, in the midst of 
 this humbly prostrate crowd, alone remained standing. 
 Charles did not appear to notice this, but he, doubtless, 
 understood what it meant. The Elector of Branden- 
 burg then delivered a Latin speech to the legate. Ha 
 had been selected because he spoke this language bet- 
 ter than the princes of the Church; and accordingly, 
 Charles, when praising his eloquence, silly put in 
 a word about the negligence of the prelates. The 
 emperor now prepared to remount his horse; the 
 Prince-electoral of Saxony, and the young princes of 
 Luueburg, Mecklenburg, Brandenburg, and Anhalt, 
 rushed towards him to aid him in getting into his 
 saddle : one held the bridle, another the stirrup, and all 
 were charmed at the magnificent appearance of their 
 powerful sovereign. The procession began to move on. 
 
 First came two companies of lansquenets, com- 
 manded by Simon Seitz, a citizen of Augsburg, who 
 had made the campaign of Italy, and was returning 
 home laden with gold. Next advanced the house- 
 holds of the six electors, composed of princes, counts, 
 councillors, gentlemen, and soldiers ; the household of 
 the dukes of Bavaria had slipped into their ranks ; and 
 the four hundred and fifty horsemen that composed 
 it marched five abreast, covered with bright cuirasses, 
 and wearing red doublets, while over their heads floated 
 handsome many-coloured plumes. Bavaria was already 
 in this age the main support of Rome in Germany. 
 
 Immediately after came the households of the em- 
 peror and of his brother, in striking contrast with this 
 warlike show. They were composed of Turkish, 
 Polish, Arabian, and other led horses ; then followed 
 a multitude of young pages, clad in yellow or red 
 velvet, with Spanish, Bohemian, and Austrian nobles, 
 in robes of silk and velvet ; among these the Bohemians 
 had the most martial air, and gracefully rode their 
 superb and prancing coursers. Last, the trumpeters, 
 drummers, heralds, grooms, footmen, and the legate's 
 cross-bearers, announced the approach of the princes. 
 
 In fact, these powerful lords, whose contentions had 
 so often filled Germany with confusion and war, nov.^ 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 advanced riding peacefully side by side. After the 
 princes ajjpeared the electors ; and the Elector of 
 Saxony, according to custom, carried the naked and 
 glittering imperial sword immediately before the em- 
 peror. 
 
 Last came the prince, nn -wlmm all eyes were fixed. 
 Thirty years of au.-. "f 'li-tiiijiii-licJ port uiid pleasing 
 
 t'l 
 
 
 i 
 
 -c^ lWl£^-_:r..^:^ 
 
 featiu-es, robed in golden garments that glittered all 
 over with precious stones, wearing a small Spanish 
 hat on the crown of his head, mounted on a beautiful 
 Polish hackney of the most brilliant whiteness, rid- 
 ing beneath a rich canopy of red, white, and green 
 damask, borne by six senators of Augsburg, and cast- 
 ing around him looks in which gentleness was mingled 
 with gravity, Charles excited the liveliest enthusiasm, 
 
 and every one exclaimed that he was the handsomest 
 man in the empire, as well as the mightiest prince in 
 the world. 
 
 He had at first desired to place his brother and the 
 
 legate at his side ; but the Elector of IMentz, attended 
 
 by two hundred guards arrayed in silk, had claimed 
 
 the emperor's right hand ; and the Elector of Cologne, 
 
 with a hundred well-armed attendants, 
 
 had taken his station on the left. King 
 
 Ferdinand and the legate came next; 
 
 to whom succeeded the cardinals, am- 
 
 BBR^^Hr^ bassadors, and prelates, among whom 
 
 was remarked the haughty Bishop of 
 
 Osma, the emperor's confessor. The 
 
 imperial cavalry and the troops of 
 
 Augsburg closed the procession. 
 
 Never, according to the historians, 
 had anything so magnificent been seen 
 in the empire ; but they advanced 
 
 I \\1} and it was between eight and 
 niuL o clock in the evening before they 
 1 1 htd the gates of Augsburg. Here 
 tl \ met the burgomaster and council- 
 
 I 1 ^\ho prostrated themselves before 
 C li iiks, and, at the same time, the can- 
 
 II n tiom the ramparts, the bells from 
 ill the steeples in full peal, the noise of 
 tiunipets and kettle-drums, and the joy- 
 tul acclamations of the people, re-echoed 
 ^ ith loud din. Stadion, bishop of Augs- 
 burg, and his clergy robed in white, 
 struck up the Advenisti desirahilis ; and 
 SIX canons, advancing with a magni- 
 lietut canopy, prepared to conduct the 
 
 111] lor to the cathedral, when Charles's 
 li 1 , staitled at this unusual sight, 
 
 II 1 1 uly reared, and the emperor had 
 1 1 difficulty in mastering him. At 
 
 I I ill Charles entered the minster, 
 \ 1 1 li T\a» ornamented with garlands 
 
 III 1 11 iwers, and suddenly illuminated 
 1 \ 1 thousind torches. 
 
 1 1r emperor went up to the altar, and 
 t II1114 on his knees, raised his hands to- 
 \\ 1 Is heaven. During the Te Deinn, 
 tl Protestants observed with anxiety 
 til it Charles kept conversing in a low 
 tone \\ ith the Archbishop of Mentz ; that 
 he bent his ear to the legate who ap- 
 pioachedto speak to him, and nodded 
 m a friendly manner to Duke George. 
 All this appeared to them of evil omen ; 
 but at the moment when the priests 
 sang the Te errjo quccsuvins, Charles, 
 bieakmg off his conversations, suddenly 
 rose, and one of the acolytes running to 
 with a gold-embroidered cushion, the emperor put 
 it aside, and knelt on the bare stones of the church. 
 All the assembly knelt with him ; the elector and the 
 landgrave alone remained standing. Duke George, 
 astonished at such boldness, cast a threatening glance 
 at his cousin. The Margrave of Brandenburg, carried 
 away by the crowd, had fallen on his knees ; but hav- 
 ing seen his two allies standing, he hastily rose up again. 
 
INTERVIEW OF CHARLES WITH THE PRINCES. 
 
 The Cardinal-archbishop of Salzburg then proceeded 
 to pronounce the benediction ; but Campeggio, impa- 
 tient at having as yet taken no part in the ceremony, 
 hastened to the altar, and rudely thrusting the arch- 
 bishop aside, said sharply to him : " This ollicc belongs 
 to mc, and not to you." The other gave way, the 
 emperor bent down, and the landgrave, with difficulty 
 concealing a smile, hid himself behind a candelabrum. 
 The bells now rang out anew, the procession recom- 
 menced its march, and the princes conducted the em- 
 peror to the palatinate, (the name given to the bishoj)'s 
 palace,) wliich had been in-eparcd for him. The crowd 
 now dispersed : it was after ten at night. 
 
 The hour was come in which the partisans of the 
 papacy flattered themselves with the prospect of render- 
 ing the Protestants untrue to their faith. The arrival 
 of the emperor, the procession of the holy sacrament 
 that was preparing, the late hour, — all had been calcu- 
 lated beforehand ; " the nocturns of treason were about 
 to begin," said Spalatin. 
 
 A few minutes of general conversation took place in 
 the emperor's apartments ; the princes of the Romish 
 party were then allowed to retire ; but Chai-les had 
 given a sign to the Elector of Saxony, to the Land- 
 grave of Hesse, to George, margrave of Brandenburg, 
 to the Prince of Anhalt, and to the Duke of Luneburg, 
 to follow him into his private chamber. His brother 
 Ferdinand, who was to serve as interpreter, alone went 
 in with them. Charles thought that so long as the 
 Protestant princes were before the world, they would 
 not yield ; but that in a private and friendly interview, 
 he might obtain all he desired of them. 
 
 " His majesty requests you to discontinue the ser- 
 mon," said Ferdinand. On hearing these words the 
 two elder princes (the elector and the margrave) 
 turned pale, and did not speak: there was a long 
 silence. 
 
 At last the landgrave said : " We entreat your ma- 
 jesty to withdraw your recjuest, for our ministers preach 
 only the pure Word of God, as did the ancient doctors 
 of the Church, St. Augustine, St. Hilary, and so many 
 others. Of this your majesty may easily convince 
 yourself. We cannot deprive ourselves of the food of 
 the Word of God, and deny His Gospel." 
 
 Ferdinand, resuming the conversation in French, 
 (for it was in this language that he conversed with his 
 brother,) informed the emperor of the landgrave's 
 answer. Nothing was more displeasing to Charles 
 than these citations of Hilary and Augustine ; the 
 colour mounted to his cheeks, and he was nearly giving 
 way to his anger. " His majesty," said Ferdinand in 
 a more positive tone, "cannot desist from his demand." 
 — "Your conscience," quickly replied the landgrave, 
 " has no right to command ours." As Ferdinand still 
 persisted, the margrave, who had been silent until then, 
 could contain himself no longer, and, without caring 
 for interpreters, stretched out his neck towards Charles, 
 exclaiming in deep emotion : " Rather than allow the 
 Word of the Lord to be taken from me, rather than 
 deny my God, I would kneel down before your majesty 
 and have my head cut off ! " As he uttered these 
 simplcapd magnanimous words, says a contemporary, 
 the prince accompanied them with a significant gesture, 
 and let his hands fall on his ueck like the headsman's 
 
 axe. Tlie excitement of the princes was at its height : 
 had it been necessary, they would all four have in- 
 stantly walked to tlie scaffold. Charles was moved by 
 it ; surprised and agitated, he hastily cried out in his 
 bad German, making a show of checking the land- 
 grave: "Dear prince, not the head! not the head!" 
 But he had scarcely uttered these few words when ho 
 checked himself. 
 
 These were the only words that Charles pronounced 
 before the princes during all the diet. His ignorance 
 of the German language, and sometimes also the 
 etiquette of the Escurial, compelled him to speak only 
 by the mouth of his brother, or of the count-palatine. 
 As he was in the habit of consecrating four hours daily 
 to Divine worship, the people said : " He talks more 
 with God than with men." This habitual silence was 
 not favourable to his plans. They required activity 
 and eloquence ; but instead of that the Germans saw 
 in the dumb countenance of their youthful emperor, a 
 mere puppet, nodding his head and winking his eyes. 
 Charles sometimes felt very keenly the faults of this 
 position : "To be able to speak German," said he, "I 
 would willingly sacrifice any other language, even were 
 it Spanish or French, and more than that, one of my 
 states." 
 
 Ferdinand saw that it was useless to insist on the 
 cessation of these meetings ; but he had another arrow 
 in his quiver. The next day was the festival of Corpus 
 Christi, and, by a custom that had never as yet been 
 infringed, all the princes and deputies present at the 
 diet were expected to take part in the procession. 
 Would the Protestants refuse this act of courtesy at 
 the very opening of a diet to which each one came in 
 a conciliatory spirit? Have they not declared that 
 the body and blood of Christ are really in the Host ? 
 Do they not boast of their opposition to Zwingle ; and 
 can they stand aloof without being tainted with heresy? 
 Now, if they share in the pomp that surrounds " the 
 Lord's body;" if they mingle with that crowd of clergy, 
 glittering in luxury and swelling with pride, who 
 carry about the god whom they have created ; if they 
 are present when the people bow down, will they not 
 irrevocably compromise their faith ? The machine is 
 well prepared ; its movements cannot fail ; there is no 
 more doubt ! The craft of the Italians is about to 
 triumph over the simplicity of these German boors ! 
 
 Ferdinand therefore resumes, and making a weapon 
 of the very refusal that he had just met with : " Since 
 the emperor," said he, " cannot obtain from you the 
 suspension of your assemblies, he begs at least that 
 you will accompany him to-morrow, according to cus- 
 tom, in the procession of the Holy Sacrament. Do 
 so, if not from regard to him, at least for the honour 
 of Almighty God." 
 
 The princes were still more irritated and alarmed. 
 "Christ," said they, "did not institute His sacrament 
 to be worshipped." Charles persevered in his demand, 
 and the Protestants in their refusal. Upon this the 
 emperor declared that he would not accept their ex- 
 cuse, that he would give them time for reflection, and 
 that they must be prepared to reply early on the 
 morrow. 
 
 They separated in the greatest agitation. The 
 prince-electoral, who had waited for his father in the 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 first hall along with other lords, sought, at the moment 
 the princes issued from the emperor's chamber, to read 
 on their countenance what had taken place. Judging 
 from the emotion depicted on their features that the 
 struggle had been severe, he thought that his father 
 was incurring the greatest dangers, and, accordingly, 
 grasping him by the hand, dragged him to the stair- 
 case of the palace, exclaiming in aifright, as if Charles's 
 satellites were already at his heels, " Come, come 
 quickly ! " 
 
 Charles, who had expected no such resistance, was, 
 in truth, confounded, and the legate endeavoured to 
 exasperate him still more. Agitated, filled with anger 
 and vexation, and uttering the most terrible threats, 
 the young emperor paced hastily to and fro the halls 
 of his palace ; and unable to wait for the answer until 
 the morrow, he sent in the middle of the night to de- 
 mand the elector's final decision. "At present we 
 require sleep," replied the latter ; " to-morrow we will 
 let you know our determination." As for the land- 
 grave, he could not rest any more than Charles. 
 Scarcely had he returned home, when he sent his 
 chancellor to the Nuremberg deputies, and had them 
 awoke, to make them acquainted with what had taken 
 place. 
 
 At the same time Charles's demand was laid before 
 the theologians, and Spalatin, taking the pen, drew up 
 their opinion during the night. "The sacrament," it 
 bore, "was not instituted to be worshipped, as the 
 Jews worshipped the brazen image. We are here to 
 confess the truth, and not for the confirmation of 
 abuses. Let us therefore stay away!" This opinion 
 confirmed the evangelical princes in their determina- 
 tion ; and the day of the 16th June began. 
 
 The Elector of Saxony, feeling indisposed dm-ing the 
 night, commissioned his son to represent him; and at 
 seven o'clock the princes and councillors repaired on 
 horseback to the emperor's palace. 
 
 The Margrave of Brandenburg was their spokes- 
 man. "You know," said he to Charles, "how, at the 
 risk of our lives, my ancestors and myself have sup- 
 ported your august house. But, in the things of God, 
 the commands of God himself oblige me to put aside 
 all commandment of man. We are told that death 
 awaits those who shall persevere in the sound doctrine: 
 I am ready to suffer it." He then presented the decla- 
 ration of the evangelical princes to the emperor. " We 
 will not countenance by our presence," said they, "these 
 impious human traditions, which are opposed to the 
 Word of God. We declare, on the contraiy, without 
 hesitation, and with one accord, that we must expel 
 them from the Church, lest those of its members that 
 are still sound should be infected by this deadly poison." 
 " If you will not accompany his majesty for the love 
 of God," said Ferdinand, " do so, at least, for the love 
 of the emperor, and as vassals of the empire. His 
 majesty commands you." "An act of worship is in 
 (piestion," replied the princes, " our conscience forbids 
 it." Then Ferdinand and Charles having conversed 
 together in a low tone : " His majesty desires to see," 
 said the king, " whether you will obey him or not." 
 At the same time the emperor and his brother quitted 
 the room; but the princes, instead of following him as 
 Charles had hoped, returned full of joy to their palaces. 
 
 The procession did not b«gin till noon. Immediately 
 behind the canopy, under which the Elector of Mentz 
 carried the host, came the emperor alone, with a 
 devout air, bearing a taper in his hand, his head bare 
 and shorn like a priest's, although the noon-day sun 
 darted on him its most ardent rays. By exposing 
 himself to these fatigues, Charles desired to profess 
 aloud his faith iu what constitutes the essence of 
 Roman Catholicism. In proportion as the spirit and 
 the life had escaped from the primitive churches, they 
 had striven to replace it by forms, shows, and cere- 
 monies. The essential cause of tho Romish worship 
 is found in that decline of charity and faith which 
 catholic Christians of the first ages have often deplored ; 
 and the history of Rome is summed up in this expres- 
 sion of St. Paul, Having a form of godliness, hut denying 
 the power thereof, (2 Timothy iii. 5.) But as thejMwer 
 was then beginning to revive in the Church, the form 
 began also to decline. Barely a hundred citizens of 
 Augsburg had joined in the procession of the IGth 
 Juue. It was no longer the pomp of former times : 
 the Christian people had learned anew to love and to 
 believe. 
 
 Charles, however, under an air of devotion, concealed 
 a wounded heart. The legate was less able to com- 
 mand himself, and said aloud that this obstinacy of the 
 princes would be the cause of great mischief to the 
 pope. When the procession was over, (it had lasted 
 an hour,) Charles could no longer master his extreme 
 irritation ; and he had scarcely returned to his palace, 
 when he declared that he would give the Protestant 
 princes a safe-conduct, and that on the very next day 
 these obstinate and rebellious men should quit Augs- 
 burg; the diet would then take such resolutions as 
 were required for the safety of the Church and of the 
 empire. It was, no doubt, the legate who had given 
 Charles this idea, which, if executed, would infallibly 
 have led to a religious war. But some of the princes 
 of the Roman party, desirous of preserving peace, suc- 
 ceeded, though not without difficulty, in getting the 
 emperor to withdi'aw his threatening order, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Sermons Prohibited— Compromise Proposed and Accepted— The Herald 
 —Curiosity of the Citizens— The. New Preacliers— Tlie Medley of Popery 
 — Lutlier encourages the Princes — Vciii Sinritus — Mass of the Holy 
 Ghost— The Sermon— Opening of the Diet— The Elector's Prayer— In- 
 sidious Plan of the Komanists- Valdez and Melancthon— No Public 
 Diseussiuu— EvangeUcal Firmness prevails. 
 
 Charles, being defeated on the subject of the proces- 
 sion, resolved to take his revenge on the assemblies, for 
 nothing galled liim like these sermons. The crowd 
 ceased not to fill the vast church of the Franciscans, 
 where a Zwinglian minister of lively aud penetrating 
 eloquence was preaching on the Book of Joshua. He 
 placed the kings of Canaan and the children of Israel 
 before them : his congregation heard them speak and 
 saw them act, aud every one recognised iu the kings 
 of Canaan the emperor and the ultramontane princes. 
 
A COMPROMISE PROPOSED AND ACCEPTED. 
 
 and in the people of God the adherents of tlie Refoi-- 
 niation. In consequence, his hearers quitted the church 
 enthusiastic in their faitli, and filled witii the desire of 
 seeing the abominations of the idolaters fall to the 
 ground. On tiie IGth June, the Protestants delibe- 
 rated on Charles's demand, and it was rejected by the 
 majority. "It is only a scarecrow," said they, "the 
 Papists only desire to see if the nail shakes in tlie wall, 
 and if they can start the hare from the thicket." 
 
 The next morning (17th June) before breakfast, the 
 princes replied to the emperor. " To forbid our minis- 
 ters to ])reach purely the holy Gospel, would be rebel- 
 lion against God, who wills not that His "Word be 
 bound. Poor sinners that we are, we have need of 
 this Divine Word to surmount our troubles. More- 
 over, his majesty has declared, that in this diet each 
 doctrine should be examined with impartiality. Now, 
 to order us henceforward to suspend the sermons, would 
 be to condemn ours beforehand." 
 
 Charles immediately convoked the other temporal 
 and spiritual princes, who arrived at mid-day at the 
 palatine palace, and remained sitting until the evening; 
 the discussion was exceedingly animated. " Tliis very 
 morning," said some of the speakers, " the Protestant 
 princes, as they quitted the emperor, had sermons de- 
 livered in public." Exasperated at this new affront, 
 Charles with difficulty contained himself. Some of 
 the princes, however, entreated him to accept their 
 mediation, to which he consented; but the Protestants 
 were immoveable. Did these heretics, whom they 
 imagined to reduce so easily, appear in Augsburg only 
 to humiliate Charles '? The honour of the chief of the 
 empire must be saved at any cost. " Let us ourselves 
 renounce our preachers," said the princes ; " the Pro- 
 testants will not then persist in keeping theirs ! " 
 
 The committee, accordingly, proposed that the em- 
 peror should set aside both l?apist and Lutheran 
 preachers, and should nominate a few chaplains, with 
 authority to announce the pure Word of God, without 
 attacking either of the two parties. "They shall be 
 neutral men," said they to the Protestants; neither 
 Faber nor his partisans shall be admitted." — "But they 
 will condemn our doctrine." — "By no means. The 
 preacher shall do nothing but read the text of the 
 Gospels, Epistles, and a general confession of sins." 
 The evangelical states required time to reflect upon it. 
 
 "We must accept it," said Melancthon; "for if our 
 obstinacy should lead the emperor to refuse hearing 
 our confession, the evil would be greater still." 
 
 "We are called to Augsburg," said Agricola, "to 
 give an account of our doctrine, and not to preach." 
 
 "There is no little disorder in the city," remark- 
 ed Spalatiu. "The Sacramentarians and Enthusiasts 
 preach here as well as we: we must get out of this 
 confusion." 
 
 "What do the Papists propose?" said other theo- 
 logians; "to read the Gospels and Epistles without 
 explanation. But is not that a victory? What ! we 
 protest against the interpretations of the Church ; 
 and, lo! priests who are to read the Word of God 
 without their notes and commentaries, — that is to say, 
 transforming themselves into Protestant ministers ! " — 
 "Oh! admirable wisdom of the coui-tiersl" exclaimed 
 Melancthon, smiling. 
 
 To these motives were added the opinions of the 
 lawyers. As the emperor ought to be considered the 
 rightfid magistrate of an imperial city, so long as he 
 made it his residence, all jurisdiction in Augsburg 
 really belonged to him. 
 
 " Well, then," said the Protestant princes, " we agree 
 to silence our preachers, in the liope that we shall hear 
 nothing offensive to our consciences. If it were other- 
 wise, we should feel ourselves constrained to repel so 
 serious an insult. Besides," added the elector, as he 
 withdrew, "we expect that if at any time we desire to 
 hear one of our chaplains in our own palace, we shall 
 be free to do so." 
 
 They hastened to the emperor, who desired nothing 
 better than to come to an understanding with the Pro- 
 testants on this subject, and who ratilied everything. 
 
 This was Saturday. An imperial herald was imme- 
 diately sent out, wlio, parading the streets of the city 
 at seven in the evening to the sound of trumpets, made 
 the following proclamation : — " Oh yes, oh yes ! Thus 
 ordains his imperial majesty, our most gracious lord: 
 no one shall be allowed to preach in Augsburg except 
 by his majesty's nomination, uudcr penalty of incur- 
 ring the displeasure and punishment of his majesty." 
 
 A thousand different remarks were exchanged in 
 the houses of the citizens of Augsbiu-g. " We were 
 very impatient," said they, "to see the preachers 
 apjjointed by the emperor, and who will preach, (Oil! 
 unprecedented wonder!) neither against the evangelical 
 doctrine nor against the doctrine of the pope !" "We 
 must expect," added another, "to behold some Tra- 
 gelaph or some chimera, with the head of a lion, a 
 goat's body, and a dragon's tail." The Spaniards 
 appeared well satisfied with this agreement, for many 
 of them had never heard a single sermon in theii- lives ; 
 it was not the custom in Spain ; but Zwiugle's friends 
 were filled with indignation and alarm. 
 
 At length Sunday, the 19th June, arrived ; every one 
 hasteued to the chiu'ches, and the people who filled 
 them, with eyes fixed on the priest, and with attentive 
 ears, prepared to listen to what these new and strange 
 preachers would say. It w;is generally believed that 
 their task would be to make an evangelico-papistical 
 discourse, and they were very impatient to hear this 
 marvel. But 
 
 "The mountain in labour gave bii-th to a mouse I" 
 
 The preacher first read the common prayer; he then 
 added the Gospel of the day, finished with a general 
 confession of sins, and dismissed his congregation. 
 People looked at one anotlier in surprise : " Verily," 
 said they, " here is a preacher that is neither Gospeller 
 nor Papist, but strictly textual." At last all burst into 
 laughter; "and truly," adds Brentz, "there was reason 
 enough." In some churches, however, the chaplains, 
 after reading the Gospel, added a few puerile words, 
 void of Christianity and of consolation, and in no way 
 founded on the Holy Scripture. 
 
 After the so-called sermon, they proceeded to the 
 mass. That in the cathedi-al was particiUarly noisy. 
 The emperor was not present, for he was accustomed 
 to sleep until nine or ten o'clock, and a late mass was 
 performed for him ; but Ferdinand and many of the 
 princes were present. The pealing notes of the organ, 
 the resounding voices of the choii-, echoed through the 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORM A.TION. 
 
 minster, and a numerous and motley crowd, rushing in 
 at all the doors, filled the aisles of the temple. One 
 might have said that every nation in the world had 
 agreed to meet in the cathedral of Augsburg. Here 
 were Frenchmen, there Spaniards, Moors in one place, 
 Moriscos in another, on one side Italians, on the other 
 Turks, and even, says Breutz, those who are called 
 Stratiots. This crowd was no bad representation of 
 the medley of Popery. 
 
 One priest alone, a fervent Romanist, dared to offer 
 an apology for the mass in the church of the Holy 
 Cross. Charles, wishing to maintain his authority, 
 had him thrown into the Greyfriars' prison, whence 
 they contrived to let him escape. As for the evan- 
 gelical pastors of Augsburg, almost all left the city to 
 hear the Gospel elsewhere. The Protestant princes 
 were anxious to secure for their churches the assist- 
 ance of such distinguished men. Discouragement and 
 alarm followed close upon this step, and even the 
 firmest were moved. The elector was inconsolable at 
 the privation imposed upon him by the emperor. 
 " Our Lord God," said he, heaving a deep sigh, "has 
 received an order to be silent at the Diet of Augsburg." 
 From that time forward Luther lost the good opinion 
 he had previously entertained of Charles, and foreboded 
 the stormiest future. " See what will be the end of 
 all this," said he. "The emperor, who has ordered 
 the elector to renounce the assemblies, will afterwards 
 command him to renounce the doctrine ; the diet will 
 enter upon its paroxysm, and nothing will remain for 
 us but to rely upon the arm of the Lord." Then, giving 
 way to all his indignation, he added : " The Papists, 
 abandoned to devils, are transported with rage ; and 
 to live they must drink blood. They wish to give 
 themselves an air of justice, by giving us one of obsti- 
 nacy. At Augsburg you have not to deal with men, 
 but with the very gates of hell." Melancthon himself 
 saw his hopes vanish. "All, except the emperor," 
 said he, " hate us with the most violent hatred. The 
 danger is great, very great. . . . Pray to Christ 
 that He may save us ! " But Luther, however full of 
 sorrow he might he, far from being cast down, raised 
 his head and endeavoured to reanimate the courage of 
 his brethren. " Be assured and doubt not," wrote he 
 to them, " that you are the confessors of Jesus Christ, 
 and the ambassadors of the Great King." 
 
 They had need of these thoughts, for their adver- 
 saries, elated by this first success, neglected nothing 
 that might destroy the Protestants, and, taking another 
 step forward, proposed forcing them to be present at 
 the Romish ceremonies. " The Elector of Saxony," 
 said the legate to Charles, "ought, in vii'tue of his 
 office of grand-marshal of the empire, to carry the 
 sword before you in all the ceremonies of the diet. 
 Order him, therefore, to perform his duty at the mass 
 of the Holy Ghost, which is to open the sittings." The 
 emperor did so immediately, and the elector, uneasy at 
 this message, called together his theologians. If he 
 refused, his dignity would be taken away; aud if he 
 obeyed, he would trample his faith under foot, (thought 
 he,) and would do dishonour to the Gospel. 
 
 But the Lutheran divines removed the scruples of 
 their prince. " It is for a ceremony of the empire," said 
 they, " as grand-marshal, and not as a Christian, that 
 
 you are summoned; the "Word of God itself, in the 
 history of Naaman, authorizes you to comply with this 
 invitation." The friends of Zwingle did not think so ; 
 their walk was more decided than that of Wittemberg. 
 " The martyrs allowed themselves to be put to death," 
 said they, " rather than burn a grain of incense before 
 the idols." Even some of the Protestants, hearing that 
 the Veni Spiritus was to be sung, said, wagging their 
 heads : " We are very much afraid that the chariot of 
 the Spirit, which is the Word of God, having been 
 taken away by the Papists, the Holy Ghost, despite 
 their mass, will never reach Augsburg." Neither 
 these fears nor these objections were listened to. 
 
 On Monday, the 20th June, the emperor and his 
 brother, with the electors and princes of the empire, 
 having entered the cathedral, took their seats on the 
 right side of the choir; on the left were placed the 
 legate, the archbishops, and bishops ; in the middle 
 were the ambassadors. Without the choir, in a gallery 
 that overlooked it, were ranged the landgrave and 
 other Protestants, who preferred being at a distance 
 from the host. The elector, bearing the sword, re- 
 mained upright near the altar at the moment of the 
 adoration. The acolytes, having closed the gates of 
 the choir immediately after, Vincent Pompinello, arch- 
 bishop of Salerno, preached the sermon. He com- 
 menced with the Turks and their ravages, and then, by 
 an unexpected turn, began suddenly to exalt the Turks 
 even above the Germans. "The Turks," said he, 
 "have but one prince whom they obey; but the 
 Germans have many who obey no one. The Turks 
 live under one sole law, one only custom, one only 
 religion ; but among the Germans there are some who 
 are always wishing for new laws, new customs, new 
 religions. They tear the seamless coat of Christ ; they 
 abolish, by devilish inspirations, the sacred doctrines 
 established by unanimous consent, and substitute for 
 them, alas ! buffoonery and obscenity. Magnanimous 
 emperor, powerful king ! " said he, turning towards 
 Charles and his brother, "sharpen your swords, wield 
 them against these perfidious disturbers of religion, 
 and thus bring them back into the fold of the Church. 
 There is no peace for Germany so long as the sword 
 shall not have entirely eradicated this heresy. O St. 
 Peter and St. Paul ! I call upon you ; upon you, St. 
 Peter, in order that you may open the stony hearts of 
 these princes with your keys ; and upon you, St. Paul, 
 that if they shew themselves too rebellious, you may 
 come with your sword, and cut in pieces this unex- 
 ampled hardness ! " 
 
 This discourse, intermingled with panegyrics of 
 Aristides, Themistocles, Scipio, Cato, the Curtii, and 
 Sca3vola, being concluded, the emperor and princes 
 arose to make their offerings. Pappenheim returned 
 the sword to the elector, who had intrusted it to him ; 
 and the grand-marshal, as well as the margrave, went 
 to the offertory, but with a smile, as it is reported. 
 This fact is but little in harmony with the character of 
 these princes. 
 
 At length they quitted the cathedral. No one, 
 except the friends of the nuncio, was pleased with tlie 
 sermon. Even the Archbishop of Mentz was offended 
 at it. "What does he mean," exclaimed he, "by call- 
 ing on St. Paul to cut the Germans with his sword '?" 
 
VALDEZ AND MELANCTHON. 
 
 Nothing but a few inarticulate sounds had been heard 
 in the nave; tlic Protestants eagerly questioned those 
 of their party who had been present in the choir. 
 "The more these priests inflame people's minds, and 
 the more they urge their princes to bloody wars," said 
 Brentz at that time, " the more we must hinder ours 
 from giving way to violence." Thus spoke a minister 
 of the Gospel of peace after the sermon of the priests 
 of Rome. 
 
 After the mass of the Holy Ghost, the emperor 
 entered his carriage, and having reached the town-hall, 
 where the sittings of the diet were to take place, took 
 his seat on a throne covered with cloth of gold, while 
 his brother placed himself on a bench in front of him ; 
 then all around them were ranged the electors, forty- 
 two sovereign princes, the deputies from the cities, the 
 bishops, and ambassadors, forming indeed that illus- 
 trious assembly which Luthei", six weeks before, had 
 imagined he saw sitting in the air. 
 
 The count-palatine read the imperial proposition. 
 It referred to two points : the war against the Turks, 
 and the religious controversy. " Sacrificing my pri- 
 vate injuries and interests to the common good," said 
 the emperor, " I have quitted my hereditary kingdoms, 
 to pass, not without great danger, into Italy, and from 
 thence to Germany. I have heard, with sorrow, of 
 the divisions that have broken out here, and which, 
 striking not only at the imperial majesty, but still more 
 at the commandments of Almighty God, must engen- 
 der pillage, conflagration, war, and death." At one 
 o'clock the emperor, accompanied by all the princes, 
 returned to his palace. 
 
 On the same day the elector gathered around him 
 all his co-religionists, whom the emperor's speech had 
 greatly excited, and exhorted them not to be turned 
 aside by any threats from a cause which was that of 
 God himself. All seemed penetrated with this expres- 
 sion of Scripture : Speak the tvoi-d, and it shall not stand; 
 for God is ivith vs, (Isa. viii. 10.) 
 
 The elector had a heavy burden to bear. Not only 
 had he to walk at the head of the princes, but he had 
 further to defend himself against the enervating influ- 
 ence of Melancthon. Throughout the whole of the 
 diet this prince offers to our notice no mere abstraction 
 of the state, but the noblest individuality. Early on 
 Tuesday morning, feeling the necessity of that invisible 
 strength which, according to a beautiful figure in the 
 Holy Scriptures, causes us to ride upon the high places 
 of the earth ; and seeing, as was usual, his domestics, 
 his councillors, and his son, assembled around him, 
 John begged them affectionately to withdraw. He 
 knew that it was only by kneeling humbly before God 
 that he could stand with courage before Charles. 
 Alone in his chamber, he opened and read the Psalms: 
 then falling on his knees, he offered up the most fer- 
 vent prayer to God ; next, wishing to confirm himself 
 in the immoveable fidelity that he had just vowed to 
 the Lord, he went to his desk, and there committed 
 his resolutions to writing. Dolzig and Melancthon 
 afterwards saw these lines, and were filled with ad- 
 miration as they read them. 
 
 Being thus tempered anew in heavenly thoughts, 
 John took up the imperial proposition, and meditated 
 over it ; then, having called in his son and the chan- 
 
 cellor Bruck, and Melancthon shortly after, they all 
 agreed that the deliberations of the diet ought to com- 
 mence with the affairs of religion ; and his allies, who 
 were consulted, concurred in this advice. 
 
 The legate had conceived a plan diametrically op- 
 posed to this. He desired to stitie the religious ques- 
 tion, and for this end required that the princes should 
 examine it in a secret committee. The evangelical 
 Christians entertained no doubt that if the truth was 
 proclaimed in the great council of the nation, it would 
 gain the victory; but the more they desired a public 
 confession, the more it was dreaded by the pope's 
 friends. The latter wished to take their adversaries 
 by silence, without confession, without discussion, as 
 a city is taken by famine without fighting, and without 
 a storm : to gag the Reformation, and thus reduce it to 
 powerlessness and death, were their tactics. To have 
 silenced the preachers was not enough : the princes 
 must be silenced also. They wished to shut up the 
 Reformation as in a dungeon, and there leave it to die, 
 thinking they would thus get rid of it more surely than 
 by leading it to the scaffold. 
 
 This plan was well conceived ; it now remained to 
 be put in execution, and for that purpose it was neces- 
 sary to persuade the Protestants that such a method 
 would be the surest for them. The person selected for 
 this intrigue was Alphonso Valdez, secretary to Charles 
 v., a Spanish gentleman, a worthy individual, and who 
 afterwards shewed a leaning towards the Reformation. 
 Policy often makes use of good men for the most per- 
 fidious designs. It was decided that Valdez should 
 address the most timid of the Protestants — Melancthon. 
 
 On the 16th or 17th of June, immediately after the 
 arrival of Charles, Valdez begged Melancthon to call 
 on him. " The Spaniards," said he, " imagine that the 
 Lutherans teach impious doctrines on the Holy Trinity, 
 on Jesus Christ, on the blessed Mother of God. Ac- 
 cordingly, they think they do a more meritorious work 
 in killing a Lutheran than in slaying a Turk." 
 
 " I know it," replied Melancthon, " and I have not 
 yet been able to succeed in making your fellow-country- 
 men abandon that idea." 
 
 "But what, pray, do the Lutherans desire?" 
 
 " The Lutheran question is not so complicated and 
 so unseemly as his majesty fancies. We do not attack 
 the Catholic Church, as is commonly believed ; and the 
 whole controversy is reducible to these three points : 
 the two kinds in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, 
 the marriage of pastors, and the abolition of private 
 masses. If we could agree on these articles, it would 
 be easy to come to an understanding on the others." 
 
 " Well, I will report this to his majesty." 
 
 Charles V. was charmed at this communication. 
 " Go," said he to Valdez, " and impart these things to 
 the legate, and ask Master Philip to transmit to you in 
 writing a short exposition of what they believe, and 
 what they deny." 
 
 Valdez hastened to Campeggio. " What you relate 
 pleases me tolerably," said the latter. " As for the two 
 kinds in the sacrament, and the marriage of priests, 
 there will be the means of accommodation ; but we 
 cannot consent to the abolition of private masses." 
 This would have been, in fact, cutting off one of the 
 greatest revenues of the Church. 
 
453 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Ou Saturday, June 18, Valdez saw Melancthou 
 again. "The emperor begs of you a moderate and 
 concise exposition," said he; "and he is persuaded tliat 
 it will be more advantageous to treat of this matter 
 briefly and privately, avoiding all public hearing and 
 prolix discussion, which would only engender anger 
 and division." — "Well," said Melancthon, "I will 
 reflect upon it." 
 
 Melancthon was almost won over ; a secret confer- 
 ence agreed better with his disposition. Had he not 
 often repeated that peace should be sought after above 
 all things? Thus everything induced the legate to 
 hope that a public struggle would be avoided, and that 
 he might be content, as it were, to send mutes against 
 the Keform, and strangle it in a dungeon. 
 
 Fortunately the chancellor and the Elector Frederick 
 did not think fit to entertain the propositions with 
 which Charles had commissioned the worthy Valdez. 
 The resolution of these lay members of the Church 
 saved it from the false step its doctors were about to 
 take ; and the wiles of the Italians failed against evan- 
 gelical firmness. Melancthon was only permitted to 
 lay the Confession before the Spaniard, that he might 
 look into it; and in despite of the moderation employed 
 in it, Valdez exclaimed : " These words ai-e too bitter, 
 and your adversaries will never put up with them !" 
 Thus finished the legate's mana5uvre. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Tho Elector's Zeal— The Signing of the Confession— Courage of the Princes 
 — Melauctlion's Wealiness— The Leg.ate's Speech— Delays— The Confes- 
 sion in Danger— The Protestants are Firm— Melanctlion's Despondency 
 — Luthei-'s Prayer and Anxiety— Luther's Texts— His Letter to Melanc- 
 thon— Faitli. 
 
 Chaeles, compelled to resign himself to a public sit- 
 ting, ordered, on Wednesday, 22d June, that the elector 
 and his allies should have their confession ready for 
 the ensuing Friday. The Roman party were also in- 
 vited to present a conf essiou of faith ; but they excused 
 themselves, saying that they were satisfied with the 
 Edict of Worms. 
 
 The emperor's order took the Protestants by sur- 
 prise, for the negotiations between Valdez and Melanc- 
 thon had prevented the latter from putting the finishing 
 stroke to the Confession. It was not copied out fair ; 
 and the conclusions, as well as the exordium, were not 
 definitively di-awu up. In consequence of this, the 
 Protestants begged the Archbishop of Mentz to obtain 
 for them tho delay of a day; but their petition was 
 refused. They, therefore, laboured incessantly, even 
 during the night, to correct and transcribe the Con- 
 fession. 
 
 On Thursday, 23d June, all the Protestant princes, 
 deputies, councillors, and theologians, met early at the 
 elector's. The Confession was read in German, and all 
 gave their adhesion to it, except the landgrave and the 
 Strasbm-gers, who required a change in the article on 
 the sacrament. The princes rejected their demand. 
 
 The Elector of Saxony was already preparing to sign 
 
 it, when Melancthon stopped him: he feared giving too 
 political a colouring to this religious business. In his 
 idea it was the Church that should appear, and not 
 the State. " It is for the theologians and ministers to 
 propose these things," said he ; " let us reserve for 
 other matters the authority of the mighty ones of the 
 earth." — " God forbid that you should exclude me," 
 replied the elector ; " I am resolved to do what is 
 right without troubling myself about my crown. I 
 desire to confess the Lord. My electoral hat and my 
 ermine are not so precious to me as the cross of Jesus 
 Christ. I shall leave on earth these marks of my 
 greatness ; but my Master's cross will accompany me 
 to heaven." 
 
 How resist such Christian language ! Melancthou 
 gave way. 
 
 The elector then approached, signed, and handed the 
 pen to the landgrave, who at first made some objec- 
 tions ; however, the enemy was at the door ; was this 
 a time for disunion? At last he signed, but with a 
 declaration that the doctrine of the Eucharist did not 
 pleiise him. 
 
 The margrave and Luneburg having joyfully sub- 
 scribed their names, Anlialt took the pen in his turn, 
 and said : " I have tilted more than once to please 
 others ; now, if the honour of my Lord Jesus Christ 
 requires it, I am ready to saddle my horse, to leave my 
 gootls and life behind, and rush into eternity, towards 
 an everlasting crown." Then, having signed, this 
 youthful prince said, turning to the theologians : " I 
 would rather renounce my subjects and my states, 
 rather quit the country of my fathers staff in hand, 
 rather gain my bread by cleaning the shoes of the 
 foreigner, than receive any other doctrine than that 
 which is contained in this Confession." Nuremberg 
 and Reutlingen alone of the cities subscribed their 
 signatures ; and all resolved on demanding of the 
 emperor that the Confession should be read publicly. 
 
 The courage of the princes surprised every one. 
 Rome had crushed the members of the Church, and 
 had reduced them to a herd of slaves, whom she 
 dragged silent and humiliated behind her : the Refor- 
 mation enfranchised them, and with their rights it 
 restored to them theii- duties. The priest no longer 
 enjoyed the monopoly of religion ; each head of a 
 family again became priest in his own house; and all 
 the members of the Chiu-ch of God were thencefor- 
 ward called to the rank of confessors. The laymen 
 are nothing, or almost nothing, in the sect of Rome; 
 but they are the essential portion of the Church of 
 Jesus Christ. Wherever the priestly spirit is estab- 
 lished, the Church dies ; wherever laymen, as these 
 Augsburg princes, understand their duty and their 
 immediate dependence on Christ, the Church lives. 
 
 The evangelical theologians were moved by the de- 
 votedness of the princes. "When I consider their 
 firmness in the confession of the Gospel," said Brentz, 
 " the colour mounts to my cheeks. What a disgrace 
 that we, who are only beggars beside them, are so 
 afraid of confessing Christ!" Brentz was then 
 thinking of certain towns, particularly of Halle, of 
 which he was pastor, but no doubt also of the theo- 
 logians. 
 
 The latter, in truth, -without being deficient in 
 
THE CONFESSION IN DANGER. 
 
 459 
 
 (levotedncss, were sometimes wanlinj; in courage. 
 Melaiiethoii was in constant agitation; he ran to 
 and fro, slipping in everywhere, (says Cochloens in his 
 Pliilippics,) visiting not only the houses and mansions 
 of private persons, but also insinuating himself into 
 the palaces of cardinals and princes, nay, even into the 
 court of the emperor; and, whether at table or in 
 conversation, he spared no means of pereuading every 
 person, that nothing was more easy than to restore 
 peace between the two parties. 
 
 One day he was with the Archbishop of Salzburg, 
 who, in a long discourse, gave an eloquent description 
 of the troubles produced, as he said, by the Reforma- 
 tion, and ended with a peroration, " written in blood," 
 as Melancthon characterized it. Philip, in agony, had 
 ventured during the conversation to slip in the word 
 conscience. "Conscience!" hastily interrupted the 
 archbishop, " Conscience !— What does that mean? 
 I tell you plainly that the emperor will not allow eon- 
 fusion to be thus brought upon the empire." — "Had I 
 been in Melancthon's place," said Luther, "I should 
 have immediately rcjilied to the archbishop: And 
 our Emperor, ours, will not tolerate such blasphemy." 
 — "Alas!" said Melancthon, "they are all as full of 
 assurance as if there w.os no God." 
 
 Another day Melancthon was with Campeggio, and 
 conjured him to persevere in the moderate sentiments 
 he appeared to entertain. And at another time, as it 
 would seem, he was with the emperor himself. "Alas ! " 
 said the alarmed Zwinglians, "after having qualified 
 one-half of the Gospel, Melancthon is sacrificing the 
 other." 
 
 The wiles of the Ultramontanists were added to 
 Philip's dejection, in order to arrest the courageous 
 proceedings of the princes. Friday, 24th June, was 
 the day fixed for reading the Confession, but measures 
 were taken to prevent it. The sitting of the diet did 
 not begin till three in the afternoon ; the legate was 
 then announced ; Charles went to meet him as far as 
 the top of the grand staircase, and Campeggio, taking 
 his seat in front of the emperor, in King Ferdinand's 
 pl.ace, delivered a harangue in Ciceronian stylo. 
 "Never," said he, "has St. Peter's bark been so 
 ^■iolently tossed by such various waves, whirlwinds, 
 and abysses. The holy father has learnt these things 
 with pain, and desires to drag the Church from these 
 frightful gulfs. For the love of Jesus Christ, for the 
 safety of your countiy, and for your own, O mighty 
 prince ! get rid of these errors, deliver Germany, and 
 save Christendom!" 
 
 After a temperate reply from Albert of Mentz, the 
 legate quitted the town-hall, and the evangelical princes 
 stood up ; but a fresh obstacle had been provided. 
 Deputies from Austria, Cariuthia, and Carniola, first 
 received a hearing. 
 
 Much time had thus elapsed. The evangelical 
 princes, however, rose up again, and the Chancellor 
 Briick said : " It is pretended tliat new doctrines not 
 based on Scripture, that heresies and schisms, are 
 spread among the people by us. Considering that such 
 accusations compromise not only our good name, but 
 also the safety of our souls, we beg his majesty will 
 have the goodness to hear what are the doctrines we 
 profess." 
 
 The emperor, no doubt by arrangement with tho 
 legate, made reply that it was too late ; besides, that 
 this reading would be useless ; and that the princes 
 should be satisfied with putting in their Confession in 
 writing. Thus the mine, so skilfully prepared, worked 
 admirably; the Confession, once handed to the em- 
 peror, would be thrown aside, and the Reformation 
 would be forced to retire, without the Papists having 
 even condescended to hear it, without defence, and 
 overwhelmed with contumely. 
 
 The Protestant princes, uneasy and agitated, insisted. 
 " Our honour is at stake," said they ; " our souls are 
 endangered. We are accused publicly; publicly we 
 ought to answer." Charles was shaken ; Ferdinand 
 leant towards him, and whispered a few words in his 
 ear : the emperor refused a second time. 
 
 Upon this the elector and princes, in still greater 
 alarm, said for the third time, with emotion and 
 earnestness : " For the love of God, let us read our 
 Confession ! No person is insulted in it." Thus were 
 seen, on the one hand, a few faithful men, desiring 
 with loud cries to confess their faith ; and on the 
 other, the great emperor of the west, suiTOunded by a 
 crowd of cardinals, prelates, and princes, endeavouring 
 to stifle the manifestation of the truth. It was a serious, 
 violent, and decisive struggle, in which the holiest in- 
 terests were discussed ! 
 
 At last Charles appeared to yield: "His majesty 
 grants your request," was the reply to the princes; 
 "but as it is now too late, he begs you to transmit 
 him your written Confession, and to-morrow, at two 
 o'clock, the diet will be prepared to hear it read at the 
 Palatine Palace." 
 
 The princes were struck by these words, which, 
 seeming to grant them everything, in reality granted 
 nothing. In the first place, it was not in a public 
 sitting at the town-hall, but privately in his own 
 palace, that the emperor was willing to hear them ; 
 then they had no doubt that if the Confession left their 
 hands it was all over with the public reading. They 
 therefore remained firm. " The work has been done 
 in great haste," said they, and it was the ti-utli ; "pray 
 leave it with us to-night, that we may revise it." The 
 emperor was obliged to yield, and the Protestants re- 
 turned to their hotels full of joy; while the legate and 
 his friends, perceiving that the Confession was inevit- 
 able, saw the niOTrow approach with continually in- 
 creasing anxiety. 
 
 Among those who prepared to confess the evangeli- 
 cal truth, was one, however, whose heart was filled 
 with sadness — it was Melancthon. Placed between 
 two fires, he saw the reformed, and many even of his 
 own friends, reproach his weakness ; while the oppo- 
 site party detested what they called his hypocrisy. 
 His friend Camerarius, who visited Augsburg about 
 this time, often found him plunged in thought, uttering 
 deep sighs, and shedding bitter tears. Brentz, moved 
 with compassion, coming to the unhappy Philip, would 
 sit down by his side and weep with him ; and Jonas 
 endeavoured to console him in another manner, by 
 exhorting him to take the book of Psalms, and cry to 
 God with all his heart, making use of David's words 
 rather than of his own. 
 
 One day intelligence arrived which formed a general 
 
HISTORY OF THE BEFOEMATION. 
 
 topic of convei-sation in Augsburg, and whicli, by 
 spreading terror among the partisans of the pope, gave 
 a momentary relief to Melancthon. It was said that a 
 mule in Rome had given birth to a colt with crane's 
 feet. " This prodigy," said Melancthon, thoughtfully, 
 " announces that Home is near its end ;" perhaps be- 
 cause the crane is a bird of passage, and that the pope's 
 mule thus gave signs of departure. Melancthon had 
 immediately written to Luther, who replied that he 
 was exceedingly rejoiced that God had given the pope 
 so striking a sign of his approaching fall. It is good 
 to recall to memory these puerilities of the age of the 
 reformers, that we may better understand the high 
 range of these men of God in matters of faith. 
 
 These idle Roman stories did not long console Me- 
 lancthon. On the eve of the 25th of June, he was pre- 
 sent, in imagination, at the reading of that Confession 
 which he had drawn up, which was about to be pro- 
 claimed before the world, and in which one word too 
 many or too few might decide on the approbation or 
 the hatred of the princes, on the safety or ruin of the 
 Reformation and of the empire. He could bear up no 
 longer, and the feeble Atlas, crushed under the burden 
 of the world upon his shoulders, gave utterance to a 
 cry of anguish. " All my time here is spent in tears 
 and mourning," wrote he to Vitus Diedrich, Luther's 
 secretary in the castle of Coburg ; and on the morrow, 
 he wrote to Luther himself : " My dwelling is in per- 
 petual tears. My consternation is indescribable. O 
 my father! I do not wish my words to exaggerate 
 my sorrows ; but without your consolations it is impos- 
 sible for me to enjoy here the least peace." 
 
 Nothing, in fact, presented so strong a contrast to 
 Melancthon's distrust and dejection, as the faith, calm- 
 ness, and exultation, of Luther. It was of advantage 
 to him that he was not then in the midst of the Augs- 
 burg vortex, and to be able, from his stronghold, to set 
 his foot with tranquility upon the rock of God's pro- 
 mises. He was sensible himself of the value of this 
 peaceful hermitage, as he called it. "I cannot suffi- 
 ciently admire," said Vitus Diedrich, " the firmness, 
 cheerfulness, and faith, of this man, so astonishing in 
 such cruel times." 
 
 Luther, besides his constant reading of the Word of 
 God, did not pass a day without devoting three hours 
 at least to prayer, and they were hours selected from 
 those the most favourable to study. One day, as Die- 
 drich approached the reformer's chamber, he heard his 
 voice, and remained motionless, holding his breath, a 
 few steps from the door. Luther was praying, and his 
 prayer (said the secretary) was full of adoration, fear, 
 and hope, as when one speaks to a friend or to a 
 father. " I know that thou art our Father and our 
 God," said the reformer alone in his chamber, " and 
 that thou wilt scatter the persecutors of thy chUdi-en, 
 for thou art thyself endangered with us. All this 
 matter is thine, and it is only by thy constraint that 
 wc have put our hands to it. Defend us, then, O 
 Father!" The secretary, motionless as a statue in 
 the long gaUery of the castle, lost not one of the words 
 that the clear and resounding voice of Luther bore to 
 his eai-s. The reformer was earnest with God, and 
 called upon Him with such unction to accomplish His 
 promises, that Diedrich felt his heart glow within him. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed he, as he retired, "how could not 
 these prayers but prevail in the desperate struggle at 
 Augsburg !" 
 
 Luther might also have allowed himself to be over- 
 come with fear, for he was left in complete ignorance 
 of what was taking place in the diet. A Wittemberg 
 messenger, who should have brought him forests of 
 letters, (according to his own expression,) having pre- 
 sented himself: "Do you bring any letters?" asked 
 Luther. — " No ! " " How are those gentlemen ? " — 
 "Well!" Luther, grieved at such silence, returned 
 and shut himself up in his chamber. 
 
 Erelong there appeared a courier on horseback 
 carrying despatches from the elector to Torgau : " Do 
 you bring me any letter?" asked Luther. — "No!" 
 " How are those gentlemen ?" continued he, fearfully. 
 — " Well !" " This is strange," thought the reformer. 
 A waggon having left Coburg laden with flour, (for 
 they were almost in want of provisions at Augsburg,) 
 Luther impatiently awaited the return of the driver; 
 but he returned empty. Luther then began to revolve 
 the gloomiest thoughts in his mind, not doubting that 
 they were concealing some misfortune from him. At 
 last another individual, Jobst Nymptzen, having arrived 
 from Augsburg, Luther rushed anew towards him, with 
 his usual question: "Do you bring me any letters?" 
 He waited trembling for the reply. — "No!" "And 
 how are those gentlemen?" — "Well!" The reformer 
 withdrew, a prey to anger and to fear. 
 
 Then Luther opened his Bible, and to console him- 
 self for the silence of men, conversed with God. There 
 were some passages of Scripture in particular that he 
 read continually. We point them out below.' He did 
 more ; he wrote with his own hand many declarations 
 of Scripture over the doors and windows, and on the 
 walls of the castle. In one place were these words 
 from the 11 8th Psalm: I shall not die, but live, and 
 declare the ivories of the Lord. In another, those of the 
 12th chapter of Proverbs : The way of the wicked seduceth 
 them; and over his bed, this passage from the 4th 
 Psalm : / ivill lay me down iyi peace and sleep ; for thou, 
 
 Lord, only makest me dwell in safety. Never, perhaps, 
 did man so environ himself with the promises of the 
 Lord, or so dwell in the atmosphere of His Word, and 
 live by His breath, as Luther at Coburg. 
 
 At length letters came. " If the times in which we 
 live were not opposed to it, I should have imagined 
 some revenge," wrote Luther to Jonas ; " but prayer 
 checked my anger, and anger checked my prayer. I 
 am delighted at that tranquil mind which God gives 
 our prince. As for Melancthon, it is his philosophy 
 that tortures him, and nothing else. For our cause is 
 in the very hands of Him who can say with unspeak- 
 able dignity: No one shall pluck it out of my hands. I 
 would not have it in our hands, and it would not be 
 desirable that it were so. I have had many things in 
 my hands, and I have lost them all ; but whatever I 
 have been able to place in God's, I still possess." 
 
 1 2 Tiin. iiL 12; Philip, ii. 12, 13; John x. 17, 18; Matt. xvL 18; Psalm 
 xlvi. 1, 2; IJohniv. 4; Psalm Iv. 23; xxvii. 14; John xvi. 33: Luke xvii. 
 6; Psalm, xxxii. 11; cxlv. 18, 19; xci. 14, 15; Sirach ii. 11; I Maccab. II. 61; 
 Matt. vi. 31; 1 Peter v. 6, 7; Matt. x. 28; Eom. iv. and vi.; Heh. v. and xi.; 
 
 1 Sam. iv. 18; xxxl. 4-8; ii. 30; 2 Tim. u. 17-19; i. 12; Eph. iii. 20, 21. 
 Among these passages will be obseiTed two verses taken from the Apocrypha, 
 but whose equivalents might easily be found in the Word of God. 
 
LUTHER TO MELANCTHON. 
 
 461 
 
 On learning that Melancthon's anguish still continued, 
 Luther wrote to him ; and these are the words that 
 should be preserved : — 
 
 " Grace and peace in Christ ! — in Christ, I say, and 
 not in the world. Amen. I hate with exceeding hatred 
 those extreme cares which consume me. If the cause 
 is unjust, abandon it ; if tlie cause is just, why should 
 we belie the promises of Him who commands us to 
 sleep without fear ? Can the devil do more than kill 
 us 1 Christ will not be wanting to the work of justice 
 and of truth. lie lives ; He reigns ; what fear, then, 
 can we have ? God is powerful to upraise His cause 
 if it is overthrown, to make it proceed if it remains 
 motionless, and if we are not worthy of it, He will do 
 it by others. 
 
 " I have received your Apology,' and I cannot under- 
 stand what you mean, when you ask what we must 
 concede to the Papists. We have already conceded 
 too much. Night and day I meditate ou this affair, 
 turning it over and over, diligently searching tiie Scrip- 
 tures, and the conviction of the truth of our doctrine 
 every day becomes stronger in my mind. With the 
 help of God I will not permit a single letter of all that 
 •we have said to be torn from us. 
 
 " The issue of this affair torments you, because you 
 cannot understand it. But if you could, I would not 
 have the least share in it. God has put it in a ' com- 
 mon place,' that you will not find either in your rhetoric 
 or in your philosophy: that place is called Faith. It 
 is that in which subsist all things that we can neither 
 understand nor see. Whoever wishes to touch them, 
 as you do, will have tears for his whole reward. 
 
 " If Christ is not with us, where is He in the whole 
 universe? If we are not the Church, where, I pray, 
 is the Church ? Is it the dukes of Bavaria, is it 
 Ferdinand, is it the pope, is it the Turk, who is the 
 Church? If we have not the Word of God, who is it 
 that possesses it '? 
 
 " Only we must have faith, lest the cause of faith 
 should be found to be without faith. 
 
 " If we fall, Christ falls with us, that is to say, the 
 Master of the world. I would rather fall with Christ, 
 than remain standing with Cffisar." 
 
 Thus wrote Luther. The faith which animated him 
 flowed from him like torrents of living water. He 
 was indefatigable: in a single day he wrote to Me- 
 lancthon, Spalatin, Brentz, Agricola, and John Frede- 
 rick ; and they were letters full of life. He was not 
 alone in praying, speaking, and believing. At the 
 same moment, the evangelical Christians exhorted one 
 another everywhere to prayer. Such was the arscn.'il 
 in which the weapons were forged that the confessors 
 of Clirist wielded before the Diet of Augsburg. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The 25th June, 1530— The Palatine Chapel— Recollections and Contrast— 
 The Confession— Prologue— Justification— The Church— Free Will and 
 Works— Faith— Interest of the Hearers- The Princes become Preachers 
 —The Confession— Abuses— Church and State— The Two Governments 
 —Epilogue— Argumentation— Prudence— Church and State— The Sword 
 —Moderate Tone of the Confession— Its Defects— A New Baptism. 
 
 At length the 25th June arrived. This was destined 
 
 1 The Confession revised and corrected. 
 
 to be the greatest day of the Reformation, and one of 
 the most glorious in the history of Christianity and of 
 mankind. 
 
 As the chapel of the Palatine Palace, where the em- 
 peror had resolved to hear the Confession, could con- 
 tain only about two hundred persons, before three 
 o'clock a great crowd was to be seen surrounding the 
 building and thronging the court, hoping by this means 
 to catch a few words; and many having gained en- 
 trance to the chapel, all were turned out except those 
 who were, at least, councillors to the princes. 
 
 Charles took his seat on the throne. The electors, or 
 their representatives, were on his right and left hand ; 
 after them, the other princes and states of the empire. 
 The legate had refused to appear in this solemnity, lest 
 he should seem by his presence to authorize the reading 
 of the Confession. 
 
 Then stood up John, the elector of Saxony, with 
 his son John Frederick, Philip landgrave of Hesse, 
 the Margrave George of Brandenburg, Wolfgang 
 prince of Anhalt, Ernest duke of Brunswick-Lune° 
 burg, and his brother Francis, and last of all, the 
 deputies of Nuremberg and Reutlingen. Their air 
 was animated, and their features radiant with joy. 
 The apologies of the early Christians, of Tertullian 
 and Justin Martyr, hardly reached in writing the 
 sovereigns to whom they were addressed. But now, 
 to hear the new Apology of resuscitated Christianity, 
 behold that puissant emperor, whose sceptre, stretch- 
 ing far beyond the columns of Hercules, reaches the 
 utmost limits of the world, his brother the King of the 
 Romans, with electors, princes, prelates, deputies, am- 
 bassadors, all of whom desire to destroy the Gospel, 
 but who are constrained by an invisible power to listen, 
 and, by that very listening, to honour the Confession ! 
 
 One thought was involuntarily present in the minds 
 of the spectators, — the recollection of the Diet of 
 Worms. Only nine years before, a poor monk stood 
 alone for this same cause in a hall of the town-house 
 at AVorms, in presence of the empire. And now, in 
 his stead, behold the foremost of the electors, princes, 
 and cities ! What a victory is declared by this simple 
 fact ! No doubt Charles himself cannot escape from 
 this recollection. 
 
 The emperor, seeing the Protestants stand up, 
 motioned them to sit down ; and then the two chan- 
 cellors of the elector, Bruck and Bayer, advanced to 
 the middle of the chapel, and stood before the throne, 
 holding in their hands, the former the Latin, and the 
 other the German copy of the Confession. The em- 
 peror required the Latin copy to be read. " We are 
 Germans," said the Elector of Saxony, " and on 
 German soil ; I hope, therefore, your majesty wiU 
 allow us to speak German." If the Confession had 
 been read in Latin, a language unknown to most of 
 the princes, the general effect would have been lost. 
 This was another means of shutting the mouth of the 
 Gospel. The emperor complied with the elector's de- 
 mand. 
 
 Bayer then began to read the evangelical Confession, 
 slowly, seriously, distinctly, with a clear, strong, and 
 sonorous voice, which re-echoed under the aixhed roof 
 of the chapel, and carried even to the outside this great 
 testimony paid to the truth. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 " Most serene, most mighty, and invincible emperor, 
 and most gracious lord," said he, " we who appear in 
 your presence, declare ourselves i-eady to confer amic- 
 ably with you on the fittest means of restoring one sole, 
 true, and same faith, since it is for one sole and same 
 Christ that we fight. And in case that these religious 
 dissensions cannot be settled amicably, we then offer 
 to your majesty to explain our cause in a general, free, 
 and Christian council." 
 
 This prologue being ended, Bayer confessed the 
 Holy Trinity, conformably with the Nicene council, 
 original and hereditary sin, "which bringeth eternal 
 death to all who are not born again," and the incarna- 
 tion of the Son, " very God and very man." 
 
 " We teach, moreover," continued he, " that we 
 cannot be justified before God by our own strength, 
 our merits, or our works ; but that we are justified 
 freely for Christ's sake through faith, when we believe 
 that our sins are forgiven in virtue of Christ, who by 
 His death has made satisfaction for our sins: this 
 faith is the righteousness that God imputeth to the 
 sinner." 
 
 " But we teach, at the same time, that this faith 
 ought to bear good fruits, and that we must do all 
 the good works commanded by God, for the love of 
 God, and not by their means to gain the gi-ace of 
 God." 
 
 The Protestants next declared their faith in the 
 Christian Church, "which is," said they, "the as- 
 sembly of all true believers and all the saints ; " in the 
 midst of whom there are, nevertheless, in this life, 
 many false Christians, hypocrites even, and manifest 
 sinners ; and," they added, " that it is sufficient for 
 the real unity of the Church that they agree on the 
 doctrine of the Gospel and the administration of the 
 sacraments, without the rites and ceremonies instituted 
 by men being everywhere the same." They proclaimed 
 the necessity of baptism, and declared " that the body 
 and blood of Christ are really present and administered 
 in tiie Lord's Supper to those who partake of it." 
 
 The chancellor then successively confessed the faith 
 of the evangelical Christians touching confession, pen- 
 ance, the nature of the sacraments, the government 
 of the Church, ecclesiastical ordinances, political 
 government, and the last judgment. "As regards 
 free will," continued he, " we confess that man's will 
 has a certain liberty of accomplishing civil justice, and 
 of loving the things that reason comprehends ; that 
 man can do the good that is within the sphere of 
 nature — plough his fields, eat, drink, have a friend, 
 put on a coat, build a house, take a wife, feed cattle, 
 exercise a calling ; as also he can, of his own move- 
 ment, do evil, kneel before an idol, and commit 
 murder. But we maintain that without the Holy 
 Ghost he cannot do what is righteous in the sight of 
 God." 
 
 Then, returning to the grand doctrine of the Refor- 
 mation, and recalling to mind that the doctors of the 
 pope "have never ceased impelling the faithful to 
 puerile and useless works, as the custom of chaplets, 
 invocations of saints, monastic vows, processions, fasts, 
 feast-days, brotherhoods," the Protestants added, that 
 as for themselves, while lu-ging the practice of truly 
 Christian works, of which little had been said before 
 
 their time, "they taught that man is justified by 
 faith alone ; not by that faith which is a simple know- 
 ledge of the history, and which wicked men and even 
 devils possess ; but by faith, believes not only the 
 history, but also the effect of the history, which be- 
 lieves that through Chi-ist we obtain gi-ace; which sees 
 that in Christ we have a merciful Father; which 
 knows this God ; which calls upon Him ; in a word, 
 which is not without God, as the heathen are." 
 
 " Such," said Bayer, " is a summary of the doctrine 
 professed in our churches, by which it may be seen 
 that this doctrine is by no means opposed to Scripture, 
 to the xmiversal Church, nor even to the Romish 
 Church, such as the doctors describe it to us ; and 
 since it is so, to reject us as heretics is an offence 
 against unity and charity." 
 
 Here terminated the first part of the Confession, the 
 aim of which was to explain the evangelical doctrine. 
 The chancellor read with so distinct a voice, that the ] 
 crowd, which was unable to enter the hall, and which 
 filled the court and all the approaches of the episcopal 
 palace, did not lose a word. This reading produced 
 the most marvellous effect on the princes who thronged ! 
 the chapel. Jonas watched every change in their , 
 countenances, and there beheld interest, astonishment, 
 and even approbation, depicted by turns. " The adver- 
 saries imagine they have done a wonderful thing by 
 forbidding the preaching of the Gospel," wrote Luther 
 to the elector; "and they do not see, poor creatures! 
 that by the reading of the Confession in the presence 
 of the diet, there has been more preaching than in the 
 sermons of ten doctors. Exquisite subtlety! admu-able 
 expedient ! Master Agricola and the other ministers 
 are reduced to silence ; but in their place appear the 
 Elector of Saxony and the other princes and lords, 
 who preach before his imperial majesty aud the mem- 
 bers of the whole empire, freely, to their beard, and 
 before theii" noses. Yes, Christ is in the diet, and He 
 does not keep silence : the Word of God cannot he bound. 
 They forbid it in the pulpit, and are forced to hear it 
 in the palace ; poor ministers caimot announce it, and 
 great princes proclaim it ; the servants are forbidden to 
 listen to it, and their masters are compelled to hear it ; 
 they will have nothing to do with it during the whole 
 course of the diet, aud they are forced to submit to 
 hear more in one day than is heard ordinarOy in a 
 whole year. . . . When all else is silent, the very 
 stones cry out, as says our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 That part of the Confession destined to point out 
 errors and abuses still remained. Bayer continued : 
 he explained and demonstrated the doctrine of the two 
 kinds ; he attacked the compulsory celibacy of priests, 
 maintained that the Lord's Supper had been changed 
 into a regular fair, in which it was merely a question 
 of buying and selling, and that it had been re-estab- 
 lished in its primitive purity by the Reformation, and 
 was celebrated in the evangelical churches with entirely 
 new devotion and gravity. He declared that the sacra- 
 ment was administered to no one who had not first 
 made confession of his faults ; and he quoted this ex- 
 pression of Chrysostom: "Confess thyself to God the 
 Lord, thy real Judge ; tell thy sin, not with the tongue, 
 but in thy conscience and in thy heart." 
 
 Bayer next came to the precepts on the distmction 
 
THE CONFESSION OF AUGSBURG. 
 
 463 
 
 of meats and other Roman usages, " Celebrate such 
 a festival," said he; "repeat such a prayer, or keep 
 such a fast ; be dressed in such a maimer; and so many 
 other ordinances of men — this is wluit is now styled a 
 spiritual aud Christian life ; while the good works pre- 
 scribed by God, as those of a father of a family who 
 toils to support his wife, his sons, aud his daughters — 
 of a mother who brings children into the world, aud 
 takes care of them— of a prince or of a magistrate 
 who governs his subjects, are looked upon as secular 
 things, aud of an imperfect nature." As for monastic 
 vows, in particular, he represented that, as the pope 
 could give a dispensation from them, those vows ought 
 therefore to be abolished. 
 
 The last article of the Confession treated of the 
 authority of the bishops: powerful princes crowned 
 with the episcopal mitre were there ; the archbishops 
 of Mentz, Cologne, Salzburg, and Bremen, with the 
 bishops of Bamberg, Wurzburg, Eichstadt, Worms, 
 Spires, Strasburg, Augsburg, Constance, Coire, Passau, 
 Liege, Trent, Brixen, and of Lebus and Ratzburg, 
 fixed their eyes ou the humble confessor. He fear- 
 lessly continued, and energetically protesting against 
 that confusion of Church and State which had charac- 
 terized the Middle Ages, he called for the distinction 
 aud independence of the two societies. 
 
 '•Many," said he, "have unskilfully confounded the 
 episcopal and the temporal power; and from this con- 
 fusion have resulted great wars, revolts, and seditions. 
 It is for this reason, and to reassure men's consciences, 
 that we find ourselves constrained to establish the dif- 
 ference which exists between the power of the Church 
 and the power of the sword. 
 
 " We therefore teach that the power of the keys or 
 of the bishops is conformably with the Word of the 
 Lord, a commandment emanating from God, to preach 
 the Gospel, to remit or retain sins, and to administer 
 the sacraments. This power has reference only to 
 eternal goods, is exercised only by the minister of the 
 Word, and does not trouble itself with political ad- 
 ministration. The political administration, on the 
 other hand, is busied with everything else but the 
 Gospel. The magistrate protects, not souls, but bodies 
 and temporal possessions. He defends them against 
 all attacks from without, and, by making use of the 
 sword and of punishment, compels men to observe 
 civil justice and peace. 
 
 " For this reason we must take particular care not 
 to mingle the power of the Church with the power of 
 the State. The power of the Church ought never to 
 invade an office that is foreign to it ; for Christ him- 
 self said: My kingdom is not of this world. And again : 
 Who made me a judge over you ? St. Paul said to the 
 Philippians : Our citizenship is in heaven. And to the 
 Corinthians : The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, 
 but might// through God. 
 
 " It is thus that we distinguish the two governments 
 and the two powers, and that we honour both as the 
 most excellent gifts that God has given here on earth. 
 
 "The duty of the bishops is, therefore, to preach the 
 Gospel, to forgive sins, and to exclude from the Chris- 
 tian Church all who rebel against the Lord, but with- 
 out human power, and solely by the Word of God. If 
 the bishops act thus, the churches ought to be obedient 
 
 to them, according to this declaration of Christ : Who- 
 ever hearcth you, heareth me. 
 
 " But if the bishops teach anything that is contrary 
 to the Gospel, then the churches have an order from 
 God which forbids them to obey, (Matt. vii. 15 ; Gala- 
 tiaiis i. 8; 2 Cor. xiii. 8, 10.) And St. Augustine 
 himself, in his letter against Pertilian, writes: 'We 
 must not obey the Catholic bishops if they go astr.ay, 
 aud teach anything contrary to the canonical Scrip- 
 tures of God." 
 
 After some remarks on the ordinances and traditions 
 of the Church, Bayer came to the epilogue of the 
 Confession. 
 
 " It is not from hatred that we have spoken," added 
 he, "nor to insult any one; but we have explained the 
 doctrines that we maintain to be essential, in order 
 that it may be understood that we admit of neither 
 dogma nor ceremony which is contrary to the Holy 
 Scriptures, and to the usage of the universal Church." 
 
 Bayer then ceased to read. He had spoken for two 
 hours: the silence and serious attention of the assembly 
 were not once disturbed. 
 
 This Confession of Augsburg will ever remain one 
 of the masterpieces of the humau mind enlightened by 
 the Spirit of God. 
 
 The language that had been adopted, while it was 
 perfectly natural, was the result of a profound study 
 of character. These princes, these warriors, these 
 politicians, who were sitting in the Palatine Palace, 
 entirely ignorant as they were of divinity, easily under- 
 stood the Protestant doctrine ; for it was not explained 
 to them in the style of the schools, but in that of 
 everyday life, and with a simplicity and clearness that 
 rendered all misunderstanding impossible. 
 
 At the same time the power of argumentation was 
 so much the more remarkable, as it was the more con- 
 coaled. At one time Melancthon (for it was really he 
 who spoke through the mouth of Bayer) was content 
 to quote a single passage of Scripture or of the Fathers 
 in favour of the doctrine he maintained ; and at another, 
 he proved his theses so much the more strongly, that 
 he appeared only to be declaring it. With a single 
 stroke he pointed out the sad consequences that would 
 follow the rejection of the faith he professed, or with 
 one word shewed its importance for the prosperity of 
 the Church ; so that, while listening to him, the most 
 violent enemies were obliged to acknowledge to them- 
 selves that there was really something to say in favour 
 of the uew sect. 
 
 To this force of reasoning the Apology added a pru- 
 dence no less remarkable. Melancthon, while declin- 
 ing with firmness the errors attributed to his party, did 
 not even appear to feel the injustice of these erroneous 
 imputations ; and while pointing out those of Popery, 
 he did not say expressly they were those of his adver- 
 saries ; thus carefully avoiding everytliing that might 
 irritate their minds. In this he shewed himself wise 
 as a serpent and harmless as a dove. 
 
 But the most admirable thing of all is the fidelity 
 with which the Confession explains the doctrines most 
 essential to salvation. Rome is accustomed to repre- 
 sent the reformers as the creators of the Protestant 
 doctrines ; but it is not in the sixteenth century that 
 we must look for the days of that creation. A bright 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 track of light, of which Wickliffe and Augustine mark 
 the most salient points, carries us back to the apostolic 
 age : it was then that shone in all their brilliancy the 
 creative days of evangelical truth. Yet it is true, (and 
 if this is what Rome means, we fully concur in the 
 idea,) never since the time of St. Paul had the Chris- 
 tian doctrine appeared with so much beauty, depth, 
 and life, as in the days of the Reformation. 
 
 Among these doctrines, that of the Church, which 
 had been so long disfigured, appeared at this time in 
 all its native purity. With what wisdom, in particular, 
 the confessors of Augsburg protest against that con- 
 fusion of religion and politics which, since the deplor- 
 able epoch of Constantine, had changed the kingdom 
 of God into an earthly and carnal institution ! Un- 
 doubtedly what the Confession stigmatizes with the 
 gi'eatest energy is the intrusion of the Church into 
 the affairs of the State ; but can it be thought that it 
 was to approve the intrusion of the State in Church 
 affairs ? The evil of the INIiddle Ages was the having 
 enslaved the State to the Church, and the confessors 
 of Augsburg rose like one man to combat it. The evil 
 of the three centuries which have passed away since 
 then, is to have subjected the Church to the State ; 
 and we may believe that Luther and Melancthou 
 would have foimd against this disorder thunders no 
 less powerful. What they attack in a general sense, 
 is the confusion of the two societies ; what they de- 
 mand is their independence, I do not say their separa- 
 tion, for separation of Church and State was quite 
 unknown to the reformers. If the Augsburg con- 
 fessors were unwilling that things from above should 
 monopolize those of the earth, they would have been 
 still less willing for things of earth to oppress those 
 from heaven. 
 
 There is a particular application of this principle, 
 which the Confession points out. It wills the bishops 
 should reprimand those who obey wickedness, " but 
 without human power, and solely by the Word of 
 God." It therefore rejects the use of the sword in 
 the chastisement of heretics. This we see is a primi- 
 tive principle, fundamental and essential to the Refor- 
 mation, as the contrary doctrine is a primitive principle, 
 fundamental and essential to the Papacy. If among 
 Protestants we find some writing, or even some ex- 
 ample opposed to this, it is but an isolated fact, which 
 cannot invalidate the official principles of the reform — 
 it is one of those exceptions which always serve to 
 confirm the rule. 
 
 Finally, the Augsburg Confession does not usurp 
 the rights of the Word of God; it desires to be its 
 handmaid, and not its rival ; it does not found, it does 
 not regulate the faith, but simply professes it. " Our 
 churches teach," it says ; and it will be remembered 
 that Luther considered it only as a sermon preached 
 by princes and kings. Had it desired more, as has 
 since been maintained, by that very circumstance it 
 would have been nullified. 
 
 Was, however, the Confession able to follow in all 
 things the exact path of truth ? We may be permitted 
 to doubt it. 
 
 It professes not to separate from the teaching of the 
 Catholic Church, and even from that of the Romish 
 Church, — by which is, no doubt, signified the ancient 
 
 Roman Church, — and rejects the Popish particularism 
 which, for about eight centuries, imprisoned men's con- 
 sciences. The Confession, however, seems overlaid 
 with superstitious fears when there is any question of 
 deviating from the views entertained by some of the 
 Fathers of the Church, of breaking the toils of the 
 hierarchy, and of acting, as regards Rome, without 
 blameable forbearance. This, at least, is what its 
 author, Melancthon, professes. " We do not put for- 
 ward any dogma," said he, " which is not founded on 
 the Gospel, or on the teaching of the Catholic Church; 
 we are prepared to concede everything that is necessary 
 for the episcopal dignity; and, provided the bishops do 
 not condemn the Gospel, we preserve all the rites that 
 appear indifferent to us. In a word, there is no burden 
 that we reject, if we can bear it without guilt." 
 
 Many will think, no doubt, that a little more inde- 
 pendence would have been proper in this matter, and 
 that it would have been better to have passed over the 
 ages that have followed the times of the Apostles, 
 and have frankly put in practice the grand principle 
 which the Reformation had proclaimed: "There is 
 for articles of faith no other foundation than the Word 
 of God." 
 
 Melancthon's moderation has been admired ; and, in 
 truth, while pointing out the abuses of Rome, he was 
 silent on what is most revolting in them, on their dis- 
 graceful origin, their scandalous consequences, and is 
 content to shew that they ai-e in contradiction to the 
 Scripture. But he does more, he is sUent on the 
 Divine right claimed by the pope, on the number of 
 the sacraments, and on several other points. His 
 great business is to justify the renovated, and not to 
 attack the deformed. Church. "Peace! peace!" was 
 his cry. But if, instead of all this circumspection, the 
 Reformation had advanced with courage, had wholly 
 unveiled the Word of God, and had made an ener- 
 getic appeal to the sympathies of reform then spread 
 in men's hearts, would it not have taken a stronger 
 and more honourable position, and would it not have 
 secured more extensive conquests ? 
 
 The interest that Charles the Fifth shewed in listen- 
 ing to the Confession seems doubtful. According to 
 some, he endeavoured to understand that foreign lan- 
 guage ; according to others, he fell asleep. It is easy 
 to reconcile these contradictory testimonies. 
 
 AVhen the reading was finished, chancellor Bruck, 
 with the two copies in his hand, advanced towards 
 the emperor's secretary and presented them to him. 
 Charles the Fifth, who was wide-awake at this mo- 
 ment, himself took the two Confessions, handed the 
 German copy, considered as official, to the Elector of 
 Mentz, and kept the Latin one for himself. ' He then 
 made reply to the Elector of Saxony and to his allies, 
 that he had graciously heard their Confession ; but as 
 this affair was one of extreme importance, he required 
 time to deliberate upon it. 
 
 The joy with which the Protestants were filled shone 
 in their eyes. God had been with them ; and they saw 
 that the striking act which had so recently been ac- 
 complished, imposed on them the obligation of coufess- 
 
 1 Tlio Latin copy, deposited in the arcliives of tlie imperial house, should 
 be found at Brussels ; and the German copy, seat afterwards to the Council 
 of Trent, ought to be in the Vatican. 
 
LUTHER DEMANDS RELIGIOUS LIBERTY. 
 
 ing the truth with immoveable perseverance. " I am 
 overjoyed," wrote Luther, " that I liave lived until this 
 hour, in which Christ has been publicly exalted by such 
 illustrious confessors, and in so glorious au assembly. 
 Tiie whole evangelical Church, excited and renovated 
 by this public confession of its representatives, was 
 then more intimately united to its Divine Chief, and 
 baptized with a new baptism. " Since the apostolic 
 age," said they, (these are the words of a contem- 
 porary,) " there has never been a greater work or a 
 more magnificent Confession." 
 
 The emperor, having descended from his throne, 
 approached the Protestant princes, and begged them, 
 in a low tone, not to publish the Confession ; they 
 acceded to his request, and every one withdrew. 
 
 CHAPTER vrn. 
 
 Effect on the Bom.inists— Luther Demands Religious Liberty— His Domi- 
 nant Idea — Song of Triumph— Ingenuous Confessions— Hopes of the 
 Protestants — Fadure of the Popish Intrigues — The Emperor*s Council 
 — Violent Discussions— A Refutation Proposed — Its Authors — Rome 
 and the Civil Power— Perils of the Confessors— Melancthon's Minimum 
 — Tlie Emperor's Sister — Melancthon's Fall— Luther Opposes Con- 
 cession—The Legate Repels Melanothon— The Pope's Decision— Ques- 
 tion— Melancthou's School Matters— Answer. 
 
 The Romanists had expected nothing like this. In- 
 stead of a hateful controversy, they had heard a 
 striking confession of Jesus Christ; the most hostile 
 minds were consequently disarmed. " We would not 
 for a great deal," was the remark on every side, " have 
 missed being present at this reading." The effect was 
 so prompt, that for an instant the cause was thought to 
 be definitely gained. The bishops themselves imposed 
 silence on the sophisms and clamours of the Fabers 
 and the Ecks. " All that the Lutherans have said is 
 true," exclaimed the Bishop of Augsburg ; "we cannot 
 deny it." — " Well, doctor," said the Duke of Bavaria 
 to Eck, in a reproachful tone, "you had given me a 
 very different idea of this doctrine and of this affair." 
 This was the general cry; accordingly, tlie sophists, as 
 they called them, were embarrassed. " But, after all," 
 said the Duke of Bavaria to them, " can you refute by 
 sound reasons the Confession made by the elector and 
 his allies 1 " — " With the writings of the apostles and 
 prophets — no ! " replied Eck ; " but with those of the 
 Fathers and of the councils — yes!" "I understand," 
 quickly replied the duke; "I understand. The Lu- 
 therans, according to you, are in Scripture, and we are 
 outside." 
 
 The Archbishop Hermann, elector of Cologne, the 
 Count-palatine Frederick, Duke Eiick of Brunswick- 
 Luneburg, Duke Henry of Mecklenburg, and the 
 dukes of Pomerania, were gained over to the truth ; 
 and Hermann sought erelong to establish it in his 
 electorate. 
 
 The impression produced in other countries by the 
 Confession was, perhaps, still greater. Charles sent 
 copies to all the courts ; it was translated into French, 
 Italian, and even into Spanish and Portuguese; it circu- 
 
 lated through all Europe, and thus accomplished what 
 Luther had said : " Our Confession will penetrate into 
 every court, and the sound thereof will spread through 
 the whole earth." It destroyed the prejudices that 
 had been entertained, gave Europe a sounder idea of 
 the Reformation, and prepared the most distant coun- 
 tries to receive the seeds of the Gospel. 
 
 Then Luther's voice began to be heard again. He 
 saw that it was a decisive moment, and that he ought 
 now to give the impulse that would gain religious 
 liberty. He boldly demanded this liberty of the Roman 
 Catholic princes of the diet; and at the same time 
 endeavoured to make his friends quit Augsburg. Jesus 
 Christ had been boldly confessed. Instead of that 
 long series of quarrels and discussions which was about 
 to become connected with this courageous act, Luther 
 would have wished for a striking rupture, even should 
 he seal with his blood the testimony rendered to the 
 Gospel. The stake, in his idea, would have been the 
 real catastrophe of this tragedy. " I absolve you from 
 this diet, in the name of the Lord," wrote he to his 
 friends. " Now home, return home, again I say, home ! 
 Would to God that I were the sacrifice offered to this 
 new council, as John Huss at Constance!" 
 
 But Luther did not expect so glorious a conclusion : 
 he compared the diet to a drama. First, there had 
 been the exposition, then the prologue, afterwards the 
 action, and now he waited for the tragic catastrophe, 
 according to some, but which, in his opinion, would be 
 merely comic. Everything, he thought, would be 
 sacrificed to political peace, and dogm;is would be set 
 aside. This proceeding, which, even in our own days, 
 would be in the eyes of the world the height of wisdom, 
 was in Luther's eyes the height of folly. 
 
 He was especially alarmed at the thought of Charles's 
 intervention. To withdraw tlie Church from all secu- 
 lar influence, and the governments from all clerical 
 influence, was then one of the dominant ideas of the 
 great reformer. " You see," wrote he to Melancthou, 
 " that they oppose to our cause the same argument as 
 at Worms, — to wit, still and for ever the judgment of 
 the emperor. Thus Satan is always harping on the 
 same string, aud that emaciated strength of the civil 
 power is the only one which this myriad-wiled spirit 
 is able to find against Jesus Christ." But Luther took 
 courage, and boldly raised his head. " Christ is com- 
 ing," continued he ; " He is coming, sitting at the right 
 hand. ... Of whom ? not of the emperor, or we 
 should long ago have been lost, but of God himself : let 
 us fear nothing. Christ is the King of kings and the 
 Lord of lords. If He loses this title at Augsburg, 
 He must also lose it in all the earth, and in all the 
 heavens." 
 
 Thus a song of triumph was, on the part of the con- 
 fessors of Augsburg, the first movement that followed 
 this courageous act, unique, doubtless, in the annals of 
 the Ciiurch. Some of their adversaries at first shared 
 in their triumph, and the others were silent; but a 
 powerful reaction took place erelong. 
 
 On the following mornuig, Charles having risen in 
 ill-humour, and tired for want of sleep, the first of his 
 ministers who appeared in the imperial apartments 
 was the count-palatine, as wearied and embarrassed as 
 his master. " We must yield something," said he to 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Charles ; " and I would remind your majesty that the 
 Emperor Maximilian was willing to gi'ant the two 
 kinds in the Eucharist, the marriage of priests, and 
 liberty with respect to the fasts." Charles the Fifth 
 eagerly seized at this proposition as a means of safety. 
 But Granvelle and Campeggio soon arrived, who in- 
 duced him to withdraw it. 
 
 Rome, bewildered for a moment by the blow that 
 had struck her, rose up again with energy. " I stay 
 with the mother," exclaimed the Bishop of Wartzburg, 
 meaning by it the Church of Rome; "the mother, the 
 mother !" " My lord," wittily replied Brentz, " pray, 
 do not, for the mother, forget either the Father or the 
 Son!" — "Well! I grant it," replied the Archbishop of 
 Salzburg to one of his friends, "I also should desire 
 the communion in both kinds, the marriage of priests, 
 the reformation of the mass, and liberty as regards 
 food and other traditions. . . . But that it should 
 be a monk, a poor monk, who presumes to reform us 
 all, is what we cannot tolerate." — " I should have uo 
 objection," said another bishop, "for Divine worship 
 to be celebrated everywhere as it is at Wittemberg; 
 but we can never consent that this new doctrine should 
 issue from such a corner." And Melaucthon, insisting 
 with the Archbishop of Salzburg on the necessity of a 
 reform of the clergy : " Well ! and how can you wish 
 to reform us ?" said the latter abruptly : " we priests 
 have always been good for nothing." This is one of 
 the most ingenuous confessions that the Reformation 
 has torn from the priests. Every day fanatical monks 
 and doctors, brimful of sophisms, were seen arriving at 
 Augsburg, who endeavoured to inflame the hatred of 
 the emperor and of the princes. "If we formerly had 
 friends," said Melancthon, on the morrow of the Con- 
 fession, " now we possess them no longer. We are 
 here alone, abandoned by all, and contending against 
 measureless dangers." 
 
 Charles, impelled by these contrary parties, affected 
 a great indifference. But without permitting it to be 
 seen, he endeavoured, meanwhile, to examine this affair 
 thoroughly. " Let there not be a word wanting," he 
 had said to his secretary, when requiring from him a 
 French translation of the Confession. " He does not 
 allow anything to be observed," whispered the Protes- 
 tants one to another, convinced that Charles was gained ; 
 "for if it were known, he would lose his Spanish 
 states: let us maintain the most profound secrecy." 
 But the emperor's courtiers, who perceived these 
 strange hopes, smiled and shook their heads. "If 
 you have money," said Scheppcr, one of the secre- 
 taries of state, to Jonas and Melancthon, " it will be 
 easy for you to buy from the Italians whatever religion 
 you please ; but if your purse is empty, yom- cause is 
 lost." Then assuming a more serious tone: "It is 
 impossible," said he, " for the emperor, surrounded as 
 he is by bishops and cardinals, to approve of any other 
 religion than that of the pope." 
 
 This was soon evident. On the day after the Con- 
 fession, (Sunday, 26th June,) before the breakfast 
 hour, all the deputations from the imperial cities were 
 collected in the emperor's antechamber. Chai-les, desir- 
 ous of bringing back the states of the empire to unity, 
 began with the weakest. " Some of the cities," said 
 the count-palatine, " have not adhered to the last Diet 
 
 of Spires: the emperor calls upon them to submit 
 to it." 
 
 Strasburg, Nuremberg, Constance, Ulm, Reutlingen, 
 Heilbronn, Menimingen, Lindau, Kempten, Windsheim, 
 Isuy, and Weissemburg, which were thus summoned to 
 renounce the famous protest, thought the moment 
 cmiously chosen. They asked for time. 
 
 The position was complicated: discord had been 
 thrown in the midst of the cities, and intrigue was 
 labouring daily to increase it. It was not only be- 
 tween the popish and the evangelical cities that dis- 
 agreement existed; but also between the Zwingliau 
 and the Lutheran cities, and even among the latter, 
 those which had not adhered to the Confession of Augs- 
 burg manifested great ill-humour towards the deputies 
 of Reuthugen and Nuremberg. This proceeding of 
 Charles the Fifth was, therefore, skilfully calcu- 
 lated; for it was based on the old axiom, Divide et 
 impera. 
 
 But the enthusiasm of faith overcame all these 
 stratagems, and on the next day, (27th June,) the 
 deputies from the cities transmitted a reply to the 
 emperor, in which they declared that they could not 
 adhere to the Recess of Spires " without disobeying 
 God, and without compromising the salvation of their 
 souls." 
 
 Charles, who desired to observe a just medium, more 
 from polic}' than from equity, wavered between so 
 many contrary convictions. Desirous, nevertheless, of 
 essaying his mediating influence, he convoked the 
 states faithful to Rome, on Sunday, 26th June, shortly 
 after his conference with the cities. 
 
 All the princes were present : even the pope's legate 
 and the most influential Roman divines appeared at 
 this council, to the great scandal of the Protestants. 
 "What reply should be made to the Confession?" was 
 the question set by Charles the Fifth to the senate 
 that surrounded him. 
 
 Three different opinions were proposed. " Let us 
 beware," said the men of the Papacy, "of discussing 
 our adversaries' reasons ; and let us be content with 
 executing the Edict of Worms against the Lutherans, 
 and with constraining them by arms." — " Let us sub- 
 mit the Confession to the examination of impartial 
 judges," said the men of the empire, "and refer the 
 final decision to the emperor. Is not even the reading 
 of the Confession an appeal of the Protestants to the 
 imperial power?" Others, in the last place, (and these 
 were the men of tradition and of ecclesiastical doc- 
 trine,) were desirous of commissioning certain doctors 
 to compose a refutation, which should be read to the 
 Protestants, and ratified by Charles. 
 
 The debate was very animated; the mild and the 
 violent, the politic and the fanatical, took a decided 
 course in the assembly. George of Saxony, and 
 Joachim of Brandenburg, shewed themselves the most 
 inveterate ; and surpassed, in this respect, even the 
 ecclesiastical princes. "A certain clown, whom you 
 know well, is pushing them all from behind," -wrote 
 Melancthon to Luther ; " and certain hypocritical 
 theologians hold the torch and lead the whole band." 
 This clown was doubtless Duke George. Even the 
 princes of Bavaria, whom the Confession had stag- 
 gered at first, immediately rallied around the chiefs of 
 
VIOLENT DISCUSSIONS. 
 
 the Roman party. The Elector of Mentz, the Bishop 
 of Augsburg, the Duke of Brunswick, shewed them- 
 6elves the least unfavourable to the evangelical cause. 
 "I can by no means advise his majesty to employ 
 force," said Albert. " If his majesty should constrain 
 their consciences, and should afterwards quit the em- 
 pire, the lirst victims sacrificed would be the priests ; 
 and who knows whether, in the midst of these dis- 
 cords, the Turks would not suddenly fall upon us?" 
 But this somewhat interested wisdom of the archbishop 
 did not find many supporters, and the men of war 
 immediately plunged into the discussion with theu- 
 harsh voices. "If there is any fighting against the 
 Lutherans," said Count Felix of "Werdenberg, "I 
 gratuitously offer my sword, and I swear never to 
 return it to its scabbard until it has overthrown the 
 stronghold of Luther." This nobleman died suddenly, 
 ft few days after, from the consequences of his intem- 
 perance. Then the moderate men again interfered : 
 "The Lutherans attack uo one article of the faith," 
 said the Bishop of Augsburg; let us come to an 
 arrangement with them ; and to obtain peace, let us 
 concede to them the sacrament in both kinds, and the 
 marriage of priests. I would even yield more, if it 
 were necessary." Upon this loud cries arose : " He is 
 a Lutheran," they exclaimed, " and you will see that 
 he is fully prepared to sacrifice even the private 
 masses!" — "The masses! we must not even think of 
 it," remarked some with an ironical smile ; " Rome 
 will never give them up, for it is they which maintain 
 her cardinals and her courtiers, with their luxury and 
 their kitchens." The Archbishop of Salzburg and the 
 Elector of Brandenburg replied with great violence to 
 the motion of the Bishop of Augsburg. " The Luther- 
 ans," said they abruptly, " have laid before us a Con- 
 fession written with black ink ou white paper. Well : 
 if I were emperor, I would answer them with red ink." 
 — "Sirs," quickly replied the Bishop of Augsburg, 
 " take care, then, that the red letters do not fly in your 
 faces ! " The Elector of Mentz was compelled to in- 
 terfere and calm the speakers. 
 
 The emperor, desirous of plaj-ing the character of 
 an umpire, would have wished the Roman party at 
 least to have placed in his hands an act of accusation 
 against the Reform : but all was now altered ; the ma- 
 jority, becoming daily more compact since the Diet of 
 Spires, no longer sided with Charles. Full of the 
 sentiment of their own strength, they refused to 
 assume the title of a party, and to take the emperor 
 as a judge. "AVhat are you saying," cried they, "of 
 diversity between the members of the empire? There 
 is but one legitimate party. It is not a question of 
 deciding between two opinions whose rights are equal, 
 but of crushing rebels, and of aiding those who have 
 remained faithful to the constitution of the empire." 
 
 This haughty language enlightened Charles : he 
 found they had outstripped him, and that, abandoning 
 his lofty position of arbiter, he must submit merely 
 to be the executor of the orders of the majority. It 
 was this majority which henceforward commanded in 
 Augsburg. They excluded the imperial councillors 
 who advocated more equitable views, and the Arch- 
 bishop of Mentz himself ceased for a time to appear in 
 the diet. 
 
 The majority ordered that a refutation of the Evan- 
 gelical doctrine should be immediately drawn up by 
 Romish theologians. If they had selected for this pur- 
 pose moderate men like the Bishop of Augsburg, the 
 Reformation would still have had some chance of 
 success with the great principles of Christianity; but 
 it was to the enemies of the Reform, to the old cham- 
 pions of Rome and of Aristotle, exasperated by so 
 many defeats, that they resolved to intrust this task. 
 
 They were numerous at Augsburg, and not held in 
 very great esteem. "The princes," said Jonas, "have 
 brought their learned men with them, and some even 
 their ■unlearned and their fools." Provost Faber and 
 Doctor Eck lead the troop ; behind them was drawn 
 up a cohort of monks, and above all of Dominicans, 
 tools of the Inquisition, and impatient to recompense 
 themselves for the opprobrium they had so long en- 
 dured. There was the provincial of the Dominicans, 
 Paul Hugo, their vicar John Bourkard, one of their 
 priors Conrad Koeloin, who had v\Titten against 
 Luther's marriage ; with a number of Carthusians, 
 Augustines, Franciscans, and the vicars of several 
 bishops. Such were the men who, to the number of 
 twenty, were commissioned to refute Melancthon. 
 
 One might, beforehand, have augured of the work 
 by the workmen. Each one understood that it was a 
 question, not of refuting the Confession, but of brand- 
 ing it. Campeggio, who doubtless suggested this ill- 
 omened list to Charles, was well aware that these 
 doctors were incapable of measuring themselves with 
 Melancthon ; but their names formed the most decided 
 standard of Popery, and announced to the world clearly 
 and immediately what the diet proposed to do. This 
 was the essential point. Rome would not leave Chris- 
 tendom even hope. 
 
 It was, however, requisite to know whether the diet, 
 and the emperor who was its organ, had the right of 
 pronouncing in this purely religious matter. Charles 
 put the question both to the Evangelicals and to the 
 Romanists. 
 
 " Your highness," said Luther, who was consulted 
 by the elector, " may reply with all assurance. Yes, 
 if the emperor wish it, let him be judge ! I will bear 
 everything on his part ; but let him decide nothing 
 contrary to the "Word of God. Your highness cannot 
 put the emperor above God himself. Does not the 
 first commandment say, Thou skilt have no other gods 
 he/ore me'/" 
 
 The reply of the Papal adherents was quite as posi- 
 tive in a contrary sense. "We think," said they, "that 
 his majesty, in accord with the electors, princes, and 
 states of the empire, has the right to proceed in this 
 affair, as Roman emperor, guardian, advocate, and 
 sovereign protector of the Church and of our most holy 
 faith." Thus, in the first days of the Reformation, the 
 Evangelical Church frankly ranged itself under the 
 throne of Jesus Christ, and the Roman Church under 
 the sceptre of kings. Enlightened men, even among 
 Protestants, have misunderstood this double nature of 
 Protestantism and Popery. 
 
 The philosophy of Aristotle and the hierarchy of 
 Rome, thanks to this alliance with the civil power, 
 were at length about to see the day of their long- 
 expected triumph arrive. So long as the schoolmen 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 had beeu left to the force of their sjdlogisms and of 
 their abuse, they had been defeated ; but now Charles 
 the Fifth and the diet held out their hands to them ; 
 the reasonings of Faber, Eck, and Wimpina were about 
 to be countersigned by the German chancellor, and 
 confirmed by the great seals of the empire. Who 
 could resist them? The Romish error has never had 
 any strength except by its union with the secular arm ; 
 and its victories in the Old and in the New World are 
 owing, even in our days, to State patronage. ' 
 
 These things did not escape the piercing eye of 
 Luther. He saw at once the weakness of the argu- 
 ment of the Papist doctors and the power of Charles's 
 arm. "You are waiting for your adversaries' answer," 
 wrote he to his friends in Augsburg ; " it is already 
 written, and here it is: The Fathers, the Fathers, 
 the Fathers ; the Church, the Church, the Church ; 
 
 usage, custom; but of the Scriptures nothing!" — 
 
 "Then the emperor, supported by the testimony of these 
 arbiters, will pronounce against you ; and then will 
 you hear boastings from all sides that will ascend up 
 to heaven, and threats that will descend even to hell." 
 
 Thus changed the situation of the Reform. Charles 
 was obliged to acknowledge his weakness: and, to 
 save the appearance of his power, he took a decisive 
 part with the enemies of Luther. The emperor's im- 
 partiality disappeared : the State turned against the 
 Gospel, and there remained for it no other saviour 
 than God. 
 
 At first many gave way to extreme dejection : above 
 all, Melancthon, who had a nearer view of the cabals 
 of the adversaries, exhausted, moreover, by long vigils, 
 fell almost into despair. "In the presence of these for- 
 midable evils," cried he, " I see uo more hope." And 
 then, however, he added — " Except the help of God." 
 
 The legate immediately set all his batteries to work. 
 Already had Charles several times sent for the elector 
 and the landgrave, and had used every exertion to 
 detach them from the evangelical Confession. Me- 
 lancthon, uneasy at these secret conferences, reduced 
 the Confession to its minimum, and entreated the 
 elector to demand only the two kinds in the Eucharist 
 and the marriage of priests. " To interdict the former 
 of these points," said he, " would be to alienate a great 
 number of Christians from the communion ; and to 
 forbid the second, would be depriving the Church of 
 all the pastors capable of edifying it. Will they de- 
 stroy rehgiou and kindle civil war, rather than apply 
 to these purely ecclesiastical constitutions a mitigation 
 that is neither contrary to sound morals nor to faith?" 
 The Protestant princes begged Melancthon to go him- 
 self and make these proposals to the legate. 
 
 Melancthon agreed : he began to flatter himself with 
 success; and, in truth, there were, even among tlie 
 Papists, individuals who were favourable to the Refor- 
 mation. There had recently arrived at Augsburg, 
 from beyond the Alps, certain propositions tolerably 
 Lutheran, and one of the emperor's confessors boldly 
 professed the doctrine of justification by faith, cursing 
 " those asses of Germans," said he, " who are inces- 
 santly braying against this truth." One of Charles's 
 chaplains approved even the whole of the Confession. 
 There was somethmg further still : Charles the Fifth 
 
 haviug consulted the grandees of Spain, who were 
 famous for their orthodoxy: "If the opinions of the 
 Protestants are contrary to the articles of the faith," 
 they had replied, "let your majesty employ all his 
 power to destroy this faction ; but if it is a question 
 merely of certain changes in human ordinances and 
 external usages, let all violence be avoided." " Ad- 
 mirable reply!" exclaimed Melancthon, who persuaded 
 himself that the Romish doctrine was at the bottom in 
 accordance with the Gospel. 
 
 The Reformation found defenders in even still higher 
 stations. Mary, sister of Charles the Fifth, and widow 
 of King Louis of Hungary, arriving at Augsburg three 
 days after the reading of the Confession, with her 
 sister-in-law, the Queen of Bohemia, Ferdinand's wife, 
 assiduously studied the Holy Scriptures; she carried 
 them with her to the hunting parties, in which she 
 found little pleasure, and had discovered therein the 
 jewel of the Reform, — the doctrine of gratuitous sal- 
 vation. This pious princess made her chaplain read 
 evangelical sermons to her, and often endeavoured, 
 although with prudence, to appease her brother Charles 
 with regard to the Protestants. 
 
 Melancthon, encouraged by these demonstrations, 
 and at the same time alarmed by the threats of war 
 that tlie adversaries did not cease from uttering, 
 thought it his duty to purchase peace at any cost, 
 and resolved, in consequence, to descend in his pro- 
 positions as low as possible. He therefore demanded 
 an interview with the legate, in a letter whose authen- 
 ticity has been unreasonably doubted. At the decisive 
 moment the heart of the reform champion fails, — his 
 head turns — he staggers — he falls ; and in his fall he 
 runs the risk of dragging with him the cause which 
 martyrs have already watered with their blood. 
 
 Thus speaks the representative of the Reformation 
 to the representative of the Papacy : — 
 
 " There is no doctrine in which we differ from the 
 Roman Church ; we venerate the universal authority of 
 the Roman Pontiff, and we are ready to obey him, 
 provided he does not reject us, and that of his clem- 
 ency, which he is accustomed to shew towards all 
 nations, he will kindly pardon or approve certain little 
 things that it is no longer possible for us to change. 
 , , = Now, tlien, will you reject those who appear 
 as suppliants before you ? Will you pursue them with 
 fire and sword ? . . . Alas ! notliing draws upon 
 us in Germany so mucli hatred, as the unshaken firm- 
 ness with which we maintain the doctrines of the 
 Roman Church. But with the aid of God, we will 
 remain faitliful, even unto death, to Christ and to the 
 Roman Church, although you should reject us." 
 
 Thus did Melancthon humble himself. God per- 
 mitted this fall, that future ages might clearly see how 
 low the Reformation was willing to descend in order to 
 maintain unity, and that no one miglit doubt that the 
 schism had come from Rome ; but also, assuredly, that 
 they might learn how great, in every important work, 
 is tlie weakness of the noblest instruments. 
 
 Fortunately there was then another man who up- 
 held the honour of the Reformation. At this very 
 time Luther wrote to Melancthon : " There can be no 
 concord between Christ and Belial. As far as regards 
 me, I will not yield a hair's-brcadth. Sooner than 
 
LUTHER OPPOSES CONCESSION 
 
 yield, I should prefer suffering everything;, even the 
 most terrible evils. Concede so much the less, as your 
 adversaries require the more. God will not aid us 
 until we ai-e abandoned by all." And fearing some 
 weakness on the part of his friends, Luther added: 
 "If it were not tempting God, you would long ago 
 have seen me at your side !" 
 
 Never, in fact, had Luther's presence been so neces- 
 sary, for the legate had consented to an interview, and 
 Melancthon was about to pay court to Campcggio. 
 
 The 8th of July wixs the day appointed by the 
 legate. His letter inspired Philip with the most san- 
 guine hopes. " The cardinal assures me that he will 
 accede the usage of the two kinds, and the marriage of 
 priests," said he ; " I am eager to visit him !" 
 
 This visit might decide the destiny of the Church. 
 If the legate accepted Philip's ultimatum, the evangeli- 
 cal countries would be replaced under the power of the 
 Romish bishops, and all would have been over with 
 the Reformation ; but it was saved through the pride 
 and blindness of Rome. The Papists, believing it on 
 the brink of the abyss, thought that a last blow would 
 settle it, and resolved, like Luther, to concede nothing, 
 "not even a hair's-breadth." The legate, however, 
 even while refusing, assumed an air of kindness, and 
 of yielding to foreign influence. "I might have the 
 power of making certain concessions, but it would not 
 be prudent to use it without the consent of the German 
 princes ; their will must be done ; one of them, in par- 
 ticular, conjures the emperor to prevent us from yield- 
 ing the least thing. I can grant nothing." The Roman 
 prince, with the most amiable smile, then did all he 
 could to gain the chief of the Protestant teachers. 
 Melancthon retired filled with shame at the advances 
 he had made, but still deceived by Canipeggio. "No 
 doubt," said he, " Eck and Cochloeus have been before- 
 hand with me at the legate's." Luther entertained a dif- 
 ferent opinion. " I do not trust to any of these Italians," 
 said he ; " they are scoundrels. When an Italian is 
 good, he is very good ; but then he is a black swan." 
 
 It was truly the Italians who were concerned. 
 Shortly after the 12 th of July arrived the pope's 
 instructions. He had received the Confession by ex- 
 press, and sixteen days had sufficed for the transmis- 
 sion, the deliberation, and the return. Clement would 
 hear no mention either of discussions or of council. 
 Charles was to march straight to the mark, to send an 
 army into Germany, and stifle the Reformation by 
 force. At Augsburg, however, it was thought best 
 not to go so quickly to work, and recourse was had to 
 other means. 
 
 " Be quiet ; we have them," said the Romish doctors. 
 Sensible of the reproach that had been made against 
 them, of having misrepresented the Reformation, they 
 accused the Protestants themselves of being the cause. 
 "These it is," they said, "who to give themselves an 
 air of being in accord with us, now dissemble their 
 heresy; but we will catch them in their own nets. If 
 they confess to not having inserted in their Confession 
 all that they reject, it will be proved that they are 
 trifling with us. If, on the contrary, they pretend to 
 have said everything, they will by that very circum- 
 stance be compelled to admit all that they have not 
 condemned." The Protestant princes were, therefore, 
 
 called together, and they were asked if the Reforma- 
 tion was confined to the doctrines indicated in the 
 Apology, or if there was something more. 
 
 The snare was skilfully laid. Tlie Papacy had not 
 even been mentioned in Melancthon's Confession ; other 
 errors besides had been omitted, and Luther himself 
 complained of it aloud. " Satan sees clearly," said he, 
 " that your Apology has passed lightly over the articles 
 of purgatory, the worship of saints, and, above all, of 
 the Pojjc and of Antichrist." The princes requested 
 to confer with their allies of the towns ; and all the 
 Protestants assembled to deliberate on this momentous 
 incident. 
 
 They looked for Melancthon's explanation, who did 
 not decline the responsibility of the affair. Easily de- 
 jected through his own anxiety, he became bold when- 
 ever he was directly attacked. "All the essential 
 doctrines," said he, " have been set forth in the Con- 
 fession, and every error and abuse that is opposed to 
 them has been pointed out. But was it necessary to 
 plunge into all those questions, so full of contention and 
 animosity, that are discussed in our universities ? AVas 
 it necessary to ask if all Christians are priests, if the 
 primacy of the pope is of right Divine, if there can be 
 indulgences, if every good work is a deadly sin, if there 
 are more than seven sacraments, if they may be ad- 
 ministered by a layman, if Divine election has any 
 foundation in our own merits, if sacerdotal consecra- 
 tion impresses an indelible character, if auricular con- 
 fession is necessary to salvation ? . . . No, no ! 
 all these things are in the province of the schools, and 
 by no means essential to faith." 
 
 It cannot be denied that in the questions thus pointed 
 out by Melancthon there were important points. How- 
 ever that may be, the evangelical committee were soon 
 agreed, and on the morrow they gave an answer to 
 Charles's ministers, drawn up with as much frankness 
 as firmness, in which they said, " that the Protestants, 
 desirous of arriving at a cordial understanding, had not 
 wished to complicate their situation, and had proposed 
 not to specify all the errors that had been introduced 
 into the Church, but to confess all the doctrines that 
 were essential to salvation ; that if, nevertheless, the 
 adverse party felt itself urged to maintain certain 
 abuses, or to put forward any point not mentioned in 
 the Confession, the Protestants declared themselves 
 ready to reply in conformity with the Word of God." 
 The tone of this answer shewed pretty clearly that the 
 evangelical Christians did not fear to follow their 
 adversaries wherever the latter should call them. 
 Accordingly the Roman party said no more on this 
 business. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Refutation— Charles's Dissatisfaction— Interview with the Princes— 
 Tlie Swiss at Augsburg— Tetrapolitan Confession— Zwingle's Confession 
 —Afflicting Dirisions— The Elector's Faith— His Peace— The Lion's 
 Skin— The Refutation— One Concession— Scripture and the Hierarchy 
 — Imperial Commands — Interview between Melancthon and Campeggio 
 —Policy of Charles— Stormy Meeting— Resolutions of the Consistory— 
 Tlie Prayers of the Church— Tivo Miracles— The Emperor's Menace— 
 The Princes' Coiuage— The Mssk— Negotiations— The Spectres at Spires 
 —Tumult in Augstui-g. 
 
 The commission charged to refute the Confession met 
 
470 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 twice a-day, and each of the theologians who composed 
 it added to it his refutations and his hatred. 
 
 Ou the 13th July the work was finished. "Eck, 
 with his band," said Melancthon, "transmitted it to 
 the emperor." Great was the astonishment of this 
 prince and of his ministers at seeing a work of two 
 hundred and eighty pages filled with abuse. "Bad 
 workmen waste much wood," said Luther, " and im- 
 pious writers soil much paper." This was not all : to 
 the Refutation were subjoined eight appendices on the 
 heresies that Melancthon had dissembled, (as they said,) 
 and wherein they exposed the contradictions and "the 
 horrible sects " to which Lutheranism had given birth. 
 Lastly, not confining themselves to this official answer, 
 the Eomish theologians, who saw the sun of power 
 shining upon them, filled Augsburg with insolent and 
 abusive pamphlets. 
 
 There was but one opinion on the Papist Refutation ; 
 it was found confused, violent, thirsting for blood. 
 Charles the Fifth had too much good taste not to per- 
 ceive the difference that existed between this coarse 
 work and the noble dignity of Melancthou's Confes- 
 sion. He rolled, handled, crushed, and so damaged 
 the two hundred and eighty pages of his doctors, that 
 when he returned them two days after, says Spalatin, 
 there were not more than twelve entire. Charles 
 would have beeu ashamed to have such a pamphlet 
 read in the diet, and he required, in consequence, that 
 it should be drawn up anew, shorter, and in more 
 moderate language. That was not easy, "for the 
 adversaries, confused and stupified," says Brentz, " by 
 the noble simplicity of the evangelical Confession, 
 neither know where to begin nor where to end ; they 
 accordingly took nearly three weeks to do their work 
 over again." 
 
 Charles and his ministers had great doubts of its 
 success ; leaving, therefore, the theologians for a mo- 
 ment, they imagined another manoeuvre. "Let us 
 take each of the Protestant princes separately," said 
 they: "isolated, they will not resist." Accordingly, 
 on the 15th July, the Margrave of Brandenburg was 
 visited by his two cousins, the Electors of Mentz and 
 of Brandenburg, and by his two brothers, the Mar- 
 graves Frederick and John Albert. " Abandon this 
 new faith," said they to him, "and return to that 
 which existed a century ago. If you do so, there are 
 no favours that you may not expect from the emperor ; 
 if not, di'ead his auger." 
 
 Shortly after, the Duke Frederick of Bavaria, the 
 Count of Nassau, De Rogendorf, and Truchses, were 
 announced to the elector on the part of Charles. 
 " You have solicited the emperor," said they, " to 
 confirm the marriage of your son with the Princess of 
 Juliers, and to invest you with the electoral dignity; 
 but his majesty declares, that if you do not renounce 
 the heresy of Luther, of which you are the principal 
 abettor, he cannot accede to your demand." At the 
 same time, the Duke of Bavaria, employing the most 
 urgent solicitations, accompanied with the most ani- 
 mated gestures and the most sinister threats, called 
 upon the elector to abandon his faith. "It is asserted," 
 added Charles's envoys, " that you have made an alli- 
 ance with the Swiss. The emperor cannot believe it ; 
 and he orders you to let him know the truth." 
 
 The Swiss ! it was the same thing as rebellion. Tliis 
 alliance was the phantom incessantly invoked at Augs- 
 burg to alarm Charles the Fifth. And in reality, 
 deputies, or, at least, friends of the Swiss, had already 
 appeared in that city, and thus rendered the position 
 still more serious. 
 
 Bucer had arrived two days before the reading of 
 the Confession, and Capito on the day subsequent to it. 
 There was even a report that Zwingle would join them. 
 But for a long time all in Augsburg, except the Stras- 
 burg deputation, were ignorant of the presence of these 
 doctors. It was only twenty-one days after their 
 arrival that Melancthon learnt it positively, so great 
 was the mystery in which the Zwinglians were forced 
 to enshroud themselves. This was not without reason ; 
 a conference with Melancthon having been requested 
 by them: "Let them write," replied he; "I should 
 compromise our cause by an interview with them." 
 
 Bucer and Capito in their retreat, which was like a 
 prison to them, had taken advantage of their leisure to 
 draw up the " Tetrapolitan Confession," or the Con- 
 fession of the four cities. The deputies of Strasburg, 
 Constance, Memmingen, and Lindau, presented it to 
 the emperor. These cities purged themselves from the 
 reproach of war and revolt that had been continually 
 objected against them. They declared that their only 
 motive was Christ's glory, and professed the truth 
 "freely, boldly, but without insolence and without 
 scurrility." 
 
 Zwingle, about the same time, caused a private Con- 
 fession to be communicated to Charles, which excited 
 a general uproar. " Does he not dare to say," ex- 
 claimed the Romanists, " that the mitred and ivitliered 
 race (by which he means the bishops) is, in the Church, 
 what hump-backs and the scrofula are in the body?" 
 — "Does he not insinuate," said the Lutherans; "that 
 we are beginning to look back after the onions and 
 garlic of Egypt?" — "One might say with great truth 
 that he had lost his senses," exclaimed Melancthon. 
 " All ceremonies, accoi-ding to him, ought to be abol- 
 ished ; all the bishops ought to be suppressed. In a 
 word, all is perfectly Helvetic, that is to say, supremely 
 barbarous." 
 
 One man formed an exception to this concert of 
 reproaches, and this was Luther. "Zwingle pleases 
 me tolerably," wrote he to Jonas, " as well as Bucer." 
 By Bucer, he meant, no doubt, the "Tetrapolitan 
 Confession :" this expression should be noted. 
 
 Thus three Confessions, laid at the feet of Charles 
 the Fifth, attested the divisions that were rending 
 Protestantism. In vain did Bucer and Capito en- 
 deavour to come to an understanding with Melanctiiou, 
 and write to him : " We will meet where you will, and 
 when you will ; we will bring Sturm alone with us, 
 and, if you desire it, we will not even bring him." All 
 was unavailing. It is not enough for a Christian to 
 confess Christ ; one disciple shoidd confess another 
 disciple, even if the latter lies under the shame of the 
 world ; but they did not then comprehend this duty. 
 " Schism is in the schism," said the Romanists, and the 
 emperor flattered himself with an easy victory. " Re- 
 turn to the Church," was the cry from every side, " which 
 means," interrupted the Strasburgers, " let us put the 
 bit in your mouths, that we may lead you as we please." 
 
THE ELECTOR'S FAITH. 
 
 471 
 
 All these things deeply afllicted the elector, who was, 
 besides, still under the burden of Charles's demauils 
 and threats. The emperor had not once spoken to 
 him, and it was everywhere said that his cousin, 
 George of Saxony, would bo proclaimed elector in his 
 stead. 
 
 On the 28th July, there was a great festival at the 
 court. Charles, robed in his imperial garments, whose 
 value was said to exceed 200,000 gold ducats, and dis- 
 playing an air of majesty which impressed respect and 
 fear, conferred on many princes the investiture of their 
 dignities ; the elector alone was excluded from these 
 favours. Erelong he was made to understand more 
 plainly what was reserved for him, and it was insinu- 
 ated, that if he did not submit, the emperor would 
 expel him from his states, and inflict upon him the 
 severest punishment. 
 
 The elector turned pale, for he doubted not that 
 such would certainly be the termination. How, with 
 his small territory, could he resist that powerful mon- 
 arch who had Just vanquished France and Italy, and 
 now saw Germany at his feet? And besides, if he 
 could do it, had he the right? Frightful night- 
 marcs pursued John in his dreams. He beheld him- 
 self stretched beneath an immense mountain, under 
 which he lay painfully struggling, while his cousin, 
 George of Saxony, stood on the summit and seemed to 
 brave him. 
 
 John at length came forth from this furnace. "I 
 must either renounce God or the world," said he. 
 "Well! ray choice is not doubtful. It is God who 
 made me elector, — me, who was not worthy of it. I 
 fling myself into His arms, and let Him do with me 
 what shall seem good to Him." Thus the elector by 
 faith stopped the moutlis of lions, and stcbducd kingdoms, 
 (Heb. xi. 33, 34.) 
 
 All evangelical Christendom had taken part in the 
 struggle of John the Persevering. It was seen that if 
 he should now fall, all would fall with him ; and they 
 endeavoured to support him. "Fear not," cried the 
 Christians of Magdeburg, " for your highness is under 
 Christ's banner." " Italy is in expectation," wrote 
 they f roni Venice ; " if for Christ's glory you must die, 
 fear nothing." But it was from a higher source that 
 John's courage was derived. / beheld Satan as liffht- 
 ninrj fall from heaven, said his Master, (Luke x. 18.) 
 The elector, in like manner, beheld in his dreams 
 George fall from the top of the mountain, and lie 
 dashed in pieces at his feet. 
 
 Once resolved to lose everything, .John, free, happy, 
 and tranquil, assembled his theologians. These gener- 
 ous men desired to save their master. ' Gracious lord," 
 said Spalatin, " recollect that the Word of God, being 
 the sword of the Spirit, must be upheld, not by the 
 secular power, but by tlic hand of the Almighty." — 
 "Yes !" said all the doctors, "we do not wish that, to 
 save us, you should risk your children, your subjects, 
 your states, your crown. . . . We will rather give 
 ourselves into the hands of the enemy, and conjure him 
 to be satisfied with our blood." John, touched by this 
 language, refused, however, their solicitations, and 
 firmly repeated these words, which had become his 
 device : " I also desire to confess my Saviour." 
 
 It was on the 20th July that he replied to the press- 
 
 ing arguments by which Charles had endeavoured to 
 shake him. He proved to the emperor that, being his 
 brother's legitimate heir, he could not refuse him the 
 investiture which, besides, the Diet of AVorms had 
 secured to him. He added, that he did not blindly 
 believe what his doctors said ; but that, having recog- 
 nised the Word of God to be the foundation of their 
 teaching, he confessed anew, and without any hesita- 
 tion, all the articles of the Apology. "I therefore 
 entreat your majesty," continued he, " to permit me 
 and mine to render an account to God alone of what 
 concerns the salvation of our souls." The Margrave of 
 Brandenburg made the same reply. Thus failed this 
 skilful manccuvre, by which the Romanists had hoped 
 to break tlie strength of the Reformation. 
 
 Six weeks had elapsed since the Confession, and 
 as yet there was no reply. " The Papists, from the 
 moment they heard the Apology," it was said, " sud- 
 denly lost their voice." At length the Romish theo- 
 logians handed their revised and corrected performance 
 to the emperor, and persuaded this prince to present it 
 in his own name. The mantle of the State seemed to 
 them admirably adapted to the movements of Rome. 
 "These sycophants," said Melancthou, "have desired 
 to clothe themselves with the lion's skin, to appear to 
 us so much the more terrible." All the states of the 
 empire were convoked for the next day but one. 
 
 On Wednesday, 3d August, at two o'clock in the 
 afternoon, the emperor, sitting on his throne in the 
 chapel of the Palatinate Palace, attended by his brother, 
 with the electors, princes, and deputies, the Elector of 
 Saxony and his allies were introduced, and the count- 
 palatine, who was called " Charles's mouthpiece," said 
 to them : " His majesty having handed your Confession 
 to several doctors of different nations, illustrious by 
 their knowledge, their morals, and their impartiality, 
 has read their reply with the greatest care, and submits 
 it to you as his own." 
 
 Alexander Schweiss then took the papers and read 
 the Refutation. The Roman party approved some 
 articles of the Confession, condemned others, and in 
 certain less salient passages, it distinguished between 
 what must be rejected and what accepted. 
 
 It gave way on an important point ; the opus opera- 
 turn. The Protestants having said in their 13th article 
 that faith was necessary in the sacrament, the Romish 
 party assented to it ; thus abandoning an error which 
 the Papacy had so earnestly defended against Luther 
 in that very city of Augsburg, by the mouth of Cajetan. 
 
 Moreover, they recognised as truly Christian the 
 evangelical doctrine on the Trinity, on Christ, on bap- 
 tism, on eternal punishment, and on the origin of evil. 
 
 But on all the other points, Charles, his princes, 
 and his theologians, declared themselves immoveable. 
 They maintained that men are born with the fear of 
 God, that good works are meritorious, and that they 
 justify in union with faith. They upheld the seven 
 sacraments, the mass, transubstantiation, the with- 
 drawal of the cup, the celibacy of priests, the invoca- 
 tion of saints, and denied that the Church was an 
 assembly of the saints. 
 
 This Refutation was skilful in some respects, and, 
 above all, iu what concerned the doctrine of works and 
 of faith. But on other points, — ^in particular, on the 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 withdrawal of the cup and the celibacy of priests, — 
 its arguments were lamentably weak, and contrary to 
 the weU-known facts of history. 
 
 While the Protestants had taken their stand on 
 the Scriptures, their adversaries supported the Divine 
 origin of the hierarchy, and laid down absolute submis- 
 sion to its laws. Thus, the essential character which 
 still distinguishes Rome from the Reformation, stood 
 prominently forth in this first combat. 
 
 Among the auditors who flUed the chapel of the 
 Palatinate Palace, concealed in the midst of the depu- 
 ties of Nuremberg, was Joachim Camerarius, who, 
 while Schweiss was reading, leant over his tablets, 
 and carefully noted down all he could collect. At the 
 same time others of the Protestants, speaking to one 
 another, were indignant, and even laughed, as one of 
 theu- opponents assures us. " Really," said they, with 
 one consent, " the whole of this Refutation is worthy 
 of Eck, Faber, and Cochloeus !" 
 
 ^c^ . 
 
 As for Charles, little pleased with these theological 
 dissertations, he slept during the reading; but he awoke 
 when Schweiss had finished, and his awakening was 
 that of a lion. 
 
 The count-palatine then declared that his majesty 
 found the articles of this Refutation orthodox, catholic, 
 and conformable to the Gospel ; that he, therefore, re- 
 quired the Protestants to abandon their Confession, 
 now refuted, and to adhere to all the articles which 
 had just been set forth; that, if they refused, the 
 emperor would remember his office, and would know 
 how to shew himself the advocate and defender of the 
 Roman Church. 
 
 This language was clear enough : the adversaries 
 imagined they had refuted the Protestants by com- 
 manding the latter to consider themselves beaten. 
 Violence — arms — war— were all contained in these 
 cruel words of Charles's minister. The princes repre- 
 sented that, as the Refutation adopted some of their 
 articles, and rejected others, it required a careful 
 examination, and they consequently begged a copy 
 should be given them. 
 
 The Romish party had a long conference on this 
 demand : night was at hand ; the count-palatine replied 
 
 that, considering the late hour, and the importance of 
 this affair, the emperor would make known his plea- 
 sure somewhat later. The diet separated, and Charles 
 the Fifth, exasperated at the audacity of the evangeli- 
 cal princes, says Cochloeus, returned in ill-humour to 
 his apartments. 
 
 The Protestants, on the contrary, withdrew full of 
 peace ; the reading of the Refutation having given 
 them as much confidence as that of the Confession 
 itself. They saw in their adversaries a strong attach- 
 ment to the hierarchy, but a great ignorance of the 
 Gospel — a characteristic feature of the Romish party; 
 and this thought encouraged them. " Certainly," said 
 they, " the Church cannot be where there is no know- 
 ledge of Christ." 
 
 Melancthon alone was still alarmed : he walked by 
 sight, and not by faith ; and, remembering the legate's 
 smiles, he had another interview with him, as early as 
 the 4th August, stUl demanding the cup for the laity, 
 and lawful wives for the priests. "Then," said he, 
 " our pastors will place themselves again under the 
 government of bishops, and we shall be able to prevent 
 those innumerable sects with which posterity is threat- 
 ened." Melancthon's glance into the future is remark- 
 able : it does not, however, mean that he, like many 
 others, preferred a dead unity to a liviug diversity. 
 
 Campeggio, now certain of triumphing by the sword, 
 disdainfully handed this paper to Cochloeus, who has- 
 tened to refute it. It is hard to say whether Melanc- 
 thon or Campeggio was the more infatuated. God 
 did not permit an arrangement that would have en- 
 slaved His Church. 
 
 Charles passed the whole of the 4th, and the morn- 
 ing of the 5th August, in consultation with the Ultra- 
 montane party. "It will never be by discussion that 
 we shall come to an imderstanding," said some, "and 
 if the Protestants do not submit voluntarily, it only 
 remains for us to compel them." They nevertheless 
 decided, on account of the Refutation, to adopt a 
 middle course. During the whole of the diet Charles 
 pursued a skilful policy. At first he refused everything, 
 hoping to lead away the princes by violence ; then he 
 conceded a few unimportant points, under the impres- 
 sion that the Protestants, having lost all hope, would 
 esteem so much the more the little he yielded to them. 
 This was what he did again under the present cir- 
 cumstances. In the afternoon of the 5th, the count- 
 palatine announced that the emperor would give them 
 a copy of the Refutation, but on these conditions, — 
 namely, that the Protestants should not reply, that 
 they should speedily agree with the emperor, and that 
 they would not print or communicate to any one the 
 Refutation that should be confided to them. 
 
 This communication excited murmurs among the 
 Protestants. " These conditions," said they all, " arc 
 inadmissible." — "The Papists present us with their 
 paper," added the Chancellor Bruck, "as the fox 
 offered a thin broth to his gossip the stork. 
 
 The savoury broth upon a plate by Reynard was served up, 
 But Mistress Stork, with her long beak, she could not get a sup I 
 
 If the Refutation," continued he, " should come to be 
 known without our participation, (and how can we 
 prevent it?) we shall be charged with it as a crime. 
 
RESOLUTIONS OF THE CONSISTORY. 
 
 Let us bewnrfi of accepting so perfidious an offer. "We 
 already possess in tlie notes of Camcrarius several 
 articles of this paper, and if we omit any point, no 
 cue will have the right to reproach us with it." 
 
 On the next day (6th August) the Protestants de- 
 clared to the diet that they preferred declining the 
 copy thus offered to them, and appealed to God and 
 to his majesty. Tliey thus rejected all that the em- 
 peror proposed to them, even what he considered as a 
 favour. 
 
 Agitation, anger, and affright, were manifested on 
 every bench of that august assembly. This reply of 
 the Evangelicals was war — was rebellion. George of 
 Saxony, the Princes of Bavaria, all the violent adher- 
 ents of Rome, trembled with indignation; there was 
 a sudden, an impetuous movement ; an explosion of 
 murmurs and of hatred; and it might have been 
 feared that the two parties would have come to blows 
 in the very presence of the emperor, if Archbishop 
 Albert, the Elector of Brandenburg, and the dukes of 
 Brunswick, Pomcrania, and Mecklenburg, rushing be- 
 tween them, had not conjured the Protestants to put 
 an end to this deplorable combat, and not drive the 
 emperor to extremities. The diet separated, their 
 hearts filled with emotion, apprehension, and trouble. 
 
 Never had the diet proposed such fatal alternatives. 
 The hopes of agreement, set forth in the edict of con- 
 vocation, had only been a deceitful lure: now the mask 
 was thrown aside; submission or tlie sword — such 
 was the dilemma offered to the Reformation. All 
 announced that the day of tentatives was passed, and 
 that they were beginning one of violence. 
 
 In truth, on the 6th July, the pope had assembled 
 the consistory of cardinals in his palace at Rome, and 
 had made known to them the Protestant ultimatum ; 
 namely, the cup for the laity, the marriage of priests, 
 the omission of the invocation of saints in the sacrifice 
 of the mass, the use of ecclesiastical property already 
 secularized, and for the rest, the convocation of a coun- 
 cil. "These concessions," said the cardinals, "are 
 opposed to the religion, discipline, and laws of the 
 Church. We reject them, and vote our thanks to the 
 emperor for the zeal which he employs in bringing 
 back the deserters." The pope having thus decided, 
 every attempt at conciliation became useless. 
 
 Campeggio, on his side, redoubled in zeal. Ke 
 spoke as if in his person the pope himself were present 
 at Augsburg. "Let the emperor and the right-think- 
 ing princes form a league," said he to Charles ; " and 
 if these rebels, equally insensible to threats and pro- 
 mises, obstinately persist in their diabolical course, then 
 let his majesty seize fire and sword, let him take pos- 
 session of all the property of the heretics, and utterly 
 eradicate these venomous plants. Then let him appoint 
 holy inquisitors, who shall go on the track of the rem- 
 nants of Reformation, and proceed against them, as 
 in Spain against the Moors. Let him put the univer- 
 sity of Wittemberg under ban, burn the heretical 
 books, and send back the fugitive monks to their 
 convents. But this plan must be executed with cour- 
 age." 
 
 Thus the jurisprudence of Rome consisted, accord- 
 ing to a prophecy uttered against the city which is 
 seated on seven hills, in adorning itself with pearls that 
 
 it had stolen, and in becoming drunk with the blood of 
 the saints, (Rev. xvii. and xviii.) 
 
 While Cliarles was thus urged on with blind fury 
 by the diet and the pope, the Protestant princes, re- 
 strained by a mute indignation, did not open their 
 mouths, and hence they seemed to betr.ay a weakness 
 of which the emperor was eager to profit. But there 
 was also strengtii concealed under this weakness. 
 " We have nothing left," exclaimed Melancthon, " but 
 to embrace our Saviour's knees." In this they laboured 
 earnestly. Melancthon begged for Lutlier's prayers ; 
 Brentz for those of his own church : a general cry of 
 distress and of faith ran through evangelical Germany. 
 " You shall have sheep," said Brentz, " if you will send 
 us sheep : you know what I mean." The sheep that 
 were to be offered in sacrifice were the prayers of the 
 saints. 
 
 The Church was not wanting to itself. "Assembled 
 every day," wrote certain cities to the electors, " we 
 beg for you strength, grace, and victory, — victory full 
 of joy." But the man of prayer and faith was espe- 
 cially Luther. A calm and sublime courage, in which 
 firmness shines at the side of joy — a courage that rises 
 and exults in proportion as the danger increases — is 
 what Luther's letters at this time present in every line. 
 Tlie most poetical images are pale beside those ener- 
 getic expressions which issue in a boiling torrent from 
 the reformer's soul. " I have recently witnessed two 
 miracles," wrote he, on the 5th August, to Chancellor 
 Bruck ; " this is the first : as I was at my window, I 
 saw the stars, and the sky, and that vast and magnifi- 
 cent firmament in which the Lord has placed them. I 
 could nowhere discover the columns on which the 
 Master has supported this immense vault, and yet the 
 heavens did not fall. . . . 
 
 "And here is the second: I beheld thick clouds 
 hanging above us like a vast sea. I could neither per- 
 ceive ground on which they reposed, nor cords by 
 which they were suspended ; and yet they did not fall 
 upon us, but saluted us rapidly and fled away. 
 
 "God," continued he, "will choose the manner, the 
 time, and the place suitable for deliverance, and He 
 will not linger. What the men of blood have begun, 
 they have not yet finished. . . . Our rainbow is 
 faint . . . their clouds are threatening . . . 
 the enemy comes against us with frightful machines. 
 . . . But at last it will be seen to whom belong the 
 ballistoe, and from what hands the javelins are launched. 
 It is no matter if Luther perishes : if Christ is con- 
 queror, Luther is conqueror also." 
 
 The Roman party, who did not know what was the 
 victory of faith, imagined themselves certain of suc- 
 cess. 
 
 The doctors having refuted the Confession, the Pro- 
 testants ought, they imagined, to declare themselves 
 convinced, and all would then be restored to its ancient 
 footing: such was the plan of the emperor's campaign. 
 He therefore urged and called upon the Protestants ; 
 but, instead of submitting, they announced a refuta- 
 tion of the Refutation. Upon this Charles looked at 
 his sword, and all the princes who surrounded him did 
 the same. 
 
 John of Saxony understood what that meant, but he 
 remained firm. "The straight line," said he, (the 
 
4V4 
 
 HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATION. 
 
 axiom was familiar to him,) "is the shortest road." 
 It is this iudomitable firmness that has secured for him 
 in history the name of John the Persevering. He was 
 not alone : all those Protestant princes who had grown 
 up in the midst of courts, and who were habituated to 
 pay an humble obedience to the emperor, at that time 
 found in their faith a noble independence that con- 
 founded Cliarlcs the Fifth. 
 
 With the design of gaining the Marquis of Branden- 
 burg, they opened to him the possibility of according 
 him some possessions in Silesia on which he had claims. 
 " If Christ is Christ," replied ho, " the doctrine that I 
 have confessed is truth." — " But do you know," quickly 
 replied his cousin, the Elector Joachim, "what is your 
 stake?" — "Certainly," replied the margrave, "it is 
 said I shall be expelled from this country. Well ! may 
 God protect me!" One day Prince Wolfgang of 
 Anhalt met Doctor Eck. " Doctor," said he, " you 
 are exciting to war, but you wiU find those who wiU 
 not be behindhand with you. I have broken many a 
 lance for my friends in my time. My Lord Jesus 
 Christ is assuredly worthy tiiat I should do as much 
 for Him." 
 
 At the sight of this resolution each one asked him- 
 self whether Cliarles, instead of curing the disease, 
 was not augmenting it. Reflections, criticisms, jests, 
 passed between the citizens ; and the good sense of 
 the people manifested in its own fashion what they 
 thought of the folly of their chief. We will adduce one 
 instance. 
 
 It is said that one day, as the emperor was at table 
 with several Roman Catholic princes, he was informed 
 that some comedians begged permission (according to 
 custom) to amuse their lordships. First appeared an 
 old man wearing a mask, and dressed in a doctor's 
 robe, who advanced with difiiculty, carrying a bundle 
 of sticks in his arms, some straight and some crooked. 
 He approached the wide fireplace of the Gothic hall, 
 threw down his load in disorder, and immediately 
 withdrew. Charles aud the courtiers read on his back 
 the inscription — John Reuciilin. Then appeared an- 
 other mask with an intelligent look, who made every 
 exertion to pare the straight and the crooked pieces ; 
 but finding his labour useless, he shook his head, 
 turned to the door, and disappeared. They read— 
 EEASJirs OF RoTTEEUAsr. Almost immediately after 
 advanced a monk with bright eye and decided gait, 
 carrying a brazier of lighted coals. He put the wood 
 in order, set fire to it, blew and stirred it up, so that 
 the flame rose bright and sparkling into the air. He 
 then retired, and on his back were the words — Martin 
 
 LCTDEE. 
 
 Next approached a magnificent personage, covered 
 with all the imperial insignia, who, seeing the fire so 
 bright, drew his sword, and endeavoured by violent 
 thrusts to extinguish it ; but the more he struck, the 
 fiercer burnt the flames, and at last he quitted the 
 hall in indignation. His name, as it would seem, was 
 not made known to the spectators, but all divined it. 
 The general attention was soon attracted by a new 
 character. A man, wearing a surplice and a mantle 
 of red velvet, with an alb of white wool that reached 
 to his heels, and having a stole around his neck, the 
 ends ornamented with pearls, advanced majestically. 
 
 Beholding the flames that already filled the hearth, he 
 wrung his hands in terror, and looked around for 
 something to extinguish them. He saw two vessels at 
 the very extremity of the hall, one filled with water, 
 and the other with oil. He rushed towards them, 
 seized unwittingly on that containing the oil, and 
 threw it on tiie tire. The flame then spread with such 
 violence that the mask fled in alarm, raising his hands 
 to heaven ; on his back was read the name of Leo X. 
 
 The mystery was finished ; but instead of claiming 
 their remuneration, the pretended actors had disap- 
 peared. No one asked the moral of this drama. 
 
 The lesson, however, proved useless; and the majority 
 of the diet, assuming, at the same time, the part assigned 
 to the emperor and the pope, began to prepare the 
 means necessary for extinguishing the fire kindled by 
 Luther. They negotiated in Italy with the Duke of 
 Blantua, who engaged to send a few regiments of 
 light cavalry across the Alps ; and in England with 
 Henry VIIJ., who had not forgotten Luther's reply, 
 and who promised Charles, through his ambassador, 
 an immense subsidy to destroy the heretics. 
 
 At the same time frightful prodigies announced the 
 gloomy future which threatened the Reform. At 
 Spires fearful spectres, in the shape of monks with 
 angry eyes and hasty steps, had appeared during the 
 night. "What do you want?" they had been asked. 
 — " We are going," they replied, " to the Diet of Augs- 
 burg !" The circumstance had been carefully investi- 
 gated, and was found perfectly trustworthy. "The 
 interpretation is not difficult," exclaimed Melancthon : 
 "Evil spirits are coming to Augsburg to counteract 
 our exertions, and to destroy peace. They forebode 
 horrible troubles to us." No one doubted this. "Every- 
 thing is advancing towards war," said Erasmus. "The 
 diet will not terminate," wrote Brentz, " except by the 
 destruction of all Germany." " There will be a slaugh- 
 ter of the saints," exclaimed Bucer, " which will be 
 such that the massacres of Diocletian will scarcely 
 come up to it." War and blood — this was the general 
 cry. 
 
 Suddenly, on the night of Saturday, 6th August, 
 a great disturbance bi'oke out in the city of Augsburg, 
 There was running to and fro in the streets ; messen- 
 gers from the emperor were galloping in every direc- 
 tion ; the senate was called together, and received an 
 order to allow no one to pass the gates of the city. 
 All were afoot in the imperial barracks ; the soldiers 
 got ready their arms ; the regiments were drawn up, 
 and at daybreak (about three o'clock on Sunday morn- 
 ing) the emperor's troops, in opposition to the custom 
 always observed in the diet, relieved the soldiers of the 
 city, and took possession of the gates. At the same 
 time it was reported that these gates would not be 
 opened, and that Charles had given orders to keep a 
 strict watch upon the elector and his allies. A terrible i 
 awakening for those who still flattered themselves j 
 with seeing the religious debates conclude peacefully! j 
 Might not these unheard-of measures be the commence- j 
 ment of wars, and the signal of a frightful massacre ? \ 
 
UNION RESISTED— THE LANDGRAVE'S DISSIMULATION. 
 
 475 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 riiilip of Hosso—Tomptation— Union Resisted— The Landgrave's Dissimu- 
 lation— The Emperor's Order to the Protestants— Brandenburg's Tln-eat- 
 cning Speeclies— Resolution ot PliiUp of Hesse— Flight from Augsburg 
 — Discovery- Charles's Emotion— Revolution in the Diet— Metamor- 
 phosis— Unusual Moderation— Peace, Peace ! 
 
 Trouble aud anger prevailed in the imperial palace, 
 and it was the landgrave who had caused them. Firm 
 as a rock in the midst of the tempest with which he 
 was surrounded, Philip of Hesse had never bent his 
 head to the blast. One d.ay, in a public assembly, 
 addressing the bishops, he had said to them: "My 
 lords, give peace to the empire ; we beg it of you. If 
 you will not do so, aud if I must fall, be sure that I 
 will drag one or two of you along with me." They 
 saw it was necessary to employ milder means with him, 
 and the emperor endeavoured to gain him by shewing 
 a favourable disposition with respect to the county of 
 Katzeuellenbogcn, about which he was at variance 
 with Nassau, and to "Wurtemberg, which he claimed 
 for his cousin Ulrich. On his side, Duke George of 
 Saxony, his father-in-law, had assured him that he 
 woidd make him his heir if he would submit to the 
 pope. "They carried him to an exceeding high moun- 
 tain, whence they shewed him all the kingdoms of the 
 world and the glory thereof," says a chronicler, but the 
 landgrave resisted the temptation. 
 
 One day he heard that the emperor had manifested 
 a desire to speak to him. He leaped instantly on his 
 horse and appeared before Charles. The latter, who 
 had with him his secretary, Schweiss, and the Bishop 
 of Constance, represented that he had four complaints 
 against him ; namely, of having violated the Edict of 
 Worms, of despising the mass, of having, during his 
 absence, excited all kinds of revolt, and, finally, of 
 having transmitted to him a book in which his sove- 
 reign rights were attacked. The landgrave justified 
 himself ; and the emperor said that he accepted his 
 replies, except with regard to the faith, and begged 
 him to shew himself in that respect entirely submissive 
 to his majesty. " What would you say," added Charles, 
 in a winning tone, "if I elevated you to the regal 
 dignity. But if you shew yourself rebellious to my 
 orders, then I shall behave as becomes a Roman em- 
 peror." 
 
 These words exasperated the landgrave, but they did 
 not move him. "I am in the flower of my age," 
 replied he, " and I do not pretend to despise the joys 
 of life and the favour of the great ; but to the deceit- 
 ful goods of this world I shall always prefer the inef- 
 fable grace of my God." Charles was stupified : he 
 could not understand Philip. 
 
 From this time the landgrave had redoubled his 
 exertions to uuite the adherents of the Reformation. 
 The Zwinglian cities felt that, whatever was the issue 
 of the diet, they would be the first victims, unless the 
 Saxons should give them their hand. But this there 
 was some dirticulty in obtaining. 
 
 " It docs not appear to nie useful to the public weal,' 
 or safe for the conscience," wrote Melancthon to Bucer, 
 " to load our princes with all the hatred yoiu- doctrine 
 
 inspires." The Strasburgcrs replied, that the real 
 cause of the Papists' hatred was not so much the 
 doctrine of the Eucharist, as that of justification by 
 faith. "All we, who desire to belong to Christ," said 
 they, " are one, and have nothing to expect but death." 
 
 This was true ; but another motive besides checked 
 Melancthon. If all the Protestants united, they would 
 feel their strength, and war would be inevitable. 
 Therefore, then, no union ! 
 
 The landgrave, threatened by the emperor, rejected 
 by the theologians, began to ask himself what he did 
 at Augsburg. Tlie cup was full. Charles's refusal to 
 communicate the Romish Refutation, except on inad- 
 missible conditions, made it run over. Philip of Hesse 
 saw but one course to take — to quit the city. 
 
 Scarcely had the emperor made known the condi- 
 tions which he placed on the communication of the 
 reply, than on Friday evening, 5th August, the land- 
 grave, going alone to the count-palatine, Charles's min- 
 ister, had begged for an immediate audience with his 
 majesty. Charles, who did not care to see him, pre- 
 tended to be busy, and put off Philip until the following 
 Sunday. But the latter answered that ho could not 
 wait ; that his wife, who was dangerously ill, entreated 
 him to return to Hesse without delay; and that, being 
 one of the youngest princes, the meanest in understand- 
 ing, and useless to Charles, he humbly begged his 
 majesty would permit him to leave on the morrow. 
 The emperor refused. 
 
 We may well understand the storms this refusal ex- 
 cited in Philip's mind : but he knew how to contain 
 himself; never had he appeared more tranquU; during 
 the whole of Saturday (6th August) he seemed occu- 
 pied only with a magnificent tourney in honour of the 
 emperor and of his brother Ferdinand. He prepared 
 for it publicly; his servants went to aud fro; but under 
 that din of horses and of armour Philip concealed very 
 different designs. " The landgrave conducts himself 
 with very great moderation," wrote Melancthon to 
 Luther the same day. " He told me openly that, to 
 preserve peace, he would submit to conditions still 
 harder than those which the emperor imposes on us, 
 and accept all that he could without dishonouring the 
 Gospel." 
 
 Yet Charles was not at ease. The landgrave's de- 
 maud pursued him; all the Protestants might do the 
 same, and even quit Augsburg unexpectedly. The 
 clue, that he had hitherto so skilfully held in his 
 hands, was perhaps about to be broken : it was better 
 to be violent than ridiculous. The emperor, therefore, 
 resolved on striking a decisive blow. The elector, the 
 princes, the deputies, were still in Augsburg; and he 
 must at every risk prevent their leaving it. Such were 
 the heavy thoughts that on the night of the 6th August, 
 while the Protestants were calmly sleeping, banished 
 repose from Charles's eyes ; and which made him 
 hastily arouse the councillors of Augsburg, and send 
 his messengers and soldiers through the streets of the 
 city. 
 
 The Protestant princes were still slumbering, when 
 they received, on the part of the emperor, the unex- 
 •pccted order to repair immediately to the hall of the 
 Chapter. 
 
 It was eight o'clock when they arrived. They found 
 
476 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 there the electors of Brandenburg and Mentz, the 
 dukes of Saxony, Brunswick, and Mecklenburg;, the 
 bishops of Salzburg, Spires, and Strasburg, George 
 Truchses, the margrave of Baden's representative, 
 Count Martin of (Elting, the Abbot of Weingarten, 
 and the Provost of Bamberg. These were the commis- 
 sioners nominated by Charles to terminate this great 
 affair. 
 
 It was the most decided among them, Joachim of 
 Brandenburg, who began to speak. " You know," 
 said he to the Protestants, " with what mildness the 
 emperor has endeavoured to re-establish unity. If 
 some abuses have crept into the Christian Church, lie 
 is ready to correct tliem in conjunction with the pope. 
 But how contrary to the Gospel are the sentiments 
 you have adopted ! Abandon, then, your errors, do not 
 any longer remain separate from the Church, and sign 
 the Refutation without delay. If you refuse, then 
 through your fault how many souls will be lost, how 
 much blood shed, what countries laid waste, what 
 trouble in all the empire ! And you," said he, turning 
 towards the elector, " your electorate, your life, all will 
 be torn from you, and certain ruin will fall upon your 
 subjects, and even upon their wives and children." 
 
 The elector remained motionless. At any time this 
 language would have been alarming : it was still more 
 60 now that the city was almost in a state of siege. 
 " We now understand," said the Protestants to one 
 another, " why the imperial guards occupy the gates of 
 the city." It was evident, indeed, that the emperor 
 intended violence. 
 
 The Protestants were unanimous : surrounded with 
 soldiers, at the very gates of the prison, and beneath 
 the thousand swords of Charles, they remained firm. 
 All these threats did not make them take one step 
 backwards. It was important for them, however, to 
 consider their reply. They begged for a few minutes' 
 delay, and retired. 
 
 To submit voluntarily, or to be reduced by force, 
 such was the dilemma Charles proposed to the evan- 
 gelical Christians. 
 
 At the moment when each was anxious about the 
 issue of this struggle, in which the destinies of Christ- 
 ianity were contending, an alarming rumour suddenly 
 raised the agitation of all minds to its height. 
 
 The landgrave, in the midst of his preparations for 
 the tournament, meditated the most serious resolution. 
 Excluded by Charles from every important delibera- 
 tion, irritated at the treatment the Protestants had 
 undergone during this diet, convinced that they had 
 no more chance of peace, not doubting that their 
 liberty was greatly endangered in Augsburg, and feel- 
 ing unable to conceal, under the appearance of modera- 
 tion, the indignation with which his soul was filled, 
 being, besides, of a quick, prompt, and resolute cliarac- 
 ter, Philip had decided on quitting the city and repair- 
 ing to his states, in order to act freely, and to serve as 
 a support to the Reformation. 
 
 But what mystery was required ! If the landgrave 
 was taken in the act, no doubt he would be put under 
 arrest. This daring step might, therefore, become the 
 signal of those extreme measures from which he longed 
 to escape. 
 
 It was Saturday, the 6th August, the day for which 
 
 Philip had requested the emperor's leave of absence. 
 He waits until the commencement of the night, and 
 then, about eight o'clock, disguised in a foreign dress, 
 without bidding farewell to any of his friends, and 
 taking every imaginable precaution, he makes for the 
 gates of the city, about the time when they are usually 
 closed. Five or six cavaliers follow him singly, and 
 at a little distance. In so critical a moment will not 
 these men-at-arms attract attention? Philip traverses 
 the streets without dauger, approaches the gate, passes 
 with a careless air through the midst of the guard, be- 
 tween the scattered soldiers ; no one moves, all remain 
 idly seated, as if nothing extraordinary was going on. 
 Philip has passed without being recognised. His five 
 or six horsemen come through in like manner. Behold 
 them all at last in the open country. The little troop 
 immediately spur their horses, and tice with headlong 
 speed far from the walls of the imperial city. 
 
 Yet Philip has taken his measures so well that no 
 one as yet suspects his departure. When, during the 
 night, Charles occupies the gates with his own guards, 
 he thinks the landgrave still in the city. When the 
 Protestants were assembled at eight in the morning in 
 the Chapter-hall, the princes of both parties were a 
 little astonished at the absence of Philip of Hesse. 
 Tliey were accustomed, however, to see him keep aloof, 
 and thought he might be out of humour. No one ima- 
 gined he was between twelve and fifteen leagues from 
 Augsburg. 
 
 After the termination of the conference, and as all 
 were returning to their hotels, the Elector of Branden- 
 burg and his friends on the one hand, elated at the 
 speech they had delivered, the Elector of Saxony and 
 his allies on the other, resolved to sacrifice everything, 
 inquiries were made at the landgrave's lodgings as to 
 the reason of his absence ; they closely questioned 
 vSaltz, Nuszbicker, Mayer, and Schnepf. At last the 
 Hessian councillors could no longer keep the secret. 
 " The landgrave," said they, " has returned to Hesse." 
 This news circulated immediately through all the city, 
 and shook it like the explosion of a mine. Charles 
 especially, who found himself mocked and frustrated 
 in his expectations — Charles, who had not had the 
 least suspicion, trembled, and was enraged. The Pro- 
 testants, whom the landgrave had not admitted to his 
 secret, were as much astonished as the Roman Catho- 
 lics themselves, and feared that this inconsiderate 
 departure might be the immediate signal for a terrible 
 persecution. There was only Luther, who, the moment 
 he heard of Philip's proceeding, highly approved of it, 
 and exclaimed : " Of a truth all these delays and 
 indignities are enough to fatigue more than one land- 
 grave." 
 
 The Chancellor of Hesse gave the Elector of Saxony 
 a letter that his master had left for him. Philip spoke 
 iu this ostensible document of his wife's health , but 
 he had charged his ministers to inform the elector iu 
 private of the real causes of his departure. He an- 
 nounced, moreover, that he had given orders to his 
 ministers to assist the Protestants in all things, and 
 exhorted his allies to permit themselves in no manner to 
 be turned aside from the Word of God. "As for me," 
 said he, '< I shall fight for the Word of God, at the 
 risk of my goods, my states, my subjects, and my life." 
 
REVOLUTION IN THE DIET— METAMORPHOSIS, 
 
 477 
 
 The effect of the liiudgrave's departure was instan- 
 taneous : a real rcvolutiou was then effected in the 
 diet. Tlie Elector of Mcntz and the bishops of Fran- 
 conia, Pliilip's near neighbours, imagined tliey already 
 saw him on their frontiers at the head of a powerfid 
 army, and replied to the Archbishop of Salzburg, who 
 expressed astonishment at their alarm : " Ah ! if you 
 were in our place you would do the same." Ferdinand, 
 knowing the intimate relations of Philip with the Duke 
 of Wurtemberg, trembled for the estates of this prince, 
 at that time usurped by Austria; and Charles the 
 Fifth, undeceived with regard to those princes whom 
 he had believed so timid, and whom he had treated 
 with so much arrogance, had no doubt that this sudden 
 step of Philip's had been maturely deliberated in the 
 common council of the Protestants. All saw a declara- 
 tion of war in the landgrave's hasty departure. They 
 called to mind that at the moment when they thought 
 the least about it, they might see him appear at the 
 head of his soldiers, on the frontiers of his enemies, 
 and no one was ready; no one even wished to be ready! 
 A thunderbolt had fallen in the midst of the diet. They 
 repeated the news to one another with troubled eyes 
 and affrighted looks. All was confusion in Augsburg ; 
 and couriers bore afar, in every direction, astonishment 
 and consternation. 
 
 This alarm immediately converted the enemies of the 
 Reform. The violence of Charles and of the princes 
 was broken in this memorable night as if by enchant- 
 ment ; and the furious wolves were suddenly trans- 
 formed into meek and docile lambs. 
 
 It was still Sunday morning : Charles the Fifth im- 
 mediately convoked the diet for the afternoon. "The 
 landgrave has quitted Augsburg," said Count Fredei-ick 
 from the emperor; "his majesty flatters himself that 
 even the friends of that prince were ignorant of his 
 departure. It is without the emperor's knowledge, 
 and even in defiance of his express prohibition, that 
 Philip of Hesse has left, thus failing in all his duties. 
 He has wished to put the diet out of joint. But the 
 emperor conjures you not to permit yourselves to be 
 led astray by him, and to contribute rather to the 
 happy issue of this national assembly. His majesty's 
 gratitude will thus be secured to you." 
 
 The Protestants replied, that the departure of the 
 landgrave had taken place without their knowledge ; 
 that they had heard of it with pain, and that they 
 would have dissuaded him. Nevertheless they did not 
 doubt that tiiis prince had solid reasons for such a step ; 
 besides, he had left his councillors with full powers, 
 and that, as for them, they were ready to do every- 
 thing to conclude the diet in a becoming manner. 
 Then, confident in their rights, and decided to resist 
 Charles's arbitrary acts, they continued: "It is pre- 
 tended that the gates were closed on our account. We 
 beg your majesty to revoke this order, and to prevent 
 any similar orders being given in future." 
 
 Never was Charles the Fifth less at ease; he had 
 just spoken as a father, and they remind him that a 
 few hours back he had acted like a tyrant. Some 
 subterfuge was requisite. "It is not on your account," 
 replied the count-palatine, " that the emperor's soldiers 
 occupy the gates. , . Do not believe those who 
 
 tell you so. . . . Yesterday there was a quarrel 
 
 between two soldiers, and a mob was collected. . . . 
 This is why tiio emperor took this step. Besides, such 
 things will not be done again without the Elector of 
 Saxony, in his quality of marshal of the empire, being 
 first informed of them." An order was given imme- 
 diately to re-open the gates. 
 
 No exertions were now spared by the Roman party 
 to convince the Protestants of their goodwill : there 
 was an unaccustomed mildness in the language of the 
 count-palatine and in the looks of Charles. The 
 princes of the papal party, once so terrible, were 
 similarly transformed. They had been hastily forced 
 to speak out ; if they desired war, they must begin it 
 instantly. 
 
 But they shrunk back at this frightful prospect. 
 How, with the enthusiasm that animated the Protes- 
 tants, take up arms against them ! Were not the 
 abuses of the Church everywhere acknowledged, and 
 could the Roman princes be sure of their own subjects? 
 Besides, what would be the issue of a war but the in- 
 crease of the emperor's power ? The Roman Catholic 
 states, and the Duke of Bavaria in particular, would 
 have been glad to see Charles at war with the Protes- 
 tants, in the hope that he would thus consume his 
 strength ; but it was, on the contrary, with their own 
 soldiers that the emperor designed attacking the here- 
 tics. Henceforth they rejected the instrumentality of 
 arms as eagerly as they had at first desired it. 
 
 Everything had thus changed in Augsburg: the 
 Romish party was paralyzed, disheartened, and even 
 broken up. The sword already drawn was hastily 
 thrust back in the sheath. Peace ! peace ! was the cry 
 of all. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The Mixed Commission— The Three Points— Romish Dissimulation— Abuses 
 — Concessions— The Main Question — Bishops and Pope Conceded— Dan- 
 ger of Concession— Opposition to the Pretended Concord— Luther's Op- 
 posing Letters — The Word above the Church — Melancthon's Blindnes:! 
 —Papist Infatuation— A Xew Commission— Be Men, and not Women— 
 The Two Pliantoms— Concessions — The Three Points— The Great Anti- 
 thesis—Failure of Conciliation— The Gordion Knot — A Council Granted 
 — Charles's Summons — Menaces — Altercations — Peace or War— Roman- 
 ism Concedes— Protestantism Resists— Luther Recalls his Friends. 
 
 The diet now entered upon its third phasis, and as the 
 time of teutatives had been followed by that of menaces, 
 now that of arrangements was to succeed the period of 
 threatenings. New and more formidable dangers were 
 then to bo encountered by the Reformation. Rome, 
 beholding the sword torn from its grasp, had seized 
 the net, and enlacing her adversaries with "cords of 
 humanity and bands of love," was endeavouring to 
 drag them gently into the abyss. 
 
 At eight o'clock in the morning of the 16th August, 
 a mixed commission was framed, which counted on 
 each side two princes, two lawyers, and three theolo- 
 gians. In the Romish party, there were Duke Henry 
 of Brunswick, the Bishop of Augsburg, the chancel- 
 lors of Baden and Cologne, with Eck, Cochloius, and 
 Wimpina; on the part of the Protestants, were the 
 
478 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Margrave George of Brandenburg, the Prince Electoral 
 of Saxony, the chancellors Bnick and Heller, with 
 Melancthon, Brentz, and Schnepf. 
 
 They agreed to take as a basis the Confession of 
 the evangelical states, and began to read it article by 
 article. The Romish theologians displayed an unex- 
 pected condescension. Out of twenty-one dogmatical 
 articles, there were only six or seven to which they 
 made any objection. Original Sin stopped them some 
 time; at length they came to an imderstandicg; the 
 Protestants admitted that Baptism removed the guilt 
 of the sin, and the Papists agreed that it did not wash 
 away concupiscence. As for the Church, they granted 
 that it contained sanctified men and sinners ; they coin- 
 cided also on Confession. The Protestants rejected 
 especially as impossible the enumeration of all the sins 
 prescribed by Rome. Dr. Eck yielded this point. 
 
 There remained three doctrines only on which they 
 differed. 
 
 The first was that of Penance. The Romish doctors 
 taught that it contained three parts : contrition, confes- 
 sion, and satisfaction. The Protestants rejected the 
 latter, and the Romanists, clearly perceiving that with 
 satisfaction would fall indulgences, purgatory, and 
 other of their doctrines and profits, vigorously main- 
 tained it. " We agree," said they, " that the penance 
 imposed by the priest does not procure remission of 
 the guilt of sin : but we maintain that it is necessary 
 to obtain remission of the penalty." 
 
 The second controverted point was the Invocation of 
 Saints ; and the third, and principal one, Justification 
 by Faith. It was of the greatest importance for the 
 Romanists to maintain the meritorious influence of 
 works : all their system, in reality, was based on that. 
 Eck, therefore, haughtily declared war on the assertion 
 that faith alone justifies. "That word sole," said he, 
 " we cannot tolerate. It generates scandals, and ren- 
 ders men brutal and impious. Let us send back the 
 sole to the cobbler." 
 
 But the Protestants would not listen to such reason- 
 ing; and even when they put the question to each 
 other. Shall we maintain that faith alone justifies us 
 gratuitously? "Undoubtedly, undoubtedly!" exclaimed 
 one of them with exaggeration, '■'•gratuitously and use- 
 lessly." Theyeven adduced strange authorities: "Plato," 
 said they, " declares that it is not by external works, 
 but by virtue that God is to be adored ; and every one 
 knows these verses of Cato's : 
 
 Si Deus est animus, nolria ut camiina diciint, 
 nie tibi pi-scipue pura sit mente colendus."! 
 
 "Certaiuly," resumed the Romish theologians, "it 
 is only of works performed with grace that we speak ; 
 but we say that in such works there is something meri- 
 torious." The Protestants declared they could not 
 grant it. 
 
 They had approximated, however, beyond all hope. 
 The Roman theologians, clearly understanding their 
 position, had purposed to appear agreed rather than be 
 so in reality. Every one knew, for instance, that the 
 Protestants rejected transubstantiation : but the article 
 of the Confession on this point, being able to be taken 
 
 in the Romish sense, the Papists had admitted it. 
 Their triumph was only deferred. The general ex- 
 pressions that were used on the controverted points, 
 would permit, somewhat later, a Romish interpretation 
 to be given to the Confession ; ecclesiastical authority 
 would declare this the only true one; and Rome, 
 tlianks to a few moments of dissimulation, woidd 
 thus reascend the throne. Have we not seen ia our 
 days the Thirty-nine Articles of the Anglican Church 
 interpreted in accordance with the Council of Trent ? 
 There are causes in which falsehood is never awanting. 
 This plot was as skilfully executed as it was profoundly 
 conceived. 
 
 The commissioners were on the best terms with one 
 another, and concord seemed restored. One single un- 
 easiness disturbed that happy moment : the idea of the 
 landgrave: "Ignorant that we are almost agreed," said 
 they, "this young madbrain is doubtless already assem- 
 bling his army; we must bring him back, and make 
 him a witness of our cordial union." On the morning 
 of the 13th, one of the members of the commission, 
 (Duke Henry of Brunswick,) accompanied by a coun- 
 cillor of the emperor, set out to discharge this difficult 
 mission. Duke George of Saxony supplied his place 
 as arbitrator. 
 
 They now passed from the first part of the Confes- 
 sion to the second : from doctrines to abuses. Here 
 the Romish theologians could not yield so easily, for 
 if they appeared to agree with the Protestants, it was 
 all over with the honour and power of the hierarchy. 
 It was accordingly for this period of the combat that 
 they had reserved their cunning and their strength. 
 
 They began by approaching the Protestants as near 
 as they could, for the more they granted, the more 
 they might draw the Reform to them and stifle it. 
 " We think," said they, " that with the permission of 
 his holiness, and the approbation of his majesty, we 
 shall be able to permit, until the next council, the 
 communion in both kinds, wherever it is practised 
 already; only, your ministers should preach at Easter, 
 that it is not of Divine institution, and that Christ is 
 wholly in each kind. 
 
 "Moreover, as for the married priests," continued 
 they, " desirous of sparing the poor women whom they 
 have seduced, of providing for the maintenance of their 
 innocent children, and of preventing every kind of 
 scandiil, we will tolerate them until the next council, 
 and we shall then see if it will not be right to decree 
 that married men may be admitted to holy orders, as 
 was the case in the primitive Church for many cen- 
 turies. 
 
 "Finally, we acknowledge that the sacrifice of the 
 mass is a mystery, a representation, a sacrifice of com- 
 memoration, a memorial of the sufferings and death of 
 Christ, accomplished on the cross." 
 
 This was yielding much : but the turn of the Pro- 
 testants was come ; for if Rome appeared to give, it 
 was only to take in return. 
 
 The grand question was the Church, its maintenance 
 and government: who should provide for it? They 
 could see only two means : princes or bishops. If they 
 feared the bishops, they must decide for the princes ; 
 if they feared the princes, they must decide for the 
 bishops. They were at that time too distant from the 
 
DANGER OF CONCESSION. 
 
 normal state to discover a third solution, and to per- 
 ceive that the Church oiij;ht to be maintained by the 
 Church itself — by the Cliristiau people. "Secular 
 princes, in the long run, will be defaulters to the govern- 
 ment of the Church," said the Saxon divines, in the 
 opinion they presented on the 18th August ; " they are 
 not fit to execute it, and, besides, it would cost them 
 too dear ; the bishops, on the contrary, have property 
 destined to provide for this charge." 
 
 Thus, the presumed incapacity of the state, and the 
 feai they entertained of its indifference, threw the 
 Protestants into the arms of the hierarchy. 
 
 They proposed, therefore, to restore to the bishops 
 their jurisdiction, the maintenance of discipline, and 
 the superintendence of the priests, provided they did 
 not persecute the evangelical doctrine, or oppress the 
 pastoi-s with impious vows and burdens. "We may 
 not," added they, " without strong reasons, rend that 
 order by which bishops are over priests, and which 
 existed in the Church from the beginning. It is 
 dangerous before the Lord to change the order of 
 governments." Their argument is not founded upon 
 the Bible, as may be seen, but upon ecclesiastical 
 history. 
 
 The Protestant divines went even farther, and, 
 taking a last step that seemed decisive, they consented 
 to acknowledge the pope as being (but of human right) 
 supreme bishop of Christendom "Although the pope 
 is Antichrist, we may be under his government, as the 
 Jews were under Pharaoh, and, in later days, under 
 Caiaphas." We must confess these two compari- 
 sons were not flattering to the pope. " Only," added 
 the doctors, " let sound doctrine be fully accorded to 
 us." 
 
 The chancellor Bruck alone appears to have been 
 conscious of the truth •- he wrote on the margin, with 
 a firm hand : " We cannot acknowledge the pope, be- 
 cause we say he is Antichrist, and because he claims 
 the primacy by Divine right." 
 
 Finally, the Protestant theologians consented to 
 agi-ee with Rome as regards indifferent ceremonies, 
 fasts, and forms of worsiiip ; and the elector engaged 
 to put under sequestration the ecclesiastical property 
 already secularized, until the decision of the next 
 council. 
 
 Never was the conservative spirit of Lutheranism 
 more clearly manifested. " We have promised our 
 adversaries to concede to them certain points of church 
 government, that may be granted without wounding 
 the conscience," wrote Melaucthon. But it began to 
 be very doubtful whether ecclesiastical concessions 
 would not drag with them doctrinal concessions also. 
 The Reform was drifting away . . still a few 
 
 more fathoms, and it would be lost. Already disunion, 
 trouble, and affright, were spreading among its ranks. 
 "Melancthon has become more childish than a child," 
 said one of his friends; and yet he was so excited, 
 that the Chancellor of Luneburg having made some 
 objections to these unprecedented concessions, the 
 little master of arts proudly raised his head, and said, 
 with a sharp, hai-sli tone of voice : " He who dares 
 assert that the means indicated are not Christian is a 
 liar and a scoundrel." On which the chancellor im- 
 mediately repaid him in his own coin. These ex- 
 
 pressions cannot, however, detract from Melancthon's 
 reputation for mildness. After so many useless efforts, 
 he was exhausted, irritated, and his words cut the 
 deeper, as they were the less expected from him. Ho 
 was not the only one demoralized. Brentz appeared 
 clumsy, rude, and uncivil; Chancellor Keller had 
 misled the pious Margrave of Brandenburg, and trans- 
 formed the courage of this prince into pusillanimity; 
 no otlior human support remained to the elector than 
 his chancellor Bruck. And even this firm man began 
 to grow alarmed at his isolation. 
 
 But he was not alone : the most earnest protests 
 were received from without-, " If it is true that you 
 are making such concessions," said their affrighted 
 friends to the Saxon divines, " Christian liberty is at 
 an end. AVhat is your pretended concord? a thick 
 cloud that you raise in the air to eclipse the sun that 
 was beginning to illumine the Chmxh. Never will 
 the Christian people accept conditions so opposed to 
 the Word of God ; and your only gain will be fur- 
 nishing the enemies of the Gospel with a specious 
 pretext to butcher those who remain faithful to it" 
 Among the laymen these convictions were general. 
 "Better die with Jesus Christ," said all Augsburg, 
 " than gain the favour of the whole world without 
 Him!" 
 
 No one felt so much alarm as Luther, when he saw 
 the glorious edifice that God had raised by his hands 
 on the point of falling to ruin in those of Slelancthon. 
 The day on which this news arrived, he wrote five 
 letters, — to the elector, to Melancthon, to Spalatin, to 
 Jonas, and to Brentz, all equally filled with courage 
 and with faith. 
 
 " I learn," said he, " that you have begun a marvel- 
 lous work, namely, to reconcile Luther and the pope ; 
 but the pope will not be reconciled, and Luther begs to 
 be excused. And if, in despite of them, you succeed 
 in this affair, then, after your example, I will bring to- 
 gether Christ and Belial. 
 
 " The world, I know, is full of wranglers who obscure 
 the doctrine of justification by faith, and of fanatics 
 who pei'secute it. Do not be astonished at it, but con- 
 tinue to defend it with courage, for it is the heel of 
 the seed of the woman that shall bruise the head of the 
 serpent. 
 
 "Beware also of the jurisdiction of the bishops, for 
 fear we should soon have to recommence a more terrible 
 struggle than the first. They wiU take our concessions 
 widely, very widely, always more widely, and will give 
 us theirs narrowly, very narrowly, and always more 
 narrowly. All these negotiations are impossible, un- 
 less the pope should renounce his papacy. 
 
 "A pretty motive, indeed, our adversaries assign! 
 They cannot, say they, restrain their subjects, if we do 
 not publish everywhere that they have the truth on 
 their side : as if God only taught His Word, that our 
 enemies might at pleasure tyrannize over their people. 
 
 "They cry out that we condemn all the Church. 
 No, we do not condemn it ; but as for tliem, they con- 
 demn all the AVord of God, and the Word of God is 
 more than the Church." 
 
 This important declaration of the reformers decides 
 the controversy between the evangelical Christians and 
 the Papacy; unfortunately we have often seen Protes- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 tants return, on this fundamental point, to the error of 
 Rome, and set the visible Chmxh above the Word of 
 God. 
 
 "I write to you now," continues Luther, "to believe 
 with all of us, (and that throiigh obedience to Jesus 
 Christ,) that Campeggio is a famous demon. I cannot 
 tell how violently I am agitated by the conditions 
 which you propose. The plan of Campeggio and the 
 pope has been to try us first by threats, and then, 
 if these do not succeed, by stratagems; you have 
 triumphed over the first attack, and sustained the 
 terrible coming of Cresar: now, then, for the second. 
 Act with courage, and yield nothing to the adversaries, 
 except what can be proved with evidence from the 
 very Word of God. 
 
 " But if, which Christ forbid ! you do not put for- 
 ward all the Gospel ; if, on the contrary, you shut up 
 that glorious eagle in a sack ; Luther — doubt it not! — 
 Lutlicr will come and gloriously deliver the eagle. As 
 certainly as Christ lives, that shall be done !" 
 
 Thus spoke Luther, but in vain : everything in Augs- 
 burg was tending towards approaching ruin ; Melanc- 
 thon had a bandage over his eyes that nothing could 
 tear off. He no longer listened to Luther, aud cared 
 not for popularity. "It does not become us," said 
 he, " to be moved by the clamours of the vulgar : we 
 must think of peace and of posterity. If we repeal 
 the episcopal jurisdiction, what will be the consequence 
 to our descendants ? The secular powers care nothing 
 about the interests of religion. Besides, too much 
 dissimilarity in the churches is injurious to peace : we 
 must unite with the bishops, lest the infamy of schism 
 should overwhelm us for ever." 
 
 The evangelicals too readily listened to Melancthon, 
 and vigorously laboured to bind to the Papacy, by the 
 bonds of the hierarchy, that Church which God had so 
 wonderfully emancipated. Protestantism rushed blind- 
 fold into the nets of its enemies. Already serious 
 voices announced the return of the Lutherans into the 
 bosom of the Romish Church. "They are preparing 
 their defection, and are passing over to the Papists," 
 said Zwingle. The politic Charles the Fifth acted in 
 such a manner, that no haughty word should compro- 
 mise the victory; but the Roman clergy could not 
 master themselves : their pride and insolence increased 
 every day. " One would never believe," said Melanc- 
 thon, " the airs of triumph which the Papists give 
 themselves." There was good reason ! the agi-eement 
 was on the verge of conclusion : yet one or two steps, 
 . . . and then, woe to the Reformation ! 
 
 Who could prevent this desolating ruin? It was 
 Luther who pronounced the name towards which all 
 eyes should be turned : " Christ lives," said he, " and 
 He by whom the violence of our enemies has been 
 conquered will give us strength to surmount their 
 wiles." This, which was in truth the only resource, 
 did not disappoint the Reformation. 
 
 If the Roman hierarchy had been willing, under 
 certain admissible conditions, to receive the Protes- 
 tants, who were ready to capitulate, all would have 
 been over with them. When once it held them in its 
 arms, it would have stifled them ; but God blinded the 
 Papacy, and thus saved His Church. "No conces- 
 sions," had declared the Romish senate ; and Cam- 
 
 peggio, elated with his victory, repeated, "No conces- 
 sions!" He moved heaven and earth to inflame the 
 Catholic zeal of Charles in this decisive moment. 
 From the emperor he passed to the princes. " Celi- 
 bacy, confession, the withdrawal of the cup, private 
 masses !" exclaimed he : "all these are obligatory: we 
 must have all." This was sayiug to the evangelical 
 Christians, as the Samnites to the ancient Romans : 
 " Here are the Caudine Forks ; pass through them !" 
 
 The Protestants saw the yoke, and shuddered. God 
 revived the courage of confessors in their weakened 
 hearts. They raised their heads, and rejected this 
 humiliating capitulation. The commission was imme- 
 diately dissolved. 
 
 This was a great deliverance, but soon appeared a 
 fresh danger. The evangelical Christians ought im- 
 mediately to have quitted Augsburg; but, said one of 
 them, " Satan, disguised as an angel of light, blinded 
 the eyes of their understanding." They remained. 
 
 AH was not yet lost for Rome, and the spirit of 
 falsehood and of cunning might again renew its attacks. 
 
 It was believed at court that this disagreeable termi- 
 nation of the commission was to be ascribed to some 
 wrong-headed individuals, and particularly to Duke 
 George. They therefore resolved to name another, 
 composed of six members only: on the one side Eck, 
 with the chancellors of Cologne and Baden ; on the 
 other, Melancthon, with the chancellors Bruck and 
 Heller. The Protestants consented, and all was begun 
 anew. 
 
 The alarm then increased among the most decided 
 followers of the Reformation. "If we expose our- 
 selves unceasingly to new dangers, must we not suc- 
 cumb at last?" The deputies of Nuremberg, in parti- 
 cular, declared that their city would never place itself 
 again under the detested yoke of the bishops. "It is 
 the advice of the undecided Erasmus that Melanc- 
 thon follows," said they. " Say rather of Ahithophel," 
 (2 Sam. XV.,) replied others. "However it maybe," 
 added they; "if the pope had bought Melancthon, the 
 latter could have done nothing better to secure the 
 victory for him." 
 
 The landgrave was especially indignant at this cow- 
 ardice. " Melancthon," wrote he to Zwingle, " walks 
 backwards like a crab." From Friedwald, whither he 
 had repaired after his flight from Augsburg, Philip of 
 Hesse endeavoured to check the fall of Protestantism. 
 " When we begin to yield, we always yield more," 
 wrote he to his ministers at Augsburg. " Declare 
 tlierefore to my allies that I reject these perfidious 
 conciliations. If we are Christians, what we should 
 pursue is, not our own advantage, but the consolation 
 of so many weary aud afflicted consciences, for whom 
 there is no salvation if we take away tlie Word of God. 
 The bishops are not real bishops, for they speak not 
 according to the Holy Scriptures. If we acknowledge 
 them, what would follow ? They would remove our 
 ministers, silence the Gospel, re-establish ancient 
 abuses, and the last state would be worse than the 
 first. If the Papists will permit the free preaching of 
 the pure Gospel, let us come to an understanding with 
 them ; for the truth will be the strongest, and will root 
 out all the rest. But if not ! — No. This is not tlie 
 moment to yield, but to remain firm even unto death. 
 
FAILURE OF CONCILIATION. 
 
 481 
 
 Baffle these fearful combinations of Mclancthon, and 
 tell the deputies of the cities, from me, to be men, and 
 not women. Let us fear nothing : God is with us." 
 
 Mclancthon and his friends, thus attacked, sought to 
 justify themselves : on the one hand, they maintained, 
 that if they preserved the doctrine it would finally 
 overtlirow the hierarchy. But then, why restore it ? 
 Was it not more than doubtful whether a doctrine so 
 enfeebled would still retain strength sufHcient to shake 
 the Papacy? On the other hand, Mclancthon and his 
 friends pointed out two phantoms before which they 
 shrunk in affright. The first was tvai; which, in their 
 opinion, was imminent. " It will not only," said they, 
 " bring numberless temporal evils with it — the devas- 
 tation of Germany, murder, viol.ation, sacrilege, rapine; 
 but it will produce spiritual evils more frightful still, 
 and inevitably bring on the perturbation of all religion." 
 The second phantom was the supremacy of the State. 
 Mclancthon and his friends foresaw the dependence to 
 which the princes would reduce the Church, the in- 
 creasing secularization of its institutions and of its 
 instruments, the spiritual death that would result, and 
 shrank back with terror from the frightful i)rospect. 
 " Good men do not think that the court should regu- 
 late the ministry of the Church," said Brcntz. " Have 
 you not yourselves experienced," added he, ironically, 
 " with what wisdom and mildness these boors ('tis thus 
 I denominate the oflicials and prefects of the princes) 
 treat the ministers of the Church, and the Church it- 
 self. Rather die seven times!" — "I see," exclaimed 
 Mclancthon, "what a Church wc shall have if the 
 ecclesiastical government is abolished. I discover in 
 the future a tyranny far more intolerable than that 
 which has existed to this day." Tiien, bowed down 
 by the accusations that poured upon him from every 
 side, the unhappy Philip exclaimed: "If it is I who 
 Lave aroused this tempest, I pray his majesty to throw 
 me, like Jonas, into the sea, and to drag me out only 
 to give me up to torture and to the stake." 
 
 If the Romish episcopacy w^erc once recognised, all 
 seemed easy. In the Commission of Sis, they conceded 
 the cup to the laity, mairiage to the pastors, and the 
 article of prayer to saints appeared of little importance. 
 But they stopped at tliree doctrines which the Evan- 
 gelicals could not yield. The first was the necessity of 
 human satisfaction for the remission of the penalties 
 of sin ; the second, the idea of something meritorious 
 in every good work ; the third, the utility of private 
 masses. " Aii !" ((uickly replied Campeggio to Charles 
 the Fifth, " I would rather be cut in pieces than con- 
 cede anything about masses." 
 
 " What !" replied the politicians, "when you agree 
 on all the great doctrines of salvation, will you for 
 ever rend the unity of the Chiu-ch for three such trivi;il 
 articles ? Let the theologians make a last effort, and 
 we shall see the two parties unite, and Rome embrace 
 Wittemberg." 
 
 It was not so: under these three points was con- 
 cealed a whole system. On the Roman side, they 
 entertained the idea that certain works gain the Divine 
 favour, independently of the disposition of him who 
 performs them, and by virtue of the will of the Church. 
 On the Evangelical side, on the contrary, they felt a 
 conviction that these external ordinances were mere 
 
 human traditions, and that the only thing which ])ro- 
 cured man the Divine favour was the work that God 
 accomplished by Christ on the cross ; while the only 
 thing that put him in possession of this favour was the 
 work of regeneration that Christ accomplishes by His 
 Spirit in the heart of the sinner. The Romanists, by 
 maintaining their three articles, said- "The Church 
 saves," which is the essential doctrine of Rome ; the 
 Evangelicals, by rejecting them, said: "Jesus Christ 
 alone saves," which is Christianity itself. This is the 
 great antithesis which then existed, and which still 
 separates the two churches. With these three points, 
 which placed souls under her dependence, Rome justly 
 expected to recover everything; and she shewed, by 
 her perseverance, that she understood her position. 
 But the Evangelicals were not disposed to aban- 
 don theirs. The Christian principle was maintained 
 against the ecclesiastical principle, which aspired to 
 swallow it up : Jesus Christ stood firm in the presence 
 of the Church, and it was seen that henceforward all 
 conferences were superfluous. 
 
 Time pressed : for two months and a-half Charles 
 the Fifth had been labouring in Augsburg, and his 
 pride suffered because four or five theologians checked 
 the triumphal progress of the conqueror of Pavia. 
 "What!" said they to him, "a few days sufficed to 
 overthrow the King of France and the pope, and you 
 cannot succeed witli these Gospellers!" They deter- 
 mimed on breaking off the conferences. Eck, irritated 
 because neither stratagem nor terror had been effectual, 
 could not master himself in the presence of the Pro- 
 testants. "Ah!" exclaimed he, at the moment of 
 separation, " why did not the emperor, when he en- 
 tered Germany, make a general inquest about the 
 Lutherans? He would then have heard arrogant 
 answers, witnessed monsters of heresy, and his zeal, 
 suddenly taking fire, would have led him to destroy 
 all this faction. But now Bruck's mild language, and 
 Melancthon's concessions, prevent him from getting so 
 angry as the cause requires." Eck said these words 
 with a smile ; but they expressed all his thoughts. 
 The colloquy terminated on the 30th August. 
 
 The Romisii states made their report to the emperor. 
 They were face to face, three steps only from each 
 other, without either side being able to approach 
 ucarer, even by a liair's-brcadth. 
 
 Thus, then, Melancthou had failed; and his enor- 
 mous concessions were found useless. From a false 
 love of peace, he had set his heart on an impossibility. 
 Mclancthon was, at the bottom, a really Christian 
 soul. God preserved him from his great weakness, 
 and broke the clue that was about to lead him to de- 
 struction. Nothing could have been more fortunate 
 for the Reformation than Melancthon's failure; but 
 nothing could, at the same time, have been more for- 
 tunate for himself. His friends saw that, though he 
 was willing to yield much, he could not go so far as to 
 yield Christ himself, and his defeat justified him in 
 the eyes of the Protestants. 
 
 The Elector of Saxony and the Margrave of Bran- 
 denburg sent to beg Charles's leave to depart. The 
 latter refused, at first rather rudely, but at last he begau 
 to conjure the princes not to create, by their departure, 
 new obstacles to the arrangements they soon hoped to 
 2 1 
 
482 
 
 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION'. 
 
 be able to conclude. "We stall see what was tlie nature 
 of these arrangements. 
 
 The Romanists appeared to redouble their exertions. 
 If they now let the clue slip, it is lost for ever : they 
 laboured, accordingly, to reunite the two ends. There 
 were conferences in the gardens, conferences in the 
 churches, at St. George's, at St. Maurice's, between 
 the Duke of Brunswick and John Frederick the elec- 
 tor's son, the chancellors of Baden and of Saxony, the 
 Chancellor of Liege and Melancthon ; but all these 
 attempts were unavailing. It was to other means they 
 were going to have recourse. 
 
 Charles the Fifth had resolved to take the affair in 
 hand, and to cut the Gordian knot, which neither 
 doctors nor princes could untie. Irritated at seeing 
 his advances spurned and his authority compromised, 
 he thought that the moment was come for drawing the 
 sword. On the 4th September, the members of the 
 Eomau party, who were still endeavouring to gain over 
 the Protestants, wliispered these frightful intentions in 
 Melaucthon's ears. "We scarcely dare mention it," 
 said they: "the sword is already in the emperor's 
 hands, and certain people exasperate hun more and 
 more. He is not easily enraged, but once angry, it is 
 impossible to quiet him." 
 
 Charles had reason to appear exacting and ten'ible. 
 He had at length obtained from Rome an unexpected 
 concession — a council. Clement VII. had laid the 
 emperor's request before a congi-egation : "How will 
 men who reject the ancient councils submit to a new 
 one?" they had replied. Clement himself had no wish 
 for an assembly, which he dreaded alike on account of 
 his birth and conduct. However, his promises at the 
 Castle of St. Angelo and at Bologna rendered it im- 
 possible for him to give a decided refusal. He an- 
 swered, therefore, that "the remedy would be worse 
 than the disease ; but that if the emperor, who was so 
 good a Catholic, judged a council absolutely necessary, 
 he would consent to it, under the express condition, 
 however, that the Protestants should submit, in the 
 meanwhile, to the doctrines and rites of the Church." 
 Then, as the place of meeting, he appointed Rome ! 
 
 Scarcely had news of this concession spread abroad, 
 than the fear of a Reformation froze the papal court. 
 The public charges of the Papacy, which were alto- 
 gether venal, immediately fell, says a cardinal, and 
 were offered at the lowest price, without even being 
 able to find purchasers. The Papacy was com- 
 promised ; its merchandise was endangered ; and the 
 price current immediately declined on the Roman ex- 
 change ! 
 
 On "Wednesday, 7th September, at two in the after- 
 noon, the Protestant princes and deputies having been 
 introduced into the chamber of Charles the Fifth, the 
 count-palatine said to them, "that the emperor, con- 
 sidering their small number, had not expected they 
 would uphold new sects against the ancient usages of 
 the universal Chiu-ch ; that, nevertheless, being desir- 
 ous of appearing to the last full of kindness, he would 
 require of his holiness the convocation of a council ; 
 but that, in the meanwhile, they should retm-n im- 
 mediately into the bosom of the Catholic Church, and 
 restore everything to its ancient footing." 
 
 The Protestants replied on the morrow, the 8th Sep- 
 
 tember, "that they had not stirred up new sects contrary 
 to the Holy Scriptures ; that, quite the reverse, if they 
 had not agreed with their adversaries, it was because 
 tliey had desii-ed to remain faithful to the Word of 
 God ; that, by convoking in Germany a general, free, 
 ■and Christian council, it would only be doing what 
 preceding diets had promised ; but that nothing should 
 compel them to re-establish in their churches an order 
 of things opposed to the commandments of God." 
 
 It was eight in the evening when, after a long de- 
 liberation, the Protestants were again called in. " His 
 majesty," said George Truchses to them, " is equally 
 astonished, both that the Catholic members of the 
 commissions have accorded so much, and that the 
 Protestant members have refused everything. WTiat 
 is your party in the presence of his imperial majesty, 
 of his papal holiness, of the electors, princes, estates of 
 the empire, and other kings, rulers, and potentates of 
 Christendom ? It is but just that the minority should 
 yield to the majority. Do you desire the means of 
 conciliation to be protracted, or do you persist in your 
 answer? Speak frankly; for if you persist, the em- 
 peror will immediately see to the defence of the 
 Church. To-morrow, at one o'clock, you will bring 
 your final decision." 
 
 Never had such threatening words issued from 
 Charles's mouth. It was evident he wished to subdue 
 the Protestants by terror; but this end was not at- 
 tained. They replied the next day but one — a day 
 more having been accorded them — that new attempts 
 at conciliation would only fatigue the emperor and the 
 diet ; that they only requu'ed regulations to maintain 
 political peace until the assembling of the council. 
 " Enough," replied the redoubtable emperor; "I will 
 reflect upon it ; but, in the meantime, let no one quit 
 Augsburg." 
 
 Charles the Fifth was embarrassed in a labyrinth 
 from which he knew not how to escape. The State 
 had resolved to interfere with the Church, and saw it- 
 self compelled to have immediate recourse to its ultima 
 ratio — the sword. Charles did not desire war, and yet 
 how could he now avoid it ? If he did not execute his 
 threats, his dignity was compromised, and his authority 
 rendered contemptible. He sought an outlet on one 
 side or the other, but could tind none. It therefore 
 only remained for him to close his eyes, and rush for- 
 ward, heedless of the consequences. These thoughts 
 disturbed him : these cares preyed upon him : he was 
 utterly confounded. 
 
 It was now that the elector sent to beg Charles would 
 not be offended if he left Augsburg. " Let him await 
 my answer," abruptly replied the emperor : and the 
 elector having rejoined that he would send his minis- 
 ters to explain his motives to his majesty: "not so 
 many speeches," resumed Charles, with irritation : 
 "let the elector say whether he will stay or not !" 
 
 A rumour of the altercation between those two 
 powerful princes having spread abroad, the alarm be- 
 came universal ; it was thought war would break out 
 immediately, and there was a great disturbance in 
 Augsburg. It was evening : men were running to and 
 fro ; they rushed into the hotels of the princes, and of 
 the Protestant deputies, and addressed them with the 
 severest reproaches. "His imperial majesty," said 
 
ALTERCATIONS -LUTHER'S APPEAL. 
 
 they, " is about to have recourse to the most energetic 
 mesisiircs!" They even declared that hostilities had 
 begun : it was whispered that the commander of Hor- 
 neck, (Walter of Kronberg,) elected by the emperor 
 grand-master of the Teutonic order, was about to enter 
 Prussia with an army, and dispossess Duke Albert, 
 converted by Luther. Two nights successively the 
 same tumult was repeated. They shouted, they quar- 
 relled, they fought, particularly in and before the man- 
 sions of the princes : the war was nearly commencing 
 in Augsburg. 
 
 At that crisis (12th September) John Frederick, 
 prince-electoral of Saxony, quitted the city. 
 
 On the same day, or on the morrow, Jerome TVehe, 
 chancellor of Baden, and Count Truchses, on the one 
 side; Chancellor Bruck and Melancthon, on the other, 
 met at six in the morning in the church of St. Maurice. 
 
 Charles, notwithstanding his threats, could not decide 
 on emploj-ing force. He might, no doubt, by a single 
 word to his Spanish bands or to his German lansquenets, 
 have seized on these inflexible men, and treated them 
 like Moors. But how could Charles, a Netherlander, 
 a Spaniard, who had been ton years absent from the 
 empire, dare, without raising all Germany, offer vio- 
 lence to the favourites of the nation ? Would not the 
 Roman Catholic princes themselves see in this act an 
 infringement of their privileges ? War was imseason- 
 able. " Lutheranism is extending already from the 
 Baltic to the Alps," wrote Erasmus to the legate : 
 " You have but one thing to do : tolerate it." 
 
 The negotiation begun in the church of St. Maurice 
 was continued between the Margrave of Brandenburg 
 and Count Truchses. The Roman party only sought 
 to save appearances, and did not hesitate, besides, to 
 sacrifice everything. It asked merely for a few theat- 
 rical decorations — that the mass should be celebrated 
 in the sacerdotal garment, with chanting, reading, 
 ceremonies, and its two canons. All the rest was 
 referred to the next council ; and the Protestants, till 
 then, should conduct themselves so as to render accoimt 
 to God, to the coiuicil, and to his majesty. 
 
 But on the side of the Protestants the wind had also 
 changed. Now they no longer desired peace with 
 Rome : the scales had at last fallen from their eyes, 
 and they discovered with affright the abyss into which 
 they had so nearly plunged. Jonas, Spalatin, and even 
 Melancthon, were agreed. "We have hitherto obeyed 
 the commandment of St. Paul, Be at peace with all 
 »»e«," said they ; "now we must obey this command- 
 ment of Christ, Beware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, 
 ichich is hijpocrisij. On the side of our adversaries is 
 nothing but cunning and perfidy, and their only aim 
 is to stifle our doctrine, which is truth itself. They 
 hope to save the abominable articles of purgatory, in- 
 dulgences, and the Papacy, because we have passed 
 them by in silence. Let us beware of betraying Christ 
 and His Word, in order to please Antichrist and the 
 devil." 
 
 Luther, at the same time, redoubled his entreaties 
 to withdraw his friends from Augsburg. "Return, 
 return," cried he to them ; " return, e\en if it must be 
 so, cursed by the pope and the emperor. You have 
 confessed Jesus Christ, offered peace, obeyed Charles, 
 supported insiUts, and endured blasphemies. I will 
 
 canonize you, I, as faithful members of Jesus Christ. 
 You have done enough, and more than enough : now 
 it is for the Lord to act, and He will act ! They have 
 our Confession, they have the Gospel ; let them receive 
 
 it, if they will ; and if they will not, let them go . 
 
 If a war should come, let it come ! We have prayed 
 enough ; we have discussed enough. The Lord is pre- 
 paring our adversaries as the victim for the sacrifice ; 
 He will destroy their magnificence, and deliver His 
 people. Yes ! He will preserve us even from Babylon, 
 and from her burning walls." 
 
 CHAPTER XU. 
 
 The Elector's Preparatives aiid Indignation— Recess of Angsborg— Irritat' 
 ing Language — Apology of the Confession— Intimidation — Final Inter- 
 \iew— Jlessagcs of Peace— Exasperation of the Papists— Restoration oi 
 Poperj'- Tumult in the Church— Union of the Churches— The Pope and 
 the Emperor— Close of the Diet — Armaments — Attack on Geneva — Joy 
 of tlie Evangelicals- Establishment of Protestantism. 
 
 Tous Luther gave the signal of departure. They 
 replied to the reformer's appeal, and all prepared to 
 quit Augsburg on Saturday, 17th September. At ten 
 at night, Duke Ernest of Luneburg assembled the 
 deputies of Nuremberg and the ministers of the land- 
 grave in his hotel, and announced to them that the 
 elector was determined to leave the next morning, 
 without informing any one, and that he would accom- 
 pany him. " Keep the secret," said he to them, " and 
 know that if peace cannot be preserved, it will be a 
 trifling matter for me to lose, combating with you, all 
 that God has given me." 
 
 The elector's preparations betrayed his intentions. 
 In the middle of the night Duke Henry of Brunswick 
 arrived hastily at his hotel, beseeching him to wait ; 
 and towards morning counts Truchses and Mansfeld 
 announced that, on the morrow, between seven and 
 eight, the emperor would give him his conge'. 
 
 On Monday, 19th September, the elector, purposing- 
 to leave Augsburg immediately after his audience with 
 Charles, breakfasted at seven o'clock, then sent off his 
 baggage and his cooks, and ordered his oflicers to be 
 ready at ten o'clock. At the moment when John 
 quitted the hotel to wait upon the emperor, aU the 
 members of his household were drawn up on each side, 
 booted and spurred ; but having been introduced to 
 Charles, he was requested to wait two, four, or six, 
 days longer. 
 
 As soon as the elector was alone with his allies, his 
 indignation burst forth, and he even became violent. 
 "This new delay will end in nothing," he said; "I am 
 resolved to set out, happen what may. It seems to 
 me, from the manner in which things are arranged, 
 that I have now completely the air of a prisoner." 
 The Margrave of Brandenburg begged him to be calm. 
 "I shall go," the elector still replied. At last He 
 yielded, and having appeared again before Charles the 
 Fifth, he said : " I will wait until Friday next ; and, if 
 nothing is done by that time, I shall leave forthwith." 
 
 Great was the anxiety of the Protestants during 
 
484 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 these four days of expectation. Most of them doubted 
 not that, by acceding to Charles's prayers, they had 
 delivered themselves into the hands of their enemies. 
 "The emperor is deliberating whether he ought to 
 hang us or let us live," wrote Brentz. Fresh negotia- 
 tions of Truchses were without success. 
 
 All that now remained for the emperor was to draw 
 up, in common with the Romish states, the recess of 
 the diet. This was done ; and that the Protestants 
 might not complain of its having been prepared without 
 their knowledge, he assembled them in his palace on 
 Thursday, 22d September, the day previous to that 
 fixed for the elector's departure, and had his project 
 read to them by the count-palatine. This project was 
 insult and war. The emperor granted to the elector, 
 the five princes, and the six cities,' a delay of six 
 months, until the 15th April next year, to come to an 
 arrangement with the Church, the pope, the emperor, 
 and all the princes and monarchs of Christendom. 
 This was clearly announcing to them that the Romanists 
 were very willing to delay untU the usual period for 
 bringing armies into the field. 
 
 Nor was this all : the delay was granted only on the 
 express condition that the Protestants should imme- 
 diately join the emperor in reducing the Anabap- 
 tists, and all those who opposed the holy sacrament, 
 by which were meant the Zwinglian cities. He wished 
 by this means to tie the hands of the Protestants, and 
 prevent the two families of the Reformation from 
 uniting during the wiutei'. 
 
 Finally, the Protestants were forbidden to make any 
 innovations, to print or sell anything on the objects of 
 faith, or to draw any one whatever to their sect, "since 
 the Confession had been soundly refuted by the Holy 
 Scriptures." Thus the Reformation was officially pro- 
 claimed a sect, and a sect contrary to the Word of God. 
 
 Nothing was more calculated to displease the friends 
 of the Gospel, who remained in Charles's presence, 
 astonished, alarmed, and indignant. This had been 
 foreseen ; and, at the moment when the Protestants 
 were about to enter the emperor's chamber, Truchses 
 and Wehe, making signs to them, mysteriously slipped 
 a paper into their hands, containing a promise that if, 
 on the 15th April, the Protestants required a prolon- 
 gation of the delay, their request would certainly be 
 granted. But Bruck, to whom the paper was given, 
 was not deceived. " A subtle ambuscade," said he ; 
 "a masterpiece of knavery! God will save His own, 
 and will not permit them to fall into the snare." This 
 trick, in fact, served only still more to increase the 
 courage of the Protestants. 
 
 Bruck, without discussing the recess in a political 
 point of view, confined himself to what was principally 
 at stake, the Word of God. " We maintain," said he, 
 " that our Confession is so based on the holy Word of 
 God, that it is impossible to refute it. We consider it 
 as the very truth of God, and we hope by it to stand 
 one day before the judgment seat of the Lord." Ho 
 theu announced that the Protestants had refuted the 
 Refutation of the Romish theologians, and holding in 
 his hand the famous Apology of the Confession of 
 Augsburg, written by Melancthon, he stepped for- 
 1 Nuremberg and Reutliugen, to which were added the cities of Kempten, 
 Heilbronn, 'Windsheim, and Weissemburg. 
 
 ward, and offered it to Charles the Fifth. The count- 
 palatine took it, and the emperor was already stretch- 
 ing out his hand, when Ferdinand having whispered a 
 few words, he beckoned to the count, who immediately 
 returned the Apology to Dr. Bruck. This paper, and 
 the " Commonplaces," are the reformer's masterpieces. 
 The embarrassed emperor told the Protestants to come 
 again at eight the next morning. 
 
 Charles the Fifth, resolving to employ every means 
 to get his decree accepted, began by entreaties; and 
 scarcely was the Margrave of Brandenburg seated to 
 take his evening repast, when Truchses and Wehe 
 appeared before him, using every kind of discourse 
 and argument, but without success. 
 
 The next day (Friday, 23d September) the evan- 
 gelical princes and the deputies of the cities assembled 
 at five in the morning at the margrave's hotel, where 
 the recess was again read in the presence of Truchses 
 and Wehe, Chancellor Bruck assigning seven reasons 
 for its rejection. " I undertake," said Wehe, " to 
 translate the recess into German in such a manner that 
 you can accept it. As for the word sect, in particular, 
 it is the clerk who placed it there by mistake." The 
 mediators retired in haste to communicate to Charles 
 the complaints of the Protestants. 
 
 Charles aiid his ministers gave up every idea of 
 reconciliation, and hoped for nothing except through 
 fear. The Protestants having reached the imperial 
 palace at eight o'clock, they were made wait an hour ; 
 the Elector of Brandenburg then said to them in 
 Charles's name: "His majesty is astonished beyond 
 measure that you still maintain your doctrine to bo 
 based on the Holy Scriptures. If you say the truth, 
 his majesty's ancestors, so many kings aud emperors, 
 and even the ancestors of the Elector of Saxony, were 
 heretics ! There is no Gospel, there is no Scripture, 
 that imposes on us the obligation of seizing by violence 
 the goods of another, and of then saying that we can- 
 not conscientiously restore them. It is for this reason, 
 added Joachim, after these words, which he accom- 
 panied with a sardonic smile, "I am commissioned to 
 inform you, that if you refuse the recess, all the Ger- 
 manic states will place their lives and their property at 
 the emperor's disposal, and his majesty himself will 
 employ the resources of all his kingdoms to complete 
 this affair before leaving the empire." 
 
 " We do not accept it," replied the Protestants firmly. 
 — "His majesty also has a conscience," then resumed the 
 Elector of Brandenburg, in a harsh tone ; " aud if you 
 do not submit, he will concert with the pope and the 
 other potentates on the best means of extirpating this 
 sect and its new errors." But in vain did they add 
 threat to threat : the Protestants remained calm, re- 
 spectful, and unshaken. "Our enemies, destitute of 
 all confidence in God," said they, " would shake like a 
 reed in presence of the emperor's anger, and they 
 imagine that we should tremble in like manner ; but 
 we have called unto God, and He will keep us faithful 
 to His truth." 
 
 The Protestants then prepared to take their final 
 leave of the emperor. This prince, whose patience 
 had been put to a severe trial, approached to shake 
 hands according to custom ; and beginning with the 
 Elector of Saxony, he said to him in a low voice: 
 
RESTORATION OF POPERY. 
 
 485 
 
 " Uncle, uncle ! I should never have expected this of 
 you." The elector was deeply affected : his eyes filled 
 with tears; but, firm and resolute, he bent his head and 
 quitted Charles without reply. It was now two in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 "While the Protestants were returning to their hotels, 
 calm and happy, the Eomish princes retired to theirs, 
 confused and dispirited, uneasy and divided. They 
 doubted not that the conge which had just been granted 
 to the Protestants would be regarded by them as a 
 declaration of war, and that on quitting Augsburg, 
 they would rush to arms. This thought terrified them. 
 Accordingly, the Elector of Saxony had hardly reached 
 his palace, when he saw Dr. Ruhel, councillor of the 
 Elector of Mentz, hastening towards him, commissioned 
 by his master to deliver this message : " Although my 
 brother the elector (Joachim of Brandenburg) has 
 declared that the states of the empire are ready to 
 support the emperor against you, know that both my- 
 self, and the ministers of the elector-palatine, and of 
 the Elector of Treves, immediately declared to his 
 majesty that we did not adhere to this declaration, 
 seeing that we thought very favourably of you. I 
 intended saying this to the emperor in your presence, 
 but you left so precipitately that I was unable." 
 
 Thus spoke the primate of the German Church, and 
 even the choice of his messenger was significant : Dr. 
 Ruhel was Luther's brother-in-law. John begged him 
 to thank his master. 
 
 As tliis envoy retired, there arrived one of the gentle- 
 men of Duke Henry of Brunswick, a zealous Romanist. 
 He was at first refused admittance on account of the 
 departure, but returned hastily, just as Brack's carriage 
 was leaving the court-yard of the hotel. Approaching 
 the carriage-door, he said: "The duke informs the 
 elector that he will endeavour to put things in a better 
 train, and will come this winter to kill a wild boar 
 with him." Shortly after, the terrible Ferdinand him- 
 self declared that he would seek every means of pre- 
 venting an outbreak. All these manifestations of the 
 affrighted Roman Catholics shewed on which side was 
 the real strength. 
 
 At three o'clock in the afternoon the Elector of 
 Saxony, accompanied by the dukes of Luneburg and 
 the princes of Anhalt, quitted the walls of Augsburg. 
 " God be praised," said Luther, " that our dear prince 
 is at last out of hell !" 
 
 As he saw these intrepid princes thus escaping from 
 his hands, Charles the Fifth gave way to a violence 
 that was not usual with him. " They want to teach 
 me a new faith," cried he; "but it is not with the 
 doctrine that we shaU finish this matter : we must draw 
 the sword, and then shall we see who is the strongest." 
 All around him gave way to their indignation. They 
 were astonished at the audacity of Bruck, who had 
 dared call the Romanists — heretics! But nothing 
 irritated them so much as the spirit of proselytism 
 which in those glorious days characterized evangelical 
 Germany; and the anger of tlie Papists was particularly 
 directed against the Chancellor of Luneburg, " who," 
 said they, " had sent more than a hundred ministers 
 into different places to preach the new doctrine, and 
 who had even publicly boasted of it." — " Our adver- 
 saries thirst for our blood," wrote, as they heard these 
 
 complaints, the deputies of Nuremberg, who remained 
 almost alone at Augsburg. 
 
 On the 4th October, Charles the Fifth wrote to the 
 pope ; for it was from Rome that the new crusade was 
 to set out: "The negotiations are broken off; our 
 adversaries are more obstinate than ever ; and I am 
 resolved to employ my strength and my person in com- 
 bating them. For this reason I beg your holiness will 
 demand the support of all Christian princes." 
 
 The enterprise began in Augsburg itself. The day 
 on which he wrote to the pope, Charles, in honour of 
 St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast it was, re-established 
 the Cordeliers in that city, and a monk ascending the 
 pulpit said : "All those who preach that Jesus Christ 
 alone has made satisfaction for our sins, and that God 
 saves us without regard to our works, are thorough 
 scoundrels. There are, on the contrary, two roads to 
 salvation : the common road — namely, the observance 
 of the commandments ; and the perfect road — namely, 
 the ecclesiastical state." Scarcely was the sermon 
 finished ere the congregation began to remove the 
 benches placed in the church for the evangelical 
 preaching, breaking them violently, (for they were 
 fixed with chains,) and throwing them one upon an- 
 other. Within these consecrated walls two monks, in 
 particular, armed with hammers and pincers, tossed 
 their arms, and shouted liked men possessed. " From 
 their frightful uproar," exclaimed some, "one would 
 imagine they were pulling down a house." It was in 
 truth the house of God they wished to begin destroying. 
 
 After the tumult was appeased, they sang mass. 
 As soon as this was concluded, a Spaniard desired to 
 recommence breaking the benches, and on being pre- 
 vented by one of the citizens, they began to hurl chairs 
 at each other ; one of the monks, leaving the choir, ran 
 up to them and was soon dragged into the fray; at 
 length the captain of police arrived with his men, who 
 distributed their well directed blows on every side. 
 Thus began in Germany the restoration of Roman 
 Catholicism : popular violence has often been one of its 
 most powerful allies. 
 
 On the 13th October the recess was read to all the 
 Romish states, and on the same day they concluded a 
 Roman league. 
 
 Two cities had signed the Confession, and two others 
 had assented to it; the imperialists hoped, however, 
 that these powerless municipalities, affrighted at the 
 imperial authority, would withdraw from the Protest- 
 ant union. But on the 17th October, instead of two 
 or four cities, sLxteen imperial towns, among which 
 were the most important in Germany, declared it was 
 impossible to grant any support against the Turks so 
 long as public peace was not secured in Germany it- 
 self. 
 
 An event more formidable to Charles had just taken 
 place. The unity of the Reformation had prevailed. 
 "We are one in the fundamental articles of faith," had 
 said theZwinglian cities, "and in particular, (notwith- 
 standing some disputes about words among our theo- 
 logians,) we are one in the doctrine of the communion 
 in the body and blood of our Lord. Receive us." The 
 Saxon deputies immediately gave their hands. Nothing 
 unites the childi-en of God so much as the violence 
 of their adversaries. "Let us unite," said all, "for 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the consolation of our brethren and the terror of our 
 enemies." 
 
 In vain did Charles, who was intent on keeping up 
 division among the Protestants, convoke the deputies 
 of the Zwinglian cities; in vain, desiring to render 
 them odious, had he accused them of fastening a con- 
 secrated wafer to a wall and firing bullets at it ; in 
 vain did he overwhelm them with fierce threats ; — all 
 his efforts were useless. At length the evangelical 
 party was one. 
 
 Tlie alarm increased among the Roman party, who 
 resolved on fresh concessions. " The Protestants call 
 for public peace," said they; "well, then, let us di-aw 
 up articles of peace." But, on the 29th October, the 
 Protestants refused these offers, because the emperor 
 enjoined peace to all tlie world, without binding him- 
 self. " An emperor has the right to command peace 
 to his subjects," haughtily answered Charles; "but it 
 has never been heard that he commanded it to him- 
 self." 
 
 Nothing remained but to draw the sword ; and for 
 that Charles made every preparation. On the 25th 
 October, he wrote to the cardinals at Rome : " We in- 
 form you that we shall spare neither kingdoms nor 
 lordships; and that we shall venture even our soul 
 and our body to complete such necessary matters." 
 
 Scarcely had Charles's letter been received, before 
 his major-domo, Pedro de la Cueva, arrived in Rome 
 by express. " The season is now too far advanced to 
 attack the Lutherans immediately," said he to the 
 pope ; " but prepare everything for this enterprise. 
 His majesty thinks it his duty to prefer, before all 
 things, the accomplishment of your designs." Thus 
 Clement and the emperor were also united, and both 
 sides began to concentrate their forces. 
 
 On the evening of the 11th November, the recess 
 was read to the Protestant deputies, and on the 12th 
 they rejected it, declaring that they did not acknow- 
 ledge the emperor's power to command in matters of 
 faith. The deputies of Hesse and of Saxony departed 
 immediately after, and on the 19th November the 
 recess was solemnly read in the presence of Charles 
 the Fifth, and of the princes and deputies who were 
 still in Augsburg. This report was more hostile than 
 the project communicated to the Protestants. It bore, 
 among other things, (and this is only a sample of tlie 
 urbanity of this otficial doctrine,) that " to deny free 
 will was the error not of man, but of a brute." — "We 
 beg his majesty," said the Elector Joachim, after it 
 was read, " not to leave Germany, until, by his cares, 
 one sole and same faith be re-established in all the 
 empire." 
 
 The emperor replied that he would not go farther 
 than his states of the Low Countries. They desired that 
 deeds should follow close upon words. It was then 
 nearly seven in the evening ; a few torches, lighted up 
 here and there by the ushers, and casting a pale light, 
 alone illuminated this assembly: they separated with- 
 out seeing each other : and thus ended, as it were by 
 stealth, that diet so pompously announced to the Chris- 
 tian world. 
 
 On the 22d November, the recess was made public ; 
 and two days after, Charles the Fifth set out for 
 Cologne. The ruler of two worlds had seen all his 
 
 influence baffled by a few Christians ; and he who had 
 entered the imperial city in triumph, now quitted it 
 gloomy, silent, and dispirited. The mightiest power 
 of the earth was broken against the power of God. 
 
 But the emperor's ministers and officers, excited by 
 the pope, displayed so much the more energy. The 
 states of the empire were bound to f ui-uish Charles, for 
 three years, 40,000 foot, 8,000 horse, and a consider- 
 able sum of money; the Margrave Henry of Zenete, 
 the Count of Nassau, and other nobles, made consider- 
 able levies on the side of the Rhine ; a captain going 
 through the Black Forest called its rude inhabitants 
 to his standard, and there enrolled six companies of 
 lansquenets ; King Ferdinand had written to all the 
 knights of the Tyrol and of Wurtemberg to gird on 
 their cuirasses and take down their swords ; Joachim 
 of Tallieim collected the Spanish bands in the Low 
 Countries, and ordered them towards the Rhine ; Peter 
 Scher solicited from the Duke of Lorraine the aid of 
 his arms ; and another chief hastily moved the Spanish 
 array of Florence in the direction of the Alps. There 
 was every reason to fear that the Germans, even the 
 Roman Catholics, would take Luther's part ; and hence 
 principally foreign troops were levied. Nothing but 
 war was talked of in Augsburg. 
 
 On a sudden a strange rumour was heard. The 
 signal is given, said every one. A free city, lying on 
 the confines of the Germanic and Roman world, — a 
 city at war with its bishop, in alliance with the Pro- 
 testants, and which passed for reformed even before 
 really being so, had been suddenly attacked. A courier 
 from Strasburg brought this news to Augsburg, and it 
 circulated through the town with the rapidity of light- 
 ning. Three days after Michaelmas, some armed men, 
 sent by the Duke of Savoy, pillaged the suburbs of 
 Geneva, and threatened to take possession of the city, 
 and put all to the edge of the sword. Every one in 
 Augsburg was amazed. "Ho!" exclaimed Charles 
 the Fifth, in French, " the Duke of Savoy has begun 
 too soon." It was reported that Magaret, governor of 
 the Low Countries, the pope, the dukes of Lorraine 
 and Gueldres, and even the King of France, were 
 directing their troops against Geneva. It was there 
 that the army of Rome intended fixing its point d'appuL 
 The avalanche was gathering on the first slopes of the 
 Alps, whence it would rush over all Switzerland, and 
 then roll into Germany, burying the Gospel and the 
 Reformation under its huge mass. 
 
 This sacred cause appeared to be in great danger, 
 and never in reality had it gained so noble a triumph. 
 The coup de main attempted on those hills, where, six 
 years later, Calvin was to take his station, and plant 
 the standard of Augsburg and of Nazareth, having 
 failed, all fears were dispelled, and the victory of the 
 confessors of Christ, for an instant obscured, shone 
 forth anew in all its splendour. 
 
 While the emperor Charles, surrounded by a numer- 
 ous train of princes, was approaching the banks of the 
 Rhine sad and dispirited, the Evangelical Christians 
 were returning in triumph to their homes. Luther was 
 the herald of the victory gained at Augsburg by faith. 
 "Though our enemies should have around them, beside 
 them, with them, not only that puissant Roman em- 
 peror, Chai'les, but still more the emperor of the Turks 
 
ESTABLISHMENT OF PROTESTANTISM. 
 
 487 
 
 and his Mohammed," said he, "they could uot iutiraidate, 
 they couUl not frighten me. It is I who, in tiio strength 
 of God, am resolved to frighten and overthrow them. 
 They shall yield to me, they shall fall, and I shall re- 
 main upright and lirm. My life shall be their heads- 
 man, and my death their hell ! . . . God blinds 
 them and hardens their hearts ; He is driving them 
 towards the Red Sea : all the horses of Pharaoh, his 
 chariots and his horsemen, cainiot escape their inevit- 
 able destiny. Let them go then, let them perish, since 
 they will it so ! As for us, the Lord is with us." 
 
 Thus the Diet of Augsburg, destined to crush the 
 Eeformation, was what strengthened it for ever. It 
 has been usual to consider the peace of Augsburg 
 (1555) as the period when the Ileform was definitively 
 established. That is the date of Icgid Protestantism ; 
 Evangelical Christianity has another — the autumn of 
 
 1530. In 1555 was the victory of the sword and of 
 diplomacy; in 1530 was that of the Word of God and 
 of faith; and this latter victory is, in our eyes, the 
 truest and the surest. The evangelical history of the 
 Reformation in Germany is nearly finished at the epoch 
 we have reached, and the diplomatic history of legal 
 Protestantism begins. Whatever may now be done, 
 whatever may be said, the Church of the first ages has 
 reappeared ; and it has reappeared strong enough to 
 shew that it will live. There will still be conferences 
 and discussions; there will still be leagues and combats; 
 there will even be deplorable defeats ; but all these ai-e 
 a secondary movement. The great movement is ac- 
 complished : the cause of faith is won by faith. The 
 effort has been made : the evangelical doctrine has 
 taken root in the world, and neither the storms of men 
 nor the powers of hell will ever be able to tear it up. 
 
HISTORY OP THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK XV. 
 
 SWITZERLAND— CONQUESTS.— 1526-1530, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Origiuality of the Swiss Reform— Change— Three Periods of Hoform— 
 Switzerland Eoniande— The Two Movements in the Church— Aggres- 
 sive Spirit — The Schoolmaster— Farel's New Baptism — Mysticism and 
 Scholasticism — A Door is Opened— Opposition — Lausanne — Manners of 
 the Clergy— Farel to Galeotto— Farel and the Monk— The Tribunal— 
 The Monk Cries for Paidon— Opposition of the Ormonds— A False Con- 
 vert—Christian Dnity. 
 
 The divisions wliich the Eeformation disclosed within 
 its bosom, ou its appearance before the Diet of Augs- 
 burg, humbled it and compromised its existence ; but 
 ■we must not forget that the cause of these divisions 
 was one of the conditions of the existence of the re- 
 generated Church. No doubt it would have been desir- 
 able for Germany and Switzerland to have agreed ; 
 but it was of still greater importance that Germany 
 and Switzerland should have each its original Eeform. 
 If the Swiss Eeformation had been only a feeble copy 
 of the German, there would have been uniformity, but 
 no duration. The tree, transplanted into Switzerland, 
 without having taken deep root, would soon have been 
 torn up by the vigorous hand that was erelong about 
 to seize upon it. The regeneration of Christianity in 
 these mountains proceeded from forces peculiar to the 
 Helvetic Church, and received an organization in con- 
 formity with the ecclesiastical and political condition 
 of that country. By this very originality it communi- 
 cated a particular energy to the principles of the Ee- 
 formation, of much greater consequence to the common 
 cause than a servile uniformity. The strength of an 
 army arises in great measure from its being composed 
 of soldiers of different arms. 
 
 The military and political influence of Switzerland 
 was declining. The new developments of the Euro- 
 pean nations, subsequent to the sixteenth century, were 
 about to banish to their native mountains those proud 
 Helvetians, who for so long a period had placed their 
 two-handed swords in the balance in which the desti- 
 nies of nations were weighed. The Eeformation com- 
 municated a new influence in exchange for that which 
 was departing. Switzerland, where the Gospel ap- 
 peared in its simplest and purest form, was destined 
 to give in these new times to many nations of the two 
 worlds a more salutary and glorious impulse than that 
 which had hitherto proceeded from its halberds and its 
 arquebuses. 
 
 The history of the Swiss Eeformation is divided into 
 three periods, in which the light of the Gospel is 
 seen spreading successively over three different zones. 
 From 1519 to 1526 Zmich was the centre of the 
 Eeformation, which was then entirely German, and 
 was propagated in the eastern and northern parts of 
 
 the Confederation. Between 1526 and 1532 the move- 
 ment was communicated from Berne : it w.as at once 
 German and French, and extended to the centre of 
 Switzerland, from the gorges of the Jura to the deepest 
 valleys of the Alps. In 1532 Geneva became the 
 focus of the light; and the Eeformation, which was 
 here essentially French, was established on the shores 
 of the Lemau Lake, and gained strength in every 
 quarter. It is of the second of these periods — that of 
 Berne — of which we are now to treat. 
 
 Although the Swiss Eeformation is not yet essen- 
 tially French, still the most active part in it is taken 
 by Frenchmen. Switzerland Romande ' is yoked to the 
 chariot of Eeform, and communicates to it an accele- 
 rated motion. In the period we are about to treat of 
 there is a mixture of races, of forces, and of characters, 
 from which proceeds a greater commotion. In no part 
 of the Christian world will the resistance be so stub- 
 born ; but nowhere will the assailants display so much 
 courage. This petty country of Switzerland Eomaude, 
 enclosed within the colossal arms of the Jura and the 
 Alps, was for centuries one of the strongest fortresses 
 of the Papacy. It is about to be carried by storm ; it 
 is going to turn its arms against its ancient masters ; 
 and from these few hillocks, scattered at the foot of 
 the highest mountains in Europe, will proceed the 
 reiterated shocks that will overthrow, even in the most 
 distant countries, the sanctuaries of Rome, their images, 
 and their alt^irs. 
 
 There are two movements in the Church, one is 
 effected inwardly, and its object is its preservation ; 
 the other is effected outwardly, and the object aimed 
 at is its propagation. There is thus a doctrinal Church 
 and a missionary Church. These two movements 
 ought never to be separated, and whenever they are 
 disunited, it is because the spirit of man, and not the 
 Spirit of God, prevails. In the apostolic ages these 
 two tendencies were evolved at the same time, and with 
 equal power. In the second and third centuries the 
 external tendency prevailed ; after the Council of Nice 
 (325) the doctrinal movement resumed the superiority; 
 at the epoch of the irruption of the northern tribes the 
 missionary spirit revived ; but erelong came the times 
 of the hierarchy and of the schoolmen, in which all 
 doctrinal powers warred within the Church to found 
 therein a despotic government and an impure doctrine 
 — the Papacy. The revival of Christianity in the 
 sixteenth century, which emanated from God, was 
 destined to renovate these two movements, but by 
 purifying them. Then, indeed, the Spirit of God 
 acted at once externally and internally. In the days 
 of the Eeformation there were tranquil and internal 
 
 1 Tlie French part of Switzerland, comprising the cantons of Geneva, 
 Vaud, Neufchatel, and part of those of Fiiburg, Berne, and Valais. 
 
AOORESSIVE SPIRIT-THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 dtvelopmcnts ; but there was also a more powerful and 
 aggressive action. Men of God had for ages studied 
 the Word, and had peacefully explained its salutary 
 lessons. Such had been the work of Vesalia, Goch, 
 Groot, Radewiu, Ruybrook, Tauler, Thomas a Kempis, 
 and John Wessel ; now, something more was required. 
 The power of action was to be combined with the 
 power of thought. The Papacy had been allowed all 
 necessary time for laying aside its errors; for ages men 
 had been in expectation ; it had been warned, it had 
 been entreated; all had been unavailing. Popery 
 being unwilling to reform itself, it became necessary 
 for men of God to take its accomplishment upon them- 
 selves. The calm and moderate influence of the pre- 
 cursors of the Reform was succeeded by the heroic and 
 lioly revolutionary work of the Reformers; and the 
 revolution they effected consisted in overthrowing the 
 usurping power to re-establish the legitimate authority. 
 " To everything there is a season," says the Preacher, 
 " and a time to every purpose under heaven : a time to 
 plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted ; a 
 time to break down, and a time to build up," (Eccles. 
 iii. 1-3.) Of all Reformers, those who carried the 
 aggi-essive spirit to its highest degree were the men 
 who came from France, and more especially Farel, 
 whose labours we have now to consider. 
 
 Never were such mighty effects accomplished by so 
 puny a force. In the government of God we pass in 
 an instant from the greatest to the least of things. "We 
 now quit the haughty Charles V. and all that court 
 of princes over which he presides, to follow the steps 
 of a schoolmaster ; and leave the palaces of Augsburg 
 to take our seats in the lowly cottages of Switzer- 
 land. 
 
 The Rhone, after issuing, near St. Gothard, from 
 the mountains of the Furka, from beneath an immense 
 sea of eternal ice, rolh its noisy waters through a 
 rugged valley scparatinir tlie tv^n srreat chains of the 
 Alps; tli( n "i-MiMiL'- ti Ml til. _ I _.' of St. Maurice, it 
 
 wanders through a more smiling and fertile country. 
 The sublime Dent du Midi on the south, the proud 
 Dent de Morcles on the north, picturesquely situated 
 opposite each other, point out from afar to the travel- 
 ler's eye the beginning of this latter basin. On the 
 tops of these mountains are vast glaciers and threat- 
 ening peaks, near which the shepherds, in the midst 
 of summer, lead their numerous flocks to pasture; while, 
 
 in the plain, the flowers and fruits of southern climes 
 grow luxuriantly, and the laurel blooms beside the 
 most exquisite grapes. 
 
 At the opening of one of the lateral valleys that lead 
 into the northern Alps, on the banks of the Grande 
 Eau, that falls in thunder from the glaciers of the 
 Diablerets, is situated the small town of Aigle, one of 
 the most southern in Switzerland. For about fifty 
 years it had belonged to Berne, with the four parishes 
 (marukmens) which are under its jurisdiction, namely, 
 Aigle, Bex, Ollon, and the chalets scattered in the 
 lofty valleys of the Ormonds. It is in this country 
 that the second epoch of the Swiss Reformation was 
 destined to begin. 
 
 In the winter of 1526-1527, a foreign schoolmaster, 
 named Ui'sinus, arrived in this humble district. He 
 was a man of middle stature, with red beard and quick 
 eyes, and who, with a voice of thunder (says Beza) 
 combined the feelings of a hero : his modest lessons 
 were intermingled with new and strange doctrines. 
 The benefices being abandoned by their titularies to 
 ignorant curates, the people, who were naturally of 
 rude and turbulent habits, had remained without any 
 cultivation. Thus did this stranger, who was no other 
 than Farel, meet with new obstacles at every step. 
 
 Whilst Lefevre and most of his friends had quitted 
 Strasburg to re-enter France, after the deliverance of 
 Francis I., Farel had turned his steps towards Swit- 
 zerland ; and on the very first day of his journey, 
 he received a lesson that he frequently recalled to 
 mind. 
 
 He was on foot, accompained by a single friend. 
 Night had closed around them, the rain fell in torrents, 
 and the travellers, in despair of finding their road, had 
 sat down midway, drenched with rain. "Ah!" said 
 Farel, " God, by shewing me my helplessness in these 
 little things, has willed to teach me how weak I am in 
 the greatest without Jesus Christ ! " At last Farel, 
 springing up, plunged into the marshes, waded through 
 the waters, crossed vineyards, fields, hiUs, forests, and 
 valleys, and at length reached his destination, covered 
 with mud and soaked to the skin. 
 
 In this night of desolation Farel had received a new 
 baptism. His natural energy had been quelled : he 
 became for some time, at least, wise as a serpent and 
 harmless as a dove ; and, as not unfrequently happens 
 to men of such disposition, he at first overstepped his 
 aim. Believing that he was following the example of 
 the apostles, he sought, in the words of Oicolampadius, 
 '• by pious frauds to circumvent the old serpent that 
 was hissing around him." He represented himself to 
 be a schoolmaster, and waited until a door should be 
 opened to him to appear as a reformer. 
 
 Scarcely had Magister Ursinus quitted the school- 
 room and his primers, than, taking refuge in his 
 modest chamber, he became absorbed in the Greek 
 and Hebrew Scriptures, and the most learned treatises 
 of the theologians. The struggle between Luther and 
 Zwiugle was commencing. To which of these two 
 chiefs should the French Reform attach itself '? Luther 
 had been known in France for a much longer time 
 than Zwingle; yet Farel decided in favom- of the 
 latter. Mysticism had characterized the Germanic 
 nations during the Middle Ages, and scholasticism 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 those of Koman descent. The French -were ia closer 
 relation with the dialectician Zwingle, than with the 
 mystic Luther; or rather, they were the mediators 
 between the two great tendencies of the Middle Ages ; 
 and, while giving to the Christian thought that correct 
 form which seems to be the province of southern 
 nations, they became the instruments of God to spread 
 through the Church the fulness of life and of the 
 Spirit of Christ. 
 
 It was in his little chamber at Aigle that Farel read 
 the first publication addressed to the Germans by the 
 Swiss reformer. "With what learning," cries he, 
 " does Zwingle scatter the darkness ! with what holy 
 ingenuity he gains over the wise! and what captivating 
 meekness he unites with deep erudition ! Oh ! that by 
 the grace of God this work may win over Luther, so 
 that the Church of Christ, trembling from such violent 
 shocks, may at length find peace !" 
 
 The schoolmaster Ursiuus, excited by so noble an 
 example, gradually set about instructing the parents as 
 well as the children. He at first attacked the doctrine 
 of Purgatory, and next the Invocation of Saints. "As 
 for the pope, he is nothing," said he, " or almost no- 
 thing, in these parts ; and as for the priests, provided 
 they annoy the people with all that nonsense, which 
 Erasmus knows so well how to tiu-n into ridicule, that 
 is enough for them." 
 
 Ursinus had been some months at Aigle : a door was 
 opened to him ; a flock had been collected there, and 
 he believed the looked-for moment had arrived. 
 
 Accordingly, one day the prudent schoolmaster dis- 
 appears. "I am William Farel," said he, "minister 
 of the Word of God." The terror of the priests and 
 magistrates was great, when they saw in the midst of 
 them that very man whose name had already become 
 so formidable. The schoolmaster quitted his humble 
 study; he ascended the pulpit, and openly preached 
 Jesus Chi-ist to the astonished multitude. The work 
 of Ursinus was over . Farel was himself again.' It was 
 then about the month of March or April, 1527, and in 
 that beautiful valley, whose slopes were brightening in 
 the warm rays of the sun, all was fermenting at the 
 same time — the flowers, the vineyards, and the hearts 
 of this sensible but rude people. 
 
 Yet the rocks that the torrent meets as it issues from 
 the Diablerets, and against which it dashes at every 
 step as it falls from eternal snows, are more trifling 
 obstacles than the prejudice and hatred that were 
 shewn erelong in this populous valley to the Word of 
 God. 
 
 The Council of Berne, by a license of the 9th of 
 March, had commissioned Farel to explain the Holy 
 Scriptures to the people of Aigle and its neighbour- 
 hood. But the arm of the civil magistrate, by thus 
 mingling in religious affairs, served only to increase the 
 irritation of men's minds. The rich and lazy incum- 
 bents, the poor and ignorant ciu-ates, were the first to 
 cry out. " If tliis man," said they one to another, 
 "continues preaching, it is all over with our benefices 
 and our Church." 
 
 In the midst of this agitation, the bailiff of Aigle 
 and the governor of the four mandemens, Jacques de 
 
 Koverea, instead of supporting the minister of their 
 excellencies of Berne, eagerly embraced the cause of 
 the priests. "The emperor," said they, "is about to 
 declare war against all innovators. A great army will 
 shortly arrive from Spain to assist the Archduke Fer- 
 dinand." Farel stood firm. Upon this, the bailiff and 
 Roverea, exasperated by such boldness, interdicted the 
 heretic from every kind of instruction, whether as 
 minister or schoolmaster. But Berne caused to be 
 posted on the doors of all the churches in the four 
 mandemens a new decree, dated the 3d of July, in 
 which their excellencies, manifesting great displeasure 
 at this interdiction "of the very learned Farel from 
 the propagation of the Divine Word, ordered all the 
 otticers of the state to allow him to preach publicly 
 the doctrines of the Lord." 
 
 This new proclamation was the signal of revolt. 
 On the 25th July, great crowds assembled at Aigle, at 
 Bex, at OUou, and in the Ormonds, crying out : " No 
 more submission to Berne ! down with Farel !" From 
 words they soon proceeded to actions. At Aigle the 
 insurgents, headed by the fiery syndic, tore down the 
 edict, and prepared to fall upon the reformed. These, 
 promptly united and surrounding Farel, resolved to 
 defend liirn. The two parties met face to face, and 
 blood was near flowing. The firm countenance of the 
 friends of the Gospel checked the partisans of the 
 priests, who dispersed, and Farel, quitting Aigle for a 
 few days, carried his views farther. 
 
 In the middle of the beautiful valley of the Leman, 
 on hills which overlook the lake, stands Lausanne, the 
 city of the bishop and of the Virgin, placed under the 
 patronage of the dukes of Savoy. A host of pilgrims, 
 assembling from all the surrounding places, knelt de- 
 voutly before the image of Our Lady, and made costly 
 purchases at the great fair of indulgences that was 
 held in its precincts. Lausanne, extending its episcopal 
 crozier from its lofty towers, pretended to keep the 
 whole country at the feet of the pope. But owing 
 to the dissolute life of the canons and priests, the eyes 
 of many began to be opened. The ministers of the 
 Virgin were seen in public playing at games of chance, 
 which they seasoned with mockery and blasphemy. 
 They fought in the churches; disguised as soldiers, 
 they descended by night from the cathedral hill, and 
 roaming through the streets, sword in hand and in 
 liquor, surprised, wounded, and sometimes even killed 
 the worthy citizens ; they debauched married women, 
 seduced young girls, changed theii- residences into 
 houses of ill-fame, and heartlessly turned out their 
 young children to beg their bread. Nowhere, perhaps, 
 was better exempUfled the description of the clergy 
 given us by one of the most venerable prelates at the 
 beginning of the sixteenth century: "Instead of train- 
 ing up youth by their learning and holiness of life, the 
 priests train birds and dogs ; instead of books, they 
 have children ; they sit with topers in the taverns, and 
 give way to drunkenness." 
 
 Among the theologians in the court of the Bishop 
 Sebastian of Montfaucon, was Natalis Galeotto, a man 
 of elevated rank and great urbanity, fond of the society 
 of scholars, and himself a man of learning, but never- 
 theless very zealous about fasts and all the ordinances 
 of the Church. Farel thought that, if this man could 
 
FAREL AND THE ISIONK. 
 
 be gained over to the Gospel, Lausanne, " slumbering 
 at the foot of its steeples," would perhaps awaken, and 
 all the country with it. lie therefore addressed him- 
 self to him. "Alas! alas!" said Farel, "religion is 
 now little better than an empty inockery, since people 
 who think only of their appetites are the kings of the 
 Church. Christian people, instead of celebrating in 
 the sacrament the death of the Lord, live as if they 
 commemorated Mercury, the god of fraud. Instead of 
 imitating the love of Christ, they enuilate the lewd- 
 uess of Venus ; and, when they do evil, they fear more 
 the presence of a wretched swineherd than of God 
 Almighty." 
 
 But Galeotto made no reply, and Farel persevered. 
 " Knock ; cry out with all your might," wrote he in a 
 second letter ; " redouble your attacks upon our Lord." 
 Still there was no answer. Farel returned to the 
 charge a third time, and Natalis, fearing perliaps to 
 reply in person, commissioned his secretary, who for- 
 warded a letter to Farel full of abusive language. For 
 a season Lausanne was inaccessible. 
 
 After having thus contended with a priest, Farel 
 was destined to struggle with a monk. The two arms 
 of the hierarchy by which the Middle Ages had been 
 governed were chivalry and monachism. The latter 
 still remained for the service of the Papacy, although 
 falling into decay. "Alas!" exclaimed a celebrated 
 Carthusian, "what an obstinate devil would fear to 
 do, a reprobate and arrogant monk will commit with- 
 out hesitation." 
 
 A mendicant friar, who dared not oppose the reformer 
 in a direct manner at Aigle, ventured into the village 
 of Noville, situated on the low grounds deposited by 
 the Rhone as it falls into the Lake of Geneva. The 
 friar, ;iscending the pulpit, exclaimed : " It is the devU 
 himself who preaches by the mouth of the minister, 
 and all those who listen to him will bo damned." 
 Then, taking courage, he slunk along the bank of the 
 Rhone, and aiTived at Aigle with a meek and humble 
 look, not to appear there against Farel, whose power- 
 ful elo(iuence terribly alarmed him, but to beg in be- 
 half of his convent a few barrels of the most exquisite 
 wine in all Switzerland. He had not advanced many 
 steps into the town before he met the minister. At 
 this sight he trembled in every limb. "Why did you 
 preach in such a manner at Noville '?" demanded Farel. 
 The monk, fearful that the dispute would attract pub- 
 lic attention, and yet desirous of replying to the point, 
 whispered in his ear: "I have heard say that you are 
 a heretic and misleader of the people." " Prove it," 
 said Farel. Then the monk " began to storm," says 
 Farel, and, hastening down the street, endeavoured to 
 shake off his disagreeable companion, " turning now 
 this way, now that, like a troubled conscience." A 
 few citizens beginning to collect around them, Farel 
 said to them, pointing to the monk : " You see this line 
 father; he has said from the pulpit that I preach no- 
 thing but lies." Then the monk, blushing and stam- 
 mering, began to speak of the offerings of the faithful, 
 (the precious wine of Yvorne, for which he had come 
 begging,) and accused Farel of opposing them. The 
 crowd had now increased in number, and Farel, who 
 only sought au opportunity of proclaiming the true 
 worship of God, exclaimed with a loud voice : " It is 
 
 no man's business to ordain any other way of serving- 
 God than that which He h;is commanded. We must 
 keep His commandments without turning either to the 
 right hand or to the left. Let us worship God alone 
 in spirit and in truth, offeiung to Him a broken and 
 a contrite heart." 
 
 The eyes of all the spectators were fixed on the two 
 actors in this scene, — the monk with his wallet, and 
 the reformer with his glistening eye. Confounded by 
 Farel's daring to speak of any other worship than 
 that which the holy Roman Church prescribed, the 
 friar "was out of his senses; he trembled, and was 
 agitated, becoming pale and red by turns. At last, 
 taking his ca]) off his head, from under his hood, he 
 tlung it on the ground, trampling it under foot and 
 crying : ' I am surprised that the earth does not gape 
 and swallow us up !'" . . . Farel wished to reply, 
 but in vain. The friar with downcast eyes kept stamp- 
 ing on his cap, "bawling like one out of his wits;" 
 and his cries resounding through the streets of AJgle, 
 drowned the voice of the reformer. At length one of 
 the spectators, who stood beside him, plucked him by 
 the sleeve, and said, " Listen to the minister, as he is 
 listening to you." The affrighted monk, believing 
 himself ah-eady half-dead, started violently and cried 
 out : " Oh, thou excommuaicate ! layest thou thy hand 
 upon me?" 
 
 The little town was in an uproar ; the friar at once 
 furious and trembling, Farel following up his attack 
 with vigour, and the people confused and amazed. At 
 length the magistrate appeared, ordered the monk and 
 Farel to follow him, and shut them up, "one in one 
 tower, and one in another." 
 
 On the Saturday morning Fare! was liberated from 
 his prison, and conducted to the castle before the 
 officers of justice, where the monk had arrived before 
 him. The minister began to addi'css them : " Mv 
 lords, to whom our Savioiu- enjoins obedience without 
 any exception, this friar has said that the doctrine 
 which I preach is against God. Let him make good 
 his words, or if he cannot, permit your people to be 
 edified." The violence of the monk was over. The 
 tribunal before which he was standing, the courage of 
 his adversary, the power of the movement which he 
 could not resist, the weakness of his cause, — all alarmed 
 him, and he was now ready to make matters up. 
 " Then the friar fell upon his knees, saying : My lords, 
 I entreat forgiveness of you and of God. Next turn- 
 ing to Farel: And also, Magister, what I preached 
 against you was grounded on false reports. I have 
 found you to be a good man, and your doctrine good, 
 and I am prepared to recall my words." 
 
 Farel was touched by this appeal, and said: "My 
 friend, do not ask forgiveness of me, for I am a poor 
 sinner like other men, putting my trust not in my own 
 righteousness, but in the death of Jesus." 
 
 One of the lords of Berne coming up at this time, 
 the friar, who already imagined himself on the brink 
 of martyrdom, began to wring his hands, and to turn 
 now towards the Bernese councillors, now towards the 
 tribunal, and then to Farel, crying, "Pardon, pardon!" 
 — "Ask pardon of our Saviour," replied Farel. The 
 lord of Berne added : " Come to-morrow and hear the 
 minister's sermon ; if he appears to you to preach the 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 truth, you shall confess it openly before all; if not, you 
 will declare your opinion : this promise in ray hand." 
 The monk held out his hand, and the judges retired. 
 " Then the friar went away, and I have not seen him 
 since, and no promises or oaths were able to make him 
 stay." Thus the Keformation advanced in Switzer- 
 land Romande. 
 
 But violent storms threatened to destroy the work 
 that was hardly begun. Romish agents from the Valais 
 and from Savoy had crossed the Rhone at St. Maurice, 
 and were exciting the people to energetic resistance. 
 Tumultuous assemblages took place, in which danger- 
 ous projects were discussed ; the proclamations of the 
 government were torn down from the church-doors ; 
 troops of citizens paraded the city; the drum beat in 
 the streets to excite the populace against the reformer 
 everywhere prevailed riot and sedition. And lience, 
 when Farel ascended the pulpit on the 16th February, 
 
 M 
 
 for the iirst time after a short absence, some Papist 
 bands collected round the gate of the church, raised 
 their hands in tumult, uttered savage cries, and com- 
 pelled the minister to break off in his sermon. 
 
 The council of Berne thereupon decreed that the 
 parishioners of the four mandemens should assemble. 
 Those of Bex declared for the Reform ; Aigle followed 
 their example, but with indecision ; and in the moun- 
 tains above Ollon, the peasants, not daring to maltreat 
 Farel, excited their wives, who rushed upon him witli 
 their fulling-clubs. But it was especially the parish of 
 the Ormonds which, calm and proud at the foot of its 
 glaciers, signalized itself by its resistance. A companion 
 of Farel's labours, named Claude, (probably Claude de 
 Gloutinis,) when preaching there one day with great 
 animation, was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of 
 the bells, whose noise was such that one might have 
 said all hell was busy pulling them. " In fact," says 
 another herald of the Gospel, Jacques Camralis, who 
 chanced to be present, "it was Satan himself, who, 
 breathing his anger into some of his agents, tilled the 
 ears of the auditors with all this uproar." At another 
 
 time, some zealous reformers having thrown down the 
 altars of Baal, according to the language of the times, 
 the evil spirit began to blow with violence in all the 
 chalets scattered over the sides of the mountains ; the 
 shepherds issued precipitously like avalanches, and fell 
 upon the Church and the Evangelicals. "Let us only 
 tind these sacrilegious wretches," cried the furious 
 Ormondines ; " we will hang them — we will cut off 
 their heads — we will biurn them — we will throw their 
 ashes into the Great Water." Thus were these moun- 
 taineers agitated, like the wind that roars in their lofty 
 valleys with a fury unknown to the inhabitants of the 
 plains. 
 
 Other ditficulties overwhelmed Farel. His fellow- 
 labourers were not all of them blameless. One Chris- 
 topher Ballista, formerly a monk of Paris, had written 
 to Zwingle : " I am but a Gaul, a barbarian, but you 
 will find me pure as snow, without any guile, of open 
 heait, through whose 
 ./ windows all the world 
 
 I /^/ may bee." Zwingle sent 
 
 Ballista to Farel, who 
 « IS loudly calling for la- 
 1 UK is in Christ's vine- 
 \ 1 1 The fine language 
 the Parisian at first 
 Limed the multitude; 
 
 I t it was soon found 
 . . -siiy to beware of 
 
 pnests and monks 
 
 ii-ted with Popery. 
 
 uglit up in the 
 
 -» ^pw"? 1 -^r ;SHi. ^ thtnlness of the clois- 
 
 ^, -^^fe^,, 1 vMr* til gluttonous and lazy," 
 
 ^\ "-^^V- A /I m . p_^j.g,^ "Ballista 
 
 not conform to 
 
 abstemiousness and 
 
 e labours of the evan- 
 
 sts, and soon began to 
 
 I I j;i et his monk's hood. 
 When he perceived the 
 people beginning to dis- 
 trust him, he became like a furious monster, vomiting 
 waggon-loads of threats." Thus ended his labours. 
 
 Notwithstanding all these trials, Farel was not dis- 
 couraged. The greater the ditficulties, the more his 
 energy increased. "Let us scatter the seed everyv^'here," 
 said he, " and let civilized France, provoked to jealousy 
 by this barbarous nation, embrace piety at last. Let 
 there not be in Christ's body either fingers, or hands, 
 or feet, or eyes, or ears, or arras, existing separately 
 and working each for itself ; but let there be only one 
 heart that nothing can divide. Let not variety in 
 secondary things divide into many separate members 
 that vital principle which is one and simple. Alas! 
 the pastures of the Church are trodden under foot, and 
 its waters are troubled ! Let us set our minds to con- 
 cord and peace. When the Lord shall have opened 
 heaven, there will not be so many disputes about bread 
 and water.^ A fervent charity — that is the powerful 
 battering-ram with which we shall beat down those 
 proud walls, those material elements, with which men 
 would confine us." 
 
 1 An allusion to the controversies on Anabaptism and the real presence. 
 
STATE RELIGION IN BERNE. 
 
 403 
 
 Thus wrote the most impetuous of the reformers. 
 These words of Farel, preserved for tlirec centuries in 
 the city where he died, disclose to us more clearly the 
 intimate nature of the great Revolution of the sixteenth 
 century, than all the venturesome assertions of its 
 popish interpreters. Christian unity thus, from these 
 earliest moments, found a zealous apostle. The nine- 
 teenth century is called to resume the work which the 
 sixteenth century was unable to accomplish. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Stato Beligion in Berne — Irresolution of Berno— Almanac of Heretics — 
 Evangelical Majority— Haller—Zwingle's Signal— Anabaptists in Bcmo 
 —Victory of the Gospel— Papist Provocations— The City Companies- 
 Proposed Dispntation— Objections of the Forest Cantons— The Church, 
 the Judge of Controversies— Unequal Contest— Zwingic— A Christian 
 Band — The Cordelier's Church — Opening of the Conference- The Sole 
 Head— Unity of Error— A Priest Converted at the Altar— St. Vincent's 
 Day— The Butchers — ^A Strange Argument — Papist Bitterness— Ne- 
 cessity of Reform— Zmngle's Sennon— Visit of the King of kings — 
 Edict of Reform— Was the Reformation Political ! 
 
 Or all the Swiss cantons, Berne appeared the least dis- 
 posed to the Reformation. A military state may be 
 zealous for religion, but 
 it will be for an external _ 
 
 and a disciplined religion: - =^gf 
 
 it requires an ecclesias- ^ Ss^^ 
 tical organization that it ^ ^ — 
 
 can see, and touch, and 
 manage at its will. It 
 fears the innovations and 
 the free movements ot 
 the AVord of God: it 
 loves the form and not 
 the life. Napoleon, by 
 restoring religion in 
 France, in the Concor- 
 dat, has given us a 
 memorable example of 
 this truth. Such, also, 
 was the case with Berne. 
 Its government, beside^, 
 was absorbed in political 
 interests ; and although 
 it had little regard for 
 the pope, it cared still 
 less to see a reformer 
 put himself, as Zwingle 
 
 did, at the head of public affairs. As for the people, 
 feasting on "the butter of their kine, and milk of 
 their sheep, with fat of lambs," they remained closely 
 shut up within the narrow circle of their material 
 wants. Religious questions were not to the taste either 
 of the rulers or of their fellow-citizens. 
 
 The Bernese government, being without experience 
 in religious matters, had proposed to check the move- 
 ment of the Reform by its edict of 1523. As soon as 
 it discovered its mistake, it moved towards the cantons 
 that adhered to the ancient faith ; and while that por- 
 tion of the people whence the Great Council was re- 
 
 cruited, listened to the voice of the reformers, most of 
 the p.atrician families, who composed the Smaller Coun- 
 cil, believing their power, their interests, and their 
 honour menaced, attached themselves to the old order 
 of things. From this opposition of the two councils 
 there arose a general uneasiness, but no violent shocks. 
 Sudden movements, repeated starts, announced from 
 time to time that incongruous matters were fermenting 
 in the nation ; it was like an indistinct earthquake, 
 which raises the whole surface without causing any 
 rents : then, anon, all returns to apparent tranquility. 
 Berne, which was always decided in its politics, turned 
 in religious matters at one time to the right, and at an- 
 other to the left ; and declared that it would be neither 
 popish nor reformed. To gain time was, for the new 
 faith, to gain everything. 
 
 "What was done to turn aside Berne from the Refor- 
 mation was the very cause of precipitating it into the 
 new way. The haughtiness with which the five primi- 
 tive cantons arrogated the guardianship of their con- 
 federates, the secret conferences to which Berne was 
 not even invited, and the threat of addressing the 
 people in a direct manner, deeply offended the Bernese 
 oligarchs. Thomas Murner, a Carmelite of Lucerne, 
 one of those rude men who act upon the populace, but 
 
 Wh( 
 
 inspi 
 
 minds, made the cup 
 the Zurich calendar, in 
 
 which the namcb ot the ^unt^ had been puiposely I 
 omitted, he published, in opposition to it, the "Alma- | 
 nac of Heretics and Church-robbers," — a tract filled 
 with lampoons and invectives, in which the portraits j 
 of the reformers and of their adherents, among whom 
 were many of the most considerable men of Berne, 
 were coupled with the most brutal inscriptions. Zurich 
 and Berne in conjunction demanded satisfaction, and 
 from this time the union of these two states daily be- 
 came closer. 
 
 This change was soon perceived at Berne. The 
 elections of 1527 placed a considerable number of 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 friends of the Eeforra iu the Great Council ; and this 
 body, forthwith resuming its right to nominate the 
 members of the Smaller Council, which had been 
 usurped for twenty years by the Bannerets and the 
 Sixteen, removed from the government the most de- 
 cided partisans of the Romau hierarchy, and among 
 others, Gaspard do Mulinen and Sebastian de Stein, 
 and filled the vacancies with members of the evan- 
 gelical majority. The union of Church and State, 
 which had hitherto checked the progress of the Reform 
 in Switzerland, was now about to accelerate its move- 
 ments. 
 
 The reformer Haller was not alone in Berne. Kolb 
 had quitted the Carthusian monastery at Nuremberg, 
 in which he had been compelled to take refuge, and 
 had appeared before his compatriots, demanding no 
 other stipend than the liberty of preaching Jesus 
 Christ. Already bending under the weight of years, 
 his head crowned wdth hoary locks, Kolb, young in 
 heart, full of fire, and of indomitable courage, presented 
 boldly before the chiefs of the nation that Gospel 
 which had saved him. Haller, on the contrary, 
 although only thirty-five years old, moved with a 
 measured step, spoke with gravity, and proclaimed the 
 new doctrines with unusual circumspection. The old 
 man had taken the young man's part, and the youth 
 that of the grey-beard. 
 
 Zwingle, whose eye nothing escaped, saw that a 
 favourable hour for Berne was coming, and imme- 
 diately gave the signal. " The dove commissioned to 
 examine the state of the waters is returning with an 
 olive-branch into the ark," -(vrote he to Haller ; " come 
 forth now, thou second Noah, and take possession of 
 the laud. Enforce, be earnest, and fix deeply in the 
 hearts of men the hooks and grapnels of the Word of 
 God, so that they can never again be rid of them." — 
 " Yoiu- bears," wrote ho to Thomas ab Hofen, " have 
 again put forth their claws. Please God that they do 
 not draw them back until they have torn everything in 
 pieces that opposes Jesus Christ." 
 
 Haller and his friends were on the point of replying 
 to this appeal, when their situation became complicated. 
 Some Anabaptists, who formed everywhere the extreme 
 party, arriving at Berne in 1527, led away the people 
 from the evangelical preachers "on account of the pre- 
 sence of idols." Haller had a useless conference with 
 them. " To what dangers is not Christianity exposed," 
 cried he, " wherever these furies have ci-ept in ! " 
 There has never been any revival in the Church without 
 the hierarchical or radical sects immediately endeavour- 
 ing to disturb it. Haller, although alarmed, still main- 
 tained his imalterable meekness. "The magistrates are 
 desirous of banishing them," said he; "but it is our 
 duty to drive out their errors, and not their persons. 
 Let us employ no other weapons than the sword of the 
 Spirit." It was not from Popery that the reformers 
 had learnt these principles. A public disputation took 
 place. Six Anabaptists declared themselves convinced, 
 and two others were sent out of the country. 
 
 The decisive moment was drawing near. The two 
 great powers of the age — the Gospel and the Papacy — 
 were stirring -with equal energy ; the Bernese councils 
 were to speak out. They saw, on the one hand, the 
 five primitive cantons taking daily a more threatening 
 
 attitude, and announcing that the Austrian would 
 soon reappear in Helvetia, to reduce it once more into 
 subjection to Rome; and on the other, they beheld 
 the Gospel every day gaining ground in the confedera- 
 tion. Which was destined to prevail in Switzerland: 
 the lances of Austria or the Word of God? In the 
 uncertainty in which the councils were placed, they 
 resolved to side with the majority. Where could they 
 discover a firm footing if not there? Vox. jwpiili, vox 
 Dei. " No one," said they, " can make any change of 
 his own private authority: the consent of all is neces- 
 sary." 
 
 The government of Berne had to decide between two 
 mandates, both emanating from its authority : that of 
 1523, in favour of the free preaching of the Gospel, 
 and that of 1526, in favour " of the sacraments, the 
 saints, the mother of God, and the ornaments of the 
 churches." State messengers set out, and traversed 
 every parish : the people gave their votes against every 
 law contrary to liberty, and the councils, supported by 
 the nation, decreed that " the Word of God should be 
 preached publicly and freely, even if it should be in 
 opposition to the statutes and doctrines of men." Such 
 was the victory of the Gospel and of the people over 
 the oligarchy and the priests. 
 
 Contentions immediately arose throughout the canton, 
 and every parish became a battle-field. The peasants 
 began to dispute with the priests and monks, in reliance 
 on the Holy Scriptures. "If the mandate of our lords," 
 said many, "accords to our pastors the liberty of 
 preaching, why should it not grant the flock the liberty 
 of acting ? " — " Peace, peace ! " cried the councils, 
 alarmed at their own boldness. But the flocks reso- 
 lutely declared that they would send away the mass, 
 and keep their pastors and the Bible. Upon this the 
 papal partisans grew violent. The banneret Kuttler 
 called the good people of Emmenthal, "heretics, 
 rascals, wantons ; " but these peasants obliged him to 
 make an apology. The bailiff of Trachselwald was 
 more cunning. Seeing the inhabitants of Rudersweil 
 listening with eagerness to the Word of God, which a 
 pious minister was preaching to them, he came with 
 fifers and trumpeters, and interrupted the sermon, in- 
 viting the village girls, by words and by lively tunes, 
 to quit the church for the dance. 
 
 These singular provocations did not check the Re- 
 form. Six of the city companies (the shoemakers, 
 weavers, merchants, bakers, stone-masons, and car- 
 penters) abolished in the churches and convents of 
 their district all masses, anniversaries, advowsons, and 
 prebends. Three others (the tanners, smiths, and 
 tailors) prepared to imitate them ; the seven remaining 
 companies were undecided, except the butchers, who 
 were enthusiastic for the pope. Thus the majority of 
 the citizens had_ embraced the Gospel. Many parishes 
 throughout the canton had done the same; and the 
 avoyer d'Erlach, that great adversary of the Reforma- 
 tion, could no longer keep the torrent within bounds. 
 
 Yet the attempt was made : the bailiffs were ordered 
 to note the irregularities and dissolute lives of the 
 monks and nuns ; all women of loose morals were even 
 turned out of the cloisters. But it was not against 
 these abuses alone that the Reformation was levelled ; 
 it was against the institutions themselves, and against 
 
PROPOSED DISPUTATION. 
 
 495 
 
 Po])cry, on which they were founded. The people 
 oiiglit tliercfore to decide. — " The Bernese clcrgj'," said 
 the)', "must be convoked, as at Zurich, and let tlie two 
 doctrines be discussed in a solemn conference. We 
 will proceed afterwards in conformity with the result." 
 
 On the Sunday following the festival of St. Martin, 
 (lltli November,) the council and citizens unanimously 
 resolved that a public disputation should take place at 
 the beginning of the succeeding year. "Tiie glory of 
 God and His Word," said they, "will at length appear!" 
 Bernese and strangers, priests and laymen, all were in- 
 vited by letter or by printed notice to come and discuss 
 the controverted points, but by Scripture alone, with- 
 out the glosses of tlie ancients, and renouncing all 
 subtleties and abusive language. Who knows, said 
 they, whether all the members of the ancient Swiss 
 confederation may not be thus brought to unity of 
 faith? 
 
 Thus, within the walls of Berue, the struggle was 
 about to take place that would decide the fate of 
 Switzerland; for the example of the Bernese must 
 necessarily lead with it a great part of the confedera- 
 tion. 
 
 The Five Cantons, alarmed at this intelligence, met 
 at Lucerne, where they were joined by Friburg, Soleure, 
 and Glaris. There was nothing either in the letter or 
 in the spirit of the federal compact to obstruct religious 
 liberty. " Every state," said Zurich, " is free to choose 
 the doctrine that it desires to profess." The AVald- 
 stettes,^ on the contrary, wished to deprive the cantons 
 of tliis independence, and to subject them to the federal 
 majority and to the pope. They protested, therefore, 
 in the name of the confederation, against the proposed 
 discussion. "Your ministers," wrote they to Berne, 
 " dazzled and confounded at Baden by the brightness 
 of truth, would desire by this new discussion to hide 
 their shame ; but we entreat you to desist from a plan 
 so contrary to our ancient alliances." — " It is not we 
 who have infringed them," replied Berne ; " it is much 
 rather your haughty missive that has destroyed them. 
 We will not abandon the Word of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ." Upon this the Roman cantons decided on 
 refusing a safe-conduct to those who should proceed to 
 Berne. This was giving token of sinister intentions. 
 
 The bishops of Lausanne, Constance, Bale, and 
 Sion, being invited to the conference under pain of 
 forfeiting all their privileges in the canton of Berne, 
 replied, that since it was to be a disputation according 
 to tiie Scriptures, they had nothing to do with it. Thus 
 did these priests forget the words of one of the most 
 illustrious Koman doctors of the fifteenth century: " In 
 heavenly tilings man should be independent of his 
 fellows, and trust in God alone." 
 
 The Romanist doctors followed the example of the 
 bishops. Eck, Murner, Coclilirus, and many others, 
 said, wherever they went : " We have received the 
 letter of this leper, of this accursed heretic, Zwingle. 
 They want to take the Bible for their judge ; but has 
 the Bible a voice against those who do it violence? We 
 will not go to Berne ; we will not crawl into that ob- 
 scure corner of the world ; we will not go and combat 
 in that gloomy cavern, in that school of heretics. Let 
 
 1 Tlie inliabit,inta of the primitive democratic cantons, Schwytz, Uri, 
 Undenvald, imd Lucerne, to which Zug may be added. 
 
 these villiaus come out into the open air, and contend 
 with us on level ground, if they have the Bible on their 
 side, as they say." The empci-or ordered the discussion 
 to be adjourned ; but on the very day of its opening, 
 the council of Berne replied, that as every one was 
 already assembled, delay would be impossible. 
 
 Then, in despite of the doctors and bishops, the 
 Helvetic Church assembled to decide upon its doc- 
 trines. Had it a right to do so? No — not if priests 
 and bishops were appointed, as Rome pretends, to form 
 a mystic bond between the Church and our Lord ; Yes 
 — if they were established, as the Bible declares, only 
 to satisfy that law of order by virtue of which all 
 society should have a directing power. The opinions 
 of the Swiss reformers in this respect were not doubt- 
 ful. The gi-ace which creates the minister comes from 
 the Lord, thought they; but the Church examines this 
 gi'ace, acknowledges it, proclaims it by the elders, and 
 in every act in which faith is concerned it can always 
 appeal from the minister to the AVord of God. Try the 
 spirits — 2'"''>ve all things^ it says to the faithful. The 
 Church is the judge of controversies; and it is this 
 duty, in which it should never bo found wanting, that 
 it was now about to fulfil in the disputation at Berne. 
 
 The contest seemed unequal. On one side appeared 
 the Roman hierarchy, a giant which had increased in 
 strength during many centuries ; and on the other, 
 there was at first but one weak and timid man, the 
 modest Berthold Haller. " I cannot wield the sword 
 of the Word," said he in alarm to his friends. "If 
 you do not stretch out your hands to me, all is over." 
 He then threw himself trembling at the feet of the 
 Lord, and soon arose enlightened, and exclaiming, 
 " Faith in the Saviour gives me courage, and scatters 
 all my fears." 
 
 Yet he could not remain alone : all his looks were 
 turned toward Zwingle : " It was I who took the bath 
 at Baden," wrote QEcolampadius to Haller, " and now 
 it is Zwingle who should lead off the bear-dance in 
 Berne."" — "AYe arc between the hammer and the 
 anvil," wrote Haller to Zwingle; "we hold the wolf 
 by the ears, and know not how to let him go. The 
 houses of De Watteville, Noll, Tremp, and Berthold, 
 are open to you. Come, then, and command the battle 
 in person." 
 
 Zwingle did not hesitate. He demanded permission 
 of the council of Zurich to visit Berne, in order to shew 
 there " that his teaching was full of the fear of God, 
 and not blasphemous ; mighty to spread concord 
 through Switzerland, and not to cause troubles and 
 dissension." At the very time that Haller received 
 news of Zwingle's coming, CEcolampadius wrote to 
 him : " I am ready, if it be necessary, to sacrifice my 
 life. Let us inaugurate the new year by embracing 
 one another to the glory of Jesus Christ." Other 
 doctors wrote to the same effect. "These, then," cried 
 Haller with emotion, "these are the auxiliaries that 
 the Lord sends to my infirmity, to aid me in fighting 
 this rude battle I " 
 
 It was necessary to proceed wth circumspection, for 
 the violence of the oligarchs and of the Five Cantons 
 is well known. The doctors of Glaris, Schaffhausen, 
 
 2 An allusion to tbs dispute at Baden, a celebrated bathing-place, and to 
 the arms of Bemo. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 St. Gall, Constance, Ulni, Lindau, and Augsburg, as- 
 sembled at Zurich, to proceed under the same escort 
 as Zwingle, Pellican, Collin, Megander, Grossman, the 
 commander Schmidt, Bullinger, and a great number 
 of the rural clergy, selected to accompany the reformer. 
 " When all this game traverses the country," said the 
 pensioners, "we will go a-hunting, and see if we cannot 
 Icill some, or at least catch them and put them into a 
 cage." 
 
 Three hundred chosen men, selected from the com- 
 panies of Zurich and from the parishes within its pre- 
 cincts, donned their breastplates and shouldered their 
 arquebuses ; but in order not to give the journey of 
 these doctors the appearance of a military expedition, 
 they took neither colours, fife, nor drum; and the 
 trumpeter of the city, a civil officer, rode alone at the 
 head of the company. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 2d of January, they set out. Never 
 had Zwingle appeared more cheerful. "Glory be to 
 the Lord," said he, "my courage increases every day." 
 The liurgomaster Roust, the town-clerk of Mangoldt, 
 with Funck and Jaiikli, both masters of arts, and all 
 four delegated by the council, were on horseback near 
 him. They reached Berne on the 4th of January, 
 having had only one or two unimportant alarms. 
 
 The Cordeliers' Church was to serve as the place of 
 conference. Tillmann, the city architect, had made 
 arrangements according to a plan furnished by Zwingle. 
 A large platfoi-ra had been erected, on which were 
 placed two tables, and around them sat the champions 
 of the two parties. On the Evangelical side were re- 
 marked, besides Haller, Zwingle, and OEcolampadius, 
 many distinguished men of the Reformed Church, 
 .strangers to Switzerland, as Buccr, Capito, and Am- 
 brose Blarer. On the side of the Papacy, Dr. Treger 
 of Friburg, who enjoyed a high reputation, appeared 
 to keep up the fire of the combat. As for the rest, 
 whether through fear or contempt, the most famous 
 Roman doctors were absent. 
 
 The first act was to publish the regulations of the 
 conference. "No proof shall be proposed that is not 
 drawn from the Holy Scriptures, and no explanation 
 shall be given of those Scriptures that does not come 
 from Scripture itself, explaining obscure texts by such 
 as are clear." After this, one of the secretaries, rising 
 to call over the roll, .shouted with a loud voice that 
 re-echoed through the church, — ^The Bishop of Con- 
 stance! No one replied. He did the same for the 
 bishops of Zion, Bale, and Lausanne. Neither of these 
 prelates was present at this meeting, either in person 
 or by deputy. The Word of God being destined to 
 reign alone, the Roman hierarchy did not appear. 
 These two powers cannot walk together. There were 
 present about three hundred and fifty Swiss and 
 German ecclesiastics. 
 
 On Tuesday, 7th January, 1528, the burgomaster 
 Vadian, of St. Gall, one of tlie presidents, opened the 
 disputation. After him the aged Kolb stood up and 
 said : " God is at this moment agitating the whole 
 world ; let us, therefore, humble ourselves before 
 Him ;" and he pronounced with fervour a confession 
 of sins. 
 
 This being ended, the first thesis was read. It ran 
 thus : " The holy Christian Church, of which Christ is 
 
 the sole head, is born of the Word of God, abideth in 
 it, and listeneth not to the voice of a stranger." 
 
 Alexis Grat, (a Dominican monk.) — " The word sole 
 is not in Scripture. Christ has left a vicar here 
 below." 
 
 Haller. — "The vicar that Christ left is the Holy 
 Ghost." 
 
 Treger. — " See, then, to what a pass thing.s have 
 come these last ten years. This man calls himself a 
 Lutheran, that a Zwinglian ; a third, a Carlstadtian ; 
 a fourth, an OScolampadist ; a fifth, an Anabaptist." . . 
 
 Biicer. — "Whosoever preaches Jesus as the only 
 Saviour we recognise as our brother. Neither Luther, 
 nor Zwingle, nor OEcolampadius, desires the faithful 
 to bear his name. Besides, you should not boast so 
 much of a mere external unity. When Antichrist 
 gained the upperhand throughout the world, — in the 
 east by Mohammed, in the west by the pope, he was 
 able to keep the people in unity of error. God 
 permits divisions, in order that those who belong to 
 Him may learn not to look to men, but to the testi- 
 mony of the Word, and to the assurance of the Holy 
 Ghost in their hearts. Thus, then, dearly beloved 
 brethren, to the Scriptures, the Scriptures ! O Church 
 of Berne, hold fast to the teaching of Him who said, 
 Come unto me, and not. Come unto mij vicar .'" 
 
 The disputation then turned successively on Tra- 
 dition, the merits of Christ, Transubstantiation, the 
 Mass, Prayer to the Saints, Purgatory, Images, 
 Celibacy, and the disorders of the clergy. Rome 
 found numerous defenders, and among others, Murer, 
 priest of Rapperswyl, who had said: "If they wish to 
 burn the two ministers of Berne, I wiU undertake to 
 carry them both to the stake." 
 
 On Sunday, the 19th of January, the day on which 
 the doctrine of the mass was attacked, Zwingle, 
 desirous of acting on the people also, went into the 
 pulpit, and reciting the Apostles' Creed, made a pause 
 after these words : " He ascended into heaven, and 
 sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; 
 from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the 
 dead." " These three articles," said he, " are in con- 
 tradiction to the mass." All his hearers redoubled 
 their attention ; and a priest, clothed in his sacerdotal 
 vestments, who was preparing to celebrate the holy 
 sacrifice in one of the chapels, stopped in astonishment 
 at Zwingle's words. Erect, before the consecrated 
 altar on which lay the chalice and the body of the 
 Saviour, with eyes fixed upon the reformer, whose 
 words electrified the people, a prey to the most violent 
 struggles, and beaten down by the weight of truth, the 
 agitated priest resolved to give up everything for it. 
 In the presence of the whole assembly, he stripped off 
 his priestly ornaments, and throwing them on the altar, 
 he exclaimed: "Unless the mass reposes on a more 
 solid foundation, I can celebrate it no longer!" The 
 noise of this conversion, effected at the very foot of 
 the altar, immediately spread through the city,^ and it 
 was regarded as an important omen. So long as the 
 mass remains, Rome has gained everything: as soon as 
 the mass falls, Rome has lost all. The mass is the 
 creative principle of the whole system of Popery. 
 
 Three days later, on the 22d January, was the feast 
 
 ^ In this and other quott-xtions, we preserve the orthogr.iphy of tlic times. 
 
ST. VINCENT'S DAY— A STRANGE ARGUMENT. 
 
 of St. Vincent, the patron of the city. The disputa- 
 tion that had been continued during Sunday was sus- 
 pended on that day. The canons asked the council 
 what they were to do. " Such of you," replied the 
 council, "as receive the doctrine of the thesis ought 
 not to say mass; the others may perform Divine wor- 
 ship as usual.'" Every preparation was accordingly 
 made for the solemnity. On St. Vincent's eve the bells 
 from every steeple announced the festival to the inhabi- 
 tants of Berne. On the morrow, the sacristans lit up 
 the tapers; incense filled the temple, but no one 
 appeared. No priests to say mass, no faithful to hear 
 it! Already there was a vast chasm in the Roman 
 sanctuary, a deep silence, as on the field of battle, 
 where none but the dead are lying. 
 
 In the evening it was the custom for the canons to 
 chant vespers with great pomp. The organist was at 
 his post, but no one else appeared. The poor man left 
 thus alone, beholding with sorrow the fall of that wor- 
 ship by which he gained his bread, gave utterance to 
 his grief by plajdng a mourning-hymn instead of the 
 majestic 3Ia(jnijicat : " Oh, wretched Judas, what hast 
 thou done, that thou hast thus betrayed oui- Lord?" 
 After this sad farewell, he rose and went out. Almost 
 immediately, some men, excited by the passions of the 
 moment, fell upon his beloved organ, an accomplice, in 
 their eyes, of so many superstitious rites, and their 
 violent hands broke it to pieces. No more mass, no 
 more organ, no more anthems! A new Supper and 
 new hymns shall succeed the rites of Popery. 
 
 On the next day there was the same silence. Sud- 
 denl}', however, a band of men, with loud voices and 
 hasty step, was heard. It was the Butchers' Company 
 that, at this moment so fatal to Rome, desired to sup- 
 port it. They advanced, carrying small fir-trees and 
 green branches for the decoration of their chapel. 
 In the midst of them was a foreign priest, behind whom 
 walked a few poor scholars. The priest otRciated; the 
 sweet voices of the scholars supplied the place of the 
 mute organ, and the butchers retired proud of their 
 victory. 
 
 The discussion was drawing to a close; the comba- 
 tants had dealt vigorous blows. Burgauer, pastor of 
 St. Gall, had maintained the real presence in the host; 
 but on the 19th January, he declared himself convinced 
 by the reasonings of Zwingle, CEcolampadius, and 
 Bucer; and Matthias, minister of Saengeu, had done 
 the same. 
 
 A conference in Latin afterwards took place between 
 Farel and a Parisian doctor. The latter advanced a 
 strange argument. "Christians," said he, "are en- 
 joined to obey the devil; for it is said, Submit unto 
 thine adversary, (Matt. v. 25 ;) now our adversary is the 
 devil. How much more, then, should we submit to the 
 Church!" Loud bursts of laughter greeted this re- 
 markable syllogism. A discussion with the Anabap- 
 tists terminated the conference. 
 
 The two councils decreed that the mass should be 
 
 1 Bullingcr says, on the contrary, that tho council positively forbade the 
 mass. But Bullinger, who is a very animated writer, is not always exact in 
 diplomatic matters. The council would not have come to such a resolution 
 before the close of the discussion. Other contemporary historians and offi- 
 cial documents leave no room for doubt on this point Stettler, in his 
 Chronicle, pars ii. 6, ad annum 152S, details these proceedings as in the text. 
 
 abolished, and that every one might remove from the 
 churches the ornaments he had placed there. 
 
 Immediately twenty-five altars and a great number 
 of images were destroyed in the cathedral, yet ^^^tIlOut 
 disorder or bloodshed; and the children began to sing 
 in the streets (as Luther informs us:) 
 
 By tho word at length wo 're saved 
 From a god in a mortar brayed. 
 
 The hearts of the adherents of the Papacy were 
 filled with bitterness as they heard the objects of their 
 adoration fall one after another. " Should any man," 
 said John Schneider, " take away the altar of the 
 Butchers' Company, I will take away his life." Peter 
 Thorman compared the cathedral stripped of its orna- 
 ments to a stable. "When the good folks of the 
 Oberland come to market," added he, "they will be 
 happy to put up their cattle in it." And John Zehender, 
 member of the Great Council, to shew the little value 
 he set on such a place of worship, entered it riding on 
 an ass, insulting and cursing the Reform. A Bernese, 
 who chanced to be there, having said to him, " It is by 
 God's will that these images have been pulled down," 
 — "Say rather by the devil's," replied Zehender; 
 " when have you ever been with God so as to learn 
 His will ? " He was fined twenty livres, and expelled 
 from the council. "What times! what manners!" 
 exclaimed many Romanists ; " what culpable neglect ! 
 How easy would it have been to prevent so great 
 a misfortune ! Oh ! if our bishops had only been will- 
 ing to occupy themselves more with learning and a 
 little less with their mistresses !" 
 
 This Reform was necessary. When Christianity in 
 the fourth century had seen the favour of princes 
 succeed to persecution, a crowd of heathens, rushing 
 into the Church, had brought with them the images, 
 pomps, statues, and demigods of Paganism, and a like- 
 ness of the mysteries of Greece and Asia, and above 
 all, of Egypt, had banished the Word of Jesus Christ 
 from the Christian oratories. This Word returning in 
 the sixteenth century, a purification must necessarily 
 take place ; but it could not be done without grievous 
 rents. 
 
 The departure of the strangers was drawing near. 
 On the 28th January, the day after that on which the 
 images and altars had been thrown down, while their 
 piled fragments still encumbered here and there the 
 porches and aisles of the cathedral, Zwingle, crossing 
 these eloquent ruins, once more ascended the pulpit in 
 the midst of an immense crowd. In great emotion, 
 directing his eyes by turns on these fragments and 
 on the people, he said : " Victory has declared for 
 the truth, but perseverance alone can complete the 
 triumph. Christ persevered even until death. Ferendo 
 vincitur fortima. Cornelius Scipio, after the disaster at 
 Cannre, having learnt that the generals surviving the 
 slaughter meditated quitting Italy, entered the senate- 
 house, although not yet of senatorial age, and drawing 
 his sword, constrained the affrighted chiefs to swear 
 that they would not abandon Rome. Citizens of 
 Berne, to you I address the same demand, — do not 
 abandon Jesus Christ." 
 
 We may easily imagine the effect produced on the 
 people by such words, pronounced with Zwingle's 
 energetic eloquence. 
 
 2k 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ThcD, turnin.ac towards the fragments that lay near 
 Lrai: "Behold," said he, "behold these idols! Be- 
 hold them conquered, mute, and shattered before us ! 
 These corpses must bo dragged to the shambles, and 
 the gold you have spent upon such foolish images must 
 henceforward be devoted to comforting in their misery 
 the living images of God. Feeble souls, ye shed teai-s 
 over these sad idols ; do ye not see that they break, 
 do ye not hear that they crack like any other wood, or 
 like any other stone ? Look ! here is one deprived of 
 its head. . . . (Zwiugle pointed to the image, 
 and all the people fixed their eyes upon it;) here is 
 another maimed of its arms. If this ill-usage had 
 done any harm to the saints that are in heaven, and if 
 they had the power ascribed to them, would you have 
 been able, I pray, to cut off their arms and their 
 heads f ' 
 
 "Now, then," said the powerful orator in con- 
 clusion, "stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ 
 has made you free, and be not entangled again with 
 the yoke of bondage, (Gal. v. 1.) Fear not! That 
 God who has enlightened you, will enlighten your con- 
 federates also ; and Switzerland, regenerated by the 
 Holy Ghost, shall flourish iu righteousness and peace." 
 
 The words of Zwingle were not lost. The mercy 
 of God called forth that of man. Some persons con- 
 demned to die for sedition, were pardoned, and all the 
 exiles were recalled. " Shoidd we not have done so," 
 said the council, " had a great prince visited us 1 
 Shall we not much more do so, now that the King of 
 kings and the Redeemer of our souls has made His 
 entry among us, bearing an everlasting amnesty?" 
 
 The Romish cantons, exasperated at the result of 
 the discussion, sought to harass the return of the 
 doctors. On arriving before Bremgarten, they found 
 the gates closed. The bailiff Schutz, who had accom- 
 panied them with two hundred men-at-arms, placed 
 two halberdiers before Zwingle's horse, two behind 
 him, and one on each side ; then putting himself at the 
 Reformer's left hand, while the burgomaster Roust 
 stationed himself on the right, he ordered the escort to 
 proceed, lance in rest. The avoyers of the town being 
 intimidated, came to a parley; the gates were opened; 
 the escort traversed Bremgarten amidst an immense 
 crowd, and on the 1st February reached Zurich with- 
 out accident, which Zwingle re-entered, says Luther, 
 like a conqueror. 
 
 The Roman Catholic party did not dissemble the 
 check they had received. " Our cause is falling," said 
 the friends of Rome. " Oh ! that we had had men 
 skilled in the Bible! The impetuosity of Zmngle 
 supported our adversaries ; his ardour was never re- 
 laxed. That brute has more knowledge than was 
 imagined. Alas I alas ! the greater party has van- 
 quished the better." 
 
 The Council of Berne, desirous of separating from 
 the pope, relied upon the people. On the 30th January, 
 messengers going from house to house convoked the 
 citizens; and on the 2d February, the burgesses and 
 inhabitants, masters and servants, uniting in the cathe- 
 dral, and forming but one family, with hands upraised 
 to heaven, swore to defend the two councils in all they 
 should undertake for the good of the State or of the 
 Church. 
 
 On the 7th February, 1528, the council published a 
 general edict of Reform, and " threw for ever from the 
 necks of the Bernese the yoke of the four bishops, 
 who," said they, " know well how to shear their sheep, 
 but not how to feed them." 
 
 At the same time the reformed doctrines were spread- 
 ing among the people. In every quarter might be heard 
 earnest and keen dialogues, written in rhyme by Manuel, 
 in which the pale and expiring mass, stretched on her 
 death-bed, was loudly calling for all her physicians, 
 and finding their advice useless, at length dictating 
 with a broken voice her last will and testament, which 
 the people received with loud bursts of laughter. 
 
 The Reformation generally, and that of Berne in 
 particular, has been reproached as being brought about 
 by political motives. But, on the contrary, Berne, 
 which of all the Helvetic states was the greatest 
 favourite of the court of Rome — which had in its 
 canton neither a bishop to dismiss, nor a powerful 
 clergy to humiliate — Berne, whose most influential 
 families, the Weingartens, Manuels, Mays, were reluc- 
 tant to sacrifice the pay and the service of the foreigner, 
 and all whose traditions were conservative, ought to 
 have opposed the movement. The Word of God was 
 the power that overcame this political tendency. 
 
 At Berne, as elsewhere, it was neither a learned, nor 
 a democratic, nor a sectarian spirit that gave birth to 
 the Reformation. Undoubtedly, the men of letters, 
 the liberals, the sectarian enthusiasts, rushed into the 
 great struggle of the sixteenth century; but the dura- 
 tion of the Reform would not have been long had it 
 received its life from them. The primitive strength of 
 Christianity, reviving after ages of long and complete 
 prostration, was the creative principle of the Reforma- 
 tion ; and it was erelong seen separating distinctly from 
 the false alhes that had presented themselves, rejecting 
 an incredulous learning by elevating the study of the 
 Classics, checking all demagogic anarchy by upholding 
 the principles of true liberty, and repudiating the 
 enthusiastic sects by consecratiug the rights of the 
 Word and of the Christian people. 
 
 But while wo maintain that the Reformation was at 
 Berne, as elsewhere, a truly Christian work, we are 
 far from saying that it was not useful to the canton in 
 a political sense. All the European states that have 
 embraced the Reformation have been elevated, while 
 those which have combated it have been lowered. 
 
 CHAPTER HL 
 
 The Reform Accepted by the People— Faith, Purity, and Charity— First 
 E^'angelical Communion — Bernese Proposition to the Diet — Cavern, 
 and Head of Beatus— Threatening Storm from the Mountains— Revolt- 
 Confusion in Berne— Unterwalden crosses the Brums- Energy of Berne 
 —Victory— Political Advantages. 
 
 It now became a question of propagating throughout 
 all the canton the Reform accomplished in the city. 
 On the 17th February, the council invited the rural 
 parishes to assemble on the followiug Sunday to receive 
 ftucl deliberate upon a commuuication. The whole 
 
FIRST EVANGELICAL COMMUNION. 
 
 Church, according to the ancient usage of Christen- 
 dom, was about to decide for itself on its dearest 
 interests. 
 
 The assemblies were crowded; all conditions and 
 ages were jn-esent. Beside tiie hoary and the trem- 
 bling head of the aged man might be seen the sparkling 
 eye of the youthful herdsman. The messengers of the 
 council first read the edict of the Reformation. They 
 next proclaimed that those who accepted it should 
 remain, and that those who rejected it should with- 
 draw. 
 
 Almost all the assembled parishioners remained in 
 their places. An immense majority of the people 
 chose the Bible. In some few parishes this decision 
 was accompanied with energetic demonstrations. At 
 Arberg, Zofingcn, Brugg, Aran, and Buren, the 
 images were burnt. "At Stauffberg," it was said, 
 "idols were seen carrying idols, and throwing one 
 another into the flames."' 
 
 The images and the mass had disappeared from this 
 vast canton. "A great cry resounded far and wide," 
 writes BuUingcr. In one day Rome had fallen through- 
 out the country, without treachery, violence, or seduc- 
 tion, by the strength of truth alone. In some places, 
 however, in the Hasli, at Frutigen, Unterseen, and 
 Grindewald, the malcontents were heard to say: "If 
 they abolish the mass, they should also abolish tithes." 
 Tiio Roman form of worship was preserved in the 
 Upper Simmentlial, a proof that there was no compul- 
 sion on the part of the state. 
 
 The wishes of the canton being thus manifested, 
 Berne completed the Reformation. All excesses in 
 gambling, drinking, and dancing, and all imbecoming 
 dress, were forbidden by proclamation. The houses 
 of ill-fame were destroyed, and their wretched inhabi- 
 tants expelled from the city. A consistory was ap- 
 pointed to watch over the public morals. 
 
 Seven days after the edict, the poor were received 
 into the Dominican cloister, and a little later the con- 
 vent of the Island was changed into an hospital ; the 
 princely monastery of Konigsfleld was .nlso devoted to 
 the same useful purpose. Cliarity followed everywhere 
 in the steps of faith. " Wc will shew," said the coun- 
 cil, " that we do not use the property of the convents 
 to our own advantage;" and they kept their word. 
 The poor were clothed with the priests' garments ; the 
 orphans decorated with the ornaments of the church. 
 So strict were they in these distributions, that the state 
 \vas forced to borrow money to pay the annuities of 
 the monks and nuns ; and for eight days there was not 
 a crowu in the public treasury. Thus it was that the 
 State, as it has been continually asserted, gi-ew rich 
 with the spoils of the Church! At the same time 
 they invited from Zurich the ministers Hofmeistcr, 
 Megander, and Rhellican, to spread throughout the 
 canton the knowledge of the Classics and of the Holy 
 Scriptures. 
 
 At Easter the Lord's Supper was celebrated for the 
 first time according to the evangelical rites. The two 
 councils and all the people, with few exceptions, par- 
 
 1 A man whoso business it was to shear tlic flocks, and who liad been iiiok- 
 nnmeil GotMcheiw, (idol-shearer,) had made himself very distinguislieil 
 among those who carried the images to tlio fire. Such w.is the orisin of litis 
 popqlar legend, and it is the key to many others. 
 
 took of it. Strangers were struck with the solemnity 
 of this first communion. The citizens of Berne and 
 their wives, dressed in decent garments, which re- 
 called the ancient Swiss simplicity, approached Christ's 
 table with gravity and fervour ; the heads of the state 
 shewed the same holy devotion as the people, and piously 
 received the bread from the hands of Beilhold Ilaller. 
 Each one felt that the Lord was among them. Thus, 
 Hofmeistcr, charmed at this solemn service, exclaimed: 
 " How can the adversaries of the AVord refuse to em- 
 brace the truth at last, seeing that God himself renders 
 it so striking a testimony!" 
 
 Yet everything was not changed. The friends of 
 the Gospel witnessed with pain the sons of the chief 
 families of the republic parading the streets in costly 
 garments, inhabiting sumptuous houses in the city, 
 dwelling in magnificent mansions in the country — true 
 seignorial abodes, following the chase with hound and 
 horn, sitting down to luxurious banquets, conversing in 
 licentious language, or talking with enthusiasm of 
 foreign wars and of the French party. "Ah," said 
 the pious people, " could we but see old Switzerland 
 revive with its ancient virtues 1 " 
 
 There was soon a powerful reaction. The annual 
 renewal of the magistracy being about to take place, 
 the councillor Butschelbach, a violent adversary of the 
 Gospel, was ejected for adultery: fom- other senators 
 and twenty members of the Great Council were also 
 replaced by friends of the Reformation and of public 
 morality. Emboldened by this victory, the Evangelical 
 Bernese proposed in the diet that every Swiss should 
 renounce foreign service. At these words the warriors 
 of Lucerne started under their weighty armour, and 
 replied with a haughty smile : " When you have re- 
 turned to the ancient faith we will listen to your 
 homilies." All the members of the government, as- 
 sembled at Berne in sovereign couucil, resolved to set 
 the example, and solemnly abjured the pay of foreign 
 princes. Thus the Reformation shewed its faith by its 
 works. 
 
 Another struggle took place. Above the lake of 
 Thun rises a chain of steep rocks, in the midst of 
 which is situated a deep cavern, where, if we may 
 believe tradition, the pious Breton, Beatus, came in 
 ancient times to devote himself to all the austerities of 
 an ascetic life ; but especially to the conversion of the 
 surrounding district that was still heathen. It was 
 affirmed that the head of this saint, who had died in 
 Gaul, was preserved in this cavern ; and hence pilgrims 
 resorted thither from every quarter. The pious citizens 
 of Zug, Schwytz, Uri, and Argovia, groaned, as they 
 thought that the holy head of the apostle of Switzer- 
 land would hereafter remain in a land of heretics. The 
 abbot of the celebrated convent of Muri, in Argovia, 
 and some of his friends set out, as in ancient times the 
 Argonauts went in quest of the golden fleece. They 
 arrived in the humble guise of poor pilgrims, and 
 entered the cavern ; one skilfully took away the head, 
 another placed it mysteriously in his hood, and they 
 disappeared. The head of a dead man ! — and this was 
 all that Rome saved from the ship^vreck. But even 
 this conquest was more than doubtful. The Bernese, 
 wiio had gained information of the procession, sent 
 lliiec deputies on the 18th May, who, according to 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 their report, found this famous head, and caused it to 
 be decently interred before their eyes in the cemetery 
 belonging to the convent of Interlakeu. This contest 
 about a skull characterizes the Church that had just 
 given way in Berne before the vivifying breath of the 
 Gospel. Let the dead bun/ their dead. 
 
 The Reformation had triumphed in Berne; but a 
 storm was gathering unperceived in the mountains, 
 which threatened to overthrow it. The State, in union 
 with the Church, recalled its ancient renown. Seeing 
 itself attacked by arms, it took up arms in its turn, 
 and acted with that decision which had formerly saved 
 Eome in similar dangers. 
 
 TT.^' 
 
 A secret discontent was fermenting among the people 
 of the valleys and mountains. Some were still attached 
 to the ancient faith ; others had only quitted the mass 
 because they thought they would be exempted from 
 tithes. Ancient ties of neighbourhood, a common 
 origin, and similarity of manners, had united the in- 
 habitants of the Obwald (Unterwalden) to those of the 
 Hasli and of the Bernese Oberland, which were sepa- 
 rated only by Mount Bruuig and the high pass of the 
 
 ^l^Ks 
 
 Yoke. A rumour had been set afloat that the govern- 
 ment of Berne had profaned the spot where the precious 
 remains of Beatus, the apostle of these mountains, were 
 preserved, and indignation immediately filled these 
 pastoral people, who adhere firmer than others to the 
 customs and superstitions of their forefathers. 
 
 But while some were excited by attachment to Eome, 
 others were aroused by a desire for liberty. The sub- 
 jects of the monastery of Interlaken, oppressed by the 
 monkish rule, began to cry out : " We desire to become 
 our own masters, and no longer pay rent or tithes." 
 The provost of the convent, in affright, ceded all his 
 rights to Berne for the sum of one hundred thousand 
 florins ; and a bailiff, accompanied 
 by several councillors, went and took 
 possession of the monastery. A re- 
 port was soon spread that they were 
 about to transfer all the property of 
 the convent to Berne; and on the 
 21st April, bands of men from Grin- 
 delwald, Lauterbrunnea, Ringelberg, 
 Brienz, and other places, crossed the 
 lake, or issued from their lofty val- 
 leys, and taking forcil)le possession 
 of the cloister, swore they would go 
 even to Berne in quest of the goods 
 which the citizens had dared to take 
 from them. 
 
 They were quieted for a time ; but 
 in the beginning of June, the people, 
 at the instigation of Unterwalden, 
 again arose in all the Hasli. The 
 Landsgemeinde,^ having been con- 
 voked, it decided, by a majority of 
 forty voices, for the re-establishment j 
 ^ of the mass. The pastor Jaiikli was 
 
 immediately expelled; a few men 
 crossed the Brunig, and brought 
 back some priests from Unterwalden, to the sound of 
 fifes and trumpets. They were seen from afar de- 
 scending the mountain, and shouts, both loud and long, 
 replied to them from the bottom of the valley. At 
 last they arrived : — all embraced one another, and the 
 people celebrated the mass anew with great demonstra- 
 tions of joy. At the same time, the people of Fruti- 
 gen and of the fertile valley of Adelboden assailed the 
 castellan Reuter, carried off his flocks, and established 
 a Roman Catholic priest in the place of their pastor. 
 At Aeschi even the women took up arms, drove out 
 the pastor from the church, and brought back the 
 images in triumph. The revolt spread from hamlet to 
 hamlet, and from valley to valley, and again took pos- 
 session of Interlaken. All the malcontents assembled 
 there on the 22d October, and swore, with hands up- 
 raised to heaven, boldly to defend their rights and 
 liberty. 
 
 The republic was in great danger. All the kings of 
 Europe, and almost all the cantons of Switzerland, 
 were opposed to the Gospel. The report of an army 
 from Austria, destined to interpose in favour of the 
 pope, spread through the reformed cantons. Seditious 
 meetings took place every day, and the people refused 
 to pay their magistrates either quit-rent, service, tithes, 
 J The assembly of all the people. 
 
CONFUSION IN BEENE. 
 
 or even obedience, unless they shut their eyes to the 
 designs of the Roman Catholics. The council became 
 confused. Amazed and confounded, exposed to the 
 mistrust of some, and to the insults of others, tliey had 
 the cowardice to separate under the pretext of gather- 
 ing the \iiu;iu ■. ail. I. I'MMin- tU.lr anas in the presence 
 
 With rage our foes tlicir hateful threats denounce, 
 Uccausc, O Lord, wo lovo Theo best of all ; 
 
 wi^m 
 
 of this great danger, they waited until a Messiah should 
 descend from heaven (says a reformer) to save the re- 
 public. The ministers pointed out the danger, fore- 
 warned and conjured them ; but they all turned a deaf 
 ear. " Christ languishes in Berne," said Ilallcr, " and 
 
 m 
 
 appears nigh perishing." The people were in commo- 
 tion : they assembled, made speeches, murmured, and 
 shed tears ! Everywhere — iu all their tumultuous meet- 
 ings — might be heard this complaint of Manuel on 
 Papists and the Papacy: 
 
 Berne was like a troubled sea, and Haller, who lis- 
 tened to the roaring of the waves, wrote in the deepest. 
 anguish: '"Wisdom has forsaken the wise, counsel has 
 departed from the councillors, and energy fi-om the 
 chiefs and from the people. The number of the sedi- 
 tious augments every day. Alas ! what cau the Bear, 
 oppressed with sleep, oppose to so many and to such 
 turdy hunters? If Christ withdi-aw himself, we shall 
 11 I Lribh 
 
 I liese fears were on the point of being realized. 
 1 m iller cantons claimed to have the power of in- 
 knng in matters of faith without infringing the 
 
 I I I il compact. While six hundred men of Uri kept 
 
 I I uselves ready to depart, eight hundred men of 
 I iiturwalden, bearing pine-branches in their hats, 
 
 >mbols of the old faith, with haughty heads, with 
 gloomy and threatening looks, crossed the Brunig 
 under the ancient banner of the country, which was 
 borne by Ga^piid de Flue, a \(.rj uu^\orth) giandson 
 
 of the great Nicholas. This was the first violation of 
 the national peace for many a year. Uniting at Hasli 
 with the men of Brienz, this little army crossed the 
 lake, passed under the civscadcs of Giesbach, and 
 arrived at Unterseen, thirteea hundred strong and 
 
HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATION. 
 
 ready to marcli on Berne to re-establish the pope, 
 the idols, and the mass, in that rebellious city. In 
 Switzerland, as in Germany, the Reformation, at its 
 outset, met ivith a peasant v;ar. At the first success 
 new combatants would arrive and pour through the 
 passes of the Brunig upon the unfaithful republic. 
 The army was only six leagues from Berne, and 
 already the sous of Uuterwalden were proudly brand- 
 ishing their swords on the banks of the lake of Thun. 
 
 Thus -were the federal alliances trodden under foot 
 by those very persons who aspired to the name of con- 
 servatives. Berne had the right to repel this criminal 
 attack by force. Suddenly calling to mind her ancient 
 virtues, the city roused herself, and vowed to perish 
 rather than tolerate the intervention of Unterwalden, 
 the restoration of the mass, and the fiery violence of 
 the peasants. There was at that moment in the hearts 
 of the Bernese one of those inspirations that come from 
 above, and which save nations as well as individuals. 
 '■ Let the strength of the city of Berne," exclaimed the 
 avoyer d'Erlacb, " be in God alone, and in the loyalty 
 of its people." All the council aud the whole body of 
 the citizens replied by noisy acclamatious. The great 
 banner was hastily brought forth, the townspeople ran 
 to arms, the companies assembled, and the troops of 
 the republic marched out with the valiant avoyer at 
 their head. 
 
 Scarcely had the Bernese government acted thus 
 energetically, before it saw the confidence of its friends 
 increase, and the courage of its adversaries diminish. 
 God never abandons a people who are true to them- 
 selves. Many of the Oberlanders became intimidated, 
 and deserted the ranks of the revolt. At the same 
 time deputies from Biile and Lucerne represented to 
 Unterwalden that it was trampling the ancient alli- 
 ances under foot. The rebels, disheartened by the 
 firmness of the republic, abandoned Unterseen, and 
 retired to the convent of Interlaken. And soon after, 
 when they beheld the decision of their adversaries, 
 distressed besides by the cold rains that fell inces- 
 santly, and fearing that the snow, by covering the 
 mountains, would prevent their return to their homes, 
 the men of Unterwalden evacuated Interlaken during 
 the night. The Bernese, to the number of five thou- 
 sand men, entered it immediately, and summoned the 
 inhabitants of the Hasli and of the bailiwick of Inter- 
 laken to assemble, on the 4th November, in tlie plain 
 that surrounds the convent.' The day beiug arrived, 
 the Bernese army drev,' up in order of battle, and then 
 formed a circle, within which D'Erlach ordered the 
 peasauts to enter. Hardly had he placed the rebels on 
 the left, aud the loyal citizens on the right, before the 
 muskets and artillery fired a general discharge, whose 
 report, re-echoing among the mountains, filled the in- 
 surgents with terror. They thought it the signal of 
 their death. But the avoyer only intended to shew 
 that they were m the power of the republic. D'Erlach, 
 who addressed them immediately after this strange 
 exordium, had not finished his speech, before they all 
 fell on their knees, and, confessing their crime, begged 
 for pardon. The republic was satisfied : the rebellion 
 was over. The banners of the district were carried to 
 
 1 Tiaditiou Siiys that it waa on tlie spot where tlic hotel of luteilaken non- 
 
 Berne, and the Eagle of Interlaken in union with the 
 Wild-goat of Hasli, hung for a time beneath the Bear, 
 as a trophy of this victory. Four of the chiefs were 
 put to death, and an amnesty was granted to the re- 
 mainder of the rebels. "The Bernese," said Zwingle, 
 "as Alexander of Macedou in times of old, have cut 
 the Gordiau knot with courage and with glory." Thus 
 thought the reformer of Zurich; but experience was 
 one day to teach him, that to cut such knots is re- 
 quired a different sword from that of Alexander and of 
 D'Erlach. However that may be, peace was restored, 
 and in the valleys of the Hasli no other noise was heard 
 than the sublime tumult borne afar by the Reichen- 
 bach and the surrounding torrents, as they pour from 
 the mountain-tops their multitudinous and foaming 
 waters. 
 
 While we repudiate, on behalf of the Church, the 
 swords of the Helvetic bands, it would be unwise not 
 to acknowledge the political advantages of this victory. 
 The nobles had imagined that the Reformation of the 
 Church would endanger the very existence of the State. 
 They now had a proof to the contrary: they saw that 
 when a nation receives the Gospel, its strength is 
 doubled. The generous confidence with which, in the 
 hour of danger, they had placed some of the adversaries 
 of the Reformation at the head of affairs and of the 
 army, produced the happiest results. All were now 
 convinced that the Reformation would not trample old 
 recollections under foot; prejudices were removed, 
 hatred was appeased, the Gospel gradually rallied all 
 hearts around it, and then was verified the ancient and 
 remarkable saying, so often repeated by the friends and 
 enemies of that powerful republic : " God is become a 
 citizen of Berne." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Eefoiiuatiou of St. Gall— Nuus of St. Catheriue— Reformation of Glaiis, 
 Btrnc, Appenzell, the Grisons, Schaffhausen, ami the Rhine District— 
 A P"iiish Miracle— Obstacles in Bale— Zeal of the Citizens— CEcolam- 
 pailius Marries— Witticism of Erasmus— First Action— Half Measures— 
 Pctiti-uoftheEcformeiL 
 
 The Reformation of Berne was decisive for several 
 cantons. The same wind that had blown from on high 
 with so much power on the country of De Watteville 
 and Haller, threw down " the idols " in a great part of 
 Switzerland. In many places the people were indig- 
 nant at seeing the Reformation checked by the timid 
 prudence of diplomatists ; but when diplomacy was put 
 to flight at Berne, the torrent, so long restrained, poured 
 violently onwards. 
 
 Vadian, burgomaster of St. Gall, who presided at 
 the Bernese disputation, had scarcely returned home, 
 when the citizens, with the authority of the magistrates, 
 removed the images from the church of St. Magnus, 
 carried to the mint a hand of the patron saint in silvei-, 
 with other articles of plate, aud distributed among the 
 poor the money they received in exchange ; thus, like 
 Mary, pouring their precious ointment on the head of 
 Christ. The people of St. Gall, being curious to un- 
 veil the ancient mysteries, laid their hands on the abbey 
 
EEFORMATION OF CLARIS, WESEIC, APPENZELL, THE GEISONS, SCHAFFHAUSEN. 
 
 itself, on the shrines and crosses which had so long 
 been presented to their adoration; but instead of saintly 
 relics, they found, to their great surprise, nothing but 
 some resin, a few pieces of money, several paltry wooden 
 images, some old rags, a skull, a large tooth, and a 
 snail's shell ! Rome, instead of that noble fall which 
 marks the ends of great characters, sunk in the midst 
 of stupid superstitions, shameful frauds, and the ii-ouical 
 laughter of a whole nation. 
 
 Such discoveries unfortunately excited the passions 
 of tlic multitude. One evening some evil-disposed 
 persons, wishing to alarm the poor nuns of St. Cathe- 
 rine, who had obstinately resisted the Reform, siu-- 
 rounded the convent with loud cries. In vain did 
 the nuns barricade the doors: the walls were soon 
 scaled, and the good wine, meat, confcctionarics, and 
 all the far from ascetic delicacies of the cloister, be- 
 came the prey of these rude jesters. Another persecu- 
 tion awaited them. Doctor Schappeler having been 
 appointed their catechist, they were recommended to lay 
 aside their monastic dress, and to attend his heretical 
 sermons "clothed like all the world," said the sister 
 AViborath. Some of them embraced the Reform, but 
 thirty others preferred exile. On the 5th February, 
 1528, a numerous synod framed the constitution of the 
 church of St. Gall. 
 
 The struggle was more violent at Glaris. The seeds 
 of the Gospel truth, which Zwingle had scattered there, 
 prospered but little. The men in power anxiously re- 
 jected every innovation, and the people loved bettor 
 " to leap and dance, and work miracles, glass in hand" 
 as an old chronicle says, "than to busy themselves 
 about the Gospel." The Landsgemeinde having pro- 
 nounced, on the 15th May, 1528, in favour of the 
 mass by a majority of thirty-three voices, the two 
 parties were marked out with greater distinctness : the 
 images were broken at Matt, Elm, and Bettschwanden, 
 and as each man remained aloof in his own house and 
 village, there was no longer in the canton either council 
 of state or tribunal of justice. At Schwanden, the 
 minister, Peter Rumelin, having invited the Roman 
 Catholics to a disputation with him in the church, the 
 latter, instead of discussing, marched in procession to 
 the sound of drums round the place of worship in which 
 the Reformed were assembled, and then rushing into 
 the pastor's house, which was situated in the middle of 
 the city, destroyed the stoves and the windows : the 
 irritated Reformed took theii- revenge, and broke the 
 images. On the 15th April, 1529, an agreement was 
 concluded, by virtue of which every man was free to 
 choose between the mass and the sermon. 
 
 At "Wesen, where Schwytz exercised sovereignty con- 
 jointly with Glaris, the deputies of the former canton 
 threatened the people. Upon this the young men took 
 the images out of the churches, carried them to an 
 open place near the banks of the picturesque lake of 
 Wallenstadt, above which soar the mountains of the 
 Amnion and of the Seven Electors, and cried : "Look ! 
 this road (that by the lake) leads to Coire and to Rome ; 
 that (to the south) to Glaris ; this other (to the west) 
 to Schwytz; and the fourth (by the Ammon) to St. 
 Gall. Take which you please! But if you do not 
 move off, you shall be burnt!" After waiting a few 
 moments, these young people flung the motionless 
 
 images into the fire, and the Schwytz deputies, eye- 
 witnesses of this execution, withdrew in consternation, 
 and filled the whole canton with projects of vengeance 
 that were but too soon realized. 
 
 In the canton of Appenzell, where a conference had 
 been opened, iherj suddenly appeared a band of Roman 
 Catholics, armed with whips and clubs, and crying out : 
 "Where are these preachers? we are resolved to put 
 them out of the village." These strange doctors 
 wounded the ministers and dispersed the assembly with 
 their whips. Out of the eight parishes of the canton, 
 six embraced the Reform, and Appenzell became 
 linally divided into two little sections, the one Romanist 
 and the other Reformed. 
 
 In the Grisons religious liberty was proclaimed ; the 
 parishes had the election of their pastors, several 
 castles were razed to the ground to render all return to 
 arbitrary government impossible, and the affrighted 
 bishop went and hid in the Tyrol his anger and his 
 desire for vengeance. " The Grisons," said Zwingle, 
 "advance daily. It is a nation that by its courage 
 reminds us of the ancient Tuscans, and by its candour 
 of the ancient Swiss." 
 
 Schaffhausen, after having long "halted between two 
 opinions," at the summons of Zurich and of Berue 
 removed the images from its churches without tumult 
 or disorder. At the same time the Reformation invaded 
 Thurgovia, the valley of the Rhine, and other baili- 
 wicks subordinate to these cantons. In vaiu did the 
 Roman Catholic cantons, that were in the majority, 
 protest against it. " When temporal affairs are con- 
 cerned," replied Zurich and Berne, "we will not oppose 
 a plurality of votes ; but the Word of God cannot be 
 subjected to the suffrages of men." All the districts 
 that lie along the banks of Thur, of the lake of Con- 
 stance, and of the upper Rhine, embraced the Gospel. 
 The inhabitants of Mammeren, near the place where 
 the Rhine issues from the lake, flung their images into 
 the water. But the statue of St. Blaise, after remain- 
 ing some time upright, and contemplating the ungrate- 
 ful spot whence it was banished, swam across the lake 
 to Catahorn, situated on the opposite shore, if we may 
 believe the account of a monk named Lang. Even 
 while running away. Popery worked its miracles. 
 
 Thus were the popular superstitions overthrown 
 in Switzerland, and sometimes not without violence. 
 Every great development in human affairs brings with 
 it an energetic opposition to that which has existed. 
 It necessarily contains an aggressive element, which 
 ought to act freely, and by that means opens the new 
 path. In the times of the Reformation the doctors 
 attacked the pope, and the people the images. The 
 movement almost always exceedod a just moderation. 
 In order that human nature may make one step ia 
 advance, its pioneers must take many. Every super- 
 fluous step should be condemned, and yet we must 
 acknowledge their necessity. Let us not forget this in 
 the history of the Reformation, aud especially in that 
 of Switzerland. Zurich w.is reformed ; Berne had just 
 become so : Bale stiU remained, before the great cities 
 of the Confederation were gained over to the evangeli- 
 cal faith. The reformation of this learned city was 
 the most important consequence resulting from that of 
 the warlike Berne. 
 
HISTOKY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 For six years the Gospel had been preached in Bale. 
 The meek and pious Qiicolampadius was always wait- 
 ing for happier times. " The darkness," said he, " is 
 about to retu-e before the rays of truth." But his ex- 
 pectation was vain. A triple aristocracy — the superior 
 clergy, the nobles, and the university — checked the free 
 expansion of Christian convictions. It was the middle 
 classes who were destined to effect the triumph of the 
 Reformation in Bale. Unhappily the popular wave in- 
 vades nothing without tossing up some foul scum. 
 
 It is true that the Gospel had many friends in the 
 councils ; but being men of a middle party, they tacked 
 backwards and forwards, like Erasmus, instead of sail- 
 ing straight to the port. They ordered "the pure 
 preaching of the Word of God ; " but stipulated, at the 
 same time, that it should be "without Lutheranism." 
 The ased ind piuus Bi-.Ii()p UtcnlKini, ■who 'w i li\ iii_' 
 
 ^"^^ 
 
 in retirement at Bruntrut, tottered daily into the church, 
 supported by two domestics, to celebrate mass with a 
 broken voice. Gundelsheim, an enemy of the Refor- 
 mation, succeeded him erelong ; and on the 23d Sep- | 
 tember, followed by many exiles, aud with a train of 
 forty horses, he made his triumphal entry into Biile, 
 proposing to restore everything to its ancient footing. 
 This made CEcolampadius write in alarm to Zwingle : 
 " Our cause hangs upon a thread." 
 
 But in the citizens the Reform found a compensa- 
 tion for the disdain of the great, and for the terrors 
 inspired by the new bishop. They organized repasts 
 for fifty and a hundred guests each : Qicolampadius 
 and his colleagues took their seats at these tables with 
 the people, where energetic acclamations and reiterated 
 cheers greeted the work of the Reformation. In a 
 short time even the council appeared to incline to 
 the side of the Gospel. Twenty feast-days were re- 
 trenched, and the priests were permitted to refuse 
 celebrating the mass. "It is all over with Rome," 
 was now the cry. But Qilcolampadius, shaking his 
 head, replied: "I am afraid that, by wishing to sit on 
 two >t.„,l~, V,-<h- will at last fall to the ground." 
 
 This was at the period 
 5^ of his return from the 
 
 . iliscussion at Berne. He 
 arrived in time to close 
 . ilm: eyes of his pious 
 iiintlier; and then the 
 I'rf (inner found himself 
 :il(.iiie, succumbing under 
 I ^^ eight of public and 
 1 Kstic cares; for his 
 1 e was like an inn 
 1 all fugitive Christ- 
 1 ins " I shall marry a 
 "\IunKa,"'he had often 
 ud, " or else I shall re- 
 in un a bachelor." He 
 thought he had now dis- 
 (o\cied the "Christian 
 ftister " of whom he was 
 in search. This was 
 Wihbiandis, daughter of 
 one of the Emperor 
 Maximilian's knights. 
 
 m. 
 
 i Tho ) 
 
 t of St. Augustiiie'a 
 
FIRST ACTION— HALF-MEASUEES. 
 
 503 
 
 and widow of a master of arts named Keller, — a woman 
 already proved by many trials. He married her, say- 
 ing: "I look to the ordinances of God, and not to the 
 scowling faces of men." This did not i)revent the sly 
 Erasmus from exclaiming: "Luther's affair is called a 
 tragedy, but I maintain it is a comedy, for each act of 
 the drama ends in a wedding." This witticism has 
 been often repeated. For a long time it was the 
 fashion to account for the Reformation by the desire 
 of the princes for the Church property, and of the 
 priests for marriage. This vulgar method is now 
 stigiiiatized by the best Roman controversialists as " a 
 proof of a singularly narrow mind. The Reformation 
 originated," add they, "in a true and Christian, al- 
 though unenlightened zeal." 
 
 The return of ODcolampadius had still more impor- 
 tant consequences for Brde than it had for himself. 
 The discussion at Berne caused a great sensation there. 
 "Berne, the powerful Berne, is reforming!" was 
 passed from mouth to mouth. " How, then !" said the 
 people one to another, "the fierce boar has come out 
 of his den , . he is gi-oping about for the ra}s 
 
 of the sun . . . and Bale, the city of learning — 
 Bide, the adopted city of Erasmus and of CEcolam- 
 padius, remains in darkness ! " 
 
 On Good Friday, (10th April, 1528,) without the 
 knowledge of the council aud OScolampadius, five 
 workmen of the Spinners' Company entered the church 
 of St. Martin, which was that of the reformer, and 
 where the mass was already abolished, and carried 
 away all the " idols." On Easter Monday, after the 
 evening sermon, thirty-four citizens removed all the 
 images from the church of the Augustines. 
 
 This was going too far. Were they desirous, then, 
 of drawing Bale aud its councils from that just medium 
 in whicli they had till this moment so wisely halted .' 
 The council met hastily on Tuesday moruiug, aud sent 
 the five men to prison ; but, on the intercession of the 
 burghers, they were released, and the images suppresscil 
 in five other churches. These half-measures sufficed 
 for a time. 
 
 On a sudden the flame burst out anew with gi-eate:- 
 violence. Sermons were preached at St. Martin's and 
 St. Leonard's against the abominations of the cathc- 
 di-al ; and at the cathedral the reformers were called 
 " heretics, knaves, and profligates." The Papists cele- 
 brated mass upon mass. The burgomaster Meyer, a 
 friend of the Reform, had with him the majority of the 
 people ; the burgomaster Meltinger, an intrepid leader 
 of the partisans of Rome, prevailed in the councils : a 
 collision became inevitable. "The fatal hour ap- 
 proaches," says a:colampadius, "terrible for the 
 enemies of God!" 
 
 On Wednesday, the SSd December, two days before 
 Christmas, three hundred citizens from all the com- 
 panies, pious and worthy men, assembled in the hall of 
 the Gardeners' Company, and there drew np a petition 
 to the senate. Duriug this time the friends of Popery, 
 who resided for the most part in Little Bale and the 
 suburb of St. Paul, took up arras, and brandished their 
 swords and lances against the reformed citizens at the 
 very moment that the latter were bearing their petition 
 to the council, and endeavoured, although ineffectually, 
 to bar their road. Meltinger haughtily refused to re- 
 
 ceive the petition, and charged the burghei-s, on the 
 faith of their civic oath, to return to their homes. The 
 burgomaster Meyer, however, took the address, and 
 the senate ordered it to be read. 
 
 " Honoured, wise, and gracious Lords," it ran, " we, 
 your dutiful fellow-citizens of the companies, address 
 you as well-beloved fathers, whom we are ready to 
 obey at the cost of our goods and of our lives. 'Take 
 God's glory to heart; restore peace to the city; and 
 oblige all the pope's preachers to discuss freely with 
 the ministers If the mass be true, we desire to have 
 it in our churches : but if it is an abomination before 
 God, why, through love for the priests, should we draw 
 down His terrible auger upon ourselves and upon our 
 children?" 
 
 CATHEDRAL. STRASBURG. 
 
 Thus spoke the citizens of Bale. There was nothing 
 revolutionary either in their language or in their pro- 
 ceedings. They desired what was right with decision, 
 but also with calmness. All might still proceed with 
 order and decorum. But here begins a new period : 
 the vessel of reform is about to enter the port, but not 
 until it has passed through violent storms. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Crisis in Bale— Half-Measures Rejected— Eeformed Propositions— A Night 
 of Terror— Idols Broken in the Cathedral— The Hour of Madness— Idols 
 Broken in all the Churches— Befonn Legalized— Erasmus in Bale— A 
 Great Transformation — Revolution and Reformation. 
 
 The bishop's partisans first departed from the legal 
 course. Filled with terror on learning that mediators 
 were expected from Zurich and Berne, they ran into 
 the city, crying that an Austrian army was coming to 
 their aid, and collected stones in their houses. The 
 reformed did the same. The disturbance increased 
 hourly, and in the night of the 25th December the 
 Papists met imder arms: priests, with arquebuse in 
 Land, were numbered among their ranks. 
 
 Scarcely had the reformed learnt this, when some of 
 them, running hastily from house to house, knocked at 
 the doors and awoke their friends, who, starting out 
 of bed, seized their muskets and repaired to the Gar- 
 deners' Hall, the rendezvous of their party. They soon 
 amounted to three thousand. 
 
 Both parties passed the night under arms. At every 
 moment a civil war, and what is worse, " a war of 
 hearths," might break out. It was at last agi-eed that 
 each party should nominate delegates to treat with the 
 senate on this matter. The reformed chose thirty men 
 of respectability, courage, faith, and experience, who 
 took up their quarters at the Gardeners' Hall. The 
 partisans of the ancient faith chose also a commission, 
 but less numerous and less respectable r their station 
 was at the Fishmongers' Hall. The council was con- 
 stantly sitting. All the gates of the city, except two, 
 were closed ; strong guards were posted in every quar- 
 ter. Deputies from Lucerne, Uri, Schaffhausen, Zug, 
 Schwytz, Mulhausen, and Strasburg, arrived succes- 
 sively. The agitation and tumult increased from hour 
 to hour. 
 
 It was necessary to put an end to so violent a crisis. 
 The senate, faithful to its ideas of half-measures, decreed 
 that the priests should continue to celebrate the mass ; 
 but that all, priests and ministers, should preach the 
 Word of God, and for this purpose should meet once 
 a-week to confer upon the Holy Scriptures. They 
 theu called the Lutherans together in the Franciscan 
 church, and the Papists in that belonging to the Do- 
 minicans. The senate first repaired to the former 
 church, where they found two thousand five hundred 
 citizens assembled. The secretary had hardly read the 
 ordinance before a great agitation arose. " That shall 
 not be," cried one of the people. " We will not put up 
 with the mass, not even a single one ! " exclaimed an- 
 other; and all repeated, "No mass — no mass — we will 
 die sooner!" 
 
 The senate having next visited the Dominican church, 
 all the Romanists, to the number of six hundred, among 
 whom were many foreign servants, cried out: "AVe 
 are ready to sacrifice oiu- lives for the mass. We 
 swear it, we swear it ! " repeated they with uplifted 
 hands. " If they reject the mass — to arms ! to arms 1" 
 
 The senate withdrew more embarrassed than ever. 
 
 The two parties were again assembled three days 
 after. CEcolampadius was iu the pulpit. " Be meek 
 
 and tractable," said he; and he preached with such 
 unction that many were ready to burst into tears. The 
 assembly offered up prayers, and then decreed that it 
 would accept a new ordinance, by virtue of which, 
 fifteen days after Pentecost, there should be a public 
 disputation, in which no arguments should be employed 
 but such as were drawn from the Word of God : after 
 this a general vote should take place upon the mass, 
 that the majority should decide the question, and that 
 iu the meanwhile the mass should be celebrated in 
 three churches only; it being however understood, that 
 nothing should be taught there that was in opposition 
 to the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 The Romanist minority rejected these propositions . 
 " Bale," said they, " is not like Berne and Zurich. Its 
 revenues are derived, in great measure, from countries 
 opposed to the Reformation !" The priests having re- 
 fused to resort to the weekly conferences, they were 
 suspended; and during a fortnight there was neither 
 sermon nor mass at the cathedral, or in the churches 
 of St. Ulrich, St. Peter, and St. Theodore. 
 
 Those who remained faithful to Rome resolved upon 
 an intrepid defence. Meltiuger placed Sebastian Mul- 
 ler in the pulpit at St. Peter's, from which he had 
 been interdicted, and this hot-headed priest vented such 
 abusive sarcasms against the Reform, that several of 
 the Evangelicals, who were listening to the sermon, 
 were insulted and nearly torn in pieces. 
 
 It was necessary to arouse B;de from this nightmare, 
 and strike a decisive blow. "Let us remember our 
 liberty," said the reformed citizens, "and what we 
 owe to the glory of Christ, to public justice, and to 
 our posterity." They then demanded that the enemies 
 of the Reformation, friends and relations of the priests, 
 who were the cause of all these delays and of all these 
 troubles, should no longer sit in the councils until peace 
 was re-established. This was the 8th February. The 
 council notified that they would return an answer on 
 the morrow. 
 
 At six o'clock in the evening, twelve hundred citi- 
 zens were assembled in the corn-market. They began 
 to fear that the delay required by the senate concealed 
 some evil design. " AVe must have a reply this very 
 night," they said. The senate was convoked in great 
 haste. 
 
 From that period affairs assumed a more threatening 
 attitude in Brde. Strong guards were posted by the 
 burghers in the halls of the different guilds ; armed 
 men patrolled the city, and bivouacked in the public 
 places, to anticipate the machinations of their adver- 
 saries ; the chains were stretched across the streets; 
 torches were lighted, and resinous trees, whose flicker- 
 ing light scattered the darkness, were placed at inter- 
 vals through the town; six pieces of artillery were 
 planted before the town-hall ; and the gates of tiie city, 
 as well as the arsenal and the ramparts, were occupied. 
 B;"de was in a state of siege. 
 
 There was no longer any hope for the Romish party. 
 The burgomaster Meltinger, an intrepid soldier, and 
 one of the heroes of Mariguan, where he had led eight 
 hundred men into battle, lost courage. In the dark- 
 ness he gained the banks of the Rhine with his son- 
 in-law, the councillor Eglof d'Offenburgh, embarked 
 unnoticed in a small boat, and rapidly descended the 
 
DESTRUCTION OF THE IDOLS. 
 
 507 
 
 stream amid the fogs of the night. Other members of 
 the coimcil escaped ia a similar manner. 
 
 Tliis gave rise to new alarms. '-Let us beware of 
 their secret maureuvrcs," said the peoi)lc. " Perhaps 
 they are gone to fetch tlie Aiistriaus, with whom they 
 have so often threatened us !" The alTrightcd citizens 
 collected ar)n3 from every quarter, and at break of day 
 they had two thousand mcu on foot. The beams of 
 the rising sun fell on this resolute but calm assembly. 
 
 It was mid-day. The senate had come to no decision : 
 the impatience of the burghers could be restrained no 
 longer. Forty men were detached to visit the posts. 
 As this patrol was passing the cathedral, they entered 
 it, and one of the citizens, impelled by curiosity, opened 
 a closet with his halberd, in which some images had 
 been hidden. One of them fell out, and was broken 
 into a thousand pieces against the stone pavement. 
 The sight of these fragments powerfully moved the 
 spectators, who began throwing down one after another 
 all the images that were concealed in this place. None 
 of them offered any resistance : heads, feet, and hands, 
 all were heaped in confusion before the halberdiers. 
 " I am much surprised," said Erasmus, " that they 
 performed no miracle to save themselves ; formerly tlie 
 saints worked frequent prodigies for much smaller 
 offences." Some priests ran to the spot, and the patrol 
 withdrew. 
 
 A rumour, however, having spread that a disturb- 
 ance had taken place in this church, three hundred 
 men came to the support of the forty. " Why," said 
 they, "should we spare the idols that light up the 
 tiames of discord ?" The priests, in alarm, had closed 
 the gates of the sanctuary, drawn the bolts, raised 
 barricades, and prepared everything for maintaining a 
 siege. But the townspeople, whose patience had been 
 exhausted by the delays of the council, dashed against 
 one of the doors of the church ; it yielded to their 
 blows, and they rushed into the cathedral. The hour 
 of madness had arrived. These men were no longer 
 recognisable, as they brandished their swords, rattled 
 their pikes, and uttered formidable cries : were they 
 Goths, or fervent worshippers of God, animated by 
 the zeal which in times of yore inflamed the prophets 
 and the kings of Israel? However that may have 
 been, these proceedings were disorderly, since public 
 authority alone can interfere in public reforms. Images, 
 altars, pictures — all were thrown down and destroyed. 
 The priests who had fled into the vestry, and there 
 concealed themselves, trembled in every limb at the 
 terrible noise made by the fall of their holy decora- 
 tions. The work of destruction was completed with- 
 out one of them venturing to save the objects of his 
 worship, or to make the slightest remonstrance. The 
 people next piled up the fragments in the squares and 
 set fire to them ; and during the chilly night the armed 
 burghers stood round and warmed themselves at the 
 crackling flame. 
 
 The senate collected in amazement, and desired to 
 interpose their authority and appease the tumult ; but 
 they might as well have striven to command the winds. 
 The enthusiastic citizens replied to their magistrates in 
 these haughty words : " What you have not been able 
 to effect in three years, we will complete in one hour." 
 
 In truth the anger of the people was no longer con- 
 
 fined to the cathedral. They respected all kinds of 
 private property; but they attacked the churches of 
 St. Peter, St. Ulrich, St. Alban, and of the Domini- 
 cans ; and in all these temples the " idols " fell under 
 tlie blows of these good citizens of Bale, who were 
 inflamed by an extraordinary zeal. Already they were 
 makuig preparations to cross the bridge and enter 
 Little Bale, which was devoted to the cause of Popery, 
 when the alarmed inhabitants begged to be allowed to 
 remove the images themselves ; and with heavy hearts 
 they hastily carried tliera into the upper chambers of 
 the church, whence they hoped to be able, after a time, 
 to restore them to their old position. 
 
 They did not stop at these energetic demonstrations ; 
 the most excited talked of going to the town-hall, and 
 of constraining the senate to accede to the wishes of 
 the people ; but the good sense of the majority treated 
 these brawlers as they deserved, and checked their 
 guilty thoughts. 
 
 The senators now perceived the necessity of giving a 
 legal character to this popular movement, and of thus 
 changing a tumultuous revolution into a durable refor- 
 mation. Democracy and the Gospel were thus estab- 
 lished simultaneously in Bale. The senate, after an 
 hour's deliberation, granted that in future the burghers 
 should participate in the election of the two councils; that 
 from this day the mass and images should be abolished 
 throughout all the cauton ; and that in every delibera- 
 tion which concerned the glory of God or the good of 
 the state the opinion of the guilds should be taken. 
 The people, delighted at having obtained these con- 
 ditions, which secured their political and religious 
 liberty, returned joyful to their houses. It was now 
 the close of day. 
 
 On the morrow. Ash- Wednesday, it was intended to 
 distribute the ruins of the altars and other ornaments 
 of the church among the poor, to serve them for fire- 
 wood. But these unhappy creatures, in their eager- 
 ness for the fragments, having begun to dispute about 
 them, great piles were constructed in the cathedral close 
 and set on fire. " The idols," said some wags, " are 
 really keeping their Ash- Wednesday to-day!" "The 
 friends of Popery turned away their horror-stricken 
 eyes from this sacrilegious sight," says G^coiampadius, 
 " and shed tears of blood." "Thus severely did they 
 treat the idols," continues the reformer, " and the mass 
 died of grief in consequence." On the following 
 Sunday hymns in German were sung at every Church ; 
 and on the IStli February a general amnesty was pub- 
 lished. Everything was changed in Bale. The last 
 had become first, and the first last. While CEcolam- 
 padius, who a few years before had entered the city 
 as a stranger, without resources and without power, 
 found himself raised to the first station in the Church, 
 Erasmus, disturbed in the quiet study wheuce during 
 so long a period he had issued his absolute commands 
 to the world of letters, saw himself compelled to de- 
 scend into the arena. But this king of the schools had 
 no desire to lay down his sceptre before the sovereign 
 people. For a long time he used to turn aside his head 
 when he met his friend CEcolampadius. Besides, he 
 feared, by remaining at B;ile, to compromise himself 
 with his protectors. "The ton-ent," said he, "which 
 was hidden underground has burst forth with violence, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 and committed frightful ravages. My life is in danger : 
 CEcolampadius possesses all the churches. People are 
 continually bawling in my ears ; I am besieged with 
 letters, caricatures, and pamphlets. It is all over: I 
 am resolved to leave Bale. Only shall I or shall I not 
 depart by stealth' The one is nmrc becoming, the 
 
 Otho .11 1 
 
 confession of faith, one of the most precious documents 
 of this epoch. 
 
 Thus had a great transformation been effected with- 
 out the loss of a single drop of blood. Popery had 
 fallen in Bale in despite of the secular and spiritual 
 
 power. 
 
 ^n 'f 
 
 CPYPT, BALE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 Wishing as much as possible to make his honour and 
 his prudence agree, Erasmus desired the boatman with 
 whom he was to descend the Rhine to depart from an 
 unfrequented spot. This was opposed by the senate, 
 and the timid philosopher was compelled to enter the 
 boat as it lay near the bridge, at that time covered with 
 a crowd of people. He floated down the river, sadly 
 bade adieu to the city he had so much loved, and retired 
 to Friburg, in Brisgau, with several other learned men. 
 
 New professors were invited to fill the vacant chairs 
 in the university, and in particular, Oswald Myconius, 
 Phrygio, Sebastian Mun^ll•r, and Synioii Gryn;vii,-^. At 
 the same time was i)iilili>luMl an (■.•rl.'^ia^liral onl.a- and 
 
 F R I B U R Q. 
 
 The wedge of the Lord," says QScolam- 
 has split this hard knot." 
 
 We cannot, however, help acknowledging 
 that the Bale Reformation may afford ground 
 for some objections. Luther had opposed 
 Iiiinself to the power of the many. "When 
 ilio people prick up their ears, do not whistle 
 loo loud. It is better to suffer at the hand 
 <<{ one tyrant, that is to say, of a king, than 
 lit' a thousand tyrants, that is to say, of the 
 jicople." On this account the German Re- 
 former has been reproached for acknowledg- 
 ing no other policy than servilism. 
 
 Perhaps when the Swiss Reformation is 
 canvassed, a contrary objection will be made 
 against it, and the Reform at Bale in par- 
 ticular, will be looked upon as a revolution. 
 The Reformation must of necessity boar 
 ~ the stamp of the country in which it is ac- 
 complished : it will be monarchical in Ger- 
 many, republican in Switzerland. Neverthe- 
 less, in religion as in politics, there is a great 
 difference between reformation and revolution. 
 
 In no sphere does Christianity desire either despo- 
 tism, servitude, stagnation, retrogression, or doith. But 
 while looking for progress, it seeks to accomplish it by 
 reformation, and not by revolution. 
 
 Reformation works by the power of the Word, of 
 doctrine, cultivation, and truth ; while revolution, or 
 rather revolt, operates by the power of riot, of the 
 sword, and of the club. 
 
 Christianity proceeds by the inner man, and charters 
 
 themselves, if they stand alone, cannot satisfy it. No 
 
 dnulit piilitical constitutions are one of the blessings of 
 
 >>m- au;!^ ; but it is not sufficient for these securities to 
 
 be committed to parchment : they 
 
 must be written in the heart, and 
 
 guaranteed by the manners of the 
 
 people. 
 
 Such were the principles of 
 
 the Swiss Reformers ; such were 
 
 those of the Reform at Bale, and 
 
 " ^'§\ by these it is distinguished from 
 
 ;.^ a revolution. 
 
 ,;« There were, it is true, some 
 ; excesses. Never, perhaps, has a 
 reformation been accomplished 
 among men without some mix- 
 ture of revolution. But it was 
 doctrines, however, that were in 
 question at Bale : these doctrines 
 had acted powerfully on the 
 moral convictions and on the 
 lives of the people ; the move- 
 ment had taken place within 
 before it shewed itself without. 
 But more than this : the Refor- 
 mation was not satisfied with 
 taking away; it gave more than 
 
FAREL AT LAUSANNE. 
 
 it took ; and, far from confining itself to the work of 
 (lestruotion, it scattered rich blessings over all the 
 people. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Farcl's Commission— Favel at Lausanne and Morot— NeuMiatcI— Favcl 
 rrcaclies at Serriire— Enters Noufchatel— Sermon— The Monks— Farel's 
 Preaching- Popery in Neufchatel— Canons and Monlo Unite— Farel at 
 Jlorat and in the Vully— Reformation of the Bishopric of Bile— Farcl 
 again in Nenfchatel— Placards— The Hospital Cliapel— Civil Power In- 
 voked by the Romanists. 
 
 TnE recoil of the discussion at Berne had overthrown 
 Popery in a considerable part of German Switzerland. 
 It was also felt in many of the churclies of French 
 Switzerland, lying at the foot of the Jura, or scattered 
 amid the pine-forests of its elevated valleys, and which, 
 up to this time, had shewn the most absolute devotion 
 to the Roman pontiff. 
 
 Farel, seeing the Gospel established in the places 
 where the Rhone mingles its sandy waters with the 
 crystal Leman, turned his eyes to another quarter. He 
 was supported by Berne. This state, which possessed 
 jointly with Friburg the bailiwicks of Morat, Orbe, 
 and Granson, and which had alliances with Lausanne, 
 Avouches, Payerue, Neufchatel, and Geneva, saw that 
 both its interest and its duty alike called it to have 
 the^Gospel preached to its allies and subjects. Farel 
 was empowered to carry it among them, provided he 
 obtained the consent of the respective governments. 
 
 One day, therefore, journej-ing towards Morat, Farel 
 arrived and preached the Gospel at the foot of those 
 towers and battlements that had been attacked, at three 
 different periods, by the armies of Conrad the Salic, 
 Rodolph of Hapsburg, and Charles the Bold. Erelong 
 the friends of the Reform amounted to a great number. 
 A general vote having, nevertheless, declared in favour 
 of the pope, Farel proceeded to Lausanne. 
 
 He was at first driven away by the bishop and the 
 clergy, but soon reappeared provided with a letter from 
 the lords of Berne. " We send him to you," said their 
 excellencies to the authorities of the city, " to defend 
 his own cause and ours. Allow him to preach the 
 Word of God, and beware that you touch not a hair of 
 his head." 
 
 There was great confusion in the councils. Placed 
 between Berne and the bishop, what could they do.^ 
 Tiie Council of Twenty-four, finding the matter very 
 serious, convoked the Council of Sixty; and this body 
 excusing itself, they convoked the Council of Two 
 Hundred, on the 14th November, 1529. But these in 
 their turn referred the business to the Smaller Couucil. 
 No one would have anything to do with it. The iu- 
 habitants of Lausanne, it is true, complained loudly of 
 the holy members of their chapters, whose lives (they 
 said) were one long train of excesses ; but when their 
 eyes turned on the austere countenance of Reform, 
 they were still more terrified. Besides, how deprive 
 Lausanne of her bishop, her court, and her dignitaries? 
 What! no more pilgrims in the churches, — no more 
 suitors in the ecclesiastical courts, — no more purchasers 
 
 in the markets, or boon companions in the taverns ! — 
 The widowed and desolate Lausanne would no longer 
 behold the noisy throng of people, that were at once 
 her wealth and her glory! — Better far a disorder that 
 enriches, than a reform that impoverishes ! Farel was 
 compelled to depart a second time. 
 
 He returned to Morat, and soon the Word gained 
 over the hearts of the people. On feast-days, the roads 
 from Paycrnc and Avenches were covered with merry 
 bands, who laughingly said to one another : " Let us 
 go to Morat and hear the preachers ! " and exhorted 
 each other slily, as they went along the road, " not to 
 fall into the nets of the heretics." But at night all was 
 changed. Grasped by the strong hand of truth, these 
 very people returned, — some in deep thought, others 
 discussing with animation the doctrines they had heard. 
 The fire was sparkling throughout all this district, and 
 spreading in every direction its long rays of light. 
 This was enough for Farel : he required new con- 
 quests. 
 
 At a short distance from Morat lay one of the strong- 
 holds of Popery — the earldom of Neufchatel. Joan of 
 Hochberg, who had inherited this principality from her 
 ancestors, had married, in 1504, Louis of Orleans, duke 
 of Longueville. This French nobleman having sup- 
 ported the King of France, in 1512, in a war against 
 the Swiss, the cantons had taken possession of Neuf- 
 chatel, but had restored it to his widow in 1529. 
 
 Few countries could have presented greater difficul- 
 ties to the daring reformer. The Princess of Longue- 
 ville, residing in France in the suite of Francis I., a 
 woman of courtly habits, vain, extravagant, always in 
 debt, and thinking of Neufchatel only as a farm that 
 should bring her in a large revenue, was devoted to the 
 pope and Popery. Twelve canons, with several priests 
 and chaplains, formed a powerful clergy, at whose 
 head was the provost Oliver of Hochberg, natural 
 brother to the princess. Auxiliaries full of zeal flanked 
 this main army. On the one side there was the abbey 
 of the Premonstrantes of Fontaine-Andre, three- 
 quarters of a league beyond the town, the monks of 
 which, after having in the 12th century cleared the 
 ground with their own hands, had gradually become 
 powerful lords ; and on the other side, the Benedictines 
 of the Island of St. John, whose abbot, having been 
 deposed by the Bernese, had taken refuge, burning 
 with hatred and vengeance, in his priory at Corcelles. 
 
 The people of Neufchatel had a great respect for 
 ancient rights, and it was easy to take advantage of 
 this state of feeling, considering the general ignorance, 
 to maintain the innovations of Popery. The canons 
 improved the opportunity. For the instructions of the 
 Gospel they substituted pomps and shows. The church, 
 situated on a steep rock, was filled with altars, chapels, 
 and images of saints ; and religion, descending from 
 this sanctuary, ran up and down the streets, and was 
 travestied in dramas and mysteries, mingled with in- 
 dulgences, miracles, and debauchery. 
 
 The soldiers of Neufchatel, however, who had made 
 the campaign of 1529 with the Bernese army, brought 
 back to their homes the liveliest enthusiasm for the 
 evangelical cause. It was at this period that a frail 
 boat, quitting the southern bank of the lake, on the 
 side opposite Morat, and carrying a Frenchman of 
 
510 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFOEISIATION. 
 
 mean appearance, steered towards the Neufcliatel shore. 
 Farel — for it was he — had learnt that the village of 
 Serriere, situated at the gates of Keiifchatel, depended, 
 as to spiritualities, on the evangelical city of Bienne, 
 and that Emer Beynon, the priest of the place, " had 
 some liking for the Gospel." The plan of his campaign 
 was immediately drawn up. He appeared before par- 
 son Emer, who received him with joy; but what could 
 be done ? for Farel had been interdicted from preach- 
 ing in an}' church whatever in the earldom. The poor 
 j priest thought to reconcile everything by permitting 
 Farel to mount on a stone in the cemetery, and 
 thus preach to the people, tm-ning his back upon the 
 church.' 
 
 A great disturbance arose in Neufchatel. On one 
 side the government, the canons, and the priests, cried, 
 "Heresy!" but ou the other, "some inhabitants of 
 Neufchate!, to whom God had given a knowledge of 
 the truth," flocked to Serriere. In a short time these 
 last could not contain themselves : " Come," said they 
 to Farel, " and preach to us in the town." 
 
 Tliis was at the beginning of December. They 
 entered by the gate of the castle, and leaving the 
 church on the hill to the left, they passed in front of 
 the canons' houses, and descended to the narrow streets 
 i inhabited by the citizens. On reaching the market- 
 cross, Farel ascended a platform and addressed the 
 crowd, which gathered together from all the neigh- 
 bourhood, — weavers, vine-dressers, husbandmen, a 
 worthy race, possessing more feeling than imagina- 
 tion. The preachers exterior was grave, his dis- 
 course energetic, his voice like thunder : his eyes, 
 his features, his gestures, all shewed him a man of 
 intrepidity. The citizens, accustomed to run about 
 the streets after the mountebanks, were touched by 
 his powerful language. "Farel preached a sermon 
 of such great efficacy," says a manuscript, "that he 
 gained over much people." 
 
 Some monks, however, with shaven crowns, glided 
 among his hearers, seeking to excite them against the 
 heretical minister. "Let us beat out his brains," said 
 some. " Duck him, duck him I" cried others, advanc- 
 ing to throw Farel into a fountain, which may stiU 
 be seen near the spot where he preached. But the 
 reformer stood firm. 
 
 This first preaching was succeeded by others. To 
 this Gospel missionary every place was a chm-ch; every 
 stone, every bench, every platform, was a pulpit. Al- 
 ready the cutting winds and the snows of December 
 should have kept the Neufchatelans around their fire- 
 sides ; " the cauons made a vigorous defence ;" and in 
 every quarter "the shorn crowns" were in agitation, 
 supplicating, menacing, shouting, and threatening — 
 but all was useless. Ko sooner did this man of small 
 stature rise up in any place, with his pale yet sunburnt 
 complexion, with red and uncombed beard, with spark- 
 ling eye and expressive mouth, than the monks' labour 
 was lost : the people collected around him, for it was 
 the Word of God that fell from his lips. All eyes 
 were fixed on him: with open mouth aud attentive 
 ears they hung upon his words. And scarcely did he 
 begin to speak, when — " Oh! wonderful work of God !" 
 
 he himself exclaims — "this multitude believed as if it 
 had but one soul." 
 
 The Word of God carried the town, as it were, at 
 the first assault ; and throwing down the devices Rome 
 had taken ages to compose, established itself in triumph 
 on the ruins of human traditions. Farel saw, in 
 imagination, Jesus Christ himself walking in spirit 
 through the midst of this crowd, opening the eyes 
 of the blind, softening the hard heart, and working 
 miracles, ... so that scarcely had lie returned 
 to his humble residence before he wrote to his friends 
 with a heart full of emotion : " Render thanks with me 
 to the Father of mercies, in that He has shewn His 
 favour to those bowed down by a weighty tyranny;" 
 and falling on his knees, he worshipped God. 
 
 But during this time what were the adherents of the 
 pope doing in Neufchatel ? 
 
 The canons, members of the General Audiences, of 
 which they formed the first estate, treated both priests 
 and laymen with intolerable haughtiness. Laying the 
 burden of their offices on poor curates, they publicly 
 kept dissolute women, clothed them sumptuously, en- 
 dowed their children by public acts, fought in the 
 church, haunted the streets by night, or went into a 
 foreign couutry to enjoy in secret the produce of their 
 avarice and of their intrigues. Some poor lepers 
 placed in a house near the city were maintained by the 
 produce of certain offerings. The rich canons, in the 
 midst of their banquets, dared take away the bread of 
 charity from these unhappy wretches. 
 
 The Abbey of Fontaine-Andre was at a little dis- 
 tance from the town. Now the canons of Neufchatel 
 and the monks of Fontaine were at open war. These 
 hostile powers, encamped on their two hills, disputed 
 each other's property, wrested away each other's privi- 
 leges, launched at one another the coarsest insults, and 
 even came to blows. " Debaucher of women !" said 
 the canons to the Abbot of Fontaine-Andre', who re- 
 turned the compliment in the same coin. It is the 
 Reformation which, through faith, has re-established 
 the moral law in Christendom — a law that Popery had 
 trodden under foot. 
 
 For a long time these conventual wars had disturbed 
 the country. On a sudden they ceased. A strano-e 
 event was passing in Neufchatel — the Word of God 
 was preached there. The canons, seized with affright 
 in the midst of their disorders, looked down from their 
 lofty dwellings on this new movement. The report 
 reached Fontaine- Andre. The monks and priests sus- 
 pended their orgies and their quarrels. The heathen 
 sensualism that had invaded the Church was put to 
 the rout ; Christian spirituahsm had re-appeared. 
 
 Immediately the monks and canons, so long at war, 
 embrace and unite against the reformer. " We must 
 save religion," said they, meaning their tithes, ban- 
 quets, scandals, and privileges. Not one of them could 
 oppose a doctrine to the doctrine preached by Farel : 
 to insult him was their sole weapon. At Corcelles, 
 however, they went farther. As the minister was pro- 
 claiming the Gospel near the priory, the monks fell 
 upon him : in the midst of them was the prior Rodolph 
 de Benoit, storming, exciting, and striving to augment 
 the tempest. He even had a dagger in his hand, 
 according to one writer. Farel escaped with difficulty. 
 
FAREL IN MORAT AND THE VULLY. 
 
 511 
 
 This was not enough. Popery, as it has always 
 done, had recourse to the civil power. The canons, 
 the abbot, and the prior, solicited the governor George 
 de Rive at the same time. Farel stood firm. "The 
 glory of Jesus Christ," said he, " and the lively affec- 
 tion His sheep bear to His Word, constrain me to en- 
 dure sufferings greater tlian tongue can describe." Ere- 
 long, however, he was compelled to yield. Farol again 
 crossed the lake ; but this passage was very different 
 from the former. The fire was kindled ! — On the 22d 
 December he was at Morat ; and shortly after at Aigle. 
 
 lie was recalled tiience. On the 7tli January, reli- 
 gion was put to the vote at Morat, and the majority 
 was in favour of the Gospel. But the Romish min- 
 ority, supported by Friburg, immediately undertook to 
 recover its ancient position by insults and bad treat- 
 ment. " Farel ! Farel !" cried the reformed party. 
 
 A few days after this, Farel, accompanied by a Ber- 
 nese messenger, scaled that magnificent amphitheatre 
 of mountains above Vevay, whence the eye plunges 
 into the waters of the Leman ; and soon he crossed the 
 estates of Count John of Gruyere, wlio was in the 
 habit of sayiug, "We must burn this French Luther!" 
 Scarcely had Farel reached the heights of St. Martin 
 de Vaud,' when he saw the vicar of the place with two 
 priests runniriu' to iiicct him. "Heretic! devil !" cried 
 the}'. ]'>ut till' kniuht, through fear of Berne, remained 
 behind his w alls, and Farel passed on. 
 
 The reformer, not allowing himself to be stopped by 
 the necessity of defending himself in Morat, or by the 
 inclemency of the season, immediately carried the 
 Gospel to those beautiful hills that soar between the 
 smiling waters of lakes Morat and Neufchatel, into the 
 villages of the Vully. Tin's nianojuvre was crowned 
 with the most complete success. On the 15tli Feb- 
 ruary, four deputies from the \'ully came to Morat to 
 demand permission to embrace the Reform, which was 
 immediately granted them. "Let our ministers preach 
 the Gospel," said their excellencies of Berne to the 
 Friburgers, "and we will let your priests play their 
 monkey tricks. We desire to force no man." The 
 Reform restored freedom of will to the Christian 
 people. It was about this time that Farel wrote his 
 beautiful letter "To all lords, people, and pastors," 
 which we have so often quoted. 
 
 The indefatigable reformer now went forward to new 
 conquests. A chain of rocks separates the Juran valley 
 of Erguel, already evangelized by Farel, from the 
 country of the ancient Rauraci, and a passage cut 
 through the rock serves sis a communication between 
 the two districts. It v;as the end of April when Fare], 
 passing tiirough the Pierre-Pertuis, descended to the 
 village of Tavannes, and entered the church just as the 
 priest was saying mass. Farel went into the pulpit : 
 the astonished priest stopped, — the minister filled his 
 hearers with emotion, and seemed to them an angel 
 come down from heaven. Immediately the images and 
 the altars fell, and " the poor priest who was chanting 
 the mass could not finisli it." To put down Popery 
 had required much less time than the priest had spent 
 at the altar. 
 
 A great part of the bishopric of Bale was in a few 
 weeks gained over to the Reformation. 
 
 • To tlie left of tlie modem road from Vevay to Fiiburg. 
 
 During this time the Gospel was fermenting in 
 Neufchatel. The young men who had marched with 
 Berne to deliver Geneva from the attacks of Savoy, 
 recounted, in their jovial meetings, the exploits of the 
 campaign, and related how the soldiers of Berne, feel- 
 ing cold, had taken the images from the Domiuicau 
 church at Geneva, saying: "Idols of wood are of no 
 use but to make a fire with in winter." 
 
 Farel re-appeared in Neufchatel. Being master of 
 the lower part of the town, he raised his eyes to the 
 lofty rocks on which soared the cathedral and the 
 castle. The best plan, thought he, is to bring these 
 proud priests down to us. One morning his young 
 friends spread themselves in the streets, and posted 
 up large placards bearing these words : '■^ All those ii-ho 
 sai/ mass are robbers, murderers, and seducers of the 
 people." Great was the uproar in Neufchatel. The 
 canons summoned their people, called together the 
 clerks, and marching at the head of a large troop, 
 armed with swords and clubs, descended into the town, 
 tore down the sacrilegious placards, and cited Farel 
 before the tribunal as a slanderer, demanding ten 
 thousand crowns damages. 
 
 The two parties appeared in court, and this was all 
 that Farel desired. "I confess the fact," said he, 
 " but I am justified in what I have done. Where are 
 there to be found more horrible murderers than these 
 seducers who sell paradise, and thus nullify the merits 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ? I will prove my assertion 
 by the Gospel." And he prepared to open it, when the 
 canons, flushed with auger, cried out : " The common 
 law of Neufchatel, and not the Gospel, is in question 
 here! Where are the witnesses?" But Farel, con- 
 stantly reverting to that fearful assertion, proved by 
 the Word of God that the canons were really guilty of 
 murder and robbery. To plead such a cause was to 
 ruin Popery. The coiu-t of Neufchatel, that had never 
 heard a similar case, resolved, according to ancient 
 custom, to lay it before the council of Besangou, which, 
 not daring to pronounce the first estate of the General 
 Audiences guilty of murder and robbery, referred the 
 matter to the emperor and to a general coimcil. Bad 
 causes gain nothing by making a disturbance. 
 
 At every step they wished to drive him back, Farel 
 made one in advance. The streets and the houses were 
 still his temple. One day when the people of Neuf- 
 chatel were around him, " Why," cried they, " should 
 not the Word of God be proclaimed in a church '?" 
 They then hurried Farel along with them, opened the 
 doors of the Hospital Chapel, set the minister in the 
 pulpit, and a numerous crowd stood silent before him. 
 " In like manner as Jesus Christ, appearing in a state 
 of poverty and humility, was born in a stable at Beth- 
 lehem," said the reformer ; "so this hospital, this abode 
 of the sick and of the poor, is to-day become His birth- 
 place in the town of Neufchatel." Then, feeling ill at 
 ease in the presence of the painted and carved figures 
 that decorated the chapel, he laid his hands on these ob- 
 jects of idolatry, removed them, and broke them in pieces. 
 
 Popery, which anger had blinded, now took a step 
 that it undoubtedly had a right to take, but which 
 destroyed it : it had recourse to the secular arm, and 
 the governor sent a deputation to the Bernese council, 
 praying the removal of Farel and his companions. 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 But almost at the same time deputies from the towns- 
 people arrived at Berne. "Did not these hands bear arras 
 at Interlaken and at Bremgarten to support your Refor- 
 mation," said they, "and will you abandon us iu ours?" 
 
 Berne hesitated. A public calamity was at that time 
 filling the whole city with mourning. One of the most 
 illustrious citizens of the republic, the Banneret of 
 Weingarten, attacked by the plague, was expiring amid 
 the teai's of his sons and of bis fellow-citizens. Being 
 informed of the arrival of the Neufchatelans. he rallied 
 his waning strength, "Go," said he, "and l^-j tli^' 
 
 senate in my name to ask for a general assembly of 
 the people of Neufchatel for Sunday nest." This 
 message of the dying banneret decided the council. 
 
 The deputies from Berne arrived in Neufchatel on 
 the 7th August. Farel thought tliat during the debates 
 he had time to make a new conquest, and quitted the 
 city. His zeal can be compared only to St. Paul's. 
 His body was small and feeble, but his activity was 
 wholly apostolic : danger and bad treatment wasted 
 him every day, but he had within him a Divine power 
 lli:it i-.Midored him victorious. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Valangin— Guillemette de Vergy— Farel goes to tlie Val de Rnz— The Mass 
 interrupted— Farel dragged to the Elver— Farel ia Prison— Apostles 
 and Reformers compared— Farel Preaching at Neufchatel- Installed 
 in the Cathedral— A Whirlwind sweeps over the People— The Idols 
 Destroyed— Interposition of the Governor— Triumph of the Reformed. 
 
 At the distance of a league from Neufchatel, beyoud 
 the mountain, extends the Val de Ruz, and near its 
 entrance, in a jirecipitous situation, where roars an im- 
 petuous torrent, surrounded by steep crags, stands the 
 town of Valangin. An old castle built on a rock raises 
 its vast walls into the air, overlooking the humble dwell- 
 ings of the townspeople, and extending its jurisdiction 
 over five valleys of these lofty and severe mountains, 
 at that time covered with forests of pine, but now 
 peopled by the most active industry. 
 
 In this castle dwelt Guillemette de Vergy, dowager- 
 countess of Valangin, strongly attached to the Romish 
 religion, and full of i-espect for the memory of her 
 husband. A hundred priests had chanted high mass 
 at the count's burial ; when many penitent young 
 women had been married, and large alms distributed ; 
 the curate of Locle had been sent to Jerusalem, and 
 Guillemette herself had made a pilgrimage for the 
 repose of the soul of her departed lord. 
 
 Sometimes, however, the Countess of Gruyere and 
 other ladies would come and visit the widow of Vergy, 
 
 who assembled in the castle a number of young lords. 
 The fife and tambourine re-echoed under its vaulted 
 roofs, chattering groups collected in the immense em- 
 brasures of its Gothic windows, and merry dances fol- 
 lowed hard upon a long silence and gloomy devotien. 
 There was but one sentiment that never left Guille- 
 mette — this was her hatred against the Reformation, 
 in which she was warmly seconded by her intendant, 
 the Sieur of Bellegarde. 
 
 Guillemette and the priests had, in fact, reason to 
 
 1 tremble. The 15 th August was a great Romish festi- 
 
 [ val — Our Lady of August, or the Assumption, which 
 
 all the faithful of the Val de Ruz were preparing to 
 
 keep. This was the very day Farel selected. Ani- 
 
 ! mated by the fire and courage of Elijah, he set out for 
 
 j Valangin, and a young man, his fellow-countryman, 
 
 and, as it would appear, a distant relation. Anthony 
 
 Boyve, an ardent Christian and a man of decided 
 
 character, accompanied him. The two missionaries 
 
 climbed the mountain, plunged into the pine forest, 
 
 and then descending again into tlie valley, traversed 
 
 Valangin, where the vicinity of the castle did not give 
 
 them much encouragement to pause, and arrived at a 
 
 village, probably Boudevilliers, proposing to preach the 
 
 Gospel there. 
 
 Already on all sides the people were thronging to the 
 church ; Farel and his companion entered also with a 
 small number of the inhabitants who had heai'd him at 
 
FAREL DRAGGED TO THE RIVER. 
 
 513 I 
 
 Neufcliatel. The reformer immediately ascended tlie 
 pulpit, and the priest prepared to celebrate mass. The 
 combat bcfjan. Wliile Farel was preaching Jesus 
 Christ and His promises, the priest and the choir 
 were chanting the missal. The solemn moment ap- 
 proached : the iueffablc transubstantiatiou was about 
 to take place: the priest in-nuniuiccd the sacred words 
 over the elements. At tlii< in-hnil (lie people hesitate 
 no longer; ancient habits, an iriTsi-liblc influence, draw 
 them towards the altar; tiic preacher is deserted; the 
 kneeling crowd has recovered its old worship ; Rome 
 is triumphant. . . . Suddenly a young man springs 
 from the throng — traverses the choir — rushes to the 
 altar — snatches the host from the hands of the priest, 
 and cries, as he turns towards the people : " This is not 
 the God whom you should worship. He is above — in 
 heaven — in the majesty of the Father, and not, as you 
 believe, in the hands of a priest." This man was 
 Anthony I'ovve. 
 
 PI E R R E-PE 
 
 Such a diiiing act at first produced the desired effect. 
 The mass was interrupted, the chanting ceased, and the 
 crowd, as if struck by a supernatural intervention, re- 
 mained silent and motionless. Farel, who was still in 
 the pulpit, immediately took advantage of this calm, 
 and proclaimed that Christ tvhom the heaven must receive 
 witil the times of restitution of all things. Upon this the 
 priests and choristers with their adherents rushed to the 
 towers, ran up into the belfry, and sounded the tocsin. 
 
 These means succeeded: a crowd was collected, and 
 if Farel had not retired, his death and Boyve's would 
 have been inevitable. " But God," says the chronicle, 
 " delivered them." They crossed the interval that 
 separates Boudevilllers from Valangin, and drew near 
 the steep gorges of the torrent of the Seyou. But 
 how travei-se that town, which the tocsin had already 
 alarmed ? 
 
 Leaving Chauraont and its dark forests to the left, 
 these two heralds of the Gospel took a narrow path 
 that wound beneath the castle: they were stealing 
 cautiously along, when suddenly a shower of stones 
 assailed them, and at the same time a score of indivi- 
 duals, — priests, men, and women, — armed with clubs, 
 fell furiously upon them. " The priests had not the 
 gout either in their feet or arms," says a chronicler ; 
 " the ministers were so beaten that they nearly lost 
 their lives." 
 
 Madame de Vergy, who descended to the terrace, far 
 from moderating the anger of the priests, cried out: 
 "Drown them — drown them! throw them into the 
 Seyon — these Lutheran dogs, who have despised the 
 host !" In fact, the priests were beginning to drag the 
 two heretics towards the bridge. Never was Farel 
 nearer death. 
 
 On a sudden, from behind the last rock that hides 
 Valangin in the direction of the mountain, there ap- 
 peared "certain good persons of the Val de Ruz, com- 
 ing from Ncufchatel," and descending into the valley. 
 " What are you doing?" asked they of the priests, with 
 the intention, no doubt, of saving Farel ; "put them 
 rather in a place of safety, that they may answer for 
 their proceedings ? Would you deprive yourselves of 
 the only means in your power of discovering those in- 
 fected by the poison of Iprr^y.''' 
 
 k :e^. 
 
 The priests left off at these words, and conducted 
 the prisoners to the castle. As they were passing be- 
 fore a little chapel, which contained an image of the 
 Virgin, " Kneel down," said they to Farel and Boyve, 
 shewing them the statue ; " prostrate yourselves before 
 Our Lady!" Farel began to admonish them : "Wor- 
 ship one God alone in spirit and in truth," said he to 
 them, "and not dumb images without life or power." 
 But they, continues the chronicle, " greatly vexed at 
 his words and his firmness, inflicted on him so many 
 blows that he was covered with blood, which even 
 spirted on the walls of the chapel. For a long time 
 after the traces of it might still be seen." 
 
 They resumed their march — they entered the town — 
 they climbed the steep road that led to the esplanade 
 where Guillemette de Vergy and her attendants waited 
 for the "Lutherans;" so that, continues the chronicle, 
 "from beating them thus continually, they were con- 
 ducted, all covered with filth and blood, to the prisons, 
 and let down almost lifeless into the dungeon (croton) 
 of the castle of Valangin." Thus had Paul at Lystra 
 been stoned by the Jews, drawn out of the city, and 
 left for dead. The Apostles and the Reformers preached 
 the same doctrine and suffered the same treatment. 
 
 It may perhaps be said that Farel and Boyve were 
 too violent in tlieir attack ; but the Church of the 
 Middle Ages, which had fallen back into the legal 
 spirit of Judaism, and into all the corruptions that 
 flow from it, needed an energetic opposition to lead it 
 again to the principle of grace. Augustine and St. 
 
51^ 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 
 
 Paul i-e.appearefl in the Churcli of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury; and when we read of Boyve rushing in great 
 emotion on those who were about to worship the bread 
 of tlie mass, may we not recall to mind the action of 
 St. Paul, rending his clothes, and rnnning in among 
 the people who were desirous of worshipping men of 
 lib: passions irith themselves? 
 
 Farel and Boyve, thrust into the dungeons of the 
 castlo, could, like Paul and Silas in the prison at 
 Philippi, sinr/ pt-alses unto God. Messire de Bellegardo, 
 ever ready to persecute the Gospel, was preparing for 
 them a cruel end, when some townsmen of Neufchafcl 
 arrived to claim them. Madame de Valangiu dared 
 not refuse, and at the demand of the Bernese even 
 instituted an inquiry, " to put a good face on the 
 matter," says a manuscript. "Nevertheless, the priest 
 who had beaten Farel most never after failed to eat 
 daily at the lady's table, by way of recompense." But 
 this was of little consequence : the seed of truth had 
 been sown in the Val de Ruz. 
 
 At Neufchatel the Bernese supported the evangelical 
 citizens. The governor, whose resources were ex- 
 hausted, sent deputies to the princess, "begging her to 
 cross the mountains, to appease her people, who were 
 in terrible trouble in consequence of this Lutheran 
 religion." 
 
 Meantime the ferment increased. The townspeople 
 prayed the canons to give up the mass : they refused ; 
 whereupon the citizens presented them their reasons in 
 writing, and begged them to discuss the question with 
 Farel. Still the same refusal! — "But, for goodness' 
 sake, speak either for or against!" It was all of no 
 use ! 
 
 On Sunday, the 23d of October, Farel, who had re- 
 turned to Neufchatel, was preaching at the hospital. 
 lie knew that the magistrates of the city had deliberated 
 on the expediency of consecrating the cathedral itself 
 to the evangelical worship. " What, then," said he, 
 " will you not pay as much honour to the Gospel as 
 the other party does to the mass? . . . And if 
 this superstitious act is celebrated in the high church, 
 shall not the Gospel be proclaimed there also? At 
 these words all his hearers arose. "To the church!" 
 cried they; " to the church !" Impetuous men are de- 
 sirous of putting their hands to the work, to accomplish 
 what the prudence of the burgesses had proposed.^ 
 Tliey leave tlie hospital, and take Farel with them. 
 They climb the steep street of the castle : in vain 
 would the canons and their frightened followers stop 
 the crowd : they force a passage. Convinced that they 
 are advancing for God's glory, nothing can check them. 
 Insults and shouts assail them from every side, but in 
 the name of the truth they are defending they pro- 
 ceed : they open the gates of the Church of Our Lady; 
 they enter, and here a fresh struggle begins. The 
 canons and their friends assembled around the pulpit 
 endeavoured to stop Farel ; but all is useless. Tliey 
 have not to deal with a band of rioters. God has pro- 
 
 1 This is the conclusion I draw from various papers, and in particular 
 fiiiiu the report of the meeting held at Neufchatel by the Bernese deputies, 
 ill ivliieli the huaJs of the burgesses declare, that it appeared to them a very 
 
 i' ' iiwttrr to tal:c down the altars, £c. Hitherto only one phasis of this 
 
 aiiioii luis i)ci:n seen,— the popular movement; and the other, namely, the 
 legiil resolution of the magistrates of the city, appears to have been ovcr- 
 
 nounced in His Word, and the magistrates themselves 
 have passed a definitive resolution. The townspeople 
 advance, therefore, against the sacerdotal coterie ; they 
 form a close battalion, in the centre of which they 
 place the reformer. They succeed in making their way 
 through the opposing crowd, and at last place the 
 minister in the pulpit without auy harm befalling 
 him. 
 
 Immediately all is calm within the church and with- 
 out ; even the adversaries are silent, and Farel delivers 
 "one of the most effective sermons he had hitherto 
 preached." Their eyes ai'e opened ; their emotion in- 
 creases ; their hearts are melted ; the most obstinate 
 appear converted ; and from every part of the old 
 church these cries resound: "We will follow the 
 evangelical religion, both we and our children, and 
 in it will we live and die." 
 
 Suddenly a whirlwind, as it were, sweeps over this 
 multitude, and stirs it up like a vast sea. Farel's 
 hearers desire to imitate the pious King Josiah. " If 
 we take away these idols from before our eyes, will it 
 not be aiding us," said they, " in taking them from our 
 own hearts ? Once these idols broken, how many souls 
 among our fellow-citizens, now disturbed and hesitat- 
 ing, will be decided by this striking manifestation of 
 the truth ! We must save them as it were by fire." 
 
 This latter motive decided them, and then began a 
 scene that filled the Romanists with horror, and which 
 must, according to them, bring down the terrible judg- 
 ment of God on the city. 
 
 The very spot where this took place would seem to 
 add to its solemnity. To the north, the castle-walls 
 rise above the pointed crags of the gloomy but pic- 
 turesque valley of the Seyon, and the mountain in front 
 of the castle presents to the observer's eye little more 
 than bare rocks, vines, and black firs. But to the 
 south, beneath the terrace on which this tumultuous 
 scene was passing, lay the wide and tranquil waters of 
 the lake, with its fertile and picturesque shores ; and 
 in the distance the continuous summits of the higher 
 Alps, with their dazzling snows, their immense glaciers, 
 and gigantic peaks, stretch far away before the enrap- 
 tured eye. 
 
 On this platform the people of Neufchatel were in 
 commotion, paying little attention tp these noble scenes 
 of nature. The governor, whose castle adjoined the 
 church, was compelled to remain an idle spectator of 
 the excesses that he could not prevent; he was content 
 to leave us a description of them. "These daring fel- 
 lows," says he, " seize mattocks, hatchets, and hammers, 
 and thus march against the images of the saints." They 
 advance — they strike the statues and the altars — they 
 dash them to pieces. The figures carved in the four- 
 teenth century by the " imagers " of Count Louis are 
 not spared; and scarcely do the statues of the counts 
 themselves, which were mistaken for idols, escape 
 destruction. The townspeople collect all these frag- 
 ments of an idolatrous worship ; they carry them out 
 of the church, and throw them from the top of the 
 rock. The paintings meet with no better treatment. 
 "It is the devil," thought they with the early Christ- 
 ians, "who taught the world this art of statues, images, 
 and all sorts of likenesses." They tear out the eyes in 
 the pictures of the saints, and cut off their noses. The 
 
TRIUMPH OF THE REFORM. 
 
 crucifix itself is tlirowii down, for this wooden figure 
 usurps the liomage that Jesus Ciirist claims in the 
 lioart. One image, the most venerated of all, still 
 remains: it is Our Lady of Mercy, which Mary of 
 Savoy had preseuted to the collegiate church ; but Our 
 Lady herself is not spared. A hand more daring than 
 the rest strikes it, as in the fourth century the coloss.al 
 statue of Scrapis was struck. " They have even bored 
 out the eyes of Our Lady of Mercy, which the departed 
 lady your mother had caused to be made," wrote the 
 governor to the Duchess of Lougueville. 
 
 The reformed went still further: they seized the 
 patens iu which lay the corpus Domini, and flung them 
 from the top of the rock into the torrent; after which, 
 being desirous of shewing that the consecrated wafers 
 are mere bread, and not God himself, they distributed 
 them one to another and ate them. ... At this 
 sight the canons and chaplains could no longer remain 
 quiet. A cry of horror was heard; they ran up with 
 their .adherents, ,ind opposed force to force. At length 
 began the struggle that had been so much dreaded. 
 
 The provost Oliver of ITochberg, the canons Simon 
 of Neufchatel and Pontus of Soleilant,-all three mem- 
 bers of the privy council, had repaired hastily to the 
 castle, as well as the other councillors of the princess. 
 Until this moment they had remained silent spectators 
 of the scene ; but when they saw the two parties com- 
 ing to blows, they ordered all " the supporters of the 
 evangelical doctrine" to appear before the governor. 
 This was like trying to chain the winds. Besides, 
 wliy should the reformers stop? They were not acting 
 without legitimate authority. "Tell the governor," 
 replied the townspeople haughtily, " that in the con- 
 cerns of God and of our souls he has no command over 
 us." 
 
 George de Rive then discovered that his authority 
 failed against a power superior to his own. He must 
 yield, and save at least some remnants. He hastened, 
 therefore, to remove the images that still remained, 
 and to shut them up iu secret chambers. The citizens 
 of Xeufchatel allowed him to execute this measure. 
 " Save your gods," thought they, " preserve them under 
 strong bars, lost perchance a robber should deprive you 
 of the objects of your adoration !" By degrees the 
 tumult died away, tlie popular torrent returned within 
 its channel, and a short time after, in commemoration 
 of this great day, these words were inscribed on a pillar 
 of the church : — 
 
 l'aX, 1530, LE 23 OCTOBKE FCT OTEE ET ABATTUE 
 
 l'idolatrie de ceast pau les bourgeois.' 
 
 An immense revolution had been effected. Doubt- 
 less it would have been better if the images had been 
 taken away and the Gospel substituted in their place 
 with calmness, as at Zurich; but we must take into con- 
 sideration the dilliculties that so profound and contested 
 a change brings with it, and make allowance for the 
 inexperience and excesses inseparable from a first 
 explosion. He who should see in this revolution its 
 excesses only, would betray a singularly narrow mind. 
 It is the Gospel that triumphed on the esplanade of 
 the castle. It was no longer a few pictures or legends 
 
 1 On the 23d of Oetober, 1530, idolatry was overthrown .nnd removed from 
 this church by the citizens. 
 
 that were to speak to the imagination of the Ncuf- 
 chatelans: the revelation of Christ and of the Apostles, 
 as it had been preserved in the Holy Scriptures, was 
 restored to them. In place of the mysteries, symbols, 
 and miracles of Popery, the Reformatio:! brought 
 them sublime tenets, powerfnl doctrines, holy and 
 eternal truths. Instead of a mass, void of God, and 
 tilled with human puerilities, it restored to them the 
 Supper of our Lord Jesus Christ, His invisible yet real 
 and mighty presence. His promises giving peace to the 
 soul, and His Spirit, which changes the heart, aud is a 
 sure pledge of a glorious resurrection. All is gain in 
 such an exchange. 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 Tlio Romanists Demand a Ballot— Tho Bernese in Favour of tho Ri-forra— 
 Both Parties come to the Poll— Tho Prudhomraes of Neufchatel- Pro- 
 posed Delay— The Romanists grasp the Sword— The Voting— Majority 
 for Reform— Protestantism Pci-petual— The Image of Saint John— A 
 Jliracle— Retreat of the Canons— Popery and the Gos;iel. 
 
 The governor and his trusty friends had not, however, 
 lost all hope. '• It is only a minority," said they at tho 
 civstle, '• which lias taken part in the destruction of the 
 images: the majority of the nation still obeys the 
 ancient doctrine." M. de Rive had yet to learn that 
 if, in a popular movement, the minority only appears, 
 it is in some cases because the majority, being of the 
 same mind with it, prefers leaving the action to others. 
 However that may be, the governor, thinking himself 
 upon sure ground, resolved to put the preservation of 
 the mass to the vote. If the majority were doubtful, 
 the combined influence of the government and clergy 
 would make it incline to the side of Rome. The friends 
 of the Reformation perceiving this trick, and feeling 
 the necessity of securing the integrity of the votes, de- 
 manded the presence of Bernese commissioners. This 
 was at first refused. But Neufchatel, divided into two 
 hostile parties, might at any time see her streets run 
 blood : De Rive, therefore, called Berne to his aid. 
 
 Anthony Noll and Sulpice Archer, both members of 
 the council, with Jacques Tribolet, bailiff of the Isle of 
 St. John, all three devoted to the Reform, made their 
 entry into Neufchatel on the 4th November, — an event- 
 ful day for the principality, and one which would de- 
 cide its reformation. The deputies proceeded to the 
 castle, where they spoke with great haughtiness. 
 " Their excellencies of Berne," said they to the gover- 
 nor, " are much astonished that yon should oppose tho 
 true and pure Word of God. Desist immediately, or 
 else your state and lordsiiip may suffer for it." 
 
 George de Rive was amazed ; he had thought to 
 summon helpers, and he had found masters. He made, 
 however, an attempt to escape from the strait in which 
 he was caught. The Roman Catholic cantons of 
 Lucerne, Friburg, and Soleure, were also allies of the 
 state. The governor insinuated to the Bernese deputies 
 that he might well claim their intervention. At these 
 words the deputies indignantly arose, and declared to 
 M. dc Rive, that if he did so, he might be the cause of 
 his sovereign's losing Neufchatel. The governor saw 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the impossibility of escaping from tlie uet into which he 
 had fallen. There remained no alternative but sub- 
 mission, and to watch the current of events which it 
 was impossible for him to direct. 
 
 It was not thus with the canons and the nobles. Not 
 considering themselves beaten, they surrounded the 
 Bernese ; and mingling religion and politics, as is their 
 wont in similar cases," endeavoured to shake them. 
 "Do you not see," said they, ''that unless we support 
 the spiritual power, we shall compromise the civil 
 power? The surest bulwark of the throne is the altar ! 
 These men, whose defenders you have become, are but 
 a handful of mischief-makers : the majority are for the 
 mass!" — "Turn which way you like," replied one of 
 the stubborn Bernese, " even though the majority 
 should be on your side, still you must go that way; 
 never will our lordships abandon the defenders of the 
 evangelical faith. 
 
 The people assembled at the castle for the definitive 
 vote. The destiny of Neufchatel was about to be 
 decided. On oue hand were crowded around the gov- 
 ernor the privy council, the canons, and the most 
 zealous of the Romanists ; on the other were to be 
 seen the four aldermen, the town-council, and a great 
 number of the citizens, gravely ascending the steep 
 avenue leading to the government house, aud drawing 
 up in front of their adversaries. On both sides there 
 was the same attachment to their faith and the same 
 decision ; but arouud the canons were many anxious 
 minds, troubled hearts, and downcast eyes, while the 
 friends of the Reform advanced with uplifted heads, 
 firm looks, and hearts full of hope. 
 
 George de Rive, wishing to gain over their minds, 
 began to address them. He described the violence 
 with which the reformed had broken the images and 
 thrown down the altars. "And yet," continued he, 
 " who founded this church ? It was the princess's pre- 
 decessors, aud not the citizens. For which reason, I 
 demand that all those who have violently infringed our 
 sovereign's authority, be obliged to restore what they 
 have taken away, so that the holy mass and the canoni- 
 cal hours may be celebrated anew." 
 
 Upon this the jinid/iommes of Neufchatel advanced. 
 They were not a troop of young and giddy persons, as 
 the Papists had pretended ; they were grave citizens, 
 whose liberties were guaranteed, and who had weighed 
 what they had to say. " By the illumination of the 
 Holy Ghost," replied they, " and by the holy doctrines 
 of the Gospel, which are taught us in the pure Word 
 of God, we will shew that the mass is an abuse, with- 
 out any utility, and which conduces much more to the 
 damnation than to the salvation of souls. And we are 
 ready to prove that by taking away the altars, we have 
 done nothing that was not right and acceptable to 
 God." 
 
 Thus the two parties met face to face with "great 
 haired and division," says the Bernese report. The 
 arbitrators consulted together. The governor persisted, 
 feeling that this movement would decide the future. A 
 few votes would sutlice for the triumph of Rome, and 
 he reckoned on gaining them by his assurance. " You 
 should understand," said he, " that the majority of this 
 towu, men and women, adhere firmly to the ancient 
 faith. The others are hot-headed young soldiers, vain 
 
 of their persons, and puffed up with the new doctrine." 
 — " AVell !" replied the Bernese deputies, "to prevent 
 all mischief, let us settle this difference by the phu-ality 
 of suffrages, in accordance with the treaty of peace 
 made at Bremgarten between the cantons." 
 
 This was what the reformed desired. " The vote ! 
 the vote !" cried they, according to the expression con- 
 secrated to such cases. But the lord of Prangins and 
 the priests, who had desired it when they were alone, 
 shrunk back in the presence of Berne. " "We ask for 
 time," said they. If the reformed allowed themselves 
 to be cheated by these dilatory measures, all was over. 
 When once the Bernese had quitted Neufchatel, the 
 governor and the clergy would easily have the upper- 
 hand. They therefore remained firm. "No, no," 
 said they, "now! — no delay! — not a day! not an 
 hour!" But the governor, in the face of a proceeding 
 that would decide the legal fall of Popery, trembled'^ 
 and obstinately opposed the cries of the people. The 
 magistrates were already iudignaut, the burghers mur- 
 mui-ed, aud the most violent looked at their swords. 
 " They were resolved to compel us, sword in hand," 
 wrote the governor to the princess. A fresh storm 
 was gathering over Neufchatel. Yet a few more 
 miuutes' resistance, and it would burst forth upon 
 the church, the town, and the castle, destroying not 
 only statues, images, and altars, but "there would 
 have remained dead men," said the lord of Rive. 
 He gave way in trouble and affright. 
 
 At the news of this concession, the partisans of 
 Rome saw all their danger. They conferred, they con- 
 certed their measures, and in an instant their resolu- 
 tion was taken: they were resolved to fight. "My 
 lord," said they, turuing to M. de Rive, and touching 
 the hilt of their swords, " all of us who adhere to the 
 holy Sacrament are resolved to die martyrs for our 
 holy faith." This demonstration did not escape the 
 notice of the young soldiers who had returned from the 
 Genevese war. Oue minute more and the swords 
 would have been drawn, and the platform changed 
 into a battle-field. 
 
 Monseigneur de Prangins, more wily than orthodox, 
 shuddered at the thought. " I cannot suffer it," said 
 he to the most violent of his party; "such an enter- 
 prise would forfeit my mistress's state and lordship." — 
 "I consent," said he to the Bernese, "to take the votes, 
 with reserve, nevertheless, of the sovereignty, rights, 
 and lordship of Madame." — "And we," replied the 
 townspeople, " with the reserve of our liberties and 
 privileges." 
 
 The Romanists, seeing the political power they had 
 invoked now failing them, felt that all was lost. They 
 will save their honour at least in this great shipwreck ; 
 they will subscribe their names, that posterity may 
 know who had remained faithful to Rome. These 
 proud supporters of the hierarchy advanced towards 
 the governor ; tears coursed down their rough cheeks, 
 betraying thus their stifled anger. They wrote their 
 signatures as witnesses at the foot of the solemn testa- 
 ment that Popery was now drawing up iu Neufchatel, 
 in the presence of the Bernese deputies. They then 
 asked, with tears in their eyes, " that the names and 
 surnames of the good and of the perverse should be 
 written in perpetual memory, and declared that they 
 
PROTESTANTISM PERPETUAL. 
 
 517 
 
 were still sood and faithful burghers of Madame, and 
 would do her service unto death !" 
 
 The reformed burgesses were convinced that it was 
 only by frankly bearing testimony to their religious 
 convictions that they could discharge their duty before 
 (iod, their sovereign, and their fellow-citizens. So 
 tluit the Catholics had scarcely protested their fidelity 
 towards their lady, when, turning towards the governor, 
 the reformed cried out : " We say the same in every 
 other thing in which it shall please our Mistress to 
 command us, save and except the evangelical faith, in 
 which we will live and die." 
 
 Everything was then prepared for taking the votes. 
 The Church of Our Lady was opened, and the two 
 parties advanced between the shattered altars, torn 
 l)ictures, mutilated statues, and all those ruins of 
 i'upery, which clearly foretold to its partisans the last 
 and irrevocable defeat it was about to undergo. The 
 tliree lords of Berne took their station beside the 
 governor as arbitrators of the proceedings and presi- 
 dents of the assembly, and the voting began. 
 
 George de Rive, notwithstanding the despondency of 
 his friends, was not altogether without hope. All the 
 partisans of the ancient worship in Neufchatcl had 
 been forewarned ; and but a few days previously the 
 reformed themselves, by refusing a poll, had acknow- 
 ledged the numerical superiority of their adversaries. 
 But the friends of the Gospel in Neufchatel had a 
 courage and a hope that seemed to repose on a firmer 
 basis. Were they not the victorious party, and could 
 they be vanquished in the midst of their triumph? 
 
 The two parties, however, moved forward, con- 
 founded with one another, and each man gave his vote 
 in silence. They counted each other : the result ap- 
 peared uncertain ; fear froze each party by turns. At 
 length the majority seemed to declare itself ; — they 
 took out the votes, — the result was proclaimed. A 
 majority of eighteen voices gave the victory to the 
 Kefoi-mation, and the last blow to the Papacy ! 
 
 The Bernese lords immediately hastened to profit by 
 this advantage. "Live henceforth," said they, "in 
 good understanding with one another ; let the mass be 
 no longer celebrated; let no injury be done to the 
 priests ; and pay to your Lady, or to whomsoever they 
 may be justly due, all tithes, quit-rent, cense, and 
 revenues." These different points were proclaimed by 
 the assembly, and a report was immediately drawn up, 
 to which the deputies, the governors, and the magis- 
 trates of the city of Neufchatel affixed their respective 
 seals. 
 
 Farel did not appear in all this business : one might 
 have said that the reformer was not at Neufchatel : the 
 citizens appealed only to the Word of God ; and the 
 governor himself, in his long report to the princess, 
 does not once mention him. It was the Apostles of 
 our Lord, St. Peter, St. John, St. Paul, and St. James, 
 who, by their Divine writings, re-established the true 
 foundations of the Church in the midst of the people 
 of Neufchatel. The AVord of God was the law of the 
 pniMommes. In vain will the Eomau Church say, 
 " But these very Scriptures, — it is I who gave them to 
 you ; you cannot therefore believe in them without 
 believing in me." It is not from the Church of Home 
 that the Protestant Church receives the Bible. Pro- 
 
 testantism has always existed in the Church. It has 
 existed alone in every place where men have been en- 
 gaged iu the study of the Holy Scriptures, of their 
 Divine origin, of their interpretation, and iu their dis- 
 semination. The Protestantism of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury received the Bible from the Protestantism of every 
 age. When Rome speaks of the hierarchy, she is on 
 her own ground ; as soon as she speaks of the Scrip- 
 tures, she is on ours. If Farel had been put forward 
 in Neufchatel, he would not perhaps have been able 
 to stand against the pope ; but the AVord of Christ 
 alone was concerned, and Rome must fall before 
 Jesus. 
 
 Thus terminated, by a mutual contract, that day at 
 first so threatening. If the Reformed had sacrificed 
 any of their convictions to a false peace, disorder 
 would have been perpetuated in Neufchatel. A bold 
 manifestation of the truth, and the inevitable shocks 
 that accompanied it, far from destroying society, pre- 
 served it. This manifestation is the wind that lifts 
 the vessel from the rocks and brings it into the har- 
 bour. 
 
 The lord of Prangins felt that, between fellow- 
 citizens, " it is better to touch one another, even if it 
 be by collision, than to avoid each other continually." 
 The free explanation that had taken place had rendered 
 the opposition of the two parties less irritating. "I 
 give my promise," said the governor, " to undertake 
 nothing against the vote of this day, for I am myself 
 a witness that it has been honest, upright, without 
 danger, and without coercion." 
 
 It was necessary to dispose of the spoils of the van- 
 quished party: the governor opened the castle to them. 
 Thither were transported the relics, the ornaments of 
 the altars, the church papers, and even the organ; and 
 the mass, expelled from the city, was there mournfully 
 chanted every day. 
 
 All the ornaments, however, did not take this road. 
 Some days after, as two citizeus, named Fauche and 
 Sauge, were going out together to their vineyards, they 
 passed a little chapel, in which the latter had set up a 
 wooden figure of St. John. He said to his companion, 
 " There is an image I shall heat my stove with to- 
 morrow." And, iu fact, as he returned, he carried 
 away the saint and laid it down in front of his house. 
 
 The next morning he took the image and put it 
 on the fire. Immediately a horrible explosion spread 
 dismay through this humble family. The trembling 
 Fauche doubted not that it was a miracle of the saint, 
 and hastened to return to the mass. In vain did his 
 neighbour Sauge protest to him upon oath that, during 
 the night, he had made a hole in the statue, filled it 
 with gunpowder, and closed it up again. Fauche would 
 listen to nothing, and resolved to fiee from the ven- 
 geance of the saints. He went and settled with his 
 family at Morteau iu Tranche Comte. Such are the 
 miracles upon which the divinity of Rome reposes ! 
 
 By degrees everything became settled: some of 
 the canons, as Jacques Baillod, AVilliam de Pur}-, 
 and Benedict Chambrier, embraced the Reformation. 
 Others were recommended by the governor to the 
 priory of Motiers, in the Val de Travers ; and, in the 
 middle of November, at the time when the winds 
 began to rage among the mountains, several canons, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 surrouuded by a few singing-boys, — sad relics of the 
 nucient, powerful, rich, voluptuous, and hatighty chap- 
 ter of Neufcliatel, — painfully climbed the gorges of the 
 Jura, and went to conceal in these lofty and pictur- 
 esque valleys the disgrace of a defeat, which their long 
 disorders and their insupportable tyranny had but too 
 justly provoked. 
 
 During this time the new worship was organized. 
 In room of the high-altar were substituted two marble 
 tables to receive the bread and wine ; and the Word 
 of God was preached from a pulpit stripped of every 
 ornament. The pre-eminence of the Word, which 
 characterizes the evangelical worship, replaced in the 
 church of Neufcliatel the pre-eminence of the sacra- 
 ment, which characterizes Popery. Towards the end 
 of the second century, Rome, that ancient metropolis 
 of all religions, after having welcomed the Christian 
 worship iu its primitive purity, had gradually trans- 
 formed it into mysteries; a magic power had been 
 ascribed to certain forms ; and the reign of the sacri- 
 fice offered by the priest had succeeded to the reign of 
 the Word of God. The pi-eaching of Farel had re- 
 stored the AVord to the rights which belonged to it ; 
 and those vaulted roofs which the piety of Count 
 Ulrich II. had, on his return from Jerusalem, dedicated 
 to the worship of the Virgin, served at last, after four 
 centuries, to nourish the faithful, as iu the time of the 
 Apostles, "iu the words of faith and of good doctrine." 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Keaction preparing— Failure of the Plot— Parol iu Valangin and near the 
 Lake — De Bely at Fontaine — Farel's Sntferings — Marcourt at Valangin 
 — Disgi-accful Expedient— Vengeance— The Reform Eatabliahed-French 
 Switzerland characterized— Gathering Tempest. 
 
 The convention, drawn up under the mediation of 
 Berne, stipulated that " the change should take place 
 only in the city and parish of Neufchatel." Must the 
 rest of the country remain in darkness? This was not 
 Farel's wish, and the zeal of the citizens, iu its first 
 fervour, etfectually seconded him. They visited the 
 surrounding villages, exhorting some, combating others. 
 Those who were compelled to labour with their hands 
 during the day went thither at night. "Now, I am 
 informed," writes the governor to the princess, " that 
 they are working at a reformation night and day." 
 
 George de Eive, in alarm, convoked the magistrates 
 of all the districts in the earldom. These good folks 
 believed that their consciences, as well as their places, 
 depended upon Madame de Longueville. Affrighted 
 at the thought of freely receiving a new conviction 
 fi'om the Word of God, they were quite ready to 
 accept it from the countess as they would a new im- 
 post; — a sad helolism, in which religion springs from 
 the soil, instead of descending from heaven ! " We 
 desire to live and die under the protection of our Lady," 
 said the magistrates to the lord of Eive, " without 
 changing the ancient faith, until it he so ordered by her." 
 Home, eveu after her fall, could not receive a deeper 
 insult. 
 
 These assurances of fidelity and the absence of the 
 Bernese restored De Rive's confidence, and he secretly 
 prepared a reaction among the nobles and the lower 
 classes. There is in every historical catastrophe, in 
 the fall of groat establishments, and in the spectacle of 
 their ruins, something which excites and improves the 
 mind. This was what happened at the period in ques- 
 tion. Some were more zealous for Popery after its fall 
 than in its day of power. The clergy gliding into the 
 houses said mass to a few friends mysteriously called 
 together around a temjiorary altar. If a child was 
 born, the priest noiselessly arrived, breathed on the in- 
 fant, made the sign of the cross on its forehead and 
 breast, and baptized it according to the Roman ritual. 
 Thus they were rebuilding iu secret what had been 
 overthrown iu the light of day. At length a counter- 
 revolution was agreed upon ; and Christmas-day was 
 selected for the restoration of Roman Catholicism. 
 While the Christians' songs of joy should be rising to 
 heaven, the partisans of Rome were to rush into the 
 chnrch, expel the heretical assembly, overthrow the 
 pulpit and the holy table, restore the images, and cele- 
 brate the mass in triumph. Such was the plan of the 
 Neufchatelau vespers. 
 
 The plot got wind. Deputies from Berne arrived at 
 Neufchatel on the very eve of the festival. "You 
 must see to this," said they to the governor: if the 
 reformed are attacked, we, their co-bui'ghers, will pro- 
 tect them with all our power." The conspirators laid 
 down their ai-ms, and the Christmas hymns were not 
 disturbed. 
 
 This signal deliverance augmented the devotion and 
 zeal of the friends of the Gospel. Already Emer Bey- 
 nou of Serriere, where Farel had one day landed from 
 a small boat, ascending the pulpit, had said to his 
 parishioners : " If I have been a good priest, I desire 
 by the grace of God to be a still better pastor." It 
 was necessary for these words to be heard from every 
 pulpit. Farel recommenced a career of laboui's, fatigues, 
 and struggles, which the actions of the apostles aud 
 missionaries alone can equal. 
 
 Towards the end of the year 1530, he crossed the 
 mountain in the middle of winter, entered the church 
 of Yalangin, went into the pulpit, and began to preach 
 at the very moment that Guillemette de Vergy was 
 coming to mass. She endeavoured to shut the re- 
 former's mouth, but in vain, and the aged aud noble 
 dowager retired precipitately, saying: "I do not think 
 this is according to the old Gospels ; if there are any 
 new ones that encourage it, I am quite amazed." The 
 peo])le of Valangiu embraced the Gospel. The af- 
 frighted lieutenaut ran to Neufchatel, thence to Berne, 
 aud on the 11th February, 1531, laid his complaint 
 before the council ; but all was useless. " Why," said 
 their excellencies of Berne to him, " why should you 
 disturb the water of the river? let it flow freely on." 
 
 Farel immediately turned to the parishes on the 
 slopes between the lake aud Mount Jura. At Cor- 
 celles a fanatic crowd, well armed and led on by the 
 curate of Neufchatel, rushed into the church where the 
 minister was preaching, and he did not escape without 
 a wound. At Bcvay, the abbot John of Livron and 
 his monks collected a numerous body of friends, sur- 
 rounded the church, and having thus completed the 
 
DE BELY AT FONTAINE— FAREL'S SUFFERINGS. 
 
 blockade, catered the buikling, dragged the miuistei 
 from the puli)it, aud drove liiiii out with blows and 
 insults. Eucii time he reappeared, they pursued him 
 ns far as Auvernier with stones aud gunshots. 
 
 While Farel was thus preaching iu the plain, he sent 
 one of his brethren into the valley: it was John de 
 Ucly, a man of good family from Crest in Dauphiny. 
 IJeyond Valangin, at a little distance from Fontaine, 
 on the left side of the road to Cernier, was a stone 
 that remains to this day. Here in the open air, as if 
 in a magnificent temple, this herald of the Gospel be- 
 gan to proclaim salvation by grace.' Before him 
 stretched the declivity of Chaumont, dotted with the 
 pretty villages of Fenin, Villars, Sole, and Savaguier; 
 and beyond, where the mountains fell away, might be 
 seen the distant and picturesque chain of the Alps. 
 The most zealous of his hearers entreated him to enter 
 the church. He did so ; but suddenly the priest and 
 his curate "arrived with gi-eat noise." They proceeded 
 to the pulpit, dragged Bely down ; and then turning to 
 the women and young persons of the place, "excited 
 them to boat him and drive him away." 
 
 John do Bcly returned to Neufchatel, hooted and 
 bruised, like his friend after the affair at Valangin ; 
 but these evangelists followed the traces of the Apostle 
 Paul, whom neither whips nor scourges could arrest. 
 Do Bely often returned to Fontaine. The mass was 
 abolished erelong in this village : Bely was its pastor 
 for twenty-seven years ; his descendants have more 
 than once exercised the ministry there, and now they 
 form the most numerous family of agi-iciilturists in the 
 place. 
 
 Farel, after evangelizing the shores of the lake to 
 the south of Neufchatel, had gone to the north and 
 preached at St. Blaise. The populace, stirred up by 
 the priests and the lieutenant, had fallen upon him, 
 and Farel escaped from their hands, severely beaten, 
 spitting blood, aud scarcely to be recognised. His 
 friends had thrown him hurriedly into a boat, and con- 
 veyed him to Morat, where his wounds detained him 
 for some time. 
 
 At the report of this violence the reformed Neuf- 
 chatclans felt their blood boil. If the lieutenant, the 
 priest, and his flock, have bruised the body of Christ's 
 servant, which is truly the altar of the living God, 
 why should they spare dead idols ? Immediately they 
 rnsli to St. Blaise, throw down the images, and do the 
 same at the abbey of Fontaine-Andre, — a sanctuary of 
 the ancient worship. 
 
 The images still existed at Valangin, but their last 
 hour was about to strike. A Frenchman, Anthony 
 Marcourt, had been nominated pastor of Neufchatel. 
 Treading in Farel's footsteps, he repaired with a few 
 of the citizens to Valangin on the 14th June, a gi-eat 
 holiday in that town.* Scarcely had they arrived when 
 a numerous crowd pressed around the minister, listen- 
 ing to his words. The canons, who were on the watch 
 in their houses, and Madame de Vergy and M. de 
 
 1 It doc3 not appear that Bely could have stood and preached on thia 
 stone, as is generally said, unless what now remains is but a fragment of 
 tJic original. 
 
 s This incident is generally attributed to Faiel, but Choupard, following 
 an older manuscript, says It minUtre de XcK/'^alcl, by which title he always 
 means Marcourt, and never Faiel. 
 
 Bclicgarde from then- towers, .sought how they could 
 make a diversion against this heretical preaching.' 
 They could not employ force because of Berne. They 
 hud recourse to a brutal expedient, worthy of the 
 darkest days of Popery, and which, by insulting the 
 minister, might divert (they imagined) the attention of 
 the people, and change it into shouts and laughter. A 
 canon,' assisted by the countess's coachman, went to 
 the stables and took thence two auimals, which they 
 led to the spot where Marcourt was preaching. We 
 will throw a veil over this scene : it is one of those 
 disgraceful subjects that the pen of history refuses to 
 transcribe. But never did ])uuishment follow closer 
 upon crime. The conscience of the hearers was aroused 
 at the sight of this infamous spectacle. The torrent, 
 that such a proceeding was intended to check, rushed 
 out of its channel. The indignant people, undertaking 
 the defence of that religion which their opponents had 
 wished to insult, entered the church like an avenging 
 wave ; the ancient windows were broken, the shields 
 of the lords wore demolished, the relics scattered about, 
 the books torn, the images thrown down, and the altar 
 overturned. But this was not enough : the popular 
 wave, after sweeping out the church, flowed back 
 again, and dashed against the canons' houses. Their 
 inhabitants fled in consternation into the forests, aud 
 everything was destroyed iu their dwellings. 
 
 Guillemette de Vergy aud M. de Bellegarde, agitated 
 and trembling behind their battlements, repented, but 
 too late, of their monstrous expedient. They were the 
 only ones who had not yet felt the popular vengeance. 
 Their restless eyes watched the motions of the indig- 
 nant townspeople. The work is completed: the last 
 house is sacked! The burghers consult together. — 
 O horror ! — they turn towards the castle, — they ascend 
 the hill, — they draw near. Is, then, the abode of the 
 noble counts of Arberg about to be laid waste? But 
 no I — " We come," said the delegates standing near the 
 gate of the castle, — "we are come to demand justice 
 for the outrage committed against religion and its minis- 
 ter." They are permitted to enter, aud the trembling 
 countess orders the poor wretches to be punished who 
 had acted solely by her orders. But at the same time 
 she sends deputies to Berne, complaining of the "great 
 insults that had been offered her." Berne declared 
 that the reformed should pay for the damage ; but that 
 the countess should grant them the free exercise of 
 their worship. Jacques Veluzat, a native of Cham- 
 pagne, was the first pastor of Valangin. A little 
 later we shall see new struggles at the foot of Mount 
 Jura. 
 
 Thus was the Reformation established at Valangin, 
 as it had been at Neufchatel : the two capitals of these 
 mountains were gained to the Gospel. Erelong it re- 
 ceived a legal sanction. Francis, marquis of Rotheliu, 
 son of the Duchess of Longueville, arrived in the 
 principality in March, 15.31, with the intention of 
 playing on this small theatre the part of a Francis I. 
 But he soon found out that there are revolutions which 
 an irresistible hand has accomplished, and that must 
 be submitted to. Rothelin excluded from the estates 
 
 3 Some histori.ins say '* the coatdmtan of the countess ; " but Choupai-d, 
 on three different occasions, writes a canon. The latter is no doubt more 
 revolting; but there is nothing incredible in it 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of the earldom the canous who had hitherto formed the 
 first power, and replaced them by four bannerets and 
 four burgesses. Then, availing himself of the principle 
 that all abandoned property falls to the state, he laid 
 his hands upon their rich heritage, and proclaimed 
 freedom of conscience throughout the whole country. 
 All the necessary forms having been observed with 
 Madame, the politic M. de Rive became reformed also. 
 Such was the su])port Rome received from the state, 
 to which she had looked for her deliverance. 
 
 A great energy characterized the Reformation of 
 French Switzerland ; and this is shewn by the events 
 we have just witnessed. Men have attributed to Farel 
 this distinctive feature of his work ; but no man has 
 e\ 3r created his own times ; it is always, on the con- 
 trary, the times that create the man. The greater the 
 epoch, the less do individualities prevail in it. All the 
 good contained in the events we have just related came 
 
 from that Almighty Spu-it, of which the strongest men 
 are but weak instruments. All the evil proceeded from 
 the character of the people ; and, indeed, it was almost 
 always Popery that began these scenes of violence. 
 Farel submitted to the influence of his times, rather 
 than the times received his. A great man may be the 
 personification and the type of the epoch for which 
 God destines him : he is never its creator. 
 
 But it is time to quit the Jura and its beautiful 
 valleys, brightened by the vernal sun, to direct our 
 steps towards the Alps of German Switzerland, along 
 which thick clouds and horrible tempests are gathering. 
 The free and courageous people, who dwell there below 
 the eternal glaciers, or on the smiling banks of the 
 lakes, daily assume a fiercer aspect, and the collision 
 threatens to be sudden, violent, and terrible. We have 
 just been witnessing a glorious conquest : a dreadful 
 catastrophe awaits us. 
 
CHRISTIAN WARFARE. 
 
 BOOK XVL 
 
 SWITZEllLAKD — CATASTROPHE. — 1528-1531. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Two groat Lessons— Christian Warfare— Zwinglc, Pastor, Statesman, and 
 Goner.il— His noble Character— Persecutions— Swiss Catliolics seek an 
 Alliance with Austria— Great Dissatisfiiction— Deputation to the Forest 
 Cantons— Zwingle's Proposal— Moderation of Benie— Keyser's Martyr- 
 dom — Zwiugle and War- Zwingle's Error. 
 
 It was the will of God tliat at the very gates of His 
 revived Church there should be two great examples to 
 serve as lessous for future generations. Luther and 
 the German Reformation, declining the aid of the 
 temporal jiower, rejecting the force of arms, and look- 
 ing for victory only in the confession of the truth, were 
 destined to see their faith crowned with the most bril- 
 liant success ; while Zwingle and the Swiss Reforma- 
 tion, stretching out their hands to the mighty ones of 
 the earth, and grasping the sword, were fated to wit- 
 ness a horrible, cruel, and bloody catastrophe fall upon 
 the AVord of God — a catastrophe which threatened to 
 engulf the evangelical cause iu the most furious whirl- 
 pool. God is a jealous God, and gives not His glory 
 to another ; He claims to perform His own work him- 
 self, and to attain His ends sets other springs in motion 
 than those of a skilful diplomacy. 
 
 AVe are far from forgetting that we are called upon 
 to relate facts and not to discuss theories ; but there is 
 a principle which the history we are narrating sets 
 forth iu ca])ital letters : it is that professed in the 
 Gospel, where it says: The weapons ok our war- 
 
 FAUE ARE NOT CARNAL, BUT MIGHTY TIlROUGn GOD ! 
 
 1 In maintaining this truth we do not place ourselves on 
 the ground of any particular school, but on that of 
 universal conscience and of the Word of God. 
 
 Of all carnal support that religion can invoke, there 
 is none more injurious to it than arms and diplomacy. 
 The latter throws it into tortuous ways; the former 
 hurries it info paths of bloodshed ; and religion, from 
 whose brow has been torn the double wreath of truth 
 and meekness, presents but a degraded and humiliated 
 countenauce that no person can, that no person desires 
 to recognise. 
 
 It was the \ery extension of the Reform in Switzer- 
 land that exposed it to the dangers under which it 
 sunk. So long as it was concentrated at Zurich, it 
 continued a religious matter ; but when it had gained 
 Berne, Bale, Schaffhausen, St. Gall, Glaris, Appenzell, 
 and numerous bailiwicks, it formed inter-cantonal rela- 
 tions ; and — here was the error and misfortune — while 
 the connection should have taken place between church 
 and church, it was formed between state and state. 
 
 As soon as spiritual and political matters became 
 mingled together, the latter took the upperhand. 
 Zwingle erelong thought it his duty to examine not 
 only doctrinal, but also federal questions; and the 
 
 illustrious reformer might be seen, unconscious of the 
 snares beneath his feet, precipitating himself into a 
 course strewn with rocks, at the end of which a cruel 
 death awaited him. 
 
 The primitive Swiss cantons had resigned the right 
 of forming new alliances without the consent of all ; 
 but Zurich and Berne had reserved the power. Zwingle 
 thought himself therefore cpiite at liberty to promote 
 an alliance with the evangelical states. Constance 
 was the first city that gave her adhesion. But this 
 Christian co-burghery, which might become the germ 
 of a new confederation, immediately raised up numer- 
 ous adversaries against Zwingle, even among the par- 
 tisans of the Reformation. 
 
 There was yet time: Zwiugle might withdraw 
 from public affairs, and occupy himself entirely with 
 those of the Gospel. But no one iu Zurich had, like 
 him, that application to labour, that correct, keen, and 
 sure eye, so necessary for politicians. If he retired, 
 the vessel of the state would be left without a pilot. 
 Besides, he was convinced that political acts alone 
 could save the Reform. He resolved, therefore, to be 
 at one and the same time the man of the State and 
 of the Church. The registers prove that in his later 
 years he took part in the most important deliberations ; 
 and he was commissioned by the councils of his can- 
 ton to write letters, compose proclamations, and draw 
 up opinions. Already, before the dispute with Berne, 
 looking upon war as possible, he had traced out a very 
 detailed plan of defence, the manuscript of which is 
 still in existence. In 1528 he did still more; he shewed, 
 in a remarkable paper, how the republic should act 
 with regard to the empire, France, and other European 
 states, and with respect to the several cantons and 
 bailiwicks. Then, as if he had grown grey at the head 
 of the Helvetic troops, (and it is but just to remark that 
 he had long lived among soldiers,) he explained the 
 advantages there would be in surprising the enemy; 
 and described even the nature of the arms, and the 
 manner of employing them. In truth, an important 
 revolution was then taking place in the art of war. 
 The pastor of Zurich is at once the head of the state 
 and general of the army: this double — this triple part 
 of the reformer was the ruin of the Reformation and 
 of himself. Undoubtedly we must make allowances 
 for the men of this age, who, being accustomed to see 
 Rome wield two swords for so many centuries, did not 
 understand that they must take up one and leave the 
 other. We must admire the strength of that superior 
 genius, which, while pursuing a political course, in 
 which the greatest minds would have been absorbed, 
 ceased not, however, to display an indefatigable activity 
 as pastor, preacher, divine, and author. We must 
 acknowledge that the republican education of Zwiugle 
 
HISTORY OP THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 had taiiglit liim to confound his country with his 
 religion, and tliat there was in this great man enough 
 to iill up many lives. We must appreciate that indomi- 
 table courage which, relying upon justice, feared not, at 
 a time when Zurich had but one or two weak cities for 
 allies, to confront the redoubtable forces of the empire 
 and of the confederation ; but we should also see in the 
 great and terrible lesson that God gave him, a precept 
 for all times and every nation ; and finally, understand 
 what is often forgotten, that the kinr/dom of Christ is not 
 of this woi-ld. 
 
 The Roman Catholic cantons, on hearing of the new 
 alliances of the reformed, felt a violent indignation. 
 William of Diesbach, deputy from Berne at the diet, 
 was forced to submit to the keenest reproaches. The 
 sitting, for a while interrupted, was resumed imme- 
 diately after his departure. " They may try to patch 
 up the old faith," said the Bernese, as he withdrew ; 
 " it cannot, however, last any longer." In truth, they 
 patched away with all their might, but with a sharp 
 and envenomed needle that drew blood. Joseph Am 
 Berg of Schwytz and Jacques Stocker of Zug, bailiffs 
 of Thurgovia, behaved with cruelty towards all who 
 were attached to tlie Gospel. They enforced against 
 them fines, imprisonment, torture, the scourge, confis- 
 cation, and banishment ; they cut out the ministers' 
 tongues, beheaded them, or condemned them to be 
 burnt. At the same time they took away the Bibles and 
 all the evangelical books ; and if any poor Lutherans, 
 fleeing from Austria, crossed the Rhine and that low 
 valley where its calm waters flow between the Alps of 
 the Tyrol and of Ajipenzell — if these poor creatures, 
 tracked by the lansquenets, came to seek a refuge in 
 Switzerland, they were cruelly given up to their perse- 
 cutors. 
 
 The heavier lay the hands of the bailiffs on Thur- 
 govia and the Rheinthal, the greater conquests did the 
 Gospel make. The Bishop of Constance wrote to the 
 Five Cantons, that if they did not act with firmness, 
 all the country would embrace the Reform. In conse- 
 quence of this, the cantons convoked at Frauenfeld all 
 tlie prelates, nobles, judges, and persons of note in the 
 district ; and a second meeting taking place six days 
 after (Gth December, 1528) at Weinfeld, deputies from 
 Berne and Zurich entreated the assembly to consider 
 the honour of God above all things, and in no respect 
 to care for the threats of the world. A great agitation 
 followed upon this discourse. At last a majority called 
 for the preaching of the Word of God; the people 
 came to the same decision ; and the Rheinthal, as well 
 as Bremgarten, followed this example. 
 
 AVhat was to be done? The flood had become 
 hourly more encroaching. Must, then, the Forest Can- 
 tons open their valleys to it at last 1 Religious anti- 
 jsathies put an end to national antipathies ; and these 
 proud mountaineers, directing their looks beyond the 
 Rhine, thought of invoking the succour of Austria, 
 which they had vanquished at Morgarten and at Sem- 
 pach. The fanatical German party that had crushed 
 the revolted Swabian peasants was all-powerful on the 
 frontiers. Letters were exchanged ; messengers passed 
 to and fro across the river; at last they took advantage 
 of a wedding in high rank that was to take place at 
 Feldkirch in Swabia, six leagues from Appenzell. On 
 
 the 16th February, 1529, the marriage-party, forming 
 a brilliant cavalcade, in the midst of which the depu- 
 ties of the Five Cantons were concealed, made their 
 entry into Feldkirch, and Am Berg had an immediate 
 interview with the Austrian governor. " The power 
 of the enemies of our ancient faith has so increased," 
 said the Swiss, "that the friends of the Church can 
 resist them no longer. We therefore turn our eyes to 
 that illustrious prince who has saved in Germany the 
 faith of our fathers." 
 
 This alliance was so very unnatural, that the Austrlans 
 had some difliculty in believing it to be sincere. " Take 
 hostages," said the Waldstettes, " write the articles of 
 the treaty with your own hands ; command and we will 
 obey!" — "Very good!" replied the Austriaus; "in two 
 months you will find us again at Waldshut, and we will 
 let you know our conditions." 
 
 A rumour of these negotiations which spread abroad 
 excited great dissatisfaction, even in the partisans of 
 Rome. lu no place did it burst out with greater force 
 than in the council of Zug. The opposing parties were 
 violently agitated ; they stamped their feet, they started 
 from their seats, and were nearly coming to blows ; 
 but hatred prevailed over patriotism. The deputies of 
 the Forest Cantons appeared at Waldshut, they sus- 
 pended the arms of their cantons by the side of those 
 of the oppressors of Switzerland ; decorated their hats 
 with peacocks' feathers, (the badge of Austria,) and 
 laughed, drank, and chattered with the Imperialists. 
 This strange alliance was at last concluded. " Who- 
 ever shall form new sects among the peoi)le," it ran, 
 " shall be punished with death ; and, if need be, with 
 the help of Austria. This power, in case of emergency, 
 shall send into Switzerland six thousand foot soldiers, 
 and four hundred horse, with all requisite artillery. If 
 necessary, the reformed cantons shall be blockaded, and 
 all provisions intercepted." To the Romish cantons, 
 then, belongs the initiative of this measure so much 
 decried. Finally, Austria guaranteed to the Wald- 
 stettes the possession, not only of the common baili- 
 wicks, but of all the conquests that might be made on 
 the left bank of the Rhine. 
 
 Dejection and consternation immediately pervaded 
 all Switzerland. This national complaint, which 
 Bullinger has preserved, was sung in every direc- 
 tion : — 
 
 Wail, Helvetians, wail, 
 
 For the peacock's plume of prido 
 To tlie Forest Cantons' savago I)"ll 
 
 In friendsliiiJ is allied. 
 
 All the cantons not included in this alliance, with 
 the exception of Friburg, assembled in diet at Zurich, 
 and resolved to send a deputation to their mountain 
 confederates, with a view to reconciliation. The de- 
 putation, admitted at Schwytz in the jiresence of the 
 people, was able to execute its mission without tumult. 
 At Zug there was a cry of "No sermon! no sermon !" 
 At Altorf the answer was : " Would to God that your 
 new faith was buried for ever!" At Lucerne they 
 received this haughty i-eply: " We shall know how to 
 defend ourselves, our children, and our children's chil- 
 dren, from the poison of your I'ebellious priests." It 
 was at Unterwalden that the deputation met with the 
 worst reception. "We declare our alliance at an end," 
 
ZWINGLE AND WAR. 
 
 said tlicj'. " It is wc, — it is tlic other 'Waldstettcs who 
 are tiie real Swiss. Wc graciously admitted you into 
 our coufederation, and now you claim to become our 
 masters ! — Tlie emperor, Austria, France, Savoy, and 
 Vahiis will assist us ! " The deputies retired in as- 
 toiiishmout, shuddering as they passed before the 
 house of tlic secretary of state, wlierc they saw the 
 arms of Zurich, Berne, Bfde, and Strasburg, hanging 
 from a lofty gibbet. 
 
 The deputation had scarcely returned to Zurich and 
 made their report, when men's minds were inflamed. 
 Zwingle proposed to grant no peace to Unterwaldcn, 
 if it would not renounce foreign service, the alliance 
 with Austria, and the government of the common baili- 
 wicks. "No! no!" said Berne, that had just stilled 
 a civil war in its own canton, "let us not be so hasty. 
 When the rays of the sun shine forth, each one wishes 
 to set out ; but as soon a.s it begins to rain, every man 
 loses heart ! The Word of God enjoins peace. It is 
 not with pikes and lances that faith is made to enter 
 the heart. For this re;\sou, in the name of our Lord's 
 sufferings, we entreat you to moderate your anger." 
 
 This Christian exhortation would have succeeded, if 
 the fearful news that reached Zurich, on the very day 
 when the Bernese delivered their moderate speecli, had 
 uot rendered it unavailing. 
 
 On Saturday, the 22d May, Jacques Keyser, a pastor 
 and father of a family in the neighbourhood of the 
 (ireiffenscc, after coasting the fertile shores of this 
 litllo lake, crossed the rich pastures of the bailiwick of 
 ( Jruningen, passed near the Teutonic house of Bubikon 
 and the convent of Ruti, and reached that simple and 
 wild district bathed by the upper part of Lake Zurich. 
 Jlaking his way to Oberkirk, a parish in the Gaster 
 district, between the two lakes of Zurich and Wallen- 
 sladt, of which he had been nominated pastor, and 
 where he was to preach on the morrow, he crossed on 
 foot the lengthened and rounded Hanks of the Buch- 
 berg, fronting the picturesque heights of the Ammon. 
 He was confidently advancing into those woods which 
 for many weeks he had often traversed without ob- 
 struction, when he w-as suddenly seized by six men, 
 posted there to surprise him, and carried off to 
 Schwytz. "The bailiffs," said they to the magistrates, 
 " have ordered all innovating ministers to be brought 
 before tlie tribunals: here is one that wc bring you." 
 Although Zurich and Glaris interposed ; although 
 the government of Gaster, where Kc3-ser had been 
 taken, did not then belong to Schwytz; the lands- 
 gemeinde desired a victim, and on the 29th May, 
 tliey condemned the minister to be burnt alive. On 
 beitig informed of his sentence, Keyser burst into tears, 
 liut wlien the hour of execution arrived he walked 
 cheerfully to death, freely confessed his faith, and 
 gave thanks to the Lord even witii his latest breatii. 
 "Go and tell them at Zurich how he thanks lis!" said 
 one of the Schwytz magistrates, with a sarcastic smile, 
 to the Zurich deputies. Thus had a fresh martyr 
 fallen under the hands of that formidable power that 
 is drunk icit/i the blood of the saints. 
 
 The cup was full. The flames of Keyscr's pile be- 
 came the signal of war. Exasperated Zurich uttered 
 a cry that resounded through all the confederation. 
 Zwingle, above all, called for energetic mejisures. 
 
 Everywhere, — in the streets, in the councils, and even 
 in the pulpits, — he surpassed in daring even the most 
 valiant captains. He spoke at Zurich, — he wrote to 
 Berne. "Let us be firm, and fear not to take up arms," 
 said he. "This peace, which some desire so niucli, is 
 not peace, but war: while the war that wc call for is 
 not war, but peace. Wo thirst for no man's blood, but 
 we will clip the wings of the oligarchy. If we shun it, 
 the truth of the Gospel and the miuisters' lives will 
 never be secure among us." 
 
 Thus spoke Zwingle. In every part of Europe he 
 beheld the mighty ones of the earth aiding one another 
 to stifle the reviving animation of the Church ; and he 
 thought that without some decisive and energetic 
 movement, Christianity, overwhelmed by so many 
 blows, would soon fall back into its ancient slavery. 
 Luther under similar circumstances arrested the swords 
 ready to be crossed, and demanded that tlie Word of 
 God alone should appear on the field of battle. 
 Zwingle thought not thus. lu his opinion war was 
 not revolt, for Switzerland had no master. " Un- 
 doubtedly," said he, "we must trust in God alone ; but 
 when He gives us a just cause, we must also know how 
 to defend it, and like Joshua and Gideon, shed blood 
 in behalf of our country and our God." 
 
 If we adopt the principles of justice which govern 
 the rulers of nations, the advice of Zwingle was judi- 
 cious and irreproachable. It was the duty of the 
 Swiss magistrates to defend the oppressed against the 
 oppressor. But is uot such language, which might 
 have been suitable in the mouth of a magistrate, 
 blamable in a minister of Christ ? Perhaps Zwingle 
 forgot his quality of pastor, and considered himself 
 only as a citizen, consulted by his fellow-citizens ; 
 perhaps he wisiied to defend Switzerland, and uot the 
 Church, by his counsels; but it is a question if he ought 
 ever to have forgotten the Church aud his ministry. 
 We think we may go even further ; and while grant- 
 ing all that may be urged in favour of the contrary 
 supposition, we may deny that tlie secular power 
 ought ever to interfere with the sword to protect the 
 faith. 
 
 To accomplish his designs, the reformer needed, 
 even in Zurich, the greatest unity. But there were 
 many meu in that city devoted to interests and super- 
 stitious which were opposed to him. " How long," 
 he had exclaimed in the pulpit, on the 1st December, 
 1528, "how long will you support in the council these 
 unbelievers, these impious men, who oppose tlie AV^ord 
 of God?" They had decided upon purging the coun- 
 cil, as required by the reformer ; they had examined 
 the citizens iudividually ; and then had excluded all 
 the hostile members. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 Free Picaoliingof thcGosp 1 n. ■ i; us the Common 
 
 li:uli\vicks— M'ar— Zwin . AniiyThreatens 
 
 Zus— TlicI.an.lammanA. , ■ ,1 .. lu-lc'sOpposi- 
 
 liun-Swiss L'urdiaiitj— <,n : i ^ ' 'iif.ieuce— Peace 
 
 Restored— Austrian Treaty iDm-Zwiu^lt'a ll.vmu— Xuns of Saint 
 Catliorinc. 
 
 On Saturday, the 15th June, 1529, seven days after 
 
524 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Keyser's martyrdom, all Zuricli was in commotion. 
 The moment was come when Unterwalden should send 
 a governor to the common bailiwicks ; and the images, 
 having been burnt in those districts, Unterwalden had 
 sworn to take a signal revenge. Thus the consterna- 
 tion had become general. " Keyser's pile," thought 
 they, " will be rekindled in all our villages." Many of 
 the inhabitants flocked to Zurich, and ou their alarmed 
 and agitated features, one might, in imagination, have 
 seen reflected the flames that had just consumed the 
 martyr. 
 
 These unhappy people found a powerful advocate in 
 Zwingle. The reformer imagined that he had at last 
 attained the object he never ceased to pursue — the free 
 preaching of the Gospel in Switzerland. To inflict a 
 linal blow would, in his idea, suftice to bring this enter- 
 prise to a favourable issue. " Greedy pensioners," said 
 Zwingle to the Zurichers, "profit by the ignorance of 
 
 the mountaineers to stir up these simple souls against 
 the friends of the Gospel. Let us therefore be severe 
 upon these haughty chiefs. The mildness of the lamb 
 would only serve to render the wolf more ferocious. 
 Let us propose to the Five Cantons to allow the free 
 preaching of the Woi-d of the Lord, to renounce their 
 wicked alliances, and to punish the abettors of foreign 
 service. As for the mass, idols, rites, and supersti- 
 tions, let no one be forced to abandon them. It is for 
 the Word of God alone to scatter with its powerful 
 bi-eath all this idle dust. Be firm, noble lords, and in 
 despite of certain black horses, as black at Zurich as 
 they are at Lucerne, but whose malice will never suc- 
 ceed in overturning the chariot of Reform, we shall 
 clear this diflicult pass, and arrive at the unity of 
 Switzerland and at unity of faith." Thus Zwingle, 
 while calling for force against political abuses, asked 
 only liberty for the Gospel ; but he desired a prompt 
 
 intervention, in order that this liberty might be secured 
 to it. O^colampadius thought the same : " It is not a 
 time for delay," said he : " it is not a time for parsi- 
 mony and pusillanimity! So long as the venom shall 
 not be utterly removed from this adder in our bosoms 
 we shall be exposed to the greatest dangers. 
 
 The council of Zurich, led away by the reformer, 
 promised the bailiwicks to support religious liberty 
 among them ; and no sooner had they learnt that 
 Anthony ab Acker of Unterwalden was proceeding to 
 Baden Avith an army, than they ordered five hundred 
 men to set out for Bremgarten with four pieces of 
 artilleiy. This was the 5th June, and on the same 
 evening the standard of Zurich waved over the con- 
 vent of Mouri. 
 
 The war of religion had begun. The horn of the 
 AYaldstettes re-echoed afar in the mountains : men were 
 arming in every direction, and messengers were sent 
 off in haste to invoke the assistance of the Valais aud 
 of Austria. Three days later, (Tuesday, the 8th June,) 
 
 
 six hundred Zurichers, under the command of Jacques 
 AVerdmiiller, set out for Rapperschwyl and the district 
 of Gaster ; and, ou the morrow, four thousand men 
 repaired to Cappel, imder the command of the valiant 
 Captain George Berguer, to whom Conrad Schmidt, 
 pastor of Kussnacht, had been appointed chaplain. 
 " We do not wish you to go to the war," said Burgo- 
 master Roust to Zwingle; "for the pope, the Arch- 
 duke Ferdinand, the Romish cantons, the bishops, the 
 abbots, aud the prelates, hate you mortally. Stay with 
 the council: we have need of you." — "No!" rejilied 
 Zwingle, who was unwilling to confide so important an 
 enterprise to any one ; " when my brethren expose their 
 lives I will not remain quietly at home by my fireside. 
 Besides, the army also requires a watchful eye, that 
 looks continually around it." Then, taking down his 
 glittering halberd, which he had carried (as they say) 
 at Marignan, and placing it on his shoulder, the re- 
 former mounted his horse and set out with the army. 
 The walls, towers, and battlements were covered with 
 
ZWINGLE'S OPPOSITION— SWISS CORDIALITY. 
 
 a crowd of old men, children, and women, among 
 whom was Anna, Zwingle's wife. 
 
 Zurich li.ad called for tho aid of Berne ; but that 
 city, whose inhabitants shewed little disposition for a 
 religious war, and which besides was not pleased at 
 seeing tho increasing influence of Zurich, replied, 
 " Since Zurich has begun the war without us, let her 
 finish it in like manner." The evangelical states were 
 disunited at the very moment of the struggle. 
 
 The Romish cantons did not act thus. It was Zug 
 that issued the first summons ; and the men of Uri, of 
 Schwytz, and of Unterwalden, had immediately begun 
 to march. On the 8th .June, the great banner floated 
 before tho towuhouse of Lucerne, and on the next day 
 the army set out to the sound of the autique horns 
 that Lucerne pretended to have received from the 
 Emperor Charlemagne. 
 
 On the 10th Juno, the Zurichers, who were posted 
 af C.ippcl, sent a herald at daybreak to Zug, who was 
 (•omiiii-MoniMl, according to custom, to denounce to the 
 I'"i\c Ciiiiiniis ilie rupture of the alliance. Immediately 
 Ziii;- was lilLiI with cries and alarm. Tills canton, the 
 smallest in Switzerland, not having yet received all the 
 confederate contingents, was not in a condition to de- 
 fend itself. Tho people ran to and fro, sent off mes- 
 sengers, and hastily prepared for battle ; the warriors 
 fitted on their armour, the women shed tears, and the 
 children shrieked. 
 
 Already the first division of the Zurich army, amount- 
 ing to two thousand men, under the command of "Wil- 
 liam Thoming, and stationed near the frontier below 
 Cappel, was preparing to march, when they observed, 
 in the direction of Baar, a horseman pressing the flanks 
 of his steed, and galloping up as fast as the mountain 
 which he had to ascend would permit. It was Aebli, 
 landamnian of Claris. "The Five Cantons are pre- 
 pared," said he, as he arrived, " but I have prevailed 
 upon them to halt, if you will do the same. For this 
 reason I entreat my lords and the people of Zurich, for 
 the love of God and the safety of the confederation, to 
 suspend their march at the present moment." As he 
 uttered these words, the brave Helvetian shed tears. 
 " In a few hours," continued he, " I shall be back 
 again. I hope with God's grace to obtain an honour- 
 able peace, and to prevent our cottages from being 
 filled with widows and orphans." 
 
 Aebli was known to be an honourable man, friendly 
 to the Gospel, and opposed to foreign service : his 
 words, therefore, moved the Zurich captains, who re- 
 solved to halt. Zw ingle alone, motionless and uneasy, 
 beheld in his friend's iutervention the machinations of 
 the adversary. Austria, occupied in repelling the 
 Turks, and unable to succour the Five Cantons, had 
 exhorted them to peace. This, in Zwingle's opinion, 
 was the cause of the propositions brought to them by 
 the landamman of Glaris. So at the moment Aebli 
 turned round to return to Zug, Zwingle, .approaching 
 him, said with earnestness: " Gossip landamman, you 
 will render to God an account of all this. Our ad- 
 versaries are caught in a sack ; and hence they give 
 you sweet words. By and by they will fall upon us 
 unawares, and tlicre will be none to deliver us." 
 rrophclio words, whose fulfilment went beyond all 
 foresight! "Dear gossip!" replied the landamman, 
 
 " I have confidence in God that all will go well. Let 
 each one do his best." And he departed. 
 
 The army, instead of advancing upon Zug, now 
 began to erect tents along the edge of the forest and 
 the brink of the torrent, a few paces from the sentinels 
 of the Five Cantons ; while Zwingle, seated in his tent, 
 silent, sad, and in deep thought, anticipated some dis- 
 tressing news from hour to hour. 
 
 He had not long to wait. The deputies of the 
 Zurich council came to give reality to his fears. Berne, 
 maintaining the character that it had so often filled as 
 representative of the federal policy, declared, that if 
 Zurich or the cantons would not make peace, they 
 would find means to compel them : this state, at the 
 same time convoked a diet at Aran, and sent five 
 thousand men into the field, under the command of 
 Sebastian Diesbach. Zwingle was struck with constei'- 
 natiou. 
 
 Aebli's message, supported by that of Berne, was 
 sent back by the council to the army; for, according 
 to the principles of the time, "wherever the banner 
 waves, there is Zurich." — " Let us not be staggered," 
 cried the reformer, ever decided and firm ; " our des- 
 tiny depends upon our courage ; to-day they beg and 
 entreat, and in a month, when we have laid down our 
 arms, tliey will crush us. Let us stand firm in God. 
 Before all things, let us be just : peace will come after 
 that." But Zwingle, transformed to a statesman, began 
 to lose the influence which he had gained as a servant 
 of God. Many could not understand him, and asked 
 if what they had heard was really the language of a 
 minister of the Lord. " Ah !" said one of his friends, 
 who perhaps knew him best, Oswald Myconius, 
 " Zwingle certainly was an intrepid man in the midst 
 of danger ; but he always had a horror of blood, even 
 of that of his most deadly enemies. The freedom of 
 his country, the virtues of our forefathers, and, above 
 all, the glory of Christ, were the sole end of all his 
 designs. — I speak the truth, as if in the presence of 
 God," adds he. 
 
 AV'hile Zurich was sending deputies to Arau, the two 
 armies received reinforcements. The men of Thur- 
 govia and St. Gall joined their banners to that of 
 Zurich : the Valaisans and the men of St. Gothard 
 united with the Romanist cantons. The advanced 
 posts were in sight of each other at Thun, Leematt, 
 and Goldesbrunnen, on the delightful slopes of tho 
 Albis. 
 
 Never, perhaps, did Swiss cordiality shine forth 
 brighter with its ancient lustre. The soldiers called 
 to one another in a friendly manner, and shook hands, 
 styling themselves confederates and brothers. "We 
 shall not fight," said they. "A storm is passing over 
 our heads, but we will pray to God, and He will pre- 
 serve us from every harm." Scarcity afllicted the 
 army of the Five Cantons, while abundance reigned 
 in the camp of Zurich. Some young famishing Wald- 
 steltcs one day passed the outposts : the Zurichers 
 made them prisoners, conducted them to the camp, and 
 then sent them back laden with provisions, with still 
 greater good-nature than was shewn by Henry IV. at 
 the siege of Paris. At another time, some warriors of 
 the Five Cantons, having placed a bucket filled with 
 milk on the frontier-line, cried out to the Zurichers 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 that tliey had no bread. The latter came down im- 
 mediately, and cut their bread into the enemies' milk, 
 upon which the soldiers of the two parties began with 
 jokes to eat out of the same dish — some on this side, 
 some on that. The Zurichers were delighted that not- 
 withstanding the prohibition of their priests, the Wald- 
 sti'tlc's ate with heretics. When one of the troop took 
 .1 morsel that was on the side of his adversaries, the 
 latter sportively struck him with their spoons, and said: 
 " Do not cross tiie frontier !" Thus did these good 
 Helvetians make war upon one another ; and heuce it 
 was that the Burgomaster Sturm of Strasburg, one of 
 the mediators, exclaimed : " You confederates are a 
 sini;;ular people! When you are disunited, you live 
 still in liarmouy with one another, and your ancient 
 friendship never slumbers." 
 
 The most perfect order reigued in the camp of 
 Zurich. Every day Zwingle, the commander Schmidt, 
 Zink, abbot of Cappel, or some other minister, preached 
 among the soldiers. No oath or dispute was heard ; 
 all disorderly women were turned out of the camp ; 
 prayers were offered up before and after every meal ; 
 and each man obeyed his chiefs. There were no dice, 
 no cards, no games calculated to excite quarrels ; but 
 psalms, hymns, national songs, bodily exercise, wrest- 
 ling, or pitching the stone, were the military recrea- 
 tions of the Zurichers. The spirit that animated the 
 reformer had passed into the army. 
 
 The assembly at Aran, transported to Steinhausen 
 in the neighbourhood of the two camps, decreed that 
 each army should hear the complaints of the opposite 
 party. The reception of the deputies of the Five Can- 
 tons by the Zurichers was tolerably calm ; it was not 
 so in the other camp. 
 
 On the 15th June, fifty Zurichers, surrronnded by a 
 crowd of peasants, proceeded on horseback to the 
 Waldstettes. The sound of the trumpet, the roll of 
 the drum, and repeated salvos of artillery announced 
 their arrival. Nearly twelve thousand men of the 
 smaller cantons, in good order, with uplifted heads and 
 arrogant looks, were under arms. Escher of Zurich 
 spoke first, and many persons from the rural districts 
 enumerated their grievances after him, which the 
 Waldstettes thought exaggerated. "When have we 
 ever refused you the federal right '?" asked they. "Yes, 
 yes !" replied Funk, Zwingle's friend ; " we know how 
 you exercise it. That pastor (Keyser) appealed to it, 
 and you referred him — to the executioner !" " Funk, 
 you would have done better to have held your tongue," 
 said one of his friends. But the words had slipped 
 out : a dreadful tumult suddenly arose ; all the army of 
 the Waldstettes was in agitation; the most prudent 
 begged the Zurichers to retire promptly, and protected 
 their departure. 
 
 At length the treaty was concluded on the 20th 
 June, 1529. Zwingle did not obtain all he desired. 
 Instead of the free preaching of the Word of God, the 
 treaty stipulated only liberty of conscience ; it declared 
 that the common bailiwicks should pronounce for or 
 against the Reform by a majority of votes. Without 
 decreeing the abolition of foreign pensions, it was 
 recommended to the Romish cantons to renounce the 
 alliance formed with Austria ; the Five Cantons were 
 to pay the expenses of the war, Miu-ner to retract his 
 
 insulting words, and an indemnity was secured to 
 Keyser's family. 
 
 An incontrovertible success had just crowned the 
 warlike demonstration of Zurich. The Five Cantons 
 felt it. Gloomy, irritated, silently champing the bit 
 that had been placed in their mouths, their chiefs 
 could not decide upon giving u]) thf dcrd of their 
 alliance with Austria. Zurich iinnii'ili:it(ly recalled 
 her troops, the mediators redoubled tlnii- solicitutidus, 
 and the Bernese exclaimed: "If you do not deliver up 
 this document, we will ourselves go in procession and 
 tear it from your archives." At last it was brought to 
 Cappel on the 2Gth June, two hours after midnight. 
 All the army was drawn out at eleven in the forenoon, 
 and they began to read the treaty. The Zurichers 
 looked with astonishment at its breadth and excessive 
 length, and the nine seals which had been affixed, one 
 of which was in gold. But scarcely had a few words 
 been read, when Aebli, snatching the parchment, cried 
 out, "Enough, enough!" — "Read it, read it!" said the 
 Zurichers ; "we desire to learn their treason !" But the 
 Bailiff of Glaris replied boldly: "I would rather bo cut 
 in a thousand pieces than permit it." Then dashing 
 his knife into the parchment, he cut it in pieces in the 
 presence of Zwingle and the soldiers, and threw the 
 fragments to the secretary, who committed them to the 
 flames. " The paper was not Swiss," says Bullinger, 
 with sublime simplicity. 
 
 The bainicis amtc inunediately struck. The men of 
 Unterwaldiii ntii-.d in anger; those of Schywtz swore 
 they woidil Inr i\ii preserve their ancient faith ; while 
 the troops of Zuricli returned in triumph to their homes. 
 r>Ht the most opposite thoughts agitated Zwingle's mind. 
 " I hope," said he, doing violence to his feelings, " that 
 we bring back an honourable peace to our dwellings. 
 It was not to shed blood that we set out. God has 
 once again shewn the great ones of the earth that they 
 can do nothing against us." Whenever he gave way 
 to his natural disposition, a very different order of 
 thoughts took possession of his mind. He was seen 
 walking apart in deep dejection, and anticipating tlic 
 most gloomy future. In vain did the people surround 
 him with joyful shouts. "This peace," said he, "which 
 you consider a triumph, you will soon repent of, strik- 
 ing your breasts." It was at this time that, venting 
 his sorrow, he composed, as he was descending the 
 Albis, a celebrated hymn, often repeited to the sound 
 of music in the fields of Switzerland, among the 
 burghers of the confederate cities, and even in the 
 palaces of kings. The hymns of Luther and of 
 Zwingle play the same part in the German and Swiss 
 Reformation as the Psalms in that of France. 
 
 Do thou direct thy chariot, Lord, 
 
 And guide it at tliy wi.l ; 
 Without thy aid our strength is vain, 
 
 And useless all our sl;ill. 
 Look down upon thy saints brought low, 
 And ju-ostrate laid beneath the foe. 
 
 1 Satan's iuuuus hand. 
 
CONQUESTS OF KEFORM IN SCHAFFHAUSEN AND ZURZACK. 
 
 Send down tliy pcaco, aiul bauisli strife, 
 
 Let bitterness dopart; 
 Revive tlie spir'' °f "'« I'^^t 
 
 In every Swit2er*s heart ; 
 Thin ahull thy Churuh for over sing 
 Tlie praises other heavenly King, 
 
 An edict, published in the iinme of the confederates, 
 ordered tlie rcvivnl everywhere of tlie old friendship 
 ami brotherly coneord ; but decrees are powerless to 
 work such miracles. 
 
 This treaty of peace was, nevertheless, favourable to 
 the Reform. Undoubtedly it met with a violent 
 opposition in sonic places. The nuns of the vale of 
 St. Catherine, in Tliur^'ovia, deserted by their priests, 
 and excited by some noblemen beyond the Rhine, who 
 styled them in their letters, "Chivalrous women of the 
 house of God," sang mass themselves, and appointed 
 one of their number preacher to the convent. Certain 
 deputies from the Protestant cantons having had an 
 interview with them, the abbess and three of the nuns 
 secretly crossed the river by night, carrying with them 
 papers of the monastery and the ornaments of the 
 church. But such isolated resistance as this was un- 
 availing. Already, in 1529, Zwinglc was able to hold 
 a synod in Thurgnvi:i, which orL'aiiized the Church 
 there, and d. rr.M'd lint th>> iiropiTty of the' convents 
 shoidd be cin.-rc-i-alrd 1.. lli.- iii-liiiclinu of pious young 
 men in sacred leiiriiinj;-. Thus eiuieord and peace seemed 
 at last to be rc-cstabiishcd in the confederation. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 Conquests of Reform in Sehaffhausen anil Zurzack— Reform in Claris— 
 lo-ilay tlio Cowl, To-morrow the Reverse— Italian Bailiwicks— The 
 Monk of Corao— Egidio'b Hope for Italy— Call of the Monk of Locamo 
 — Uopcs of Reforming Italy— The Monks of Wettingen— Abbey of Saint 
 GaU— Kilian Kouffl— Saint Gall Recovers its Liberty— The Reform in 
 Soleure- Miracle of Saint Onrs— Popery Triumphs— Tlie Grisons In- 
 vaded by the Spaniards— Address of the Ministers to the Romish 
 Coutons— God's Word the Means of Unity— CEcolampadius for Spiritual 
 TnlUiencc— Autonomy of the Church. 
 
 ■WiiENKVER a conqueror abandons himself to his 
 triumph, in that very confidence he often finds de- 
 struction. Zurich and Zwingle were to exemplify this 
 mournful lesson of history. Taking advantage of the 
 national peace, they redoubled their exertions for the 
 tiiumph of the Gospel. This was a legitimate zeal, 
 but it was not always wisely directed. To attain the 
 unity of Switzerland by unity of faith was the object 
 of the Zurichers ; but they forgot that, by desiring to 
 force on a unity, it is broken to pieces, and that free- 
 dom is the only medium in which contr.try elements 
 can be dissolved, and a salutary union establi-hed. 
 "While Rome aims at unity by anathemas, imprison- 
 ment, and the stake. Christian truth demands unity 
 through liberty. And let us not fear that liberty, 
 expanding each individuality beyond measure, will 
 produce by this means an infinite multiplicity. While 
 wo urge every mind to attach itself to the Word of 
 God, we give it up to a power capable of restoring its 
 diverging opinions to a wholesome unity. 
 
 Zwingle at first signalized his victory by legitimate 
 conquests. He advanced with courage. "His eye 
 and his arm were everywhere." "A few wretched 
 mischief-makers," says Salat, a Romanist chronicler, 
 "penetrating into the Five Cantons, troubled men's 
 souls, distributed their frippery, scattered everywhere 
 little poems, tracts, and testaments, and were con- 
 tinually repeating that the people ought not to believe 
 the priests." This was not all : while the Reform was 
 destined to be confined around the lake of the Wald- 
 slettes to a few fruitless efforts, it made brilliant con- 
 quests among the cantons — the allies and sulijccts of 
 Switzerland ; and all the blows there inflicted on the 
 Papacy re-echoed amoug the lofty valleys of the primi- 
 tive cantons, and filled them with affright. Nowhere 
 had Popery shewn itself more determined than in the 
 Swiss mountains. A mixture of Romish despotism 
 and Helvetian roughness existed there. Rouie was 
 resolved to conquer all Switzerland, and yet she beheld 
 her most important positions successively wrested from 
 her. 
 
 On the 29th September, 1529, the citizens of Sehaff- 
 hausen removed the " great God " from the cathedral, 
 to the deep regret of a small number of devotees whom 
 the Roman worship still counted iu this city; then they 
 abolished the mass, and stretched out their hands to 
 Zurich and to Berne. 
 
 At Zurzack, near the confluence of the Rhine and 
 the Aar, at the moment when the priest of the place, 
 a man devoted to the ancient worship, was preaching 
 with zeal, a person named Tufel, (devil.) raising his 
 head, observed to him : " Sii', you are heaping insults 
 on good men, and loading the pope and the saints of 
 the Roman calendar with honour; pray, where do we 
 find that iu the Holy Scriptures?" This question, put 
 in a serious tone of voice, raised a sly smile on many 
 faces, and the congregation, with their eyes fixed on the 
 pulpit, awaited the reply. The priest, in astonishment 
 and at his wits's end, answered with a trembling voice: 
 " Devil is thy name ; thou actest like the devil, and 
 thou art the devil ! For this reason I will have no- 
 thing to do with thee." He then hastily left the pulpit, 
 and ran away as if Satan himself had been behind 
 him. Immediately the images were torn down, and 
 the mass abolishetl. The Roman Catholics sought to 
 console themselves by repeating everywhere: "At 
 Zurzack it was the devil who introduced the Refor- 
 mation." 
 
 The priests and warriors of the Forest Cantons be- 
 held the overthrow of the Romish faith in countries 
 that lay nearer to them. In the canton of Glaris, 
 whence by the steep passes of the Klaus and the 
 Pragel,' the Reform might suddenly fall upon Uri and 
 Schwytz, two men met face to face. At Mollis, 
 Fridoliu Brunner who questioned himself every day by 
 what means he could advance the cause of Christ, 
 attacked the abuses of the Church with the energy of 
 his friend Zwingle, and endeavoured to spread among 
 the people, who were passionately fond of war, the 
 peace and charity of the Gospel. At Glaris, on the 
 contrary, Valentine Tschudi studied with all the cir- 
 cumspection of his friend Erasmus to preserve a just 
 medium between Rome and the Reform. And although, 
 
 1 Tliis is the road by which the army of Su\raroff escaped in 1799. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ia consequence of Fridolin's preaching, the doctrines 
 of purgatory, indulgences, meritorious works, and in- 
 tercession of the saints, were looked at by the Glaro- 
 nais as mere follies and fables, they still believed, with 
 Tschudi, that the body and blood of Christ were sub- 
 stantially in the bread of tlic Lord's Supper. 
 
 At the same time a movement in opposition to the 
 Reform was taking place in that high and savage 
 valley, where the Linth, roaring at the foot of vast 
 rocks with jagged crests, — enormous citadels which 
 seem built in the air, — bathes the villages of Schwanden 
 and Euti with its waters. The Roman Catholics, 
 alarmed at the progress of the Gospel, and wishing to 
 save these mountains at least, had scattered with 
 liberal hands tlie money they derived from their 
 foreign pensions ; and from that time violent hostility 
 divided old friends, and men who appeared to have 
 been won over to the Gospel basely sought for a pre- 
 text to conceal a diNiriaCL'tul iliirlit. "Peter and I." 
 
 wrote liaMliPitcr, pastor of Ruti. in dcspau-, "are 
 labouring in the vineyard, but, alas ! the gi-apes we 
 gathered are not employed for the sacrifice, and the 
 very birds do not eat them. "We fish, but after having 
 toiled all night, we find that wo have only caught 
 leeches. Alas ! we are casting pearls before dogs, and 
 roses before swine ! " The spirit of revolt against the 
 Gospel soon descended from these valleys, with the 
 noisy waters of the Linth, as far as Glaris and Mollis. 
 "The council, as if it had been composed only of silly 
 women, shifted its sails every day," said Rasdorfer ; 
 " one day it will have the cowl, on the next it will not." 
 Glaris, like a leaf carried along on the bosom of one of 
 its torrents, and which the waves and eddies drive in 
 different directions, wavered, wheeled about, and was 
 nearly swallowed up. 
 
 But this crisis came to an end : the Gospel suddenly 
 regained strength, and on Easter Monday, 1630, a 
 general assembly of the people " put the mass and the 
 altars to the vote." A powerful party that relied upon 
 
 the Five Cantons vainly opposed the Reform. It was 
 proclaimed, and its vanquished and disconcerted enemies 
 were forced to content themselves, says BuUinger, witli 
 mysteriously concealing a few idols, which they re- 
 served for better days. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the Reform advanced in the 
 exterior Rhodes of Appenzell, and in the district of 
 Sargans. But what most exasperated the cantons that 
 remained faithful to the Romisli doctrines, was to see 
 it pass the Alps and appear in Italy, in those beautiful 
 districts round Lake Maggiore, where, near the em- 
 bouchure of the Maggia, within the walls of Locarno, 
 in the midst of laurels, pomegranates, and cypresses, 
 flourished the noble families of Orelli, Muralto, Ma- 
 goria, and Duni, and where floated, since 1512, the 
 sovereign standard of the cantons. "What!" said 
 the Waldstettes, "is it not enough that Zurich and 
 Zwingle infest Switzerland ! They have the impu- 
 dence to carry their pretended reform even into Italy, 
 — even into the country 
 of the pope 1" 
 
 Ore it irregularities 
 picv uled there among 
 tlie clergy: "Whoever 
 wishes to be damned 
 must become a priest," 
 was a common saying. 
 Hut the Gospel succeed- 
 1 in making its way 
 n uito that district. 
 \ iiionkof Como, Egidio 
 I'oi ta, who had taken 
 cowl in 1511, against j 
 ^\ )3lies of his family, j 
 i uggied for years in 
 ic Augustine convent, 
 nd nowhere found peace 
 for his soul. Motionless, 
 environed, as it appeared { 
 to him, with profound ] 
 night, he cried aloud : , 
 " Lord, what wilt thou 
 that I should do?" Ere- ! 
 long the monk of Como ! 
 thought he heard these words in his heart : " Go to ! 
 Ulrich Zwingle and he will tell thee." He rose 
 trembling with emotion. "It is you," wrote he to 
 Zwingle immediately, " but no ! it is not you, it is God 
 who, tlirough you, will deliver nie from the nets of the 
 hunters." " Translate the New Testament into Italian," 
 replied Zwingle; "I will undertake to get it printed at 
 Zurich." This is what the Reform did for Italy more 
 than three centuries ago. 
 
 Egidio therefore remained. He commenced trans- 
 lating the Gospel ; but at one time lie had to beg for 
 tlie convent, at another to repeat his " hours," and then 
 to accompany one of the fathers on his journeys. 
 Everything that surrounded him increased his distress. 
 He saw his country reduced to the greatest misery by 
 desolating wars — men formerly rich, holding out their 
 hands for alms — crowds of women driven by want to 
 the most shameful degradation. He imagined that a 
 great political deliverance could alone bring about the 
 religious independence of his fellow-countrymen. 
 
THE MONK OF LOCARNO. 
 
 Ou a sudden he thought tliat this happy hour was 
 arrived. He perceived a band of Lutiieran hms- 
 queuets descending the Alps. Their sen-ied pluihiuxes, 
 tiieir threatening looks, were directed towards the 
 banks of the Tiber. At their head marched Freuuds- 
 berg, wearing a chain of gold around his neck, and 
 saying: "If I reach Rome I will make use of it to 
 hang the pope." — " God wills to save us," wrote Egidio 
 to Zwingle : " write to the constable ; entreat him to 
 deliver the people over whom he rules — to take from 
 the shaven crowns, whose God is their belly, the 
 wealth which renders them so proud — and to distri- 
 bute it among the people who are dying of hunger. 
 Then let each one preach without fear the pure Word 
 of the Lord. — The strength of Antichrist is near its 
 fall !" 
 
 Thus, about the end of 1526, Egidio already dreamt 
 of the Reformation of Italy. From that time his letters 
 coase : the monk disappeared. There can be no doubt 
 that the arm of Rome was able to reach him, and that, 
 like so many others, he was plunged into the gloomy 
 dungeon of some convent. 
 
 In the spring of 1530, a new epoch commenced 
 for the Italian bailiwicks. Zuricli appointed Jacques 
 Werdmiiller bailiff of Locarno ; he was a grave man, 
 respected by all, and who even, in 1524, had kissed the 
 feet of the pope; he had since then been won over 
 to the Gospel, and had sat down at the feet of the 
 Saviour. "Go," said Zurich, "and bear yourself like 
 a Christian, and in all that concerns the Word of God 
 conform to the ordinances." Werdmiiller met with 
 nothing but darkness in every quarter. Yet, in the 
 midst of this gloom, a feeble glimmering seemed to 
 issue from a convent situated on the delightful shores 
 of Lake Maggiore. Among the Carmelites at Locarno 
 was a monk named Fontana, skilled in the Holy Scrip- 
 tures, aud animated with the same spirit that had 
 enlightened the monk of Como. The doctrine of sal- 
 vation, u-itlwut moni'i/ and icithovt price, which God 
 proclaims in the Gospel, filled him with love and joy. 
 "As long as I live," said he, "I will preach upon the 
 Epistles of St. Paul ;" for it was particularly in these 
 epistles that he had found the truth. Two monks, of 
 wiiose names we are ignorant, shared his sentiments. 
 Fontana wrote a letter "to all the Chm-ch of Christ in 
 Germany," which was forwarded to Zwingle. We 
 may imagine we hear that man of Macedonia, who 
 appeared in a vision to Paul in the night, calling him 
 to Europe, and saying. Come over and help us. — " Oh ! 
 trusty and well-beloved of Christ Jesus," cried the 
 monk of Locarno to Germany, "remember Lazarus, 
 the beggar, in the Gospel — remember that humble 
 Canaanitish woman, longing for the crumbs that fell 
 from the Lord's table ! Hungry as David, I have re- 
 course to the shew-bread placed upon the altar. A 
 poor traveller devoured by thirst, I rush to the springs 
 of living water. Plunged in darkness, bathed in tears, 
 we cry to you who know the mysteries of God to send 
 us by the hands of the munificent J. Werdmiiller all 
 the ^^Titings of the divine Zwingle, of the famous 
 Luther, of the skilful Melaucthon, of the mild (Ecolam- 
 padius, of the ingenious Pomerauus, of the learned 
 Lambert, of the elegant Breutz, of the penetrating 
 Bucer, of the studious Leo, of the vigilant HUtten, 
 
 and of the other illustrious doctors, if there are any 
 more. Excellent princes, pivots of the Church, our 
 holy mother, make haste to deliver from the slavery 
 of Babylon a city of Lombardy that has not yet known 
 the Gospel of Jesus Christ. A\'e are but three wlio 
 have combined together to fight on behalf of the truth ; 
 but it Wius beneath the blows of a small body of men, 
 chosen by God, and not by the thousands of Gideon, 
 that Midian fell. Who knows if, from a small spark, 
 God may not cause a great conflagration ?" 
 
 Thus three men on the banks of the Maggia hoped 
 at that time to reform Italy. They uttered a call to 
 wliich, for three centuries, the evangelical world has not 
 replied. Zurich, however, in these days of its strength 
 and of its faith, displayed a holy boldness, and dared 
 extend her heretical arms beyond the Alps. Hence 
 L^ri, Schwytz, Uuterwalden, and all tlie Romanists of 
 Switzerland, gave vent to loud and terrible threats, 
 swearing to arrest, even in Zurich itself, the course of 
 these presumptuous invasions. 
 
 But the Zurichers did not confine themselves to this : 
 they gave the confederates more serious cause of fear, 
 by waging incessant war against the convents — those 
 centres of ultramontane fanaticism. The extensive 
 monastery of Wettiugen, around which roll the waters 
 of the Limmat, and which, by its proximity to Zurich, 
 was exposed more than any other to the breath of 
 reform, was in violent commotion. Ou the 23d August, 
 1529, a great change took place ; the monks ceased to 
 sing mass; they cut off each other's beards, not with- 
 out shedding a few tears ; they laid down their frocks 
 and their hoods, and clothed themselves in becoming 
 secular dresses. Then, in astonishment at this meta- 
 morphosis, they listened devoutly to the sermon which 
 Sebastian Benli of Zurich came and preached to them, 
 and erelong employed themselves in propagating the 
 Gospel, and in singing psalms in German. Thus 
 Wettingen fell into the current of that river which 
 seemed to be everywhere reviving the confederation. 
 The cloister, ceasing to be a house for gaming, glut- 
 tony, and drunkenness, was changed into a school. 
 Two monks alone in all the monastery remained faith- 
 ful to the cowl. 
 
 The commander of Mulinen, without troubling him- 
 self about the threats of the Romish cantons, earnestly 
 pressed the commandery of St. John at Hitzkirch to- 
 wards the Reformation. The question was put to the 
 vote, and the majority declared in favour of the Word 
 of God. "Ah!" said the commander, "I have been 
 long pushing behind the chariot." On the 4th Septem- 
 ber the commandery was reformed. It was the same 
 with that of Wadenswyl, with the convent of Pfeffers, 
 and others besides. Even at Mury the majority de- 
 clared for the Gospel ; but the minority prevailed 
 through the support of the Five Cantons. A new 
 triumph, aud one of greater value, was destined to 
 indemnify the Reform, and to raise the indignation of 
 the Waklstettes to tlie iiighest pitch. 
 
 Tlie Abbot of St. Gall, by his wealth, by the number 
 of his subjects, and the influence which he exercised in 
 Switzerland, was one of the most formidable adver- 
 saries of the Gospel. In 1529, therefore, at the 
 moment when the army of Zurich took the field against 
 the Five Cantons, the Abbot Francis of Geisberg, in 
 2 m 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 alarm and at the brink of death, caused himself to be 
 hastily removed into the strong castle of Rohrschach, 
 not thinking himself secure except within its walls. 
 Four days after this, the illustrious Vadian, burgo- 
 master of St. Gall, entered the convent, and announced 
 the intention of the people to resume the use of their 
 cathedral-church, and to remove the images. The 
 monks were astonished at such audacity, and having 
 in vain protested and cried for help, put their most 
 precious effects in a place of safety, and fled to Ein- 
 sidlen. 
 
 Among these was Kilian KoufR, head-steward of the 
 abbey, a cunning and active monk, and, like Zwingle, a 
 native of the Tockenburg. Knowing how important 
 it was to find a successor to the abbot before the news 
 of his death was bruited abroad, he came to an under- 
 standing with those who waited on the prelate ; and 
 the latter dying on Tuesday in Holy Week, the meals 
 were carried as usual into his chamber, and with down- 
 cast eyes and low voice the attendants answered every 
 inquiry about his health. While this farce was going 
 on round a dead body, the monks who had assembled 
 at Eiusidlen repaired in all haste to Rapperschwyl, in 
 the territory of St. Gall, and there elected Kilian, who 
 had so skilfully managed the affair. The new abbot 
 went immediately to Rohrschach, and on Good Friday 
 he there proclaimed his own election and the death of 
 his predecessor. Zurich and Glaris declared they would 
 not recognise him, unless he could prove by the Holy 
 Scriptures that a monkish life was in conformity with 
 the Gospel. " We are ready to protect the house of 
 God," said they; "and for this reason we require that 
 it be consecrated anew to the Lord. But we do not 
 forget that it is our duty also to protect the people. 
 The free Church of Christ should raise its head in 
 the bosom of a free people." At the same time the 
 ministers of St. Gall published forty-two theses, in 
 which they asserted that convents were not " houses of 
 God, but houses of the devil." The abbot, supported 
 by Lucerne and Schwytz, which with Zurich and 
 Glaris exercised sovereign power in St. Gall, replied 
 that he could not dispute about rights which he held 
 from kings and emperors. The two natives of the 
 Tockenburg, Zwingle and Kilian, were thus struggling 
 around St. Gall, — the one claiming the people lor the 
 abbey, and the other the abbey for the people. The 
 array of Zurich having approached Wyl, Kilian seized 
 upon the treasures and muniments of the convent, and 
 fled precipitantly beyond the Rhine. As soon as peace 
 was concluded, the crafty monk put on a secular dress, 
 and crept mysteriously as far as Einsidlen, whence on 
 a sudden he made all Switzerland re-echo with his cries. 
 Zurich, in conjunction with Glaris, replied by publish- 
 ing a constitution, according to which a governor, 
 " confirmed in the evangelical faith," should preside 
 over the district, with a council of twelve members, 
 while the election of pastors was left to the parishes. 
 Not long afterwards, the abbot, expelled and a fugitive, 
 while crossing a river near Bregeutz, fell from his horse, 
 got entangled in his frock, and was drowned. Of the 
 two combatants from the Tockenburg, it was Zwingle 
 who gained the victory. 
 
 The convent was put up to sale, and was purchased 
 by the town of St. Gall, "with the exception," says 
 
 BuUinger, " of a detached building, called Hell, where 
 the monks were left who had not embraced the Reform." 
 The time having arrived when the governor sent by 
 Zurich was to give place to one from Lucerne, the 
 people of St. Gall called upon the latter to swear to 
 their constitution. "A governor has never been known," 
 replied he, " to make an oath to peasants ; it is the 
 peasants who should make the oath to the governor!" 
 Upon this he retired : the Zurich governor remained, 
 and the indignation of the Five Cantons against Zurich, 
 which so daringly assisted the people of St. Gall in 
 recovering their ancient liberties, rose to the highest 
 paroxysm of auger. 
 
 A few victories, however, consoled in some degree 
 the partisans of Rome. Soleure was for a long time 
 one of the most contested battle-fields. The citizens 
 and the learned were in favour of Reform : the patri- 
 cians and canons for Popery. Philip Grotz of Zug 
 was preaching the Gospel there, and the council desir- 
 ing to compel him to say mass, one hundred of the 
 reformed appeared iu the hall of assembly on the 13th 
 September, 1529, and with energy called for liberty of 
 conscience. As Zurich and Berne supported this de- 
 mand, their prayer was granted. 
 
 Upon this the most fanatical of the Roman Catholics, 
 exasperated at the concession, closed the gates of the 
 city, pointed the guns, and made a show of expelling 
 the friends of the Reform. The council prepare to 
 punish these agitators, when the reformed, willing to 
 set an example of Christian moderation, declared they 
 would forgive them. The Great Council then pub- 
 lished throughout the canton that the dominion of con- 
 science belonging to God alone, and faith being the 
 free gift of His grace, each one might follow the reli- 
 gion which he thought best. Thirty- four parishes 
 declared for the Reformation, and only two for the 
 mass. Almost all the rural districts were in favour of 
 the Gospel ; but tiie majority in the city sided with the 
 pope. Haller, whom the reformed of Soleure had 
 sent for, arrived, and it was a day of triiunph for 
 them. It was in the middle of winter: "To-day," 
 ironically observed one of the evangelical Christians, 
 " the patron saint (St. Ours) will sweat !" And in 
 truth — oh ! wonderful ! — drops of moisture fell from 
 the holy image ! It was simply a little Jioly water 
 that had frozen and then thawed. But the Romanists 
 would listen to no raillery on so illustrious a prodigy, 
 which may remind us of the blood of St. Januarius at 
 Naples. All the city resounded with piteous cries — 
 the bells were tolled — a general procession moved 
 through the streets — and high mass was sung iu 
 honour of the heavenly prince who had shewn in so 
 marvellous a manner the pangs he felt for his dearly 
 beloved. "It is the fat minister of Berne (Haller) 
 who is the cause of the saint's alarm," said the devout 
 old women. One of them declared that she would 
 thrust a knife into his body; and certain Roman 
 Catholics threatened to go to the Cordeliers' church 
 and murder the pastors who preached there. Upon 
 this the reformed rushed to that ciiurch and demanded 
 a public discussion : two hundred of their adversaries 
 posted themselves at the same time in the church of 
 St. Ours, and refused all inquiry. Neither of the two 
 parties was willing to be the first to abandon the camp 
 
THE ORISONS INVADED BY THE SPANIARDS. 
 
 in which it was entrenched. The senate, wishing to 
 clear the two churches tiius in a manner transformed 
 into citadels, announced tliat at Martinmas — /. e., nine 
 months later — a public disputation should take place. 
 But as the reformed found the delay too long, both par- 
 tics remained for a whole week more under arms. Com- 
 merce was interrupted — the public olliccs were closed 
 — messengers ran to and fro — arrangements were pro- 
 posed ; but the people were so stiff-necked, that no one 
 would give way. The city was in a state of siege. 
 At last all were agreed about the discussion, and the 
 ministers eominitfcd four tlieses to writing, which the 
 canons immediately attempted to refute. 
 
 Neverlheloss, they judged it a still better plan to 
 elude them. Nothing alarmed the Romanists so much 
 as a disputation. '• What need have we of any ?" said 
 they. " Do not the writings of the two parties declare 
 their sentiments'?" The conference was therefore put 
 off until tlio following year. Many of the reformed, 
 indignant at these delays, imprudently quitted the city; 
 and the councils, charmed at this result, which they 
 were far from expecting, hastily declared that the people 
 j should be free in the canton, but that in the city no 
 one should attack the mass. From that time the re- 
 formed were compelled every Sunday to leave Solenrc 
 and repair to tlie village of Zuchswyl to hear the 
 Word of God. Thus Popery, defeated in so many 
 places, triumphed in Soleure. 
 
 Zurich and the other reformed cantons attentively 
 watched these successes of their adversaries, and lent a 
 fearful ear to the threats of the Roman Catholics, who 
 were continually announcing the intervention of the 
 emperor ; when on a sudden a report was heard that 
 nine hundred Spaniards had entered the Grisons ; 
 that they were led by the chatclain of Musso, recently 
 invested with the title of marquis by Charles the Fifth ; 
 that the chatelain's brother-in-law, Didier d'Embs, 
 was also marching against the Swiss at the head of 
 three thousand imperial lansquenets ; and that the em- 
 peror himself was ready to support them with all his 
 forces. The Grisons uttered a cry of alarm. The 
 AValdstettes remained motionless ; but all the reformed 
 cantons assembled their troops, and eleven thousand 
 men began their march. The emperor and the Duke 
 of Milan having soon after declared that they would 
 not support the chatelain, this adventurer beheld his 
 castle razed to the ground, and was compelled to retire 
 to the banks of the Sesia, giving guarantees of future 
 tranquility; while the Swiss soldiers returned to their 
 homes, fired with indignation against the Five Cantons, 
 who, by their inactivity, had infringed the federal alli- 
 ance. " Our promi»t and enci-getic resistance," said 
 they, " has undoubtedly ballled their perfidious designs; 
 but the reaction is only adjourned. Although the 
 parchment of the Austrian alliance has been torn in 
 pieces, the alliance itself still exists. The truth has 
 freed us, but soon the imperial lansquenets will come 
 and try to place us again under the yoke of slavery." 
 
 Thus, in consequence of so many violent shocks, the 
 two parties that divided Switzerland had attained the 
 highest degree of irritation. The gulf that separated 
 them widened daily. The clouds — the forerunners of 
 the tempest — drove swiftly along the mountains, and 
 gathered threateningly abo^-e the valleys. Under these 
 
 circumstances Zwingle and his friends thought it their 
 duty to raise their voices, and if possible to avert the 
 storm. In like manner Nicholas de Flue had, in for- 
 mer days, thrown himself between the hostile parties. 
 
 On the 5th September, 1530, the principal ministers 
 of Zurich, Berne, Bille, and Strasburg, — O^colampa- 
 dius, Capito, Megander, Leo Juda, and Myconius, — 
 were assembled at Zurich in Zwingle's house. De- 
 sirous of taking a solemn step with the Five Cantons, 
 they drew up an address that was presented to the 
 Confederates at the meeting of the diet at Baden. 
 However unfavourable the deputies were, as a body, 
 to these heretical ministers, they nevertheless listened 
 to this epistle, but not without signs of impatience and 
 weariness. " You are aware, gracious lords, that con- 
 cord increases the power of states, and that discord 
 overthrows them. You arc yourselves a proof of the 
 fii-st of these truths. Setting out from a small begin- 
 ning, you have, by a good understanding one with 
 another, arrived at a great end. May God condescend 
 to prevent you also from giving a striking proof of the 
 second ! Whence comes disunion, if not from selfish- 
 ness? and how can we destroy this fatal passion 
 except by receiving from God the love of the common 
 weal ? For this reason we conjure you to allow the 
 Word of God to be freely preached among you, as did 
 your pious ancestors. When has there ever existed a 
 government, even among the heathens, which saw not 
 that the hand of God alone upholds a nation ? Do not 
 two drops of quicksilver unite as soon as you remove 
 that which separates them? Away, then, with that 
 which separates you from our cities, that is, the 
 absence of the Word of God ; and immediately the 
 Almighty will unite us, as our fathers were united. 
 Then, placed in your mountains as in the centre of 
 Christendom, you will be an example to it, its protec- 
 tion and its refuge ; and after having passed through 
 this vale of tears, being the terror of the wicked and 
 the consolation of the faithful, you will at last be 
 established in eternal happiness." 
 
 Tiius frankly did these men of God address their 
 brothers, the Waldstettes. But then- voice was not 
 attended to. "The ministers' sermon is rather long," 
 said some of the deputies yawning and stretching their 
 arms, while others pretended to find in it a new cause 
 of complaint against the cities. 
 
 This proceeding of the ministers was useless: the 
 Waldstettes rejected the AVord of God, which they 
 had been entreated to admit ; they rejected the hands 
 that were extended towards them in the name of Jesus 
 Christ. They called for the pope and not for the 
 Gospel. All hope of reconciliation appeared lost. 
 
 Some persons, however, had at that time a glimpse 
 of what might have saved Switzerland and the Refor- 
 mation — the aiitonomi/ (self-government) of the Church, 
 and its independence of political interests. Had they 
 been wise enough to decline the secular power to 
 secure the triumph of the Gospel, it is probable that 
 harmony might have been gradually established in the 
 Helvetic cantons, and that the Gospel would have con- 
 quered by its Divine strength. The power of the 
 AVord of God presented chances of success that were 
 not afforded by pikes and muskets. The energy of 
 faith, the influence of charity, would have proved a 
 
532 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 securer protection to Christians against the burning 
 piles of the WaWstettes than diplomatists and men-at- 
 arms. None of the reformers understood this so clearly 
 as CEcolampadius. His handsome countenance, the 
 serenity of his features, the mild expression of his eyes, 
 his long and venerable beard, the spirituality of his 
 expression, a certain dignity that inspired confidence 
 and respect, gave him rather the air of an apostle than 
 of a reformer. It was the power of the inner word that 
 he particularly extolled ; perhaps he even went too far 
 in spiritualism. But, however that may be, if any 
 man could have saved Reform from the misfortunes 
 that were about to befall it — that man was he. In 
 separatmg from the Papacy, he desired not to set up 
 the magistracy in its stead. "The magistrate who 
 should take away from the churches the authority that 
 belongs to them," wrote he to Zwingle, " would be 
 more intolerable than Antichrist himself, (L e., the 
 pope.)" — "The hand of the magistrate strikes with 
 the sword, but the hand of Christ heals. Christ has 
 not said. If tliy brother will not hear thee, tell it to the 
 magistrate, but — tell it to the Ohnrch. The functions 
 of the State are distinct from those of the Church. 
 The State is free to do many things which the purity 
 
 of the Gospel condemns." Qilcolampadius saw how 
 important it was that his convictions should prevail 
 among the reformed. This man, so mild and so 
 spiritual, feared not to stand forth boldly in defence of 
 doctrines then so novel. He expounded them before 
 a synodal assembly, and next developed them before 
 the senate of Bale. It is a strange circumstance that 
 these ideas, for a moment at least, were acceptable to 
 Zwingle ; but they displeased an assembly of the breth- 
 ren to whom he communicated them ; the politic Bucer, 
 above all, feared that this independence of the Church 
 would, in some measure, check the exercise of the 
 civil power. The exertions of Qilcolampadius to con- 
 stitute the Church were not, however, entirely unsuc- 
 cessful. In February, 1531, a diet of four reformed 
 cantons, (Bale, Zurich, Berne, and St. Gall,) was held 
 at Bale, in which it was agreed, that whenever any 
 difficulty should arise with regard to doctrine or wor- 
 ship, an assembly of divines and laymen should be 
 convoked, which should examine what the Word of 
 
 God said on the matter. This resolution, by givin 
 greater unity to the renovated Church, gave it als 
 fresh strength. 
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 Zwingle and the Christian State— Zwingle's Double Part — Zwingle and 
 Luther in Relation to Politics — Philip of Hesse and the Free Cities- 
 Projected Union between Zwingle and Luther — Zwingle's Political 
 Action— Project of Alliance against the Emperor— Zwingle Advocates 
 Active Resistance— He Destines the Imperial Crown lor Philip— Faults 
 of the Reformation— Embassy to Venice- Giddiness of the Reformation 
 — Projected Alliance with France — Zwingle's Plan of Alliance — Ap- 
 proaching Ruin— Slanders in the Five Cantons— Violence— Mysterious 
 Paper — Berne and Bale Vote for Peace — General Diet at Baden — Evan- 
 gelical Diet at Zurich— Political Reformation of Switzerland— Activity 
 of Zurich. 
 
 But it was too late to tread in this path which would 
 have prevented so many disasters. The Reformation 
 had already entered, with all her sails set, upon the 
 stormy ocean of politics, and terrible misfortunes were 
 gathering over her. The impulse communicated to 
 the Reform came from another than CEcolampadius. 
 Zwingle's proud and piercing eyes — his harsh features 
 — his bold step — all proclaimed in him a resolute mind 
 and the man of action. Nurtured in the exploits of 
 the heroes of antiquity, he threw himself, to save 
 Reform, in the footsteps of Demosthenes and Cato, 
 rather than in those of St. John and St. Paul. His 
 prompt and penetrating looks were turned to the right 
 and to the left — to the cabinets of kings and the coun- 
 cils of the people, whilst they should have been directed 
 •siilely to God. We have already seen, that as early as 
 l."»27, Zwingle, observing how all the powers were 
 rising against the Reformation, had conceived the plan 
 (if a co-burfjhery, or Christian State, which should unite 
 all the friends of the Word of God iu one holy and 
 powerful league. This was so much the easier as 
 Zwingle's reformation had won over Strasburg, Augs- 
 burg, Ulm, Reutlingen, Lindau, Memmingen, and 
 other towns of Upper Germany. Constance in De- 
 cember, 1527, Berne in June, 1528, St. Gall in Novem- 
 ber of the same year, Bienne in January, 1529, Mul- 
 hausen in February, Bale in March, Schaffhausen in 
 September, and Strasburg in December, entered into 
 this alliance. This political phasis of Zwingle's charac- 
 ter is, in the eyes of some persons, his highest claim to 
 glory; we do not hesitate to acknowledge it as his 
 greatest fault. The reformer, deserting the paths of 
 the apostles, allowed himself to be led astray by the 
 perverse example of Popery. The primitive Church 
 never oppose their persecutors but with the sentiments 
 derived from the Gospel of peace. Faith was the only 
 sword by which it vanquished the mighty ones of the 
 earth. Zwingle felt clearly that by entering into the 
 ways of worldly politicians, he was leaving those of a 
 minister of Christ ; he therefore sought to justify him- 
 self. " No doubt it is not by human strength," said 
 he, " it is by the strength of God alone that the Word 
 of the Lord should be upheld. But God often makes 
 use of men as instruments to succour men. Let us 
 therefore unite, and from the sources of the Rhine to 
 Strasburg, let us form but one people and one alliance." 
 
PROJECTED UNION— ZWINGLE'S FORESIGHT. 
 
 533 
 
 Zwingle played two parts at once — lie was a reformer 
 and a magistrate. But these are two cliaracters that 
 ought not more to be united tlian those of a minister 
 and of a soUlier. We will not altogether blame the 
 soldiers and the magistrates: in forming leagues and 
 drawing the sword, even for the sake of religion, they 
 act according to their point of view, although it is not 
 the same as ours ; but we must decidedly blame the 
 Christian minister who becomes a diplomatist or a 
 general. 
 
 In October, 1529, as we have already observed, 
 Zwingle repaired to Marburg, whitlier he had been 
 invited by Philip of Hesse ; and while neither of them 
 had been able to come to an understanding with Luther, 
 tlie landgrave and the Swiss reformer, animated by the 
 same bold and enterprising spirit, soon agreed together. 
 
 The two reformers differed not less in their political 
 than in their religious system. Luther, brought up iu 
 tiie cloister and in monastic submission, was imbued in 
 youtii with the writings of the Fathers of the Cliurch ; 
 Zwingle, on the other hand, reared in the midst of 
 Swiss liberty, had, during those early years which 
 decide the course of all the rest, imbibed the history of 
 the ancient republics. Thus, while Luther was iu 
 favour of a passive obedience, Zwingle advocated re- 
 sistance against tyrants. 
 
 These two men were the faithful representatives of 
 their respective nations. In the north of Germany, the 
 princes and nobility were the essential part of the 
 nation, and the people — strangers to all political liberty 
 — had only to obey. Thus, at the epoch of the Refor- 
 mation they were content to follow the voice of their 
 doctors and chiefs. In Switzerland, in the south of 
 Germany, and on the Rhine, on the contrary, many 
 cities, after long and violent struggles, had won civil 
 liberty ; and hence we find in almost every place the 
 people taking a decided part in the reform of the 
 Cliurch. There was good in this; but evil was close at 
 hand. The reformers, themselves men of the people, 
 who dared not act upon princes, might be tempted to 
 hurry away the people. It was easier for the Refor- 
 mation to unite with republics than with kings. This 
 facility nearly proved its ruin. The Gospel was thus 
 to learn that its alliance is in heaven. 
 
 There was, however, one prince with whom the 
 reformed party of the free states desired to be in union : 
 this was Philip of Hesse. It was he who in great 
 measure prompted Zwingle's warlike projects. Zwingle 
 desired to make him some return, and to introduce his 
 new friend into the evangelical league. But Berne, 
 watchful to avert anything that might iiTitate the 
 emperor and ita ancient confederates, rejected this 
 proposal, and thus excited a lively discontent in the 
 "Christian State." — "What!" cried the}', "do the 
 Bernese refuse an alliance that would be honourable 
 for us, acceptable to Jesus Christ, and terrible to our 
 adversaries ?" " The Bear," said the high-spirited 
 Zwingle, " is jealous of the Lion (Zurich ;) but there 
 will be an end to all these artifices, and victory will 
 remain with the bold." It would appear, indeed, 
 according to a letter in cipher, that the IJernese at last 
 sided with Zwingle, requiring only that this alliance 
 with a priuce of the empire should not be made public. 
 
 Still CEcolampadius had not given way, and his 
 
 meekness contended, although modestly, with the bold- 
 ness of his impetuous friend. He was convinced that 
 faith was destined to triumph only by the cordial union 
 of all believers. A valuable relief occurred to rc-ani- 
 matc his exertions. The deputies of the Christian co- 
 burghcry having assembled at Biile in ly.30, the envoys 
 from Strasburg endeavoured to reconcile Luther and 
 Zwingle. Qicolampadius wrote to Zwingle on the 
 subject, begging him to hasten to Bale, and not shew 
 himself too unyielding. " To say that the body and 
 blood of Christ are really in the Lord's Supper, may 
 appear to many too hard an expression," said he, " but 
 is it not softened, when it is added — spiritually and not 
 bodily?" 
 
 Zwingle was immoveable. " It is to flatter Luther 
 that you hold such language, and not to defend the 
 truth. Edere est credere." Nevertheless there were 
 men present at the meeting who were resolved upon 
 energetic measures. Brotherly love was on the eve of 
 triumphing: peace was to be obtained by union. The 
 Elector of Saxony himself proposed a concord of all 
 evangelical Christians, to which the Swiss cities were 
 invited by the landgrave to accede. A report spread 
 that Luther and Zwingle were about to make the same 
 confession of faith. Zwingle, calling to mind the early 
 professions of the Saxon reformer, said one day at table 
 before many witnesses, that Luther would not think so 
 erroneously about the Eucharist if be were not misled 
 by Melancthou. The union of the whole of the Refor- 
 mation seemed about to be concluded : it would have 
 vanquished by its own weapons. But Luther soon 
 proved that Zwingle was mistaken in his expectations. 
 He required a written engagement by which Zwingle 
 and CEcolampadius should adhere to his sentiments, 
 and the negotiations were broken off in consequence. 
 Concord having failed, there remained nothing but 
 war. CEcolampadius must be silent, and Zwingle 
 must act. 
 
 And iu truth from that hour Zwingle advanced 
 more and more along that fatal path into which he 
 was led by his character, his patriotism, and his 
 early habits. Stunned by so many violent shocks, 
 attacked by his enemies and by his brethren, he stag- 
 gered, and his head grew dizzy. From this period the 
 reformer almost entirely disappears, and we see in his 
 place the politician, the great citizen, who beholding 
 a formidable coalition preparing its chains for every 
 nation, stands up energetically against it. The em- 
 peror had just formed a close alliance with the pope. 
 If his deadly schemes were not opposed it would be all 
 over, in Zwingle's opinion, with reformation, wi h 
 religious and political liberty, and even with the ccn- 
 federation itself. " The emperor," said he, " is stir- 
 ring up friend against friend, enemy against enemy: 
 and then he endeavours to raise out of this confusion 
 the glory of the Papacy, and, above all, his own power. 
 He excites the Chatelain of JIusso against the Grisons 
 — Duke George of Saxony against Duke John — the 
 Bishop of Constance against the city — the Duke of 
 Savoy against Berne — the Five Cantons against Zurich 
 — and the bishops of the Rhine against the landgrave ; 
 then, when the confusion shall have become general, 
 he will fall upon Germany, will offer himself as a me- 
 diator, and ensnare princes and cities by fine speeches, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 until he has them all under his feet. Alas ! what dis- 
 cord, what disasters, under the pretence of re-estab- 
 lishing the empire and restoring religion !" Zwingle 
 went farther. The reformer of a small town in Swit- 
 zerland, rising to the most astonishing political concep- 
 tions, called for a European alliance against such fatal 
 designs. The son of a peasant of the Tockenburg held 
 up his head against the heir of so many crowns. " That 
 man must either be a traitor or a coward," wrote he to 
 a senator of Constance, " who is content to stretch and 
 yawn, when he ought to be collecting men and arms 
 on every side, to convince the emperor that in vain he 
 strives to re-establish the Eomish faith, to enslave the 
 free cities, and to subdue the Helvetians. He shewed 
 us only six months ago how he would proceed. To- 
 day he will take one city iu hand, to-morrow another; 
 and so, step by step, until they are all reduced. Then 
 their arms will be taken away, theu- treasures, their 
 machines of war, and all their power. . . . Arouse 
 Lindau and all your neighbours ; if they do not awake 
 public liberty will perish under the pretext of religion. 
 We must place no confidence in the friendship of 
 tyrants. Demosthenes teaches us that there is nothing 
 so hateful in their eyes as tiiv tuv voXiuv (XevBepim.^ The 
 emperor with one hand offers us bread, but iu the 
 other he conceals a stone." And a few months later 
 Zwingle wrote to hia friends iu Constance: "Be bold; 
 fear not the schemes of Charles. The razor will cut 
 him who is sharpening it." 
 
 Away, then, with delay! Should they wait until 
 Charles the Fifth claimed the ancient castle of Haps- 
 burg? The Papacy and the empire, it was said at 
 Zurich, are so confounded together, that one cannot 
 exist or perish without the other. Whoever rejects 
 Popery should reject the empire, and whoever rejects 
 the emperor should reject the pope. 
 
 It appears that Zwingle's thoughts oven went beyond 
 a simple resistance. When once the Gospel had ceased 
 to be his principal study, there was nothing that could 
 arrest him. " A single individual," said he, " must not 
 take it into his head to dethrone a tyrant ; this would 
 be a revolt, and the kingdom of God commands peace, 
 righteousness, and joy. But if a whole people with 
 common accord, or if the majority at least rejects him, 
 without committing any excess, it is God himself who 
 acts." Charles V. was at that time a tyrant in Zwingle's 
 eyes ; and the reformer hoped that Europe, awakening 
 at length from its long slumber, would be the hand of 
 God to hurl him from his throne. 
 
 Never since the time of Demosthenes and of the two 
 Catos had the world seen a more energetic resistance 
 to the power of its oppressors. Zwingle, in a political 
 point of view, is one of the greatest characters of 
 modern times : we must pay him this honour, which 
 is, perhaps, for a minister of God, the greatest reproach. 
 Everything was prepared, in his mind, to bring about 
 a revolution that would have changed the history of 
 Europe. He knew what he desired to substitute in 
 place of the power he wished to overthrow. He had 
 already cast his eyes upon the prince who was to wear 
 the imperial crown instead of Charles. It was his 
 friend the landgi-ave. "Most gracious prince," wrote 
 he, on the 2d November, 1529, "if I write to you as a 
 
 1 "The freedom of cities." These words are iu Greek in the original. 
 
 child to a father, it is because I hope that God has 
 chosen you for great events. ... I dare think, 
 but I dare not speak of them. . . . However, we 
 must bell the cat at last. . . . All that I can do 
 with my feeble means to manifest the truth, to save 
 the universal Church, to augment your power and the 
 power of those who love God — with God's help, 1 will 
 do." Thus was this great man led astray. It is the 
 will of God that there be spots even in those who 
 shine brightest iu the eyes of the world, and that only 
 one upon earth shall say, \V7iich of ijoii] coiivinceth me 
 of sin? We are now viewing the faults of the Refor- 
 mation : they arise from the imion of religion with 
 politics. I could not take upon myself to pass them 
 by; the recollection of the errors of our predecessors is 
 perhaps the most useful legacy they have bequeathed 
 to us. 
 
 It appears that already at Mai'burg Zwingle and the 
 landgrave had drawn out the first sketch of a general 
 alliauce against Charles V. The landgrave had under- 
 taken to bring over the princes, Zwingle the free cities 
 of Southern Germany and Switzerland. He went still 
 farther, and formed a plan of gaining over to this 
 league the republics of Italy — the powerful Venice at 
 least — that she might detain the emperor beyond the 
 Alps, and prevent him from leading all his forces into 
 Germany. Zwingle, who had earnestly pleaded against 
 all foreign alliances, and proclaimed on so many occa- 
 sions that the only ally of the Swiss should be the arm 
 of the Almighty, began now to look around for what 
 he had condemned, and thus prepared the way for the 
 terrible judgment that was about to strike his family, 
 his country, and his Church. 
 
 He had hardly returned from Marburg, and had 
 made no official communication to the Great Council, 
 when he obtained from the senate the nomination of 
 an ambassador to Venice. Great men, after their first 
 success, easily imagine that they can do everything. It 
 was not a statesman who was charged with this mission, 
 but one of Zwingle's friends, who had accompanied 
 him into Germany, to the court of the future chief of 
 the new empire — the Greek professor, Rodolph Collins, 
 a bold and skilful man, and who knew Italian. Thus 
 the Reform stretched its hands to the Doge and the 
 Procurator of St. Marc. The Bible was not enough 
 for it — it must have the Golden Book: never did a 
 greater humiliation befall God's work. The opinion 
 which Protestants then entertained of Venice may, 
 however, partly excuse Zwingle. There was in that 
 city more independence of the pope, more freedom of 
 thought, than in all the rest of Italy. Luther himself 
 about this time wrote to Gabriel Zwilliug, pastor at 
 Torgau : " With what joy do I learn what you write to 
 me concerning the Venetians. God be praised and 
 glorified, for that they have received His Word!" 
 
 Collins was admitted, on the 2Gth December, to an 
 audience with the doge and senate, who looked with an 
 air of astonishment at this schoolmaster, this strange 
 ambassador, without attendants, and without parade. 
 They could not even understand his credentials, in so 
 singular a style were they drawn up, and Collins was 
 forced to explain their meaning. "I am come to you," 
 said he, "in the name of the council of Zurich and of 
 the cities of the Christian co-burghery — free cities, like 
 
PROJECTED ALLIANCE WITH FEANCE. 
 
 Venice, and to ■\vliich common interests should unite 
 you. The power of the emperor is formidable to 
 ropublics ; he is aiming at a universal monarchy in 
 Europe ; if he succeeds, all the free states will perish. 
 AVe must therefore check him." Tlie doge replied that 
 the republic had just concluded an alliance with the 
 emperor, and betrayed the distrust that so mysterious 
 a mission excited in the Venetian senate. But after- 
 wards, in a private conference, the doge, wishing to 
 preserve a retreat on both sides, added, that Venice 
 gratefully received the message from Zurich, and that 
 a Venetian regiment, armed and paid by the republic 
 itself, should be always ready to support the evangelical 
 Swiss. The chancellor, covered with his purple robe, 
 attended Collins to the door, and, at the very gates of 
 the ducal palace, confirmed the promise of support. 
 The moment the Reformation passed the magnificent 
 porticos of St. Marc it was seized with giddiness ; it 
 could but stagger onwards to the abyss. They dis- 
 missed poor Collins by placing iu his hands a present 
 of twenty crowns. The rumour of these negotiations 
 soon s{)read abroad, and the less suspicious, Capito for 
 example, shook their heads, and could see in this pre- 
 tended agreement nothing but the accustomed perfidy 
 of Venice. 
 
 This was not enough. The cause of the Reform was 
 fated to drink the cup of degradation to the veiy dregs. 
 Zwiugle, seeing that his adversaries in the empire in- 
 creased daily in numbers and in power, gradually lost 
 his ancient aversion for France; and, although there 
 was now a greater obstacle than before between him 
 and Francis I., — the blood of his brethren shed by that 
 monarch, — he shewed Iiimself favourably disposed to a 
 union that he had once so forcibly condemned. 
 
 Lambert Maigret, a French general, who appears to 
 have had some leaning to the Gospel — which is a slight 
 excuse for Zwingle — entered into correspondence with 
 the reformer, giving him to understand that the secret 
 designs of Charles V. called for an alliance between 
 the King of France and the Swiss republics. " Apply 
 yourself," said this diplomatist to him, in 1530, "to 
 a work so agreeable to our Creator, and which, by 
 God's gi-aco, will be very easy to your mightiness." 
 Zwingle was at first astonished at these overtures. 
 "The King of France," thought he, "cannot know 
 which way to turn. Twice he took no heed of this 
 prayer ; but the envoy of Francis I. insisted that the 
 reformer should communicate to him a plan of alliance. 
 At the third attempt of the ambassador, the simple 
 cliild of the Tockenburg mountains could no longer 
 resist his advances. If Charles V. must fall, it cannot 
 be without French assistance ; and why should not the 
 Reformation contract an alliance with Francis I., the 
 object of which would be to establish a power iu the 
 empire that should in its turn oblige the king to tole- 
 rate the Reform in his own dominions ? Everything 
 seemed to meet the wishes of Zwingle ; the fall of the 
 tyrant was at hand, and he would drag the pope along 
 with him. lie communicated the general's overtiu-es 
 to the secret council, and Collins set out, commissioned 
 to bear the reipiired project to the French ambassador. 
 "In ancient times," it ran, "no kings or people ever 
 resisted the Roman empire with such firmness as those 
 of France and Switzerland, Let us not degenerate 
 
 from the virtues of our ancestors. His most Christian 
 ]\Iajcsty — all whose wishes arc that the purity of the 
 Gospel may remain undefiled — engages therefore to 
 conchidc an alliance with the Christian co-burghery 
 that shall be in acc<n-dance with tlic Divine law, and 
 that shall be submitted to the censure of the evangeli- 
 cal theologians of Switzerland." Then followed an 
 outline of the different articles of the treaty. 
 
 Lanzcrant, another of the king's envoys, replied the 
 same day (27th February) to this astonishing project 
 of alliance about to be concluded between the reformed 
 Swiss and the persecutor of the French reformed, under 
 reserve of the censure of tJie theolotjians. , . . This 
 was not what France desired : it was Lombardy, and 
 not the Gospel, that the king wanted. For that pur- 
 pose he needed the support of all the Swiss. But an 
 alliance which ranged the Roman Catholic cantons 
 against him, would not suit him. Being satisfied, 
 therefore, for the present with knowing the sentiments 
 of Zurich, the French envoys began to look coolly 
 upon the reformers' scheme. " The matters you have 
 submitted to us arc admirably drawn up," said Lau- 
 zerant to the Swiss commissioner ; " but I can scarcely 
 understand them, no doubt because of the weakness of 
 my mind. . "Wc must not put any seed into 
 
 the ground, unless the soil be properly prepared for it." 
 
 Thus the Reform acquii-ed nothing but shame from 
 these propositions. Since it had forgotten these pre- 
 cepts of the Word of God : Be ye not unequalli) yoked 
 torjether with unbelievers ! how could it fail to meet with 
 striking reverses? Already Zwingle's friends began 
 to abandon him. The landgrave, who had pushed 
 hun into this diplomatic career, drew towards Luther, 
 and sought to check the Swiss reformer, particularly 
 after this saying of Erasmus had sounded in the ears 
 of the great : " They ask us to open our gates, crying 
 aloud — the Gospel ! the Gospel ! . . . Raise the 
 cloak, and under its mysterious folds you will find- 
 democracy." 
 
 While the Reform, by its culpable proceedings, was 
 calling down the chastisement of Heaven, the Five 
 Cantons, that were to be the instruments of its punish- 
 ment, accelerated with all their might those fatal days 
 of auger and of vengeance. They were irritated at the 
 progress of the Gospel throughout the confederation, 
 while the peace they had signed became every day 
 more irksome to them. " We shall have no repose," 
 said they, " until we have broken these bonds and 
 regained our former liberty." A general diet was con- 
 voked at Baden for the 8tli .January, 1531. The Five 
 Cantons then declared that if justice was not done to 
 their grievances, particularly with respect to the abbey 
 of St. Gall, they would no more appear in diet. " Con- 
 federates of Glaris, Schaffhausen, Fribm-g, Solem'e, 
 and Appeuzell," cried they, " aid us in making our 
 ancient alliances respected, or we will ourselves con- 
 trive the means of checking this guilty violence; and 
 may the Holy Trinity assist us in this work!" 
 
 They did not confine themselves to threats. The 
 treaty of peace had expressly forbidden all insulting 
 language — " for fear," it is said, " that by insults and 
 calumnies, discord should again be excited, and greater 
 troubles than the former should arise." Thus was 
 concealed in the treaty itself the spark whence the 
 
536 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 conflagration was to proceed. lu fact, to restrain the 
 rude tongues of the Waldstettes was impossible. Two 
 Zurichers, the aged prior Kaveusbiihler, and the pen- 
 sioner Gaspard Godli, who had been compelled to 
 renounce, the one his convent, and the other his pen- 
 sion, especially aroused the anger of the people against 
 their native city. They used to say everywhere in these 
 valleys, and with impunit}', that the Zurichers were 
 heretics ; that there was not one of them who did not 
 indulge in unnatural sins, and who was not a robber at 
 the very least ; that Zwingle was a thief, a murderer, 
 and an arch-heretic ; and that, on one occasion at Paris, 
 (where he had never been,) he had committed a horrible 
 offence, in which Leo Juda had been his pander. " I 
 shall have no rest," said a pensioner, "until I have 
 thrust my sword up to the hilt in the heart of this 
 impious wretch." Old commanders of troops, who 
 were feared by all on account of their unruly charac- 
 ter ; the satellites who followed in their train ; inso- 
 lent young people, sons of the first persons in the 
 state, who thought everything lawful against miser- 
 able preachers and their stupid flocks ; priests inflamed 
 with hatred, and treading in the footsteps of these old 
 captains and giddy young men, who seemed to take 
 the pulpit of a church for the bench of a pot-house : 
 all poured torrents of insults on the Eeform and its 
 adherents. " The townspeople," . exclaimed with one 
 accord these drunken soldiers and fanatic priests, " are 
 heretics, soul-stealers, conscience-slayers, and Zwingle 
 — that horrible man, who commits infamous sins — is 
 the Lutheran God." 
 
 They went still farther. Passing from words to 
 deeds, the Five Cantons persecuted the poor people 
 among them who loved the Word of God, flung them 
 into prison, imposed fines upon them, brutally tor- 
 mented them, and mercilessly expelled them from their 
 country. The people of Schwytz did even worse. 
 Not fearing to announce their sinister designs, they 
 appeared at a landsgemeinde wearing pine branches in 
 their hats, in sign of war, and no one opposed them. 
 "The Abbot of St. Gall," said they, "is a prince of 
 the empire, and holds his investiture from the emperor. 
 Do they imagine that Charles V. will not avenge him V 
 — "Have not these heretics," said others, "dared to 
 form a Christian fraternity, as if old Switzerland was a 
 heathen country?" Secret councils were continually 
 held in one place or another. New alliances were 
 sought with tlie Valais, the pope, and the emperor, — 
 blameable alliances, no doubt, but such as they might 
 at least justify by the proverb : " Bu'ds of a feather go 
 together ;" which Zurich and Venice could not say. 
 
 The Valaisaus at first refused their support: they 
 preferred remaining neuter; but on a sudden their 
 fanaticism was inflamed. A sheet of paper was found 
 on an altar — such at least was the report circulated in 
 their valleys — in which Zurich and Berne were accused 
 of preaching, that to commit an offence against nature 
 is a smaller crime than to hear mass ! Who had placed 
 this mysterious paper on the altar? Came it from 
 man ? Did it fall from heaven ? . . . They know 
 not ; but however that might be, it was copied, circu- 
 lated, and road everywhere ; and the effects of this 
 fable, invented by some villain, says Zwingle, was such 
 that Valais immediately granted the support it had at 
 
 first refused. The Waldstettes, proud of their strength, 
 then closed their ranks ; their fierce eyes menaced the 
 heretical cantons; and the winds bore from their moun- 
 tains to their neighbours of the towns a formidable 
 clang of arms. 
 
 At the sight of these alarming manifestations the 
 evangelical cities were in commotion. They first as- 
 sembled at Bale, in February, 1531, then at Zurich, in 
 March. " What is to be done?" said the deputies from 
 Zurich, after setting forth their grievances ; " how can 
 we punish these infamous calumnies, and force these 
 threatening arms to fall?" — "We understand," replied 
 Berne, " that you would have recourse to violence ; but 
 think of these secret and formidable alliances that are 
 forming with the pope, the emperor, the King of 
 France, mth so many princes, in a word, with all the 
 priests' party, to accelerate our ruin ; think on the in- 
 nocence of so many pious souls in the Five Cantons, 
 who deplore these perfidious machinations ; think how 
 easy it is to begin a war, but that no one can tell when 
 it wiU end." Sad foreboding ! which a catastrophe, 
 beyond all human foresight, accomplished but too soon. 
 " Let us therefore send a deputation to the Five Can- 
 tons," continued Berne ; " let us call upon them to 
 punish these infamous calumnies in accordance with 
 the treaty; and if they refuse, let us break off all inter- 
 course with them." — "What will be the use of this 
 mission ?" asked B;"de. " Do we not know the brutality 
 of this people ? And is it not to be feared, that the 
 rough treatment to which our deputies will be exposed, 
 may make the matter worse ? Let us rather convoke 
 a general diet." Schaffhausen and St. Gall having 
 concun-ed in this opinion, Berne summoned a diet at 
 Baden for the 10th April, at which deputies from all 
 the cantons were assembled. 
 
 Many of the principal men among the Waldstettes 
 disapproved of the violence of the retired soldiers and 
 of the monks. They saw that these continually re- 
 peated insults would injure their cause. "The insults 
 of which you complain," said they to the diet, "afflict 
 us no less than you. We shall know how to punish 
 them, and we have already done so. But there are 
 violent men on both sides. The other day, a man of 
 Bale having met on the high road a person who was 
 coming from Berne, and having learnt that he was 
 going to Lucerne : 'To go from Berne to Lucerne,' 
 exclaimed he, ' is passing from a father to an arrant 
 knave !'" The mediating cantons invited the two par- 
 ties to banish every cause of discord. 
 
 But the war of the chatelain of Musso having then 
 broken out, Zwingle and Zurich, who saw in it the 
 first act of a vast conspiracy, destined to stifle the 
 Reform in every place, called their allies together. 
 " We must waver no longer," said Zwingle ; " the rup- 
 ture of the alliance on the part of the Five Cantons, 
 and the unheard-of insults with which they load us, 
 impose upon us the obligation of marching against our 
 enemies, before the emperor, who is still detained by 
 the Turks, shall have expelled the landgrave, seized 
 upon Strasburg, and subjugated even ourselves." All 
 the blood of the ancient Swiss seemed to boil in this 
 man's veins ; and while Uri, Schwytz, and Uuter- 
 walden basely kissed the hand of Austria, this Zuricher, 
 — the greatest Helvetian of the age, — faithful to the 
 
EVANGELICAL DIET AT ZURICH. 
 
 537 
 
 memory of old Switzerland, but not so to still holier 
 traditions, followed in the glorious steps of Stauffacher 
 and Winkelricd. 
 
 The warlike tone of Zurich alarmed its confederates. 
 I5:"de proposed a smnmons, and then, in case of refusal, 
 the rupture of the alliance. Schaffliausen and St. Gall 
 were frightened even at this step : " The mountaineers, 
 so proud, indomitable, and exasperated," said they, 
 " will accept with joy the dissolution of the confedera- 
 tion, and then shall we be more advanced ?" Such was 
 the posture of affairs, when, to the great astonishment 
 of all, deputies from Uri and Schwytz made their 
 appearance. They were coldly received ; the c\ip of 
 honour was not offered to them ; and they had to walk, 
 according to their own account, in the midst of the 
 insulting cries of the people. They unsuccessfully en- 
 deavoured to excuse their conduct. '" AVe have long 
 been waiting," was the cold reply of the diet, " to see 
 your actions and your words agree." The men of 
 Schwytz and of Uri returned in sadness to their homes ; 
 and the assembly broke up, full of sorrow and distress. 
 
 Zwingle beheld with pain the deputies of the evan- 
 gelical towns separating without having come to any 
 decision. He no longer desired only a reformation of 
 the Church ; he wished for a transformation in the 
 confederacy; and it was this latter reform that he now 
 was preaching from the pulpit, according to what we 
 learn from Bulliuger. He was not the only person 
 who desired it. For a long time the inhabitants of the 
 most populous and powerful towns of Switzerland had 
 complained that the Waldstettes, whose contingent of 
 men and money was much below theirs, had an equal 
 share in the deliberations of the diet, and in the fruits 
 of their victories. This had been the cause of division 
 after the Burgundiau war. The Five Cantons, by 
 means of their adherents, had the majority. Now 
 Zwingle thought that the reins of Switzerland should 
 be placed in the hands of the great cities, and, above 
 all, in those of the powerful cantons of Berne and 
 Zurich. New times, in his opinion, called for new 
 forms. It was not sutRcient to dismiss from every 
 public ofRce the pensioners of foreign princes, and sub- 
 stitute pious men in their place ; the federal compact 
 must be remodelled, and settled upon a more equitable 
 basis. A national constituent assembly would, doubt- 
 less, have responded to his wishes. These discourses, 
 which were rather those of a tribune of the people 
 than of a minister of Jesus Christ, hastened on the 
 terrible catastrophe. 
 
 And indeed the animated words of the patriot re- 
 former passed from the church, where they had been 
 delivered, into the councils and the halls of the guilds, 
 into the streets and the fields. The burning words that 
 fell from this man's lips kindled the hearts of his 
 fellow-citizens. The electric spark, escaping with 
 noise and commotion, was felt even in the most dis- 
 tant cottage. The ancient traditions of wisdom and 
 prudence seemed forgotten. Public opinion declared 
 itself energetically. On the 2'.)th and 30th April, a 
 number of horsemen rode hastily out of Zurich ; they 
 were envoys from the council, commissioned to remind 
 all the allied cities of the encroachment of the Five 
 Cantons, and to call for a prompt and definitive de- 
 cision. Reaching their several destinations, the mes- 
 
 sengers recapitulated the grievances.' " Take care," 
 said they in conclusion; "great dangers are impending 
 over all of us. The emperor and King Ferdinand are 
 making vast preparations; they arc about to enter 
 Switzerland with large sums of money, and with a 
 numerous army." 
 
 Zurich joined actions to words. This state, being 
 resolved to make every exertion to establish the free 
 preaching of the Gospel in those bailiwicks where it 
 shared the sovereignty with the Roman Catholic can- 
 tons, desired to interfere by force wherever negotia- 
 tions could not prevail. The federal rights, it must 
 be confessed, were trampled under foot at St. Gall, in 
 Thurgovia, in the Rhcinthal ; and Zurich substituted 
 arbitrary decisions in their place, that excited the in- 
 dignation of the Waldstettes to the highest degree. 
 Thus the number of enemies to the Reform kept in- 
 creasing ; the tone of the Five Cantons became daily 
 more threatening, and the inhabitauts of the canton of 
 Zurich, whom their business called into the mountains, 
 were loaded with insults, and sometimes badly treated. 
 These violent proceedings excited in turn the anger of 
 the reformed cantons. Zwingle traversed Thurgovia, 
 St. Gall, and the Tockenburg, eveiywhere organizing 
 synods, taking part in their proceedings, and preaching 
 before excited and enthusiastic crowds. In all parts 
 he met with confidence and respect. At St. Gall an 
 immense crowd assembled under his windows, and a 
 concert of voices and instruments expressed the public 
 gratitude in harmonious songs. " Let us not abandon 
 ourselves," he repeated continually, " and all will go 
 well." It was resolved that a meeting should be held 
 at Aran on the 12th May, to deliberate on a posture of 
 affairs that daily became more critical. This meeting 
 was to be the beginning of sorrows. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Diet of Arau— Helvetic Unity— Bemc proposes to close tlie Markets— Oppo- 
 sition of Zurich— Proposition Agreed to and Published— Zwingle's War 
 Sermon— Blockade of the Waldstettes— Xo Bread, no Wine, no Salt- 
 Indignation of the Forest Cantons — The Roads Blockaded — Processions 
 — Cry of Despair — France tries to Conciliate— Diet at Bremgarten— Hope 
 —The Cantons InBexible- The Streusjth of Zurich Broken— Discontent 
 — Zwingle's False Position — Zwingle Demands his Dismission— The 
 Council Remonsti-ate- He Remains- Zwingle at Bremgarten— Zwingle*3 
 Farewell to Bullinger- Zwingle's Agony— Tlie Forest Cantons Reject 
 all Conciliation — Frightful Omens— The Comet — Zwingle's Tranquility. 
 
 Z^vtngle's scheme with regard to the establishment of 
 a new Helvetian constitution did not prevail in the diet 
 of Arau. Perhaps it was thought better to see the 
 result of the crisis. Perhaps a more Christian, a more 
 federal view — the hope of procuring the unity of Swit- 
 zerland by uuity of faith — occupied men's minds more 
 than the pre-eminence of the cities. In truth, if a 
 certain number of cantons remained with the pope, 
 the unity of the confederation was destroyed, it might 
 be for ever. But if all the confederation was brought 
 over to the same faith, the ancient Helvetic unity would 
 
 1 They are to be foun 
 
538 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATIO^T. 
 
 be established on the strongest and surest foundation. 
 Kow was the time for acting — or never ; and there 
 must be no fear of employing a violent remedy to 
 restore the whole body to health. 
 
 Nevertheless, the allies shrank back at the thought 
 of restoring religious liberty or political unity by means 
 of arms ; and to escape from the difficulties in which 
 the confederation was placed, they sought a middle 
 course between war and peace. " There is no doubt," 
 said the deputies from Berne, " that tlie behaviour of 
 the Cantons with regard to the Word of God fully 
 authorizes an armed intervention ; but the perils that 
 threaten us on the side of Italy and the empire — the 
 danger of arousing the lion from his slumber — the 
 general want and misery that afflict our people — the 
 rich harvests that will soon cover our fields, and which 
 the war would infallibly destroy — the great number of 
 pious men among the Waldstettes, and whose innocent 
 blood would flow along with that of the guilty: all 
 these motives enjoin us to leave the sword in the 
 scabbard. Let us rather close our markets against the 
 Five Cantons; let us refuse them corn, salt, wine, 
 steel, and iron ; we shall thus impart authority to the 
 friends of peace among them, and innocent blood will 
 be spared." The meeting separated forthwith to carry 
 this intermediate proposition to the different evangeli- 
 cal cantons; and on the 15th May again assembled at 
 Zurich. 
 
 Convinced that the means apparently the most 
 violent were, nevertheless, both the surest and most 
 humane, Zurich resisted the Bernese proposition with 
 all its might. "By accepting this proposition," said 
 they, "we sacrifice the advantages that we now possess, 
 and we give the Five Cantons time to arm themselves, 
 and to fall upon us first. Let us take care that the 
 emperor does not, then, assail us on one side, while our 
 ancient confederates attack us on the other ; a just war 
 is not in opposition to the Word of God ; but this is 
 contrary to it — taking the bread from the mouths of 
 the innocent as well as the guilty ; straitening by hunger 
 the sick, tlie aged, pregnant women, children, and aU 
 who are deeply afflicted by the injustice of the Wald- 
 stettes. We should beware of exciting by this means 
 the auger of the poor, and transforming into enemies 
 many who at the present time are oiu- friends and 
 brothers!" 
 
 We must acknowledge that this language, which was 
 Zwingle's, contained much truth. But the other cantons, 
 and Berne in particular, were immoveable. '• When we 
 have once shed the blood of our brothers," said they, 
 " we shall never be able to restore life to those who 
 have lost it ; while from the moment the Waldstettes 
 have given us satisfaction, we shall be able to put an 
 end to all these severe measures. We are resolved not 
 to begin the war." There were uo means of running 
 counter to such a declaration. The Zurichers consented 
 to refuse supplies to the Waldstettes ; but it was with 
 hearts full of anguish, as if they had foreseen all that 
 this deplorable measure would cost them. It was agi-eed 
 that the severe step that was now about to be taken 
 shoidd not be suspended except by common consent, 
 and that, as it would create great exasperation, each 
 one should hold himself prepared to repel the attacks 
 of the enemy. Ziuich and Berne were commissioned 
 
 to notify this determination to the Five Cantons ; and 
 Zurich, discharging its task with promptitude, im- 
 mediately forwarded an order to every bailiwick to 
 suspend all communication with the Waldstettes, com- 
 manding them at the same time to abstain from ill 
 usage and hostile language. Thus the Reformation, 
 becoming imprudently mixed up with political com- 
 binations, marched from fault to fault ; it pretended to 
 preach the Gospel to the poor, and was now about to 
 refuse them bread! 
 
 On the Sunday following — it was Whitsunday — the 
 resolution was published from the pulpits. Zwingle 
 walked towards his, where an immense crowd was 
 waiting for him. The piercing eye of this gi'eat man 
 easily discovered the dangers of the measure in a 
 political point of view, and his Christian heart deeply 
 felt all its cruelty. His soul was overbm-dened, his 
 eyes downcast. If at this moment the true character 
 of a minister of the Gospel had awoke within him ; — 
 if Zwingle, with his powerful voice, had called on th© 
 people to humiliation before God, to forgiveness of tres- 
 passes, and to prayer, safety might yet have dawned 
 on " broken-hearted " Switzerland. But it was not so. 
 More and more the Christian disappears in the reformer, 
 and the citizen alone remains ; but in that character he 
 soars far above all, and his policy is undoubtedly the 
 most skilful. He saw clearly that every delay may 
 ruin Zurich ; and after having made his way through 
 the congregation, and closed the book of the Prince of 
 Peace, he hesitated not to attack the resolution which 
 he had just communicated to the people, and on the 
 very festival of the Holy Ghost to preach war. " He 
 who fears not to call his adversary a criminal," said he, 
 in his usual forcible language, "must be ready to follow 
 the word with a blow. K he does not strike he wiU 
 be stricken. Men of Zurich ! you deny food to the 
 Five Cantons, as to evil doers ; well ! let the blow 
 follow the threat, rather than reduce poor innocent 
 creatures to starvation. If, by not taking the offensive, 
 you appear to believe that there is not sufficient reason 
 for punishing the Waldstettes, and yet you refuse them 
 food and drink, you will force them, by this line of 
 conduct, to take up arms, to raise their hands, and to 
 inflict punishment upon you. This is the fate that 
 awaits you." 
 
 These words of the eloquent reformer moved the 
 whole assembly. Zwingle's politic mind already so 
 influenced and misled all the people, that there were 
 few souls Christian enough to feel how strange it was, 
 that on the very day when they were celebrating the 
 outpouring of the Spirit of peace and love upon the 
 Christian Church, the mouth of a minister of God 
 should utter a provocation to v»ar. They looked at 
 this sermon only in a political point of view: "It is a 
 seditious discourse ; it is an excitement to civU war !" 
 said some. " No," replied others, " it is the language 
 that the safety of the state requires !" All Zurich was 
 agitated. " Zurich has too much fire," said Berne. 
 " Berne has too much cunning," replied Ziunch. 
 Zwingle's gloomy prophecy was too soon to be ful- 
 filled ! 
 
 No sooner had the reformed cantons communicated 
 this pitOess decree to the Waldstettes than they hast- 
 ened its execution; and Zurich shewed the greatest 
 
BLOCKADE OP THE WALDSTETTES. 
 
 strictness respecting it. Not only the markets of 
 Zurich and of Berne, but also those of the free baili- 
 wicks of St. Gall, of the Tockenbur;;, of the district 
 of Sargans, and of the valley of the Rhine, — a country 
 partly under the sovereignty of the Waldstettes, — were 
 shut against the Five Cantons. A formidable power 
 had suddenly encompassed with barrenness, famine, 
 and death, the noble founders of Helvetian liberty. 
 Uri, Schwytz, Unterwaldcu, Zug, and Lucerne, were, 
 as it seemed, iu the midst of a vast desert. Their own 
 subjects, thought they at least, the communes that have 
 taken the oath of allegiance to them, would range 
 themselves on their side ! But no ; Brcmgarten, and 
 even McUingcu, refused all succour. Their last hope 
 was in Wesen and the Gastal. Neither Berne nor 
 Zurich had anything to do there ; Schwytz and Glaris 
 alone ruled over them ; but the power of their enemies 
 had penetrated everywhere. A majority of thirteen 
 votes had declared in favour of Zurich at the landsge- 
 meinde of Glaris ; and Glaris closed the gates of Wesen 
 and of the Gastal against Schwytz. In vain did Berne 
 itself cry out: " How can you compel subjects to refuse 
 supplies to their lords?" In vain did Scliwytz raise 
 its voice in indignation, Zurich immediately sent to 
 Wesen — gunpowder and bullets. It was upon Zurich, 
 therefore, that fell all the odium of a measure which 
 that city had at first so earnestly combated. At Aran, 
 at Brcmgarten, at Mellingen, in the free bailiwicks, 
 were several carriages laden with provisions for the 
 Waldstettes. They were stopped, unloaded, and up- 
 set : with them barricades were erected on the roads 
 leading to Lucerne, Schwytz, and Zug. Already a 
 year of dearth had made provisions scarce in the Five 
 Cantons ; already had a frightful epidemic, the Sweat- 
 ing Sickness., scattered everywhere despondency and 
 death: but now the hand of man was joined to the 
 hand of God; the evil increased, and the poor in- 
 habitants of these mountains beheld unheard-of calami- 
 ties approach with hasty steps. No more bread for 
 their children — no more wine to revive their exhausted 
 strength — no more salt for their flocks and herds! 
 Everything failed them that man requires for subsist- 
 ence. One could not see such things, and be a man, 
 without feeling his heart wrung. In the confederate 
 cities, and out of Switzerland, numerous voices were 
 raised against this implacable measure. What good 
 can result from it? Did not St. Paul write to the 
 Komans: If thine enemy Imnger, fiedhim ; if he thirst, 
 give him drink: for in so doing thou shcdt heap coals of 
 fire on his head? (Rom. xii. 20.) And when the magis- 
 trates wished to convince certain refractory communes 
 of the utility of the measure : " We desire no religious 
 war," cried they. " If the Waldstettes will not believe 
 in God, let them stick to the devil!" 
 
 But it was especially in the Five Cantons that ear- 
 nest complaints were lieard. The most pacific indivi- 
 duals, and even the secret partisans of the Reform, 
 seeing famine invade their habitations, felt the deepest 
 indignation. The enemies of Zurich skilfully took 
 advantage of this disposition ; they fostered these mur- 
 nrurs ; and soon the cry of anger and distress re-echoed 
 from all the mountains. In vain did Berne represent 
 to the Waldstettes that it is more cruel to refuse men 
 the nourishment of the soul than to cut off that of the 
 
 body. "God," replied these mountaineers in their 
 despair, — " God causes the fruits of the earth to grow 
 freely for all men!" They were not content with 
 groaning in their cottages, and venting their indigna- 
 tion in the councils ; they filled all Switzerland with 
 complaints and menaces. "They, wish to employ 
 famine to tear us from our ancient faith ; they 
 wish to deprive our wives^ and our children of 
 bread, that they may take from us the liberty we 
 derive from our forefathers. When did such things 
 ever take place iu the bosom of the confederation ? 
 Did we not see, in the last war, the confederates with 
 arms in their hands, and who wore ready to draw the 
 sword, eating together from the same dish? They 
 tear in pieces old friendships — they trample our an- 
 cient manners under foot — they violate treaties — they 
 break alliances. . . . We invoke the charters of 
 our ancestors. Help ! help I . . , AVise men of 
 our people, give us your advice, and all you who know 
 how to handle the sling and the sword, come and 
 maintain witli us the sacred possessions, for which 
 our fathers, delivered from the yoke of the sti'anger, 
 united their arms and their hearts." 
 
 At the same time the Five Cantons sent into Alsace, 
 Brisgau, and Swabia, to obtain salt, wine, and bread ; 
 but the administration of the cities was implacable ; the 
 orders were everywhere given, and everywhere strictly 
 executed. Zurich and the other allied cantons inter- 
 cepted all communication, and sent back to Germany 
 the supplies that had been forwarded to their brethren. 
 The Five Cantons were like a vast fortress, all the 
 issues from which are closely guarded by watchful 
 sentinels. The afilicted Waldstettes, on beholding 
 themselves alone with famine between their lakes 
 and their mountains, had recourse to the observances 
 of their worship. All sports, dances, and every kind 
 of amusement, were interdicted ; prayers were directed 
 to be offered up ; and long processions covered the 
 roads of Einsidlcn and other resorts of pilgrims. They 
 assumed the belt, and staff, a:id arms of the brother- 
 hood to which they each belonged ; each man carried a 
 chaplet in his hands, and repeated paternosters ; the 
 mountains and the valleys re-echoed with their plain- 
 tive hymns. But the Waldstettes did still more : they 
 grasped their swords — they sharpened the points of 
 their halberds — they brandished their weapons in the 
 direction of Zurich and of Berne, and exclaimed with 
 rage : " They block up their roads, but we wUi op<m 
 them with our right arms!" No one replied to this 
 cry of despair; but there is a just Judge iu heaven to 
 wliom vengeance belongs, and who will soon reply in a 
 terrible manner, by punishing those misguided persons, 
 who, forgetful of Christian mercy, and making an im- 
 pious mixture of political and religious matters, pretend 
 to secure the triumph of the Gospel by famine and by 
 armed men. 
 
 Some attempts, however, were made to arrange mat- 
 ters ; but these very efforts proved a great humiliation 
 for Switzerland and for the Reform. It was not the 
 ministers of the Gospel, it was France — more than 
 once an occasion of discord to Switzerland — that offered 
 to restore peace. Every proceeding calculated to in- 
 crease its influence among the cantons was of service 
 to its policy. On the 14th May, Maigret and Dangertin, 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 (the latter of whom had received the Gospel truth, and 
 consequently did not dare return to France,) after some 
 allusions to the spirit which Zurich had shewn in this 
 affair — a spirit little in accordance with the Gospel — 
 said to the council : " The king, our master, has sent 
 you two gentlemen to consult on the means of preserv- 
 ing concord among you. If war and tumult invade 
 Switzerland, all the society of the Helvetians will be 
 destroyed, and whichever party is the conqueror, he 
 will be as much ruined as the other." Zurich having 
 replied, that if the Five Cantons would allow the free 
 preaching of the Word of God, the reconciliation would 
 be easy, the French secretly sounded the Waldstettes, 
 whose answer was : "We will never permit the preach- 
 ing of the Word of God as the people of Zurich under- 
 stand it." 
 
 These more or less interested exertions of the for- 
 eigners having failed, a general diet became the only 
 chance of safety that remained for Switzerland. One 
 was accordingly convoked at Bremgarten. It was 
 opened in presence of deputies from France, from the 
 Duke of Milan, from the Countess of Neufchatel, from 
 the Grisons, Valais, Thurgovia, and the district of 
 Sargans ; and met on five different occasions, — on the 
 14th and 20th of June, on the 9th July, and the 10th 
 and 23d August. The chronicler Bullinger, who was 
 pastor of Bremgarten, delivered an oration at the open- 
 ing, in which he earnestly exhorted the confederates to 
 union and peace. 
 
 A gleam of hope for a moment cheered Switzerland. 
 The blockade had become less strict ; friendship and 
 good neighbourhood had prevailed in many places over 
 the decrees of the state. Unusual roads had been 
 opened across the wildest mountains to convey supplies 
 to the Waldstettes. Provisions were concealed in bales 
 of merchandise ; and while Lucerne imprisoned and 
 tortured its own citizens who were found with the 
 pamphlets of the Zurichers, Berne punished but slightly 
 the peasants who had been discovered bearing food for 
 Unterwalden and Lucerne ; and Glaris shut its eyes 
 at the frequent violation of its orders. The voice of 
 charity, that had been momentarily stifled, pleaded with 
 fresh energy the cause of their confederates before the 
 reformed cantons. 
 
 But the Five Cautons were inflexible. "We will 
 not listen to any proposition before the raising of the 
 blackade," said they. " We will not raise it," replied 
 Berne and Zurich, "before the Gospel is allowed to 
 be freely preached, not only in the common bailiwicks, 
 but also in the Five Cantons." This was undoubtedly 
 going too far, even according to the natural law and 
 the principles of the confederation. The councils of 
 Zurich might consider it their duty to have recourse to 
 war for maintaining liberty of conscience in the common 
 bailiwicks ; but it was unjust — it was a usurpation, to 
 constrain the Five Cantons in a matter that concerned 
 their own territory. Nevertheless the mediators suc- 
 ceeded, not without much trouble, in drawing up a plan 
 of conciliation that seemed to harmonize with the wishes 
 of both parties. The conference was broken up, and 
 this project was hastily transmitted to the different 
 states for their ratification. 
 
 The diet met again a few days after ; but the Five 
 Cantons persisted in their demand, without yielding in 
 
 any one point. In vain did Zurich and Berne represent 
 to them, that by persecuting the reformed, the cantons 
 violated the treaty of peace ; in vain did the mediators 
 exhaust their strength in warnings and entreaties. The 
 parties appeared at one time to approximate, and then on 
 a sudden they were more distant and more irritated than 
 ever. The Waldstettes at last broke up the third con- 
 ference by declaring, that far from opposing the evan- 
 gelical truth, they would maintain it, as it had been 
 taught by the Redeemer, by His holy apostles, by the 
 four doctors, and by their holy mother, the Churcli, — a 
 declaration that seemed a bitter irony to the deputies 
 from Zurich and Berne. Nevertheless Berne, turning 
 towards Zurich as they were separating, observed : 
 " Beware of too much violence, even should they at- 
 tack you !" 
 
 Tliis exhortation was unnecessary. The streiigth of 
 Zurich had passed away. The first appearance of the 
 Reformation and of the reformers had been greeted 
 with joy. The people, who groaned under a twofold 
 slavery, believed they saw the dawn of liberty. But 
 their minds, abandoned for ages to superstition and 
 ignorance, being unable immediately to realize the 
 hopes they had conceived, a spirit of discontent soon 
 spread among the masses. The change by which 
 Zwingle, ceasing to be a man of the Gospel, became 
 a man of the State, took away from the people the 
 enthusiasm necessary to resist the terrible attacks they 
 would have to sustain. The enemies of the Reform 
 had a fair chance against it, so soon as its friends 
 abandoned the position that gave them strength. Be- 
 sides, Christians could not have recourse to famine and 
 to war to secure the triumph of the Gospel, without 
 their consciences becoming troubled. The Zurichers 
 ivalked not in the Spirit, but in the flesh; now, the works 
 of the flesh are hatred, variance, emulations, xorath, strife, 
 seditions, (Gal. v. 10, 20.) The danger without was 
 increasing, while within, hope, union, and courage, were 
 far from being augmented : men saw, on the contrary, 
 the gradual disappearance of that harmony and lively 
 faith which had been the strength of the Reform. 
 The Reformation had grasped the sword, and that 
 very swoi-d pierced its heart. 
 
 Occasions of discord were multiplied in Zurich. By 
 the advice of Zwingle, the number of nobles was 
 diminished in the two councils, because of their op- 
 position to the Gospel ; and this measure spread dis- 
 content among the most honourable families of the 
 canton. The millers and bakers were placed under 
 certain regulations, which the dearth rendered neces- 
 sary, and a great part of the townspeople attributed 
 this proceeding to the sermons of the reformer, and 
 became irritated against him. Rodolph Lavater, bailiff 
 of Kibourg, was appointed captain-general; and the 
 oSicers who were of longer standing than he were 
 offended. Many who had been formerly the most dis- 
 tinguished by their zeal for the Reform, now openly 
 opposed the cause they had supported. The ardour 
 with which the ministers of peace demanded war 
 spread in every quarter a smothered dissatisfaction, 
 and many persons gave vent to their indignation. 
 This unnatural confusion of Church and State, which 
 had corrupted Christianity after the age of Constantine, 
 was hurrying on the ruin of the Reformation. The 
 
ZWIXGLE AT BREMGARTEN. 
 
 541 
 
 majority of tho Great Council, ever ready to adopt 
 important and salutary resolutions, was destroyed. 
 Tho old magistrates, who were still at the head of 
 affaii-s, allowed themselves to be carried away by feel- 
 ings of jealousy against men whoso non-ollicial influ- 
 ence prevailed over tlieirs. All those wlio hated the 
 doctrine of the Gospel, whether from love of tho world 
 or from love to the pope, boldly raised their heads in 
 Zurich. The partisans of the monks, the friends of 
 foreign service, tiie malcontents of every class, coalesced 
 in pointing out Zwiugle i\s the author of all the suffer- 
 ings of the people. 
 
 Zwinglc was heart-broken. He saw that Zurich and 
 the Keforraation were hastening to their ruin, and he 
 conld not check them. How could he do so, since, 
 without suspecting it, he had been the principal accom- 
 plice in these disasters ? What was to be done ? Should 
 the pilot remain in the ship which he is no longer per- 
 mitted to save? There was but one means of safety 
 for Zurich and for Zwingle. He should have retired 
 from the political stage, and fallen back on that kingdom 
 which is not of this world; he should, like Moses, have 
 kept his hands and his heart night and day raised to- 
 wards heaven, and energetically preached repentance, 
 faith, and peace. But religious and political matters 
 were united in the mind of this great man by such old 
 and dear ties, that it was impossible for him to distin- 
 guish their line of separation. This confusion had 
 become his dominant idea ; the Christian and the citi- 
 zen were for him one and the same character; and 
 hence it resulted, that all resources of the state — even 
 cannons and arquebuses — were to be placed at the ser- 
 vice of the Truth. When one peculiar idea thus seizes 
 upon a man, we see a false conscience formed within 
 him, which approves of many things condemned by the 
 Word of the Lord. 
 
 This was now Zwingle's condition. War appeared 
 to him legitimate and desirable ; and if that was re- 
 fused, he had only to withdraw from public life : he 
 was for everything, or nothing. He therefore, on the 
 26th July, appeared before the Great Council with 
 dimmed eyes and disconsolate heart: "For eleven 
 yc-irs," said he, "I have been preaching the Gospel 
 among you, and have warned you faithfully and pater- 
 nally of the woes that are hanging over you ; but no 
 attention has been paid to my words ; the friends of 
 foreign alliances, the enemies of the Gospel, are elected 
 to the council, and while you refuse to follow my ad- 
 vice, I am made responsible for every misfortune.^ I 
 cannot accept such a position, and I ask for my dis- 
 mission." The reformer retired bathed in tears. 
 
 The council shuddered as they heard these words. 
 All the old feelings of respect which they had so long 
 entertained for Zwingle were revived ; to lose him now 
 was to ruin Zurich. The burgomaster and the other 
 magistrates received orders to persuade him to recall 
 his fatal resolution. The conference took place on the 
 same day; Zwingle asked time for consideration. For 
 three days and three nights he sought the road that he 
 should follow. Seeing the dark storm that w.as col- 
 lecting from all quarters, he considered whether he 
 ought to quit Zurich and seek refuge on the lofty hills 
 of the Tockenburg, where he had been reared, at a 
 time when his country and his Church were on the 
 
 point of being assailed, and beaten down by their 
 enemies like corn by tiie hail-storm. He groaned and 
 cried to the Lord. He would have put away the cup of 
 bitterness that was presented to his soul, but could not 
 gather up the resolution. At length the sacrifice was 
 accomplished, and tho victim was placed sliuddering 
 upon the altar. Three days after the first conference, 
 Zwingle reappeared in the council : " I will stay with 
 you," said he, " and I will labour for the public safety 
 — until deiith !" 
 
 From this moment he displayed new zeal. On the 
 one hand, he endeavoured to revive harmony and cour- 
 age in Zurich ; on the other, he set about arousing and 
 exciting the allied cities to increase and concentrate all 
 the forces of the Reformation. Faithful to the politi- 
 cal vocation he imagined to have received from God 
 himself — persuaded that it was in the doubts and want 
 of energy of the Bernese tluit he must look for the 
 cause of all the evil, the reformer repaired to Brem- 
 garten with Collius and Steiner, during the fourth con- 
 ference of the diet, although he incurred great danger 
 in the attempt. He arrived secretly by night, and 
 having entered the house of his friend and disciple, 
 BuUinger, he invited the deputies of Berne (J. J. de 
 AVatteville and Im Hag) to meet him there with the 
 greatest secrecy, and prayed them in the most solemn 
 tone earnestly to reflect upon the dangei-s of the 
 Reform. " I fear," said he, " that in consequence of 
 our unbelief, this business will not succeed. By refus- 
 ing supplies to the Five Cantons, we have begun a 
 work that will be fatal to us. Wliat is to be done ? 
 Withdraw the prohibition? The cantons will then be 
 more insolent and haughty than ever. Enforce it? 
 They will take the offensive, and if their attack suc- 
 ceed you will behold our fields red with the blood of 
 the believers, the doctrine of truth cast down, the 
 Church of Christ laid waste, all social relations over- 
 thrown, our adversaries more hardened and irritated 
 against the Gospel, and crowds of priests and monks 
 again filling our rural districts, streets, and temples. 
 . . . And yet," added Zwingle, after a few instants 
 of emotion and silence, " that also will have an end." 
 The Bernese were filled with agitation by the solemn 
 voice of the reformer. " We see," replied they, " all 
 that is to be feared for our common cause, and we will 
 employ every care to prevent such great disasters." — 
 " I who write these things was present and heard them," 
 adds Bullinger. 
 
 It was feared that if the presence of Zwingle at 
 Bremgarten became known to the deputies of the 
 Five Cantons, they would not restrain their violence. 
 During this nocturnal conference three of the town- 
 councillors were stationed as sentinels in front of 
 Bullinger's house. Before daybreak, the reformer and 
 his two friends, accompanied by Bullinger and the 
 three councillors, passed through the deserted streets 
 leading to the gate, on the road to Zurich. Three dif- 
 ferent times Zwinglc took leave of Bullinger, who was 
 erelong to be his successor. His mind was filled with 
 a presentiment of his approaching death ; he could not 
 tear himself from that young friend whose face he was 
 never to see again; he blessed him amidst floods of 
 tears. "O my dear Henry!" said he, "may God pro- 
 tect you ! Be faithful to our Lord Jesus Christ and to 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 His Church." At length they separated ; but at that 
 very moment, says Bullinger, a mysterious personage, 
 clad in a robe as white as snow, suddenly appeared, 
 and after frightening the soldiers who guarded the 
 gate, plunged suddenly into the water, and vanished. 
 Bullinger, Zwingle, and their friends, did not perceive 
 it ; Bullinger himself sought for it all around, but to no 
 purpose ; still the sentinels persisted in the reality of 
 this frightful apparition. Bullinger, in great agitation, 
 returned in darkness and in silence to his house. His 
 mind involuntarily compared the departure of Zwingle 
 and the white phantom ; and he shuddered at the fright- 
 ful omen which the thought of this spectre impressed 
 upon his mind. 
 
 Sufferings of another kind pursued Zwingle to Zurich. 
 He had thought that by consenting to remain at the 
 head of affairs, he would recover all his ancient in- 
 fluence. But he was deceived : the people desired to 
 see him there, and yet they would not follow him. The 
 Zurichcrs daily became more and more indisposed to- 
 wards the war which they had at first demanded, and 
 identified themselves with the passive system of Berne. 
 Zwingle remained for some time stupificd and motion- 
 less before this inert mass, which his most vigorous 
 exertions could not move. But soon discovering in 
 every quarter of the horizon the prophetic signs, pre- 
 cursors of the storm about to burst upon the ship of 
 which he was the pilot, he uttered cries of anguish, and 
 shewed the signal of distress. "I see," exclaimed he 
 one day to the people from the pulpit, whither he had 
 gone to give utterance to his gloomy forebodings, — " I 
 see that the most faithful warnings cannot save you ; 
 you will not punish the pensioners of the foreigner. 
 . . . They have too firm a support among us ! A 
 chain is prepared — behold it entire — it unrolls link 
 after link, — soon will they bind me to it, and more 
 than one pious Zuricher with me. ... It is against 
 me they are enraged! I am ready; I submit to the 
 Lord's will. But these people shall never be my 
 masters. ... As for thee, O Zurich, they will 
 give thee thy reward ; they will strike thee ou the head. 
 Thou wiliest it. Thou refusest to punish them : well ! 
 it is they who will punish thee. But God will not the 
 less preserve His Word, and their haughtiness shall 
 come to an end." Such was Zwingle's cry of agony; 
 but the immobility of death alone replied. The hearts 
 of the Zurichers were so hardened that the sharpest 
 arrows of the reformer could not pierce them, and they 
 fell at his feet blunted and useless. 
 
 But events were pressing on, and justified all his 
 fears. The Five Cantons had rejected every proposi- 
 tion that had been made to them. " Why do you talk 
 of punishing a few wrongs?" they had replied to the 
 mediators; "it is a question of quite another kind. 
 Do you not require that we shoidd receive back among 
 us the heretics whom we have banished, and tolerate 
 no other priests than those who preach conformably to 
 the Word of God ? We know what that means. No 
 — no — we will not abandon the religion of our fathers ; 
 and if we must see our wives and our children deprived 
 of food, our hands will know how to conquer what is 
 refused to us : to that we pledge our bodies — our goods 
 , — our lives." It was with this threatening language 
 that the deputies quitted the diet of Bremgarten, They 
 
 had proudly shaken the folds of their mantles, and war 
 had fallen from them. 
 
 The terror was general, and the alarmed citizens 
 beheld everywhere frightful portents, terrific signs, 
 apparently foreboding the most horrible events. It 
 was not only the white phantom that had appeared at 
 Bremgarten at Zwingle's side : the most fearful omens, 
 passing from mouth to mouth, tilled the people with 
 the most gloomy presentiments. The history of these 
 phenomena, however strange it may appear, character- 
 izes the period of which we write. We do not create 
 the times : it is our simple duty to paint them as they 
 really were. 
 
 On the 26th July, a widow, chancing to be alone 
 before her house, in the village of Castelcnschloss, 
 suddenly beheld a frightful spectacle — blood springing 
 from the earth all around her. She rushed in alarm 
 into the cottage ; . . . but, oh horrible! blood is 
 flowing everywhere — from the wainscot and from the 
 stones ; it falls in a stream from a basin on a shelf, 
 and even the child's cradle overflows with it. The 
 woman imagines that the invisible hand of an assassin 
 has been at work, and rushes in distraction out of 
 doors, crying, " Murder ! murder ! " The villagers 
 and the monks of a neighbouring convent assemble 
 at the noise — they succeed in partly effacing the bloody 
 stains ; but a little later in the day, the other inhabi- 
 tants of the house, sitting down in terror to eat their 
 evening meal under the projecting eaves, suddenly dis- 
 cover blood bubbling up in a pond — blood flowing 
 from the loft — blood covering all the walls of the 
 house. Blood — blood — everywhere blood ! The bailiff 
 of Schenkenberg and the pastor of Dalheim arrive — 
 inquire into the matter — and immediately report it to 
 the lords of Berne and to Zwingle. 
 
 Scarcely had this horrible recital — the particulars of 
 which are faithfully preserved in Latin and in German 
 — filled all minds with the idea of a horrible butchery, 
 than ia the western quarter of the heavens there 
 appeared a frightful comet, whose immense train, of 
 a pale yellow colour, turned towards the south. At 
 the time of its setting, this apparition shone in the 
 sky like the fire of a furnace. One night — on the 
 15th August, as it would appear — Zwingle and George 
 Miiller, formerly abbot of Wettingen, being together 
 in the cemetery of the cathedral, both fixed their eyes 
 upon this terrific meteor. " This ominous globe," said 
 Zwingle, " is come to light the path that leads to my 
 grave. It will be at the cost of my life and of many 
 good men with me. Although I am rather short-sighted, 
 1 foresee gi-eat calamities in the future. The truth and 
 the Church will mourn ; but Christ will never forsake 
 us. It was not only at Zurich that this flaming star 
 spread consternation. Vadian, being one night on an 
 eminence in the neighbourhood of St. Gall, surrounded 
 by his friends and disciples, after having explained to 
 them the names of the stars and the miracles of the 
 Creator, stopped before this comet, which denounced 
 the anger of God ; and the famous Theophrastus de- 
 clared that it foreboded not only great bloodshed, but 
 most especially the death of learned and illustrious 
 men. This mysterious phenomenon prolonged its fright- 
 ful visitation until the 3d September. 
 
 AVhen once the noise of these omens was spread 
 
ZWINGLE'S TRANQUILITY. 
 
 abroad, men could no longer contain themselves. Their 
 imaginations were excited; they heaped fright upon 
 fright : each place had its terrors. Two banners, wav- 
 ing iu the clouds, liad been seen on the mountain of the 
 Bruuig ; at Zug a buckler had appeared in the heavens ; 
 on the banks of the Reuss, reiterated explosions were 
 heard during the night ; on tiie lake of the Four Can- 
 tons, ships with aerial combatants cai-eered about in 
 every direction. War — war; blood — blood! — these 
 were the general cries. 
 
 la the midst of all this agitation Zwingle alone 
 seemed tranquil. He rejected none of these presenti- 
 ments, but contemplated them with calmness. "A 
 heart that fears God," said he, "cares not for the 
 threats of the world. To forward the designs of God, 
 whatever may happen — this is his task. A carrier 
 I who has a long road to go must make up his mind to 
 wear his waggon and his gear during the journey. If 
 ' he carry his merchandise to the appointed spot, that is 
 enough for him. We are the waggon and the gear of 
 God. There is not one of the articles tliat is not worn, 
 ■ twisted, or broken ; but our great Driver will not the 
 less accomplish by our means His vast designs. Is it 
 not to those who fall upon the field of battle that the 
 j noblest crown belongs '? Take courage, then, in the 
 ' midst of all these dangers, through which the cause of 
 Jesus Christ must pass. Be of good cheer ! although 
 I we should never here below see its triimiphs with our 
 I own eyes. The Judge of the combat beholds us, and 
 I it is He who confers the crown. Others will enjoy 
 upon earth the fruits of our labours ; while we, already 
 in heaven, shall enjoy an eternal reward." 
 
 Thus spoke Zwingle, as he advanced calmly towards 
 the threatening noise of the tempest, which, by its 
 repeated li;ishes and sudden explosions, foreboded death. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 The Five Cantons decide for War— Deceitful Calm — Fatal Inactivity — Zurich 
 Forewarned— Banner of Lucerne Planted— Manifesto— The Bailiwicks 
 Pillaged — The Monastery of Cappel — Letter — Infatuation of Zuricli — 
 New Warnings— The War Begins— The Tocsin— A Fearful Night— The 
 War — Banner and Anny of Zurich — Zwingle's Departure — Zwingle's 
 Hoi-sc- Anna Zwingle. 
 
 The Five Cantons, assembled in diet at Lucerne, ap- 
 peared full of determination, and war was decided 
 upon. " AVe will call upon the cities to respect our 
 alliances," said they, " and if they refuse, we will enter 
 the common bailiwicks by force to procure provisions, 
 and unite our banners in Zug to attack the enemy." 
 The AValdstettes were not alone. The nuncio, being 
 solicited by his Lucerne friends, had required that 
 auxiliary troops, paid by the pope, should be put in 
 motion towards Switzerland, and he announced their 
 near arrival. 
 
 These resolutions carried terror into Switzerland; 
 the mediating cantons met again at Aran, and drew up 
 a plan that should leave the religious question just as it 
 had been settled by the treaty of 152'J. Deputies 
 immediately bore these propositions to the different 
 
 councils. Lucerne haughtily rejected them. "Tell 
 those who sent you," w:ts the reply, " that we do not 
 acknowledge them as our schoolmasters. We would 
 rather die than yield the least thing to the prejudice of 
 our faith." The mediators returned to Arau, trembling 
 and discouraged. This useless attempt increased the 
 disagreement among the reformed, and gave the Wald- 
 stettes still greater confidence. Zurich, so decided for 
 the reception of the Gospel, now became daily more 
 irresolute ! The members of tiie council distrusted each 
 other; the people felt no interest in this war, and 
 Zwingle, notwithstanding his unshaken faith in the 
 justice of his cause, liad no hope for the struggle that 
 was about to take place. Berne, on its side, did not 
 cease to entreat Zurich to avoid precipitation. " Do 
 not let us expose ourselves to the reproach of too much 
 haste, as in li32'J," w;xs the general remark in Zurich. 
 " We have sure friends in the midst of the Waldstettes ; 
 let us wait until they announce to us, as they have pro- 
 mised, some real danger." 
 
 It was soon believed that these temporizers were 
 right. In fact, the alarming news ceased. That con- 
 stant rumour of war, which incessantly came from the 
 Waldstettes, discontinued. There were no more alarms 
 — no more fears ! Deceitful omen ! Over the moun- 
 tains and valleys of Switzerland hangs that gloomy 
 and mysterious silence, the forerunner of the tempest. 
 
 Whilst they were sleeping at Zurich, the Waldstettes 
 were preparing to conquer their rights by force of arms. 
 The chiefs, closely united to each other by common 
 interests and dangers, found a powerful support in the 
 indignation of the people. In a diet of the Five Can- 
 tons, held at Brunneu, on the banks of the Lake of 
 Lucerne, opposite Grutli, the alliances of the confede- 
 ration were read ; and the deputies, having been sum- 
 moned to declare by their votes whether they thought 
 the war just and lawful, all hands were raised with a 
 shudder. Immediately the Waldstettes had prepared 
 their attack with the profoundest mystery. All the 
 passes had been guarded — aU communication between 
 Zurich and the Five Cantons had been rendered im- 
 possible. The friends upon whom the Zuriehers had 
 reckoned on the banks of the Lakes Lucerne and Zug, 
 and who had promised them intelligence, were like 
 prisoners in their mountains. The terrible avalanche 
 was about to slip from the icy summits of the moun- 
 tain, and to roll into the valleys, even to the gates of 
 Zurich, overthrowing everything in its passage, without 
 the least forewarning of its fall. The mediators had 
 returned discouraged to their cantons. A spirit of 
 imprudence and of error — sad forerunner of the fall of 
 republics as well as of kings — had spread over the 
 whole city of Zurich. The council had at first given 
 orders to call out the militia ; then, deceived by the 
 silence of the Waldstettes, it had imprudently revoked 
 the decree, and Lavater, the commander of the army, 
 had retired in discontent to Rybourg, and indignantly 
 thrown far from him that sword which they had com- 
 manded him to leave in the scabbard. Thus the winds 
 were about to be unchained from the mountains ; the 
 waters of the great deep, aroused by a terrible earth- 
 quake, were about to open ; and yet the vessel of the 
 state, sadly abandoned, sported up and down with in- 
 difference over a frightful gulf, — its yard struck, its 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 sails loose and motionloss — without compass or crew — • 
 without pilot, watch, or helm. 
 
 "Whatever were the exertions of the Waldstettes, 
 they could not entirely stifle tlie rumour of war, which 
 from chalet to chalet called all their citizens to arras. 
 God permitted a cry of alarm — a single one, it is true 
 — to resound in the ears of the people of Zurich. On 
 the 4th October, a little boy, who knew not what he 
 was doing, succeeded in crossing the frontier of Zug, 
 and presented himself with two loaves at the gate of 
 the reformed monastery of Cappel, situated in the far- 
 thest limits of the canton of Zurich. He was led to 
 the abbot, to whom the child gave the loaves, without 
 saying a word. The superior, with whom there 
 chanced to be at that time a councillor from Zurich, 
 Henry Peyer, sent by his government, turned pale 
 at the sight. " If the Five Cantons intend entering 
 by force of arms into the free bailiwicks," had said 
 these two Zurichers to one of their friends in Zug, 
 " you will send your son to us with one loaf ; but you 
 will give him two if they are marching at once upon 
 the bailiwicks and upon Zurich." The abbot and the 
 councillor wrote with all speed to Zurich. " Bo upon 
 your guard! take up arms," said they; but no credit 
 was attached to this information. The council were 
 at that time occupied in taking measures to prevent the 
 supplies that had arrived from Alsace from entering 
 the cantons. Zwingle himself, who had never ceased 
 to anuounce war, did not believe it. " These pen- 
 sioners are really clever fellows," said the reformer. 
 " Their preparations may be, after all, nothing but a 
 French manccuvre." 
 
 He was deceived — they were a reality. Four days 
 were to accomplish the ruin of Zurich. Let us retrace 
 in succession the history of these disastrous moments. 
 
 r~- 
 
 On Sund ly, Sth Octobu, a messenger appealed at 
 Zuiich, and demanded, m the name ot the Fne Can- 
 tons, letters of perpetual alliance. The majority saw 
 in this step nothing but a trick ; but Zwingle began to 
 discern the thunderbolt in the black cloud that was 
 drawing near. He was in the pulpit: it was the last 
 time he was destined to appear in it ; and as if he had 
 seen the formidable spectre of Eome rise frightfully 
 above the Alps, calling upon him and upon his people 
 to abandon the faith: — "No — no!" cried he, "never 
 will I deny my Redeemer!" 
 
 At the same moment a messenger arrived in haste 
 from Muliuen, commander of the Kuights-hospitallers 
 
 of St. John at Hitzkylch. " On Friday, 6th October," 
 said he to the councils of Zurich, " the people of Lucerne 
 planted their banner in the Great Square. Two men 
 that I sent to Lucerne have been thrown into prison. 
 To-morrow morning, (Monday, 9th October,) the Five 
 Cantons will enter the bailiwicks. Already the coun- 
 try-people, frightened and fugitive, are running to us 
 in crowds." — " It is an idle story," said the councils. 
 Nevertheless they recalled the commander-in-chief 
 Lavater, who sent off a trusty man, nephew of James 
 Winckler, with orders to repair to Cappel, and if pos- 
 sible, as far as Zug, to reconnoitre the arrangements of 
 the cantons. 
 
 The Waldstettes were in reality assembling round the 
 banner of Lucerne. The people of this canton ; the 
 men of Schwytz, Uri, Zug, and Unterwalden ; refugees 
 from Zurich and Berue, with a few Italians, formed 
 the main body of the army, which had been raised to 
 invade the free bailiwicks. Two manifestoes were 
 published — one addressed to the cantons, the other to 
 foreign princes and nations. 
 
 The Five Cantons energetically set forth the attacks 
 made upon the treaties, the discord sown throughout 
 the confederation, and iinally, the' refusal to sell them 
 provisions — a refusal whose only aim was (according 
 to them) to excite the people against the magistrates, 
 and to establish the Reform by force. " It is not true," 
 added they, " that — as they are continually crying out 
 — we oppose the preaching of the truth and the reading 
 of the Bible. As obedient members of the Church, we 
 desire to receive aU that our holy mother receives. But 
 we reject the books and the innovations of Zwingle and 
 his companions." 
 
 Hardly had the messengers chai'ged with these mani- 
 festoes departed, before the first division of the army 
 began to march, and arrived in the evening iu the free 
 bailiwicks. The soldiers having entered the deserted 
 churches, and seen the images of the saints removed, 
 and the altars broken, their anger was kindled ; they 
 spread like a torrent over the whole country, pillaged 
 everything they met with, and were particularly enraged 
 against the houses of the pastors, where they destroyed 
 the furniture with oaths and maledictions. At the 
 same time the division that was to form the main 
 army marched upon Zug, thence to move upon Zurich. 
 
 Cappel, at three leagues from Zurich, and about a 
 league from Zug, was the first place they would reach 
 in the Zurich territory, after crossing the frontier of 
 the Five Cantons. Near the Albis, between two hills 
 of similar height, — the Granges on the north, and the 
 Ifelsberg on the south, — in the midst of delightful pas- 
 tures, stood the ancient and wealthy convent of the 
 Cistercians, in whose church were the tombs of many 
 ancient and noble families of these districts. The 
 Abbot Wolfgang Joner, a just and pious man, a great 
 friend of the arts and letters, and a distinguished 
 preacher, had reformed his convent in 1527. Full of 
 compassion, rich in good works, particularly towards 
 the poor of the canton of Zug and the free bailiwicks, 
 he was held in great honour throughout the whole 
 country. He predicted what would be the termination 
 of the war; yet as soon as danger approached, he spared 
 no labour to serve his country. 
 
 It was on Sunday night that the abbot received posi- 
 
THE WAR BEGINS. 
 
 tive intelligenco of the preparations at Ziig. He paced 
 lip and down his cell ■with hasty steps; sleep fled from 
 his eyes ; he drew near his lamp, and addressing his 
 intimate friend, Peter Simmler, wlio succeeded him, 
 and who was then residing at Kylchbcrg, a village on 
 tlic borders of the lake, and about a league from the 
 town, he hastily wrote these words: "The great anxiety 
 and trouble which agitate me, prevent mc from busying 
 myself with the management of the house, and induce 
 mo to write to you all that is preparing. The time is 
 come, . . . the scourge of God appears. . . . 
 After many journeys and inquiries, we have learnt that 
 the Five Cantons will march to-day (Monday) to seize 
 upon llitzkylch, while the main army assembles its 
 banners at Baar, between Zug and Cappel. Those from 
 tlie v.alley of the Adige and the Italians will arrive 
 to-day or to-morrow." This letter, through some un- 
 foreseen circumstance, did not reach Zurich till the 
 evening. 
 
 Meanwhile the messenger whom Lavater had sent — 
 the nephew of J. Winckler — creeping on his belly, 
 gliding unperceived past the sentinels, and clinging to 
 the shrubs that overhung the precipices, had succeeded 
 in making his way where no road had been cleared. 
 On arriving near Zug, he had discovered with alarm 
 the banner and the militia hastening from all sides at 
 beat of drum : then traversing again these unknown 
 passes, he had returned to Zurich with this informa- 
 tion. 
 
 It was high time that the bandage should fall from 
 the eyes of the Zurichers i but the delusion was to 
 endure until the end. The council which was called 
 together met in small number. " The Five Cantons," 
 said they, "are making a little noise to frighten us, and 
 to make us raise the blockade." The council, however, 
 decided on sending Colonel Rodolph Dumysen and 
 Ulrich Funck to Cappel, to see what was going on ; 
 and each one, tranquilized by this unmeaning step, 
 retired to rest. 
 
 They did not slumber long. Every hour brought 
 fresh messengers of alarm to Zurich. "The banners 
 of four cantons are assembled at Zug," said they. 
 '•They are only waiting for Uri. The people of the 
 free bailiwicks are flocking to Cappel, and demanding 
 arms. . . . Help! help!" 
 
 Before the break of day the council was again as- 
 sembled, and it ordered the convocation of the Two 
 Hundred. An old man, whose hair had grown grey 
 on the battle-field and in the council of the state — tlie 
 banneret John Schweitzer — raising his head enfeebled 
 by age, and darting the last beam, as it were, fi-om his 
 eyes, exclaimed : "Xow — at this very moment, in God's 
 name, send an advanced-guard to Cappel, and let the 
 army, promptly collecting round the banner, follow it 
 immediately." He said no more ; but the charm was 
 not yet broken. "The peasants of the free bailiwicks," 
 said some, "we know to be hasty, and easily carried 
 away. They make the matter greater than it really is. 
 The wisest plan is to wait for the report of the coun- 
 cillors." In Zurich there was no longer either arm to 
 defend or head to advise. 
 
 It was seven in the morning, and the assembly was 
 still sittbg, when Rodolph Gwerb, pastor of Riffer- 
 schwyl, near Cappel, arrived in haste. "The people 
 
 of the lordship of Knonau," said he, "are crowding 
 round the convent, and loudly calling for chiefs and for 
 aid. The enemy is approaching. Will our lords of 
 Zurich (say they) abandon themselves, and us with 
 them? Do they wish to give us up to slaughter?" 
 The pastor, who had witnessed these mournful scenes, 
 spoke with animation. The councillors, whose infatua- 
 tion was to be prolonged to the last, were offended at 
 his message. "They want to make us act impru- 
 dently," replied they, turning in their arm-chairs. 
 
 They had scarcely ceased speaking before a new 
 messenger appeared, wearing on his features the marks 
 of the greatest terror : it was vSchwytzer, laudlord of 
 the "Beech Tree" on Mount Albis. "My lords 
 Dumysen and Funck," said he, " have sent me to you 
 with all speed to announce to the council that the Five 
 Cantons have seized upon llitzkylch, and that they are 
 now collecting all their troops at Baar. Sly lords 
 remain in the bailiwicks to aid the frightened inhabi- 
 tants." 
 
 This time the most confident turned pale. Terror, 
 so long restrained, passed like a flash of lightning 
 through every heart. Hitzkylch was in the power of 
 the enemy, and the war was begun. 
 
 It was resolved to expedite to Cappel a flying camp 
 of six hundred men with six guns ; but the command 
 was intrusted to George Giidh', whose brother was in 
 the army of the Five Cantons, and he was enjoined to 
 keep on the defensive. Gcidli and his troops had just 
 left the city, when the captain-general Lavater, sum- 
 moning into the hall of the Smaller Council the old 
 banneret Schweitzer, William Toning, captain of the 
 arquebusiers, J. Deunikon, captain of the artillery, 
 Zwingle, and some others, said to them : " Let us de- 
 liberate promptly on the means of saving the canton 
 and the city. Let the tocsin immediately call out 
 all the citizens." The captain-general feared that the 
 councils would shrink at this proceeding, and he wished 
 to raise the landsturm by the simple advice of the chiefs 
 of the army and of Zwingle. "We cannot take it upon 
 ourselves," said they; "the two councils are still 
 sitting; let us lay this proposition before them." They 
 hastened towards the place of meeting; but fatal mis- 
 chance ! there were only a few members of the Smaller 
 Council on the benches. "The consent of the Two 
 Hundred is necessary," said they. Again a new delay, 
 and the enemy were on their march. Two hours after 
 noon the Great Council met again, but only to make 
 long and useless speeches. At length the resolution 
 was taken, and at seven in the evening the tocsin be- 
 gan to sound in all the country districts. Treason 
 united with this dilatoriness, and persons who pre- 
 tended to be envoys from Zurich stopped the landsturm 
 in many places, as being contrary to the opinion of the 
 council. A great number of citizens went to sleep 
 again. 
 
 It was a fearful night. The thick darkness — a violent 
 storm — the alarm-bell ringing from every steeple — 
 the people running to arms — the noise of swords and 
 guns — the sound of trumpets and of drums, combined 
 with the roaring of the tempest, the distrust, discontent, 
 and even treason, which spread afHiction in every quar- 
 ter — the sobs of women and of children — the cries 
 which accompanied many a heart-rending adieu — an 
 2n 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFOfiMATION. 
 
 earthquake which occurred about nine o'clock at night, 
 as if nature herself had shuddered at the blood that was 
 about to be spilt, and which violently shook the moun- 
 tains and the valleys : all increased the terrors of this 
 fatal night — a night to be followed by a still more 
 fatal day. 
 
 While these events were passing, the Zurichers 
 cncannjed on the heights of Cappcl to the number of 
 about one thousand men, fixed their eyes on Zug and 
 upon the lake, attentively watching every movement. 
 On a sudden, a little before night, they perceived a few 
 barks filled with soldiers coming from the side of Arth, 
 aud rowing across the lake towards Zug. Their num- 
 ber increases — one boat follows another — soon they 
 distinctly hear the bellowing of the Bull (the horn) of 
 Uri, and discern the banner. The barks draw near 
 Zug; they are moored to the shore, which is lined with 
 au immense crowd. The warriors of Uri and the ar- 
 quebiisiers of the Adige spring up and leap on shore, 
 where they are received with acclamations, and take 
 up their quarters for the uight: behold the enemies 
 assembled! The council arc informed with all speed. 
 
 The agitation was still greater at Zurich than at 
 Cappel ; the confusion was increased by uncertaiuty. 
 The enemy attacking them on different sides at once, 
 they knew not where to carry assistance. Two hours 
 after midnight five hundred men with four guns quitted 
 the city for Bremgarten, and three or four hundred 
 meu with five guns for Wadenschwyl. They turned 
 to the right and to the left, while the enemy was in 
 front. 
 
 Alarmed at its own weakness, the council resolved 
 to apply without delay to the cities of the Christian 
 co-burghery. "As this revolt," wrote they, "has no 
 other origin than the Word of God, we entreat you 
 once — twice — thrice, as loudly, as seriously, as firmly, 
 and as earnestly, as our ancient alliances and our 
 Christian co-burghery permit and command us to do — 
 to set forth without delay with all your forces. Haste ! 
 haste ! haste ! Act as promptly as possible — the dan- 
 ger is yours as well as ours." Thus spake Zurich ; but 
 it was already too late. 
 
 At break of day the banner was raised before the 
 town-house ; instead of flaunting proudly in the wind, 
 it hung drooping down the staff — a sad omen that 
 filled many minds with fear. Lavater took up his 
 station under this standard ; but a long period elapsed 
 before a few hundred soldiers could be got together. 
 In the square and in all the city disorder and confusion 
 prevailed. The troops, fatigued by a hasty march or 
 by long waiting, were faint and discouraged. 
 
 At ten o'clock only 700 men were under arms. The 
 selfish, the lukewarm, the friends of Rome and of the 
 foreign pensioners, had remained at home. A few old 
 men who had more courage than strength — several 
 members of the two couucils who were devoted to the 
 holy cause of God's Word — many ministers of the 
 Church who desired to live and die with the Reform 
 — the boldest of the townspeople, and a certain num- 
 ber of peasants, especially those from the neighbour- 
 hood of the city — such were the defenders who, 
 wanting that moral force so necessary for victory, 
 incompletely armed, and without uniform, crowded iu 
 disorder around the banner of Zurich. 
 
 The army shovdd have numbered at least 4000 men ; 
 they waited still ; the usual oath had not been adminis- 
 tered ; and yet courier after courier arrived breathless 
 and in disorder, announcing the terrible danger that 
 threatened Zurich. All this disorderly crowd was 
 violently agitated — they no longer waited for the com- 
 mands of their chiefs, and many without taking the 
 oath rushed through the gates. About 200 men thus 
 set out iu confusion. All those who remained prepared 
 to depart. 
 
 Zwingle was now seen issuing from a house before 
 which a caparisoned horse was stampiug impatiently: 
 it was his own. His look was firm, but dimmed by 
 sorrow. He parted from his wife, his children, and 
 his numerous friends, without deceiving himself, and 
 with a bruised heart. He observed the thick water- 
 spout, which, driven by a terrible wind, advanced 
 whirling towards him. Alas! he had himself called 
 up this hurricane by quitting the atmosphere of the 
 Gospel of peace, and throwing himself into the midst 
 of political passions. He was convinced that he would 
 be its first victim. Fifteen days before the attack of 
 the Waldstettes, he had said from the pulpit: "I know 
 the meaning of all this : I am the person specially 
 pointed at. All this comes to pass — in order tliat I 
 may die." Tlie council, according to an ancient 
 custom, had called upon him to accompany the army 
 as its chaplain. Zwingle did not hesitate. He prepared 
 himself without surprise and without anger, — with the 
 calmness of a Christian who places himself confidently 
 iu the hands of his God. If the cause of Reform 
 was doomed to perish, he was ready to perish with it. 
 Surrounded by his weepiug wife and friends — by his 
 children who clung to his garments to detain him, he 
 quitted that house where he had tasted so much happi- 
 ness. At the moment that his hand was upon his 
 horse, just as he was about to mount, the animal vio- 
 lently started back several paces, and when he was at 
 last in the saddle it refused for a time to move, rearing 
 iind prancing backwards, like that horse which the 
 greatest captain of modern times had mounted as he 
 was about to cross the Niemen. Many iu Zurich at 
 that time thought with the soldier of the Grand Army 
 when he saw Napoleon ou the ground : " It is a bad 
 omen ! a Roman would go back ! " Zwingle having at 
 last mastered his horse, gave the reins, applied the spur, 
 started forward, and disappeared. 
 
 At eleven o'clock the flag was struck, aad all who 
 remained in the square — about 500 men — began their 
 march along with it. The greater part were torn with 
 difficulty from the arms of their families, and walked 
 sad and silent, as if they were going to the scaffold 
 instead of battle. There was no order — no plan ; the 
 meu were isolated and scattered, some running before, 
 some after the colours, their extreme confusion pre- 
 senting a fearful appearance ; so much so, that those 
 who remained behind — the women, the children, aud 
 the old men, filled with gloomy forebodings, beat their 
 breasts as they saw them pass ; and mauy years after, 
 the remembrauce of this day of tumult aud sadness 
 drew this groan from Oswald Myconius : " Whenever 
 I recall it to mind, it is as if a sword pierced my heart." 
 Zwingle, armed according to the usage of the chaplains 
 of the confederation, rode mournfully behind this dis- 
 
THE ENEMY AT ZUG. 
 
 (racted multituilo. Mycoiiiiis, when he saw him, was 
 nigh fainting. Zwinglo disappeared, and Oswald rc- 
 luained behind to weep. 
 
 lie did not shed tears alone; in all quarters were 
 heard lamentations, and every house was changed into 
 a house of prayer. In tiie midst of this universal 
 sorrow, one woman remained silent ; her only cry was 
 a bitter heart, her only language the mild and suppliant 
 eye of faith : — this was Anna, Zwiugle's wife. She 
 had seen her husband depart — her son, her brother, a 
 great number of intimate friends and near relations, 
 whose approaching death she foreboded. But her soul, 
 strong as that of Ikt husband, offered to God the sacri- 
 fice of her hulicst atlVctious. Gradually the defenders 
 of Zurich precipitated their march, and the tumult died 
 away in tiie distance. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 The Scene ot War— The Enemy at Zug— Declaration of War— Coiuicil— Ai-my 
 of the Forest Cantons appears— The fii-st Guu fired— Zwingle's Gravity 
 and SoiTOw— Zurich Amiy ascending tlie Albis— Halt and Council at 
 the Beech Tree — They quicken their March— Jauch's Reconnaissance — 
 Uis Appeal— J 
 
 This night, which was so stormy in Zurich, had not 
 been calmer among the inhabitants of Cappel. They 
 had received the most alarming reports one after an- 
 other. It was necessary to take up a position that 
 ■would allow the troops assembled round the convent 
 to resist the enemy's attack until the arrival of the 
 reinforcements that were expected from the city. They 
 cast their eyes on a small hill, which, lying to tlie north 
 towards Zin-ich, and traversed by the highroad, pre- 
 sented an uneven but suliiciently extensive surface. A 
 deep ditch that surrounded it on three sides defended 
 the approaches ; but a small bridge, that was the only 
 issue on the side of Zurich, rendered a precipitate 
 retreat very dangerous. On the south-west was a 
 I wood of beech trees ; on the south, in the direction of 
 ' Zug. was the highroad and a marshy valley. " Lead 
 us to the Granges," cried all the soldiers. They were 
 conducted thither. The artillery was stationed near 
 some ruins. The line of battle was drawn up on the 
 side of the monastery and of Zug, and sentinels were 
 placed at the foot of the slope. 
 
 Meantime, the signal was given at Zug and Baar ; 
 the drums beat : the soldiers of the Five Cantons took 
 lip their arms. A univereal feeling of joy animated 
 them. The churches were opened, the bells rang, and 
 the serried ranks of the cantons entered the cathedral 
 of St. Oswald, where mass was celebrated and the host 
 offered up for the sins of the people. All the army 
 began their march at nine o'clock, with banners flying. 
 The avoyer John Colder commanded the contingent of 
 Lucerne ; the landamman James Troguer that of Uri ; 
 the landamman Eychmuth, a mortal enemy of the 
 Reformation, that of Schwytz ; the landamman Zellger, 
 that of L^nterwalden ; and Oswald Dooss that of Zug. 
 Eight thousand men marched in order of battle : all the 
 picked men of the Five Cantons were there. Fresh 
 
 and active after a quiet night, and having only one 
 short league to cross before reaching the enemy, these 
 haughty Waldstettes advanced with a firm and regular 
 step under the command of their chiefs. 
 
 On reaching the common meadow of Zug, they halted 
 to take tlie oath : every hand was upraised to heaven, 
 and all swore to avenge themselves. They were about 
 to resume their march, when some aged men made 
 signs to them to stop. " Comrades," said they, " we 
 have long offended God. Our bla-sphemies, our oaths, 
 our wars, our revenge, our pride, our drunkenness, our 
 adulteries, the gold of the stranger to whom our hands 
 have been extended, and all tlie disorders in which we 
 have indulged, have so provoked His anger, that if He 
 should punish us to-day, we should only receive the 
 desert of our crimes." The emotion of the chiefs had 
 passed into the ranks. All the army bent the knee 
 in the midst of the plain ; deep silence prevailed, and 
 every soldier, with bended head, crossed himself de- 
 voutly, and repeated in a low voice five paters, as 
 many aves, and the credo. One might have said that 
 they were for a time in the midst of a vast and stilly 
 desert. Suddenly the noise of an immense crowd was 
 again heard. The army rose up. " Soldiers," said the 
 captains, " you know the cause of this war. Bear your 
 wives and your children continually before your eyes." 
 
 Then the chief usher (grand sautier) of Lucerne, 
 wearing the colours of the canton, approached the 
 chiefs of the army: they placed in his hands the 
 declaration of war, dated on that very day, and sealed 
 with the arms of Zug. He then set off on horseback, 
 preceded by a trumpeter, to carry this paper to the 
 commander of the Zurichers. 
 
 It was eleven in the morning. The Zurichers soon 
 discovered the enemy's army, and cast a sorrowful 
 glance on the small force they were able to oppose to 
 it. Every minute the danger increased. All bent their 
 knees, their eyes were raised to heaven, and every 
 Zurichcr uttered a cry from the bottom of his heart, 
 praying for deliverance from God. As soon as the 
 prayer was ended, they got ready for battle. There 
 were at that time about twelve hundred men under 
 arms. 
 
 At noon the trumpet of the Five Cantons sounded 
 not far from the advanced posts. Gtidli, having col- 
 lected the members of the two councils who happened 
 to be with the m-my, as well as the commissioned and 
 non-commissioned officers, and having ranged them in 
 a circle, ordered the secretary Rheiuhard to read the 
 declaration of which the Sautier of Lucerne was the 
 bearer. After the reading, Godli opened a coimcil of 
 war. " We are few in number, and the forces of our 
 adversaries are great," said Landolt, bailiff of Marpac, 
 " but 1 will here await the enemy in the name of God." 
 "Wait!" cried the captain of the halberdiers, Rodolph 
 Zigler : " Impossible ! let us rather take advantage of 
 the ditch that cuts the road to effect our retreat, and 
 let us everywhere raise a levee en masse." This was 
 in truth the only means of safety. But Rudi Gallmann, 
 considering every step backwards as an act of cowar- 
 dice, cried out, stamping his feet forcibly on the earth, 
 and casting a fiery glance around him, " Here — here 
 shall be my grave!" — "It is now too late to retire 
 with honour," said other officers. " This day is in the 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 hands of God. Let us suffer ■whatever He hiys npou 
 us." It was put to the vote. 
 
 The members of the council had scarcely raised 
 their hands in token of assent, when a great noise was 
 heard around them. "The captain! the captain!" 
 cried a soldier from the outposts who arrived in haste. 
 "Silence, silence!" replied the ushers, driving him 
 back ; " they are holding a council ! " — "It is no longer 
 time to hold a council," replied the soldier. " Conduct 
 me immediately to the captain." ..." Our senti- 
 nels are falling back," cried he with an agitated voice, 
 as he arrived before Godli. "The enemy is there — 
 they are aJvaneiiig tliruu^uli the forest with all their 
 
 forces and with great tumult." He had not ceased 
 speaking before the sentinels, who were in truth retir- 
 ing ou all sides, ran up, and the army of the Five 
 Cantons was soon seen climbing the slope of Ifelsbcrg 
 in face of the Granges, and pointing their guns. The 
 loaders of the Waldstettes were examining the position, 
 and seeking to discover by what means their army could 
 reach that of Zurich. The Zurichers were asking them- 
 selves the same question. The nature of the ground 
 prevented the Waldstettes from passing below the con- 
 vent, but they could arrive by another quarter. Ulricli 
 Briider, under-bailiff of Husen in the canton of Zurich, 
 fixed his anxious look on the beech-wood. "It is 
 
 ZWINQLE LEA 
 
 thence that the enemy will fall uiion us!" "Axes — 
 axes ! " immediately cried several voices : " let us cut 
 down the trees ! " Giidli, the abbot, and several others 
 were opposed to this : " If we stop up the wood, by 
 throwing down the trees, we shall ourseh-es be luiablo 
 to work our guns in tliat direction," said they. — "Well! 
 at least let us place some arquebusiers in that quarter." 
 — " We are already so small a number," replied tlie 
 captain, "that it will be imprudent to divide the 
 forces." Neither wisdom nor courage were to save 
 Zurich. They once more invoked the help of God, 
 and waited in expectation. 
 
 At one o'clock the Five Cantons fired the first gun : 
 
 VINQ ZURICH. 
 
 the ball passing over the convent fell below the Granges ; 
 a second passed over the line of battle ; a third struck 
 a hedge close to the ruins. The Zurichers, seeing the 
 battle was begun, replied with courage ; but the slow- 
 ness and awkwardness with which the artillery was 
 served in those days prevented any gi-eat loss being 
 inflicted on either side. When the enemy perceived 
 this, they ordered their advanced guard to descend 
 from Ifelsberg and to reach the Granges througli the 
 meadow ; and soon the ivhole army of the cantons 
 advanced in this direction, but with difficulty and 
 over bad roads. Some arquebusiers of Zuricli came 
 and announced the disorder of the cantons. "Brave 
 
ZURICH ARMY ASCENDING THE ALBIS. 
 
 549 
 
 Ziiriclicrs," cried Rudi Gallmaii, "if wc attack them 
 now, it is all over wilij thciu." At these words some 
 of the soldiers prepared to enter the wood on the left, 
 to fall upon the disheartened Waldstettes. But Godii 
 l)orceivinp; this movement, cried out : " Where arc you 
 f^uing? — do you not know that wc have agreed not to 
 separate?" He then ordered the skirmishers to be re- 
 called, so that the wood remained entirely open to the 
 enemy. They were satislieil with discharging a few 
 random shots frimi time to time to prevent the cantons 
 from establishing themselves there. The firing of the 
 artillery continued until three o'clock, and announced 
 far and wide, even to Bremgartea and Zurich, that the 
 bailie had begun. 
 
 In the meanwhile the great banner of Zurich and all 
 those who surrounded it, among whom was Zwingle, 
 came advancing in disorder towards the Albis. For a 
 year past the gaiety of the reformer had entirely dis- 
 appeared : he was gra^e, melancholj', easily moved ; 
 having a weight on his heart that seemed to crush it. 
 Often would he throw himself weeping at the feet of 
 his Master, and seek in prayer the strength of which 
 he stood in need. No one had ever observed in him 
 any irritation; on the contrary, he had received with 
 mildii"^ .i^^/l'c counsels that had been offered, and had 
 remamed tenderly attached to men whose convictions 
 were not the same as his own. He was now advanc- 
 ing mournfully along the road to Cappel ; and John 
 Maaler of AVinterthour, who was riding a few paces 
 behind him, heard his groans aud sighs, intermingled 
 with fervent prayers. If any one spoke to him, he was 
 found firm and strong in the peace that proceeds from 
 faith ; but he did not conceal his conviction that he 
 should uover sec his family or church again. Thus 
 advanced the forces of Zurich. A woeful mai-ch I re- 
 sembling rather a funeral procession than an army 
 going to battle. 
 
 As they approached they saw express after express 
 galloping along the road from Cappel, begging the 
 Zurichers to hasten to the defence of their brothers. 
 
 At Adliswyl, having passed the bridge under which 
 flow the impetuous waters of the Sihl, and traversed 
 the village through the midst of women, children, and 
 old men, who, standing before their cottages, looked 
 with sadness on this disorderly troop, they began to 
 ascend the Albis. They were about half-way from 
 Cappel when the first cannon-shot was heard. They 
 stop, they listen: a secoud, a third succeeds. . . . 
 There is no longer any doubt. The glory, the very 
 existence of the republic are endangered, and they are 
 not present to defend it ! The blood curdles in their 
 veins. On a sudden they arouse, and each one begins 
 to rmi to the support of his brothers. But the road 
 over the Albis was much steeper than it is in our days. 
 The badly harnessed artillery could not ascend it ; the 
 old men and citizens, little habituated to marching, and 
 covered with weighty armour, advanced with difficulty: 
 and yet they formed the greater portion of the troops. 
 They were seen stopping one after another, panting 
 and exhausted, along the sides of the road near the 
 thickets aud ravines of the Albis, leaning against a 
 beech or au ash tree, and looking with dispirited eyes 
 to the summit of the mountain covered with thick 
 pines. 
 
 They resumed their march, however; the horsemen 
 and the most intrepid of the fool-soldiers hastened on- 
 wards, and having reached the " Beech Tree," on the 
 top of the mountain, halted to take counsel. 
 
 What a prospect then extended before their eyes ! 
 Zurich, the lake and its smiling shores — those orchards, 
 those fertile fields, those vine-clad hills, almost the 
 whole of the canton. Alas ! soon, perhaps, to be de- 
 vastated by the forest-bands. 
 
 Scarcely had these noble-minded men begun to de- 
 liberate, when fresh messengers from Cappel appeared 
 before them, exclaiming, " Hasten forwards ! " At 
 these words many of the Zurichers prepared to gallop 
 towards the enemy. Toning, the captain of the arque- 
 busiers, stopt them. " My good friends," cried he to 
 them, "against such great forces what can we do 
 alone? Let us wait here imtil our people arc assem- 
 bled, and then let us fall upon the enemy with the 
 whole army." — " Yes, if we had an army," bitterly re- 
 I)lied the captain-general, who, in despair of saving the 
 republic, thought only of dying with glory; " but we 
 have only a banner and no soldiers." — " How can we 
 stay calmly upon these heights," said Zwingle, "while 
 we hoar the shots that are fired at our fellow-citizens? 
 In the name of God I will march towards my brother 
 warriors, prepared to die in order to save them." — 
 "And I to," added the aged banneret Schweitzer. 
 "As for you," continued he, turning with a contemp- 
 tuous look towards Toning, " wait tiU you are a little 
 recovered." — "I am quite as much refreshed as you," 
 replied Toning, the colour mantling on his face, " and 
 you shall soon see whether I cannot fight." All 
 hastened their steps towards the field of battle. 
 
 The descent was rapid ; they plunged into the woods, 
 passed through the village of Huscn, and at length 
 arrived near the Granges. It was three o'clock when 
 the banner crossed the narrow bridge that led thither : 
 and there were so few soldiers round it that every one 
 trembled as he beheld this venerated standard thus ex- 
 posed to the attacks of so formidable an enemy. The 
 army of the Cantons was at that moment deploying 
 before the eyes of the new-comers. Zwingle gazed 
 upon this terrible spectacle. Behold, then, these pha- 
 lanxes of soldiers! — a few minutes more, and the la- 
 bours of eleven years wUl be destroyed perhaps for 
 ever! , . . 
 
 A citizen of Zurich, one Leonard Bourkhard, who 
 was ill-disposed towards the reformer, said to him in a 
 harsh tone : " AVell, Master Ulrich, what do you say 
 about this business? Are the radishes salt enough? 
 , who will eat them now?" — "I," replied 
 Zwingle, " and many a brave man who is here in the 
 hands of God ; for we are His in life and in death." 
 "And I too — I will help to cat them," resumed Bourk- 
 hard immediately, ashamed of his brutality, — "I wiU 
 risk my life for them." And he did so, and many 
 others with him, adds the chronicle. 
 
 It was four o'clock ; the sun was sinking rapidly; 
 the AValdstettes did not advance, and the Zurichers 
 began to think that the attack would be put off till the 
 morrow. In fact, the chiefs of the Five Cantons 
 seeing the great banner of Zurich arrive, the night 
 near at hand, and the impossibility of crossing, under 
 the fire of the Zurichers, the marsh and the ditch that 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 separated the combatants, were looking for a place in 
 which their troops might pass the night. "If at this 
 moment any mediators had appeared," says Bullinger, 
 " their proposals would have been accepted." 
 
 The soldiers, observing the hesitation of their chiefs, 
 began to miu-mur loudly. "The big ones abandon us," 
 said one. " The captains fear to bite the fox's tail," 
 said another. " Not to attack them," cried they all, 
 "is to ruin our cause." During this time a daring 
 man was preparing the skilful manceuvre that was to 
 decide the fate of tlie day. A warrior of Uri, John 
 Jauch, formerly bailiff of Sargans, a good marksman 
 and experienced soldier, having taken a few men with 
 him, moved towards the right of the array of the Five 
 Cantons, crept into the midst of the clump of beech- 
 trees that, by forming a semicircle to the east, unite 
 the hill of Ifelsberg to that of the Granges,' found the 
 wood empty, arrived to within a few paces of the 
 Zurichers, and there, hidden behind the trees, re- 
 marked, unperceived, the smallness of their numbers, 
 and their want of caution. Then, stealthily retiring, 
 he went to the chiefs at the very moment the discon- 
 tent was on the point of bursting out. " Now is the 
 time to attack the enemy," cried he. "Dear gossip," 
 replied Troguer, captain-in-chief of Uri, "you do 
 not mean to say that we should set to work at so 
 late an hour; besides, the men are preparing their 
 quarters, and everybody knows what it cost our fathers 
 at Naples and Marignan for having commenced the 
 attack a little before night. And then it is Innocent's 
 day, and our ancestors have never given battle ou a 
 feast-day." — " Don't think about the Innocents of the 
 calendar," replied Jauch, " but let us rather remember 
 the innocents that we have left in our cottages." 
 Gaspard Giidli of Zurich, brother of the commander 
 of the Granges, added his entreaties to those of the 
 warrior of Uri. " 'We must either beat the Zurichers 
 to-night," said he, " or be beaten by them to-morrow. 
 Take your choice." 
 
 All was unavailing; the chiefs were inflexible, and the 
 army prepared to take up its quarters. Upon this the 
 warrior of Uri, understanding, like his fellow-country- 
 man Tell, that great evils require great remedies, drew 
 his sword and cried : "Let all true confederates follow 
 me." Then hastily leaping to his saddle, he spurred 
 his horse into the forest, and immediately arquebusiers, 
 soldiers from the Adige, and many other warriors of 
 the Five Cantons, especially from Untcrwalden — in all 
 about 300 men, rnshed into the wood after him. At 
 this sight Jauch no longer doubted of the victory of 
 the Waldstettes. He dismounted and fell upon his 
 knees, "for," says Tschudi, "he was a man who 
 feared God." All his followers did the same, and to- 
 gether invoked the aid of God, of His holy mother, 
 and of all the heavenly host. They then advanced ; 
 but soon the warrior of Uri, wishing to expose no one 
 but himself, halted his troops, and glided from tree to 
 tree to the verge of the wood. Observing that the 
 enemy was as incautious as ever, he rejoined his arque- 
 busiers, led them stealthily forward, and posted them 
 silently behind the trees of the forest, enjoining them 
 
 1 Tliis wood no longer connects tlie two bills. Tlic present pastor of 
 Cappel told me that when first he went into that district the wood was 
 much more extensive than it is at present. 
 
 to take their aim so as not to miss their men. During 
 this time the chiefs of the Five Cantons, foreseeing 
 that this rash man was about to bring on the action, 
 decided against their will, and collected their soldiers 
 around the banners. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Unforeseen Change— The whole Army Advances— Universal Disorder- The 
 Banneret's Death— The Banner in Danger — Tlie Banner Saved— Terrible 
 Slaughter— Slaughter of the Pastors— Zwingle's Ijist Words— Barbarity 
 of the Victors — The Furnace of Trial— Zwingle's dying Moments — Day 
 after the Battle— Homage and Outrage. 
 
 The Zurichers, fearing that the enemy would seize 
 upon the road that led to their capital, were then 
 directing part of their troops and their guns to a low 
 hill by which it was commanded. At the very mo- 
 ment that the invisible arquebusiers stationed among 
 the beech-trees were taking their aim, this detachment 
 passed near the little wood. The deepest silence pre - 
 vailed in this solitude : each one posted there picked 
 out the man he desired to bring down, and Jyik^" ex- 
 claimed : "In the name of the Holy Trinity — -of God 
 the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost — of the Holy 
 Slother of God, and of all the heavenly host — fire I " 
 At the word the deadly balls issued from the wood, 
 and a murderous carnage in the ranks of Zurich fol- 
 lowed this terrible discharge. The battle, which had 
 begun four hours ago, and which had never appeared 
 to be a serious attack, now underwent an unforeseen 
 change. The sword was not again to be returned to 
 the scabbard until it had been bathed in ton-euts of 
 blood. Those of the Zurichers who had not fallen at 
 this first discharge, lay fiat on the ground, so that the 
 balls passed over their heads; but they soon sprang up, 
 saying: "Shall we allow ourselves to be butchered? 
 No ! let us rather attack the enemy ! " Lavater seized 
 a lance, and rushing into the foremost rank exclaimed : 
 " Soldiers, uphold the honour of God and of our lords, 
 and behave like brave men ! " Zwingle, silent and 
 collected, like nature before the bursting of the tempest, 
 was there also, halberd in hand. " Master Ulrich," said 
 Bernard Sprnngli, "speak to the people and encourage 
 them." — "Warriors!" said Zwingle, "fear nothing. 
 If we are this day to be defeated, still our cause is 
 good. Commend yourselves to God ! " 
 
 The Zurichers quickly turned the artillery they were 
 dragging to another quarter, and pointed it against the 
 wood ; but their bullets, instead of striking the enemy, 
 only reached the top of the trees, and tore off a few 
 branches that fell upon the skirmishers. 
 
 Eychmuth, the laudamman of Schwytz, came up at 
 a gallop to recall the volunteers ; but seeing the battle 
 begun, he ordered the whole army to advance. Im- 
 mediately the five banners moved forward. 
 
 But already Jauch's skirmishers, rushing from 
 among the trees, had fallen impetuously upon the 
 Zurichers, charging with their long and pointed hal- 
 berds. "Heretics! sacrilegists ! " cried they, "we 
 have you at last!" — "Man-sellers, idolaters, impious 
 papists!" replied the Zurichers, "is it really you?" 
 
UNIVERSAL DISORDER— THE BANNERET'S DEATH. 
 
 At first a shower of stones fell from both parties and 
 wounded several ; immediately they came to close 
 quarters. The resistance of the Zurichcrs was teirible. 
 Each sirnck with the sword or with the halberd : at 
 last the soldiers of the Five Cantons were driven back 
 in disorder. The Zurichcrs advanced, but in so doing 
 lost the advantajrcs of their position, and got entangled 
 in the marsh. Some IJonian Catholic historians pre- 
 tend that this fliglit of their troops was a stratagem to 
 draw the Zurichcrs into the snare. 
 
 In the meantime the army of the Five Cantons 
 hastened through the wood. Burning with courage 
 and with anger, they eagerly quickened their steps; 
 from the midst of the beech-trees there resounded a 
 confused and savage noise — a frightful murmur ; the 
 ground shook ; one might have imagined that the 
 forest was uttering a horrible roar, or that witches 
 were holding their nocturnal revels in its dark re- 
 cesses. In vain did the bravest of the Zurichcrs offer 
 nn intrepid resistance : the Waldstettes had the advan- 
 tage in every quarter. "They are surrounding us," 
 cried some. " Our men are fleeing," said others. A 
 man from the canton of Zug, mingling with the 
 Zurichcrs, and pretending to be of tlieir party, ex- 
 claimed: "Fly, fly, brave Zurichcrs, you are betrayed!" 
 Thus everything is against Zurich. Even the hand of 
 Ilim who is tlie disposer of battles turned against this 
 people. Thus was it also in times of old that God 
 frequently chastised His own people of Israel by the 
 Assyrian sword. A panic-terror seized upon the 
 bravest, and the disorder spread everywhere with 
 frightful raiiidity. 
 
 In the meanwhile the aged Schweitzer had raised 
 the great banner with a firm hand, and all the picked 
 men of Zurich were drawn up around it ; but soon 
 their ranks were thinned. John Kammli, charged 
 with the defence of the standard, having observed the 
 small number of combatants that remained upon the 
 field of battle, said to the banneret: "Let us lower the 
 banner, my lord, and save it, for our people are flying 
 shamefully." — " Warriors, remain firm !" replied the 
 aged banneret, whom no danger had ever shaken. 
 The disorder augmented — the number of fugitives in- 
 creased every minute ; the old man stood fast, amazed 
 and immoveable as an aged oak beaten by a frightful 
 hurricane. He received unflinchingly the blows that 
 fell upon him, and alone resisted the terrible storm. 
 Kammli seized him by the arm : " My lord," said he 
 again, " lower the banner, or else we shall lose it ; 
 there is no more glory to be reaped here!" The 
 banneret, who was already mortally wounded, ex- 
 claimed: "Alas! must the city of Zurich be so pun- 
 ished .'" Then, dragged off by Kammli, who held him 
 by the arm, he retreated as far as the ditch. The 
 weight of years, and the wounds with which he was 
 covered, did not permit him to cross it. He fell in the 
 mire at the bottom, still holding the glorious standard, 
 whose folds dropped on the other bank. 
 
 The enemy ran up with loud shouts, being attracted 
 by the colotn-s of Zurich, as the bull by the gladiator's 
 flag. Kammli seeing this, unhesitatingly leapt to the 
 bottom of the ditch, and laid hold of the stiff and dying 
 hands of his chief, in order to preserve the precious 
 ensign, which they tightly grasped. But it was iu 
 
 vain : the hands of the aged Schweitzer would not loose 
 the standard. "My lord banneret!" cried tliis faithful 
 servant, "it is no longer in your ]>ower to defend it." 
 The hands of the banneret, already stiffened in death, 
 still refused ; upon which Kammli violently tore away 
 the sacred standard, leapt upon the other bank, and 
 rushed with his treasure far from the stei)s of the 
 enemy. The last Zurichcrs at this moment reached 
 the ditch; they fell one after another upon the expir- 
 ing banneret, and thus hastened his death. 
 
 Kammli, however, having received a wound from 
 a gun-shot, his march was retarded, and soon the 
 A7aldstettes surrounded him with their swords. The 
 Zuricher, holding the banner in one hand,, and his 
 sword in the other, defended himself bravely. One of 
 the AValdstcttes caught hold of the staff — another 
 seized the flag itself and tore it. Kammli, with one 
 blow of his sword, cut down the former, and striking 
 around him, called out : " To the rescue, brave Zurich- 
 ers ! save the honour and the banner of our lords." 
 The assailants increased in number, and the warrior 
 was about to fall, when Adam K;eff of Wollenwyd 
 rushed up, sword in hand, and the head of the "Wald- 
 stette who had torn the colours rolled upon the plain, 
 and his blood gushed out upon the flag of Zurich. 
 Dumyseu, member of the Smaller Council, supported 
 Na^ff with his halberd, and both dealt such lusty blows, 
 that they succeeded in disengaging the standard-bearer. 
 He, although dangerously wounded, sprang forward, 
 holding the blood-stained folds of the banner in one 
 hand, which he carried off hastily, dragging the staff 
 behind him. With fierce look and fiery eye, he thus 
 passed, sword in hand, through the midst of friends 
 and enemies : he crossed plains, woods, and marshes, 
 everywhere leaving traces of his blood, which flowed 
 from numerous wounds. Two of his enemies, one from 
 Schwytz, the other from Zug, were particularly eager 
 in his pursuit. "Heretic! villain!" cried thev, sur- 
 render and give us the banner." — " You shall have my 
 life first," replied the Ziu-icher. Then the two hostile 
 soldiers, who were embarrassed by their cuirasses, 
 stopped a moment to take them off. Kammli took 
 advantage of this to get in advance: he ran; Huber, 
 Dumysen, and Dantzler, of Nacnikon, were at his side. 
 They all four thus arrived near Ilusen, half-way up 
 the Albis. They had still to climb the steepest part 
 of the mountain. Huber fell covered with wounds. 
 Dumysen, the colonel-general, who had fought as a 
 private soldier, almost reached the church of Huseu, 
 and there he dropt lifeless : and two of his sons, iu 
 the flower of youth, soon lay stretched on the battle- 
 field that had drunk their father's blood. Kammli 
 took a few steps farther ; bnt halted erelong, exhausted 
 and panting, near a hedge that he would have to clear, 
 and discovered his two enemies and other Waldstettes 
 running from all sides, like birds of prey, towards 
 the wavering standard of Zurich. The strength of 
 Kammli was sinking rapidly, his eyes gi-ew dim, thick 
 darkness surrounded him: a hand of lead fastened 
 him to the ground. Then, mustering all his expiring 
 strength, he flung the standard on the otiier side of the 
 hedge, exclaiming: "Is there any brave Zuricher near 
 me ? Let him preserve the banner and the honour of 
 our lords 1 As for me, I can do uo more!" Then 
 
552 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION 
 
 casting a last look to heaven, he added: "May God 
 be my helper 1 " He fell exhausted by this last eif ort. 
 Dautzler, who came up, flung away his sword, sprung 
 over the hedge, seized the banner, and cried, ""With 
 tlie aid of God I will carry it off." He then rapidly 
 climbed the Albis, and at last placed the ancient stand- 
 ard of Zurich in safety. God, on whom these warriors 
 fixed all their hopes, had heard their prayers, but the 
 noblest blood of the republic had been spilt. 
 
 The enemy were victorious at all points. The sol- 
 diers of the Five Cantons, and particularly those of 
 Uuterwalden, long hardened in the wars of the Milanese, 
 shewed themselves more merciless towards their con- 
 federates thfin they had ever been towards foreigners. 
 At the beginning of the battle, Giidli had taken flight, 
 and soon after he quitted Zurich for ever. Lavater, 
 the captain-general, after having fought valiantly, had 
 fallen into the ditch. He was dragged out by a soldier, 
 and escaped. 
 
 Tlie most distinguished men of Zurich fell one after 
 another under the blows of the Waldstettes. Rudi 
 Gallman found the glorious tomb he had wished for, 
 and his two brothers stretched beside him left their 
 father's house desolate. Toning, captain of the arque- 
 busiers, died for his country as he had foretold. All 
 the pride of the population of Zurich, seven members 
 of the Smaller Council, nineteen members of the Two 
 Hundred, sixty-five citizens of the town, four hundred 
 and seventeen from the rural districts : the father in 
 the midst of his children — the son sun-ounded by his 
 brothers — lay on the field. 
 
 Gerold Meyer of Kuonau, son of Anna Zwingle, at 
 that time twenty-two years of age, and already a mem- 
 ber of the council of Two Hundred, — a husband and a 
 father, — had rushed into the foremost ranks with all 
 the impetuosity of youth. " Surrender, and your life 
 shall be spared," cried some of the warriors of the Five 
 Cantons, who desired to save him. " It is better for 
 me to die with honour thau to yield with disgi-ace," 
 replied the son of Anna, and immediately, struck by a 
 mortal blow, he fell and expired not far from the castle 
 of his ancestors. 
 
 The ministers were those who paid proportionally 
 the greatest tribute on this bloody day. The sword 
 that was at work on the heights of Cappel thirsted for 
 their blood : twenty-five of them fell beneath its stroke. 
 The Waldstettes trembled with rage whenever they 
 discovered one of these heretical preachers, and sacri- 
 ficed him with enthusiasm, as a chosen victim to the 
 Virgin and the saints. There has, perhaps, never 
 been any battle in which so many men of the Word 
 of God have bitten the dust. Almost everywhere 
 the pastors had marched at the head of their flocks. 
 One might have said that Cappel was an assembly of 
 Christiac churches, rather than an army of Swiss com- 
 panies. The Abbot Joncr, receiving a mortal wound 
 near the ditch, expired in sight of his own monastery. 
 The people of Zug, in pursuit of the enemy, uttered a 
 cry of anguish /is they passed his body, remembering 
 all the good he had done them. Schmidt of Kuss- 
 nacht, stationed on the field of battle in the midst of 
 his parishioners, fell surrounded by forty of their 
 bodies. Geroldsek, John Haller, and many other 
 pastors, at the head of then- flocks, suddenly met, in 
 
 a terrible and unforeseen manner, the Lord whom they 
 had preached. 
 
 But the death of one individual far surpassed all 
 others. Zwingle was at the post of danger, the helmet 
 on his head, the sword hanging at his side, the battle- 
 axe in his hand.^ Scarcely had the action begun, when, 
 stooping to console a dying man, says J. J. Ilottinger, 
 a stone hurled by the vigorous arm of a Waldstette 
 struck hits on the head and closed his lips. Yet 
 Zwingle arose, when two other blows, which hit him 
 successively on the leg, threw him down again. Twice 
 more he stands up ; but a fourth time he receives a 
 thrust from a lance, he staggers, and sinking beneath 
 so many wounds, falls on his knees. Does not the 
 darkness that is spreading around him announce a 
 still thicker darkness that is about to cover the Church? 
 Zwingle turns away from such sad thoughts ; once 
 more he uplifts that head which had been so bold, and 
 gazing with calm eye upon the trickling blood, exclaims; 
 "What matters this misfortune? They may indeed 
 kill the body, but they cannot kill the soul !" These 
 were his last words. 
 
 He had scarcely uttered them ere he fell backwards. 
 There, under a tree, (Zwingle's Pear-tre;^,) in a meadow, 
 he remained lying on his back, with clasped hand, and 
 eyes upturned to heaven. 
 
 While the bravest were pursuing the scattered sol- 
 diers of Zurich, the stragglers of the Five Cantons had 
 pounced like hungry ravens on the field of battle. 
 Torch in hand, these wretches prowled among the dead, 
 casting looks of irritation around them, and lighting up 
 the features of their expiring victims by the dull glim- 
 mering of these funereal torches. They turned over 
 the bodies of the wounded and the dead ; they tortured 
 and stripped them. If they found any who were still 
 sensible, they cried out, " Call upon the saints and con- 
 fess to our priests !" If the Zurichers, faithful to their 
 creed, rejected these cruel invitations, these men, who 
 were as cowardly as they were fanatical, pierced them 
 with their lances, or dashed out their brains with the 
 butt-ends of their arquebuses. The Roman Catholic 
 historian, Salat of Lucerne, makes a boast of this. 
 " They were left to die like infidel dogs, or were slain 
 with the sword or the spear, that they might go so 
 much the quicker to the devil, with whose help they 
 had fought so desperately." If any of the soldiers of 
 the Five Cantons recognised a Zuricher against whom 
 they had any grudge, with dry eyes, disdainful mouth, 
 and features changed by anger, they drew near the 
 unhappy creature, writhing in the agonies of death, 
 and said : " AVell ! has your heretical faith preserved 
 you? Ah, ha! it was pretty clearly seen to-day who 
 had the true faith. , , . To-day we have dragged 
 your Gospel in the mud, and you too, oven you are 
 covered with your own blood. God, the Virgin, and 
 the saints, have punished you." Scarcely had they 
 uttered these words before they plunged their swords 
 into their enemy's bosom. " Mass or death !" was their 
 watchword. 
 
 Thus triumphed the Waldstettes, but the pious 
 Zurichers who expired on the field of battle called 
 to mind that they had for God one who has said: 
 
 1 Tlie chaplains of the Swiss troops still wear a sword. Zwingle did not 
 make use of his arms. 
 
DEATH OF ZWINGLE. 
 
 553 
 
 If ye endure cliastentng, God dealeth with you as tvith 
 sons ; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not ? 
 — Though he slay me. yet will I trust in Him. It is in 
 the furnace of triul that the God of the Gospel con- 
 ceals tlie pure gold of His most precious blessings. 
 This punishment was necessary to turn aside the 
 Church of Zurich from the '-broad ways" of the 
 Avorld, and lead it back to the " narrow ways " of 
 the Spirit and the life. In a political history, a 
 defeat like tliat of Cappcl would be styled a great 
 misfortune; but in a history of the Church of Jesus 
 Christ, such a blow, inflicted by the hand of the 
 Father himself, ought rather to be called a great 
 blessing. 
 
 Meanwhile Zwingle lay extended under the tree, 
 near the road by which the mass of the people was 
 passing. The shouts of the victors, the groans of the 
 dying, those flickering torches borne from corpse to 
 corpse ; Zurich humbled, the cause of Keform lost — 
 all cried aloud to him that God punishes His servants 
 when they have recourse to the arm of man. If the 
 German reformer had been able to approach Zwingle 
 at this solemn moment, and pronounce those oft-re- 
 peated, words, -^"Christians, fight not with sword and 
 arfiuebuse, but with sufferings and with the cross," 
 Zwingle would have stretched out his dying hand, 
 and said, " Amen." 
 
 Two of the soldiers who were prowling over the 
 field of battle, having come near the reformer without 
 recognising him, " Do you wish for a priest to confess 
 yourself? " asked they. Zwingle, without speaking, (for 
 lie had not strength,) made signs in the negative. "If 
 you cannot speak," replied the soldiers, " at least think 
 in thy heart of the Mother of God, and call upon the 
 saints !" Zwingle again shook his head, and kept his 
 eyes still fixed on heaven. Upon this the irritated 
 soldiers began to curse him. "No doubt," said they, 
 "you are one of the heretics of the city!" One of 
 them, being curious to know who he was, stooped down 
 and turned Zwingle's head in the direction of a fire 
 that Ii.id been lighted near the spot. The soldier im- 
 mediately let him fall to the ground. "I think," said 
 he, surprised and amazed, — "I think it is Zwingle!" 
 At this moment Captain Fockiuger of Unterwalden, 
 a veteran and a pensioner, drew near : ho had heard 
 the last words of the soldier. "Zwingle!" exclaimed 
 he; "that vile heretic Zwingle! that rascal, that traitor!" 
 Then raising his sword, so long sold to the stranger, 
 he struck the dying Christian on the throat, exclaim- 
 ing, in a violent passion, "Die, obstinate heretic!" 
 Yielding under this last blow, the reformer gave up 
 the ghost : he was doomed to perish by the sword of a 
 mercenary. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the 
 death of His saints. The soldiers ran to other victims. 
 All did not shew tlie same barbarity. The night was 
 cold ; a thick hoar-frost covered the fields and the 
 bodies of the dying. The Protestant historian, BuUin- 
 gcr, informs us that some Waldstettcs gently raised 
 the wounded in their arms, bound up their wounds, 
 and carried them to the fires lighted on the field of 
 battle. "Ah!" cried they, "why have the Swiss thus 
 slaughtered one another !" 
 
 The main body of the army had remained on the 
 field of battle near the standards. The soldiers con- 
 
 versed around the fires, interrupted from time to time 
 by the cries of the dying. During this time the chiefs 
 assembled in the convent sent messengers to carry the 
 news of their signal victory to the coiifcderate cantons, 
 and to the Konian Catholic powers of Germany. 
 
 At length the day appeared. The AValdstettes spread 
 over the field of battle, running here and there, stop- 
 ping, eoiitcmphiting, struck with surprise at the sight 
 of their most formidable enemies stretched lifeless on 
 tlie plain ; but sometimes also shedding tears as they 
 gazed on corpses w-liich reminded them of old and 
 sacred tics of friendship. At length they reached the 
 pear-tree under which Zwingle lay dead, and an im- 
 mense crowd collected around it. His countenance 
 still beamed with expression aud with life. "He has 
 the look," said Bartholomew Stocker of Zug, who had 
 loved him, — " he has the look of a living, rather than 
 of a dead man. Such was he when he kindled the 
 peojile by the fire of his eloquence." All eyes were 
 fixed upon the corpse. John Schonbrunner, formerly 
 canon of Zurich, who had retired to Zug at the epoch 
 of the Reformation, could not restrain his tears : 
 "Whatever may have been thy creed," said he, "I 
 know, Zwingle, that thou hast been a loyal confed- 
 erate ! May thy soul rest with God !" 
 
 But the pensioners of the foreigner, on whom Zwingle 
 had never ceased to make war, required that the body 
 of the heretic should be dismembered, and a portion 
 sent to each of the Five Cantons. " Peace be to the 
 dead! and God alone bo their judge!" exclaimed the 
 avoyer Golder and the landamman Thoss of Zug. 
 Cries of fury answered their appeal, and compelled 
 them to retire. Immediately the drums beat to muster; 
 the dead body was tried, and it was decreed that it 
 should be quartered for treason against the confedera- 
 tion, and then burnt for heresy. The executioner of 
 Lucerne carried out the sentence. Flames consumed 
 Zwingle's disjointed members ; the ashes of swine were 
 mingled with his ; aud a lawless multitude rushing 
 upon his remains flung them to the four winds of 
 heaven. 
 
 Zwingle was dead. A great light had been extin- 
 guished in the Church of God. Mighty by the Word 
 as were the other reformers, he had been more so than 
 they in action; but this very power had been his 
 weakness, and he had fallen under the weight of his 
 own strength. Zwingle was not forty-eight years old 
 when he died. If the might of God always accom- 
 panied the might of man, what would he not have 
 done for the IJeformation in Switzerland, and even in 
 the empire! But he had wielded an arm that God had 
 forbidden ; the helmet had covered his head, and he 
 had grasped the halberd. His more devoted friends 
 were themselves astonished, and exclaimed : " We 
 know not what to say! ... A bishop in arms!" 
 The bolt had furrowed the cloud, the blow had reached 
 the reformer, aud his body was no more than a hand- 
 ful of dust in the palm of a soldier. 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Ciiistcmatioii in Zuvidi— Violence of the Populace— Grief and Distress— 
 Zwingle is dead !— Funeral Oration— Army of Zurich- Another Reverse 
 on the Gouhel— Inactivity of the Bernese— Hopes and Plan of Charles 
 v.— End of the War— Treaty of Peace. 
 
 Frightful darkness hung over Zurich diirnig the 
 night that followed the afflicting day of Cappcl. It 
 was seven in the evening when tlie first news of the 
 disaster arrived. . . . Vague but alarming reports 
 spread at first with the rapidity of lightning. It v/as 
 known that a terrible blow had been inflicted, but not 
 of what kind ; soou a few wounded men, who arrived 
 from the field of battle, cleared up the frightful 
 mystery. "Then," said BuUinger, whom we shall 
 allow to speak, '-there arose suddenly a loud and 
 horrible cry of lamentation and tears, bewailing and 
 groaning." The consternation was so much the greater 
 because no one had expected such a disaster. " There 
 is not enough for a breakfast," had said some haughty 
 worldly men ; " With one blow we shall be masters of 
 tlie Five Chalets" had said another ; and an old soldier 
 added with disdainful sneer, " We shall soon have 
 scattered these five dunghills." The Christian portion, 
 convinced that Zurieli was fighting in a good cause, had 
 not doubted that victory would be on the side of truth. 
 . . . Thus their first stupefaction was succeeded by 
 a violent outburst of rage. With blind fury the mob 
 accused all their chiefs, and loaded with insults even 
 tlioso who had defended their country at the price of 
 their blood. An immense crowd — agitated, pale, and 
 bewildered, filled all the streets of the city. They 
 met, they questioned, and replied ; they questioned 
 again, and the answer could not be heard, for the 
 shouts of the people interrupted or drowned the voice 
 of the speakers. The councillors who had remained 
 in Zurich repaired in haste to the town-hall. The 
 people, who had already assembled there in crowds, 
 looked on with threatening eyes. Accusations of 
 treason burst from every mouth, and the patricians 
 were pointed out to the general indignation. They 
 must have victims. " Before going to fight against 
 the enemy on the frontiers," said the mob, "we should 
 defend ourselves against those who are within our 
 walls." Sorrow and fear excited the minds of all. 
 That savage instinct of the populace, which in great 
 calamities leads them, like a wild beast, to thirst for 
 blood, was violently aroused. A hand from the midst 
 of the crowd points out the council-hall, and a harsh 
 and piercing voice exclaims: "Let us chop off the 
 heads of some of the men who sit in these halls, and 
 let their blood ascend to heaven, to beg for mercy in 
 behalf of those whom they have slain." 
 
 But tliis fury is nothing in comparison with that 
 which broke out against the ministers, against Zwingle, 
 and all those Ciirislians who were the cause (s.ay they) 
 of the ruin of the country. Fortunately the sword of 
 the Waldstettes had withdrawn them from the rage of 
 their fellow-citizens ; nevertheless, there still remained 
 some who could pay for the others. Leo Juda, whom 
 Zwingle's death was about to raise to the head of 
 religious affairs, had scarcely recovered from a serious 
 
 illness ; it was on him they rushed. They threatened, 
 tliey pursued him ; a few worthy citizens carried him 
 off and hid him in their houses. The rage of these 
 madmen was not appeased : they continued shouting 
 that atonement must be made for the slaughter at 
 Cappe], by a still more frightful slaughter within the 
 very walls of the city. But God placed a curb in the 
 mouths of these infuriate beasts of prey, and subdued 
 them. 
 
 On a sudden, grief succeeded to rage, and sobs 
 choked the utterance of the most furious. All those 
 whose relatives had marched to Capjiel, imagined that 
 they were among the number of the victims. Old men, 
 women, and cliildren, went forth in the darkness by 
 the glimmering light of torches, with haggard eyes 
 and hurried steps ; and as soon as some wounded man 
 arrived, they questioned him with trembling voice 
 about those whom they were seeking. Some replied : 
 " I saw him fall close by my side." — " Pie was sur- 
 rounded by so many enemies," said others, " that there 
 was no chance of safety for him." At these words the 
 distracted family dropt their torches, and filled the air 
 with shrieks and groans. 
 
 Anna Zwingle had heard from her house the repeated 
 discharges of artillery. As wife and mother, she had 
 passed in expectation many long hours of anguish, 
 offering fervent prayers to heaven. At length the most 
 terrible accounts, one after another, burst upon her. 
 
 In the midst of those whose cries of despair re-echoed 
 along the road to Cappcl, was Oswald Myconius, who 
 inquired with anxiety what had become of his friend. 
 Soon he heard one of the unfortunate wretches who 
 had escaped from the massacre, relating to those around 
 him that Zwingle had fallen ! . . . Zwingle is no 
 more ! Zwingle is dead ! Tiic cry was repeated : it | 
 ran through Zurich with the rapidity of lightning, and 
 at length reached the unhappy widow. Anna fell on j 
 her knees. But the loss of her husband was not enough : 
 God had inflicted other blows. Messengers following 
 each other at short intervals announced to her the 
 death of her son Gerold of Knonau, of her brother the 
 bailiff of Reinhard, of her son-in-law Antony Wirz, 
 of John Lutsciii, the husband of her dear sister, as well 
 as of all her most intimate friends. This woman re- 
 mained alone — alone with her God; alone with her 
 young children, who, as they saw her tears, wept also, 
 and tlirew themselves disconsolate into their mother's 
 arms. 
 
 On a sudden the alarm-bell rang. The council, dis- 
 tracted by the most contrary opinions, had at last 
 resolved to summon all the citizens towards the Albis. 
 But the sound of the tocsin re-echoing through the 
 darkness, the lamentable stories of the wounded, and l 
 the distressful groans of bereaved families, still further 
 increased the tumult. A numerous and disorderly troop 
 of citizens rushed along the road to Cappel. Among 
 them was the Valaisan, Thomas Plater. Here he met 
 with a man that had but one hand, — there were others 
 who supported their wounded and bleeding heads with 
 both hands ; further still was a soldier whose bowels 
 protruded from his body. In front of these unhappy | 
 creatures peasants were walking with liglited torches, 
 for the night was very dark. Plater wished to return ; j 
 but he could not, for sentinels placed on the bridge i 
 
FUNERAL OKATION— ARMY OF ZURICH. 
 
 555 
 
 over tlic Silil allowed persons to quit Zurich, but pcr- 
 jnitleil no one to rc-eutcr. 
 
 On tlic morrow the news of the disgraceful treat- 
 ment of Zwiugle's corpse aroused all the anger of 
 Zurich ; and his friends, uplifting tiieir tear-bedimmed 
 eyes, exclaimed: '•These men may fall upon his body; 
 they may kindle their piles, and brand his innocent 
 life ; . . . but he lives — this invincible hero lives 
 in eternity, and leaves behind him an immortal monu- 
 ment of glory that no flames can destroy. God, for 
 whose honour he has laboured, even at the price of his 
 blood, will make his memory eternal." "And I," adds 
 Leo Juda, — "I, upon whom he has heaped so many 
 blessings, will endeavour, after so many others, to de- 
 fend his renown, and to extol his virtues." Thus Zurich 
 consecrated to Zwingle a funeral oration of tears and 
 sighs, of gratitude and cries of anguish. Never was 
 there a funeral speech more eloquent! 
 
 Zurich rallied her forces. John Steiner had col- 
 lected on the Albis some scattered fragments of the 
 army for the defence of the pass; they bivouacked 
 awund their fires on the summit of the mountain, and 
 all were in disorder. Plater, benumbed with cold, (it 
 is himself who gives us the account.) had drawn off 
 liis boots to warm his feet at the watchfire. On a sud- 
 den an alarm was given, the troop was hastily drawn 
 up, and, while Plater was getting ready, a trumpeter, 
 who had escaped from the battle, seized his halberd. 
 Plater took it back, and stationed himself in the raidis ; 
 before him stood the trumpeter, without hat or shoes, 
 and armed with a long pole. Such was the army of 
 Zurich. 
 
 The chief captain, Lavater, rejoined the army at day- 
 break. Gradually the allies came up ; 1.500 Grisons, 
 mulcr the orders of the captain-general Frey of Zurich, 
 l.iOO Thurgovians, 600 Tockenburgers, and other auxi- 
 liaries besides, soon formed an army of 12,000 men. 
 All, even children, ran to ai-ms. The council g.ave 
 orders that these young folks should be sent back to 
 share in the domestic duties with the women. 
 
 Another reverse erelong augmented the desolation 
 of the reformed party. While the troops of Berne, 
 Zurich, Bale, and Bienne, amounting to 24,000 men, 
 were assembling at Brcmgarten, the Five Cantons in- 
 trenched themselves at Baar, near Zug. But Zwingle 
 was wanting to the reformed army, and he would have 
 been the only man capable of inspiring them with 
 courage. A gust of wind having throwndown a few 
 fir-trees in the forests where the Zurichers were en- 
 camped, and caused the death of some of their soldiers, 
 they failed not to see in this the signal of fresh 
 reverses. 
 
 Nevertheless, Frcy called loudly for battle ; but the 
 Bernese commandant, Diesbach, refused. Upon this 
 the Zurich captain set off in the night of the 2;3d Octo- 
 ber, at the head of 1000 men of Zurich, Schaffhansen, 
 Biile, and St. Gall; and, while the Bernese were sleep- 
 ing quietly, he turned the AValdstettes, drove their out- 
 posts beyond the Sihl, and took his station on the 
 heights that overlook the Goubel. His imprudent 
 soldiers, believing victory to be certain, proudly waved 
 their banners, and then sunk into a heavy sleep. The 
 "Waldstettes had observed all. On the 24th October, 
 at two in the morning, by a bright moonlight, they 
 
 quitted their camp in profound silence, leaving their 
 fires burning, and wearing white shirts over their 
 dresses, that they might recognise one another in the 
 obscurity. 
 
 Their watchword was " Mary, the mother of God." 
 They glided stealthily into a pine forest, near which 
 the reformed troo|)s were encamped. The men 
 stationed at the advaticed guard of the Zurichers 
 having perceived the enemy, ran up to the fires to 
 arouse their friends, but they had scarcely reached 
 the third fire before the Waldstettes appeared, uttering 
 a frightful shout. "Mar — liar — liar — liar! . . . 
 AVhere are these impious heretics? . . . Har — liar 
 — liar — liar!" The army of the cities at first made a 
 vigorous resistance, and many of the white shirts fell 
 covered with blood; but this did not continue long. 
 The bravest, with the valiant Frey at their head, 
 having bitten the dust, the rout became general, and 
 800 men were left on the field of battle. 
 
 In the midst of these afflictions the Bernese remained 
 stubborn and motionless. Francis Kolb, who, not- 
 withstanding his advanced age, had accompanied the 
 Bernese contingent as chaplain, reproached in a sermon 
 the negligence and cowardice of his party. "Your 
 ancestors," said he, " would have swmn .across the 
 Rhine, and you — this little stream stops you! They 
 went to battle for a word, and you even the Gospel 
 cannot move. For us it only remains to commit our 
 cause to God." Many voices were raised against the 
 imprudent old man, but others took up his defence ; 
 and the captain, James IM.ay, being as indignant as the 
 aged chaplain at the delays of his fellow-citizens, drew 
 his sword, and thrusting it into the folds of the Ber- 
 nese banner, pricked the bear that was represented on 
 it, and cried out in the presence of the whole army: 
 " You knave, will you not shew your claws ? " But 
 the bear remained motionless. 
 
 The whole of the Reformation was compromised. 
 Scarcely had Ferdinand received intelligence of the 
 death of the arch-heretic Zwingle, and of the defeat 
 at Cappel, than, with an exclamation of joy, he for- 
 warded these good news to his brother the Emperor 
 Charles the Fifth, saying: "This is the first of the 
 victories destined to restore the faith." After the de- 
 feat at the Goubel, he wrote again, saying, that if the 
 emperor were not so near at hand, he would not hesi- 
 tate, however weak he might be, to rush forward in 
 person, sword in hand, to terminate so righteous an 
 enterprise. " Remember," said he, " that )'ou are the 
 first prince in Christendom, and that you will never 
 have a better opportunity of covering yourself with 
 glory. Assist the cantons with your troops ; the 
 German sects will perish when they arc no longer 
 supported by heretical Switzerland." — "The more I 
 reflect," replied Charles, " the more I am pleased with 
 your advice. The inqicrial dignity with which I am 
 invested, the protection that I owe to Christendom and 
 to public order, in a word, the safety of the house of 
 Austria, — everything appeals to me ! " 
 
 Already about two thousand Italian soldiers, sent by 
 the pope, and commanded by the Genoese De ITsola, had 
 unfolded their seven standards, and united near Zug 
 with the army of the Five Cantons. Auxiliary troops, 
 diplomatic negotiations, and even missionaries to con- 
 
HISTORY OP THE EBFORMATION. 
 
 vert the heretics, were not spared. The Bishop of 
 Vcroli arrived iu Switzerland in order to bring back 
 the Lutherans to the Eoman faith by means of his 
 friends and of his money. The Roman politicians 
 hailed the victory at Cappel as the signal of the re- 
 storation of the papal autliority, not only in Switzer- 
 land, but throughout the whole of Christendom. At 
 last this presumptuous reformation was about to be 
 repressed. Instead of the great deliverance of which 
 Zwingle had dreamt, the imperial eagle, let loose by 
 the Papacy, was about to pounce on all Europe, and 
 strangle it in its talons. The cause of liberty had per- 
 ished on the Albis. 
 
 But the hopes of the Papists were vain : the cause of 
 the Gospel, although humbled at this moment, was 
 destined finally to gain a glorious victory. A cloud 
 may hide the sun for a time ; but the cloud passes and 
 the sun reappears. Jesus Christ is always the same, 
 and the gates of hell may triumph on the battle-field, 
 but cannot prevail against His Church. 
 
 Nevertheless everything seemed advancing towards 
 a grand catastrophe. The Tockenburgers made peace 
 and retired. The Thurgovians followed them; and 
 next the people of Gaster. The evangelical array was 
 thus gradually disbanded. The severity of the season 
 was joined to these dissensions. Continual storms of 
 wind and rain drove the soldiers to their homes. 
 
 Upon this the Five Cantons, with the undisciplined 
 bands of the Italian general, ITsola, threw themselves 
 on the left bank of the Lake of Zurich. The alarm-bell 
 was rung on every side ; the peasants retired in crowds 
 into the city, with their weeping wives, their frightened 
 children, and their cattle that filled the air with sullen 
 lowings. A report, too, was circulated that the enemy 
 intended laying siege to Zurich. The country-people, 
 in alarm, declared that if the city refused to make 
 terms, they would treat on their own account. 
 
 The peace party prevailed in the council ; deputies 
 were elected to negotiate. "Above all thiugs preserve 
 the Gospel, and then our honour, as far as may be 
 possible!" Such were their instructions. On the 16th 
 November, the deputies from Zurich ai'rived in a 
 meadow situated near the frontier, on the banks of 
 the Sihl, iu which the representatives of the Five 
 Cantons awaited them. Tliey proceeded to the delibe- 
 rations. " In the name of the most honourable, holy, 
 and Divine Trinity," began the treaty. " Firstly, we 
 the people of Zurich bind ourselves and agree to leave 
 our trusty and well-beloved confederates of the Five 
 Cantons, their well-beloved co-burghers of the Valais, 
 and all their adherents, lay and ecclesiastic, in their 
 true and indubitable Christian faith, renouncing all 
 evil intention, wiles, and stratagems. And, on our 
 side, we of the Five Cantons agree to leave our con- 
 federates of Zurich and their allies in possession of 
 their faith." At the same time, Eapperschwyl, Gaster, 
 Wesen, Bremgarten, Mellingen, and the common baili- 
 wicks, were abandoned to the Five Cantons. 
 
 Zurich had preserved its faith ; and that was all. 
 The treaty having been read and approved of, the 
 plenipotentiaries got off their horses, fell upon their 
 knees, and called upon the name of God. Then the 
 new captain-general of the Zurichers, Escher, a hasty 
 and eloquent old man, rising up, said, as he turned 
 
 towards the Waldstettes : " God be praised that I can 
 again call you my well-beloved confederates!" and 
 approaching them, he shook hands successively with 
 Golder, Hug, Troguer, Rychmuth, Marquart, Zellger, 
 and Thoss, the terrible victors at Cappel. All eyes 
 were filled with tears. Each took with trembling 
 hand the bottle suspended at his side, and offered a 
 draught to one of the chiefs of the opposite party. 
 Shortly after a similar treaty was concluded with 
 Berne. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Restoration of Popery at Bremgarten and RappersulmTl — Priests and 
 Monks everywhere— Sorrow of (Bcolampadius — A Tranqnil Scene- 
 Peaceful death of (Ecolampadius— Henry BuIIinger at Zurich— Contri- 
 tion and ExiUtation— The Great Lesson — Conciusiou. 
 
 The restoration of Popery immediately commenced in 
 Switzerland, and Rome shewed herself everywhere 
 proud, exacting, and ambitious. 
 
 After the battle of Cappel the Romish minority at 
 Glaris had resumed the upper-hand. It marched with 
 Scliwytz against Wesen and the district of the Gfister. 
 On the eve of the invasion, at midnight, twelve deputies 
 came and threw themselves at the feet of the Schwytzer 
 chiefs, who were satisfied with confiscating the national 
 banners of these two districts, with suppressing their 
 tribunals, annulling their ancient liberties, and con- 
 demning some to banishment, and others to pay a 
 heavy fiue. Next the mass, the altars, and images, 
 were everywhere re-established, and exist until the 
 present day. Such was the pardon of Schwytz ! 
 
 It was especially on Bremgarten, Mellingen, and the 
 free bailiwicks, that the cantons proposed to inflict a 
 terrible vengeance. Berne having recalled its army, 
 Mutschli, the avoj^er of Bremgarten, followed Diesbach 
 as far as Aran. In vain did the former remind the 
 Bernese that it was only according to the orders of 
 Berne and Zurich that Bremgarten had blockaded the 
 Five Cantons. " Bend to circumstances," replied the 
 general. On this the wretched Mutschli, turning away 
 from the pitiless Bernese, exclaimed.; "The pi'ophet 
 Jeremiah has well said, Cursed be he that trusteth in inan!" 
 The Swiss and Italian bands entered furiously into 
 these flourishing districts, brandishing their weapons, 
 inflicting heavy fines on all the inhabitants, compelling 
 the Gospel ministers to flee, and restoring everywhere, 
 at the point of the sword, mass, idols, and altars. 
 
 On the other side of the lake the misfortune was 
 still greater. On the 18th November, while the re- 
 formed of Rappcrschwyl were sleeping peacefully in 
 reliance on the treaties, an army from Schwytz silently 
 passed the wooden bridge, nearly 2000 feet long, which 
 crosses the lake, and was admitted into the city by the 
 Romish party. On a sudden the reformed awoke at 
 the loud pealing of the bells, and the tumultuous voices 
 of the Catholics: the greater part quitted the city. 
 One of them, however, by name Michael Wohlgemuth, 
 barricaded his house, placed arquebuses at every wia- 
 dow, and repelled the attack. The exasperated enemy 
 brought up some heavy pieces of artillery, besieged this 
 
PEACEFUL DEA.TH OF (ECOLAMPABIUS. 
 
 557 
 
 extemporaneous citadel in regular form, and Wolilgc- 
 nnith was soon taken and put to dcatli in the midst of 
 horrible tortures. 
 
 Nowlicre liud the struggle been more violent than at 
 Solcurc; tlio two parties were drawn up in battle-array 
 on each side of the Aar, and the Romanists had already 
 discharged one ball against tlio opposite bank, another 
 was about to follow, when the avoyer Wcnge, tlirow- 
 ing himself on the mouth of tlie cannon, cried out ear- 
 nestly: "Fellow-citizens, let there be no bloodslied, or 
 else let me be your first victim !" The astonished mul- 
 titude dropped their arms; but seventy evaiigelieul 
 families were obliged to emigrate, and Soleure returned 
 under the papal yoke. 
 
 The deserted cells of St. Gall, Muri, EiusiJlen, Wet- 
 tingcn, Klieiuau, St. Catherine, llermetschwyll, and 
 Guadeuthall, witnessed the triumphant return of Bene- 
 dictines, Franciscans, Doniiuicans, and all the Komish 
 militia ; priests and monks, into.xicated with their vic- 
 tory, overran country and town, and prepared for new 
 conquests. 
 
 The wind of adversity was blowing with fury; the 
 evangelical churches fell one after another, like the 
 pines in the forest whose fall before the battle of the 
 Gonbcl had raised s«ch gloomy presentiments. The 
 Five Cantons, full of gratitude to the Virgin, made a 
 solemn pilgrimage to her temple at Eiiisidlen. The 
 cliaphiins celebrated anew their mysteries in this deso- 
 lated sauctuar)'; the abbot, who had no monks, sent a 
 niiMilior of youths into Swabia, to be trained up in the 
 rules of the order; and this famous chapel, which 
 Zwinglc's voice had converted into a sanctuary for the 
 'Word, became for Switzerland, what it has remained 
 until tliis day, the centre of the power and of the in- 
 trigues of the Papacy. 
 
 But this Wius not enough. At the very time that 
 these nourishing churches were falling to the ground, 
 the Reform witnessed the extinction of its brightest 
 lights. A blow from a stone had slain the energetic 
 Zwingle on the field of battle, and the rebound reached 
 the pacilic CEcolamp.adius at Bale, in the midst of a 
 life that was wholly evangelical. The death of his 
 friend, the severe judgments with which they pursued 
 his memory, the terror that had suddenly taken the 
 jilace of the hopes he had entertained of the future, — 
 all these stjrrows rent the heart of (Ecolampadius, and 
 ."■Don his head and his life inclined sadly to the tomb. 
 " Alas !" cried he, " that Zwingle, whom I have so long 
 regarded as my right arm, has fallen under the blows 
 of cruel enemies !" He recovered, however, sufficient 
 energy to defend the memory of his brother. "It was 
 not," said he, " on the heads of the most guilty that 
 the wrath of Pilate and the tower of Siloam fell. The 
 judgment began in the house of God ; our presumption 
 has been punished ; let our trust be placed now on the 
 Lord alone, and this will be an inestimable gain." 
 CEcolanipadiiis declined the call of Zurich to take the 
 l)lace of Zwingle. "My post is here," said he, as he 
 j looked upon Bale. 
 
 He was not destined to hold it long. Illness fell 
 upon him in addition to so many atllictions ; the plague 
 was in the city, a violent inflammation attacked him, 
 and erelong a tranquil scene succeeded the tumult of 
 Cappel. A peaceful death calmed the agitated hearts 
 
 of the faithful, and replaced by sweet and heavenly 
 emotions the terror and distress with which a horrible 
 disaster had tilled them. 
 
 On hearing of the danger of Qicolampadius, all the 
 city was plunged into mourning; a crowd of men of 
 every age and of every rank rushed to his house. 
 " Rejoice," said the reformer, with a meek look, " I am 
 going to a |)lace of everlasting joy." He then com- 
 memorated the death of our Lord, with his wife, his 
 relations, and domestics, who shed floods of tears. 
 "This supper," said the dying man, " is a sign of my 
 real faith in Jesus Christ my Redeemer." 
 
 On the morrow he sent for his colleagues : " My 
 brethren," said ho, "the Lord is there; He calls me 
 away. Oh ! my brethren, what a black cloud is ap- 
 pearing on the horizon — what a tempest is approaching! 
 15e stcadfiist ; the Lord will preserve His own." He 
 then held out his hand, and all these faithful ministers 
 clasped it with veneration. 
 
 On the 23d November, he called his children around 
 him, the eldest of whom was barely three years old. 
 " Eusebius, Irene, Alothea," said he to them as he took 
 their little hands, "love God who is your Father." 
 Their mother having promised for them, the children 
 retired with the blessing of the dying servant of the 
 Lord. The night that followed this scene was his last. 
 All the pastors were around his bed : " What is the 
 news?" asked QScolampadius of a friend who came in. 
 " Nothing," was the reply. " Well," said the faithful 
 disciple of Jesus, "I will tell you something new." 
 His friends awaited in astonishment. "In a short 
 time I shall be with the Lord Jesus." One of his 
 friends now asking him if he was incommoded by the 
 light, he replied, putting his hand on his heart : " There 
 is light enough here." The day began to break ; he 
 repeated in a feeble voice the 51st Psalm: Have mercij 
 upon me, Lord, according to ihj lovinij-kindness. Then 
 remaining silent, as if he wished to recover strength, 
 he said, " Lord Jesus, help me !" The ten pastors fell 
 on their knees around his bed with uplifted hands ; at 
 this moment the sun rose, and darted his earliest rays 
 on a scene of sorrow so great and so afllicting with 
 which the Church of God was again stricken. 
 
 The death of this servant of the Lord was like his 
 life, full of light and peace. Oicolampadius was in an 
 especial degree the Christian spiritualist and biblical 
 divine. The importance he attached to the study of 
 the books of the Old Testament imprinted one of its 
 most essential characters on the reformed theology.' 
 Considered as a man of action, his moderation and 
 meekness placed him in the second rank. Had he 
 been able to exert more of this peaceful spirit over 
 Zwingle, great misfortunes might, perhaps, have been 
 avoided. But like all men of meek disposition, his 
 peaceful character yielded too much to the energetic 
 will of the minister of Zurich; and he thus renounced, 
 in part at least, the legitimate influence that he might 
 have exercised over the reformer of Switzerland and of 
 the Chui-ch. 
 
 Zwingle and Qicolampadius had fallen. There was 
 
 1 See his Commentaries on Isaiah, (1525,) 1st chai)ter ; on Ezekiel, (152";) 
 ITaggai, Zechariah, Malachi, (1S27;) Daniel, (1530 ;) and the Commentaries 
 published after his death, with interpretations on Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Hosea, 
 Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, and the 1st and 2d cliapters of 3Iicah. 
 
HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 a gi-eat void aud gi-eat sorrow iu the Churcli of Christ. 
 Disseusious vanished before these two graves, aud no- 
 thing couhl be seen but tears. Luther himself was 
 moved. On receiving the news of these two deaths, 
 he called to mind the days he had passed with Zwingle 
 and CEcolampadius at Marburg; and the blow inflicted 
 on him by their sudden decease was such, that many 
 years after, he said to Bullinger: '"Their death filled me 
 with such intense sorrow, that I was near dying myself." 
 
 The youthful Henry Bullinger, threatened with the 
 scaffold, had been compelled to flee from Bremgarten, 
 Lis native town, with his aged father, his colleagues, 
 aud sixty of the principal inhabitants, who abandoned 
 their houses to be pillaged by the Waldstettes. Three 
 days after this he was preaching in tlie cathedral of 
 Zurich: "No! Zwingle is not dead !" exclaimed My- 
 couius ; or, like the phcenix, he has risen again from 
 his ashes." Bullinger was nnanimously chosen to suc- 
 ceed the great reformer. He adopted Zwingle's or- 
 phan children, — Wilhelm, Kegula, aud Ulrich, — and 
 endeavoured to supply the place of their father. This 
 young man, scarcely twenty-eight years of age, and who 
 presided forty years with wisdom and blessing over 
 this chui'ch, was everywhere greeted as the apostle of 
 Switzerland. 
 
 Yet as the sea roars long after the violent tempest 
 has subsided, so the people of Zurich were still iu com- 
 motion. Many were agitated from on high. They 
 came to themselves ; they acknowledged their error ; 
 the weapons of their warfare had been carnal ; they 
 were now of a contrite and humble spirit ; they arose 
 and went to their P'ather, and confessed their sin. In 
 those days there was great mourning in Zurich. Some, 
 however, stood up with pride, protested by the mouth 
 of their ministers agaiust the work of the diplomatists, 
 and boldly stigmatized the shameful compact. " If 
 the shepherds sleep, the dogs must bark," exclaimed 
 Leo Juda iu the cathedral of Zurich. '-My duty is to 
 give warning of the evil they arc about to do to my 
 Master's house." 
 
 Nothing could equal the sorrow of this city, except 
 the exultation of the Waldstettes. The noise of drums 
 aud fifes, the firing of guns, the ringing of bells, had 
 long resouuded on the banks of their lakes, and even 
 to their highest valleys. Now the noise was less, but 
 the effect greater. The Five Cantons, iu close alliance 
 with Friburg and Soleure, formed a perpetual league 
 for the defence of the ancient Christian faith with the 
 Bishop of Sion and the tithings of the Valais ; and 
 henceforward carried their measures in the federal 
 affairs with boldness. But a deep conviction was 
 formed at that period in the hearts of the Swiss 
 Reformed. "Faith comes from God," said they; "its 
 success does not depend on the life or death of a man. 
 Let our adversaries boast of our ruin, we will boast 
 only in the Cross." — " God reigns," wrote Berne to 
 Zurich, "and lie will not permit the bark to founder." 
 This conviction was of more avail than the victory of 
 CappeL 
 
 Thus the Reformation, that had deviated from the 
 right path, was driven back by the very violence of 
 the assault into its primitive course, having no other 
 power than the Word of God. An inconceivable in- 
 fatuation had taken possession of the friends of the 
 Bible. They had forgotten that our warfare is not 
 carnal ; and had appealed to arms and to battle. But 
 God reigns ; He punishes the churches aud the people 
 who turn aside from His ways. We have taken a few 
 stones, and piled them as a monumeut on the battle- 
 field of Cappel, in order to remind the Church of the 
 great lesson which this terrible catastrophe teaches. 
 As we bid farewell to this sad scene, we inscribe on 
 these monumental stones, on the one side, these words 
 from God's Book : Some trust in chariots, and some in 
 Iiorscs ; but we loill remember the name of the Lord our 
 God. They are browjlit doion and fallen : but we are 
 risen and stand iipri(jht. And on the other, this declar- 
 ation of the Head of the Church : J/// kingdom is not 
 of this world. If, from the ashes of the martyrs at 
 Cappel, a voice could be heard, it woidd be in these 
 very words of the Bible that these noble confessors 
 would address, after three centuries, the Christians of 
 our days. That the Church has no other king than 
 Jesus Christ ; that she ought not to meddle with the 
 policy of the world, derive from it her inspu-ation, and 
 call for its swords, its prisons, its treasures ; that she 
 will conquer by the spmtual powers which God has 
 deposited in her bosom, and, above all, by the reign of 
 her adorable Head; that she must not expect upon 
 earth thrones aud mortal triumphs ; but that her march 
 resembles that of her King, from the manger to the 
 cross, aud from the cross to the crown : — such is the 
 lesson to be read on the blood-stained page that has 
 crept into our simple and evangelical narrative.' 
 
 But if God teaches His people great lessons, Ho also 
 gives them great deliverances. The bolt had fallen 
 from heaven. The Reformation seemed to be little 
 better than a lifeless body cumbering the ground, aud 
 whose dissevered limbs were about to be reduced to 
 ashes. But God raises up the dead. New and more 
 glorious destinies were awaiting the Gospel of Jesus 
 Christ at the foot of tlie Alps. At the south-west 
 extremity of Switzerland, iu a great valley which the 
 white giant of the mountains points out from afar ; on 
 the banks of the Leman lake, at the spot where the 
 Riione, clear and blue as the sky above it, rolls its 
 majestic waters ; on a small hill that the foot of Cajsar 
 had once trod, and on which the steps of another con- 
 queror, of a Gaul, of a Picardine,- were destined ere- 
 long to leave their ineffaceable aud glorious traces, 
 stood an ancient city, as yet covered with the dense 
 shadows of Popery; but which God was about to raise 
 to be a beacon to the Church, and a bulwark to 
 Christendom. 
 
 1 Zwinslc's Pear-tm liaring lu-rislicd, a rock lias hcax pLiccl ovcv the spot 
 lions, cliiieitnt, liowcvcr, from tliose in the text. 
 
THE GOSPEL CARRIED TO BRITAIN. 
 
 BOOK XVII, 
 
 EXGL.VND BEFORE THE KEFORMATION. 
 
 CIIAPTER I. 
 
 Introdaction— Work of the Sixteenth Century— Unity and Diversity— Neces- 
 sity of considering the entire Religious History of England— Establish- 
 ment of Christianity in Great Britain — Formation of Ecclesiastical 
 Catholicism in the Roman Empire— Spiritual Christianity received by 
 Britain— Slavery and Conversion of Succat— His Mission to hclaud— 
 Anglo Saxons Re-establish Paganism in England— Columba at lona— 
 Evangelical Teaching— Presbytery and Episcopacy in Gi'eat Britain- 
 Continental Missions of the Britons— An Omission. 
 
 Those heavenly powers ■which had lain dormant in the 
 Church since tlie first ages of Christianity, awoke from 
 their slumber in the sixteenth century, and this awak- 
 ening called the modern times into existence. The 
 Cliurch was created anew, and from tliat regeneration 
 have flowed the great developments of literature and 
 science, of morality, liberty, and industry, which at 
 present characterize the nations of Christendom. None 
 of tliese things would have existed without the Refor- 
 mation. "Whenever society outers upon a new era, it 
 requires the baptism of faith. In the sixteenth cen- 
 tury God gave to man this consecration from on high, 
 by leading him back from mere outward profession 
 and the mechanism of works to an inward and lively 
 faith. 
 
 This transformation was not effected without struggles 
 — struggles which presented at first a remarkable unity. 
 On the day of battle one and the same feeliug animated 
 every bosom : after the victory they became divided. 
 Unity of faith indeed remained, but the difference of 
 nationalities brought into the Church a diversity of 
 forms. Of this we arc about to witness a striking 
 example. The Reformation, which had begun its 
 triumphal march in Germany, Switzerland, France, 
 and several other parts of the continent, was destined 
 to receive new strength by the conversion of a cele- 
 brated country, long known as the Isle of Saints. This 
 island was to add its banner to the trophy of Protes- 
 tantism; but that banner preserved its distinctive 
 colours. When England became reformed, a puissant 
 individualism joined its might to the great unity. 
 
 If we search for the characteristics of the British 
 Reformation, we shall find that, beyond any other, 
 they were social, national, and truly human. There is 
 no people among whom the Reformation has produced 
 to the same degree that morality and order, that 
 liberty, public spirit, and activity, which are the very 
 essence of a nation's greatness. Just as the Papacy 
 bas degraded the Spanish peninsula, has the Gospel 
 exalted the British islands. Hence the study upon 
 which we are entering possesses an interest peculiar to 
 itself. 
 
 In order that this study may be useful, it should 
 have a character of universality. To confine the his- 
 tory of a people within the space of a few years, or 
 
 even of a century, would deprive that history of both 
 truth and life. AVe might indeed have traditions, 
 chronicles, and legends, but there would be no history. 
 History is a wonderful organization, no part of which 
 can be retrenched. To understand the present, we 
 must know the past. Society, like man himself, has 
 its infancy, youth, maturity, and old age. Ancient or 
 Pagan society, which Iiad spent its infancy in the East, 
 in the midst of the antihcllenic races, had its youth in 
 the animated epoch of the Greeks, its manhood in the 
 stern period of Roman greatness, and its old age under 
 the decline of the empire. Modern society has passed 
 through analogous stages : at the time of the Reforma- 
 tion it attained that of the full-grown man. We shall 
 now proceed to trace the destinies of the Church in 
 England from the earliest times of Christianity. These 
 long and distant preparations are one of the distinctive 
 characteristics of its reformation. 
 
 Before the sixteenth century this Church had passed 
 through two great phases. 
 
 The first was that of its formation — the second that 
 of its corruption. 
 
 In its formation it was oriento-apostolical. 
 
 In its corruption it was successively national-papisti- 
 cal and royal-papistical. 
 
 After these two degrees of decline came the last and 
 great phasis of the Reformation. 
 
 In the second century of the Christian era, vessels 
 were frequently sailing to the savage shores of Britain 
 from the ports of Asia Minor, Greece, Alexandria, or 
 the Greek colonies in Gaul. Among the merchants 
 busied in calculating the profits they could make upon 
 the produce of the East with which their ships were 
 laden, would occasionally be found a few pious men 
 from the banks of the Meander or the Hermus, con- 
 versing peacefully with one another about the birth, 
 life, death, and resurrection, of Jesus of Nazareth ; and 
 rejoicing at the prospect of saving by these glad tidings 
 the pagans towards whom they were steering. It would 
 appear that some British prisoners of war, having 
 learnt to know Christ during their captivity, bore also 
 to their fellow-countrymen the knowledge of this 
 Saviour. It may be, too, that some Ciiristiau soldiers, 
 the Corneliuses of those imperial armies whose ad- 
 vanced posts reached the southern parts of Scotland, 
 desirous of more lasting concpicsts, may have read to 
 the people whom they had subdued the writings of 
 Matthew, Joliu, and Paul. It is of little consequence 
 to know whether one of these first converts was, 
 according to tradition, a prince named Lucius. It is 
 certain that the tidings of the Son of Man, cruci- 
 fied and raised again, under Tiberius, spread through 
 these islands more rapidly than the dominion of the 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 emperors, aud that before the end of the second century 
 many churches worshipped Christ beyond the walls of 
 Adrian ; in those mountains, forests, aud western isles, 
 which for centuries past the Druids had filled with 
 their mysteries and their sacrifices, and on which even 
 the Koman eagles had never stooped. These churches 
 were formed after the Eastern type : the Britons would 
 have refused to receive the type of that Kome whose 
 yoke they detested. 
 
 The first thing which the British Christians received 
 from the capital of the empire was persecution. But 
 Diocletian, by striking the disciples of Jesus Christ in 
 Britain, only increased their number. Many Christians 
 from the southern part of the island took refuge in 
 Scotland, where they raised their humble roofs, and 
 under the name of Ciihkes, prayed for the salvation of 
 their protectors. When the surrounding pagans saw 
 the holiness of these men of God, they abandoned in 
 
 great numbers their sacred oaks, their mysterious 
 caverns, and their blood-stained altars, and obeyed 
 the gentle voice of the Gospel. After the death of 
 these pious refugees, their cells were transformed into 
 houses of prayer.' In 305, Coustantius Chlorus suc- 
 ceeded to the throne of the Crcsars, and put an end to 
 the persecution. 
 
 The Christianity which was brought to these people 
 by merchants, soldiers, or missionaries, although not 
 the ecclesiastical Catholicism already creeping into life 
 in the Roman empire, was not the primitive evangelism 
 of the apostles. The East and the South could only 
 give to the North of what tliey possessed. The mere 
 human period had succeeded to the creative and mira- 
 culous period of the Church. After the extraordinary 
 manifestations of the Holy Ghost, which had produced 
 the Apostolic age, the Church had been left to the 
 
 ' " Many Clirislians from Britain, fearing the cruelty of Diocletian, took 
 refuge among the Scots, ... and the cells in which their holy Uvcs 
 Were ppent were changed into churches."— Buchanan, iv., e. xxxv. 
 
 inward power of the Word and of the Comforter. But 
 Christians did not generally comprehend the spiritual 
 life to which they were called. God had been pleased 
 to give them a Divine religion ; and this they gradually 
 assimilated more and more to the religious of human 
 origin. Instead of saying, in the spirit of the Gospel, 
 the Word of God first, and through it the doctrine aud 
 the life — the doctrine and the life, and through them 
 the forms ; they said, forms first, aud salvation by these 
 forms. They ascribed to bishops a power which be- 
 longs only to Holy Scripture. Instead of ministers of 
 the Word, they desired to have priests ; instead of an 
 inward sacrifice, a sacrifice offered on the altar ; and 
 costly temples iustead of a living church. They began 
 to seek in men, in ceremonies, aud in holy places, what 
 they could find only in the Word and in the lively faith 
 of the children of God. In this manner evangelical 
 religion gave place to Catholicism, and by gradual de- 
 generation in after years, Catholicism 
 gave birth to Popery. 
 
 This grievous transformation took 
 place more particularly in the East, in 
 Africa, and in Italy. Britain was at 
 first comparatively exempt. At the 
 very time that the savage Picts and 
 Scots, rushing from their heathen 
 -__ homes, were devastating the country, 
 
 ;:: : spreading terror on all sides, and reduc- 
 
 ing the people to slavery, we discover 
 here and there some humble Christian 
 receiving salvation, not by a clerical 
 , - sentimentalism, but by the work of the 
 
 --"" Holy Ghost in the heart. At the end 
 
 - c of the fourth century we meet with an 
 
 . "^ illustrious examjile of such conversions. 
 
 '''■X^^ On the picturesque banks of the 
 
 ^^■~ Clyde, not far from Glasgow, in the 
 
 Christian village of Bonavern, now 
 Kilpatrick, a little boy, of tender heart, 
 lively temperament, aud indefatigable 
 activity, passed the earlier days of 
 his life. He was born about the 
 year 372 a. d., of a British family, 
 and was named Succat.' His father, 
 Calpurnius, deacon of the church of Bonavern, a 
 simple-hearted pious man, and his mother, Couchessa, 
 sister to the celebrated Martin, archbishop of Tours, 
 and a woman superior to the majority of her sex, had 
 endeavoured to instil into his heart the doctrines of 
 Christianity; but Succat did not understand them. He 
 was fond of pleasure, aud delighted to be the leader of 
 his youthful companions. In the midst of his frivolities 
 he committed a serious fault. 
 
 Some few years later, his parents having quitted 
 Scotland and settled in Armorica, (Bretagne,) a terrible 
 calamity befell them. One day as Succat was playing 
 near the sea-shore with two of his sisters, some Irish 
 pirates, commanded by O'Neal, carried them all three 
 off to their boats, and sold them in Ireland to the 
 petty chieftain of some pagan clan, Succat was sent 
 into the fields to keep swine. It was while alone in 
 these solitary pastures, without priest and without 
 
 1 "At his baptism he was named by liis pai-ents not Patrick, but Succat" 
 —Usser. Bnt. Ecd. Anliq., p. 428. 
 
PATRICK'S MISSION TO IRELAND. 
 
 temple, that tlie young slave called to mind the Divine 
 lessons which his pious mother had so often read to him. 
 The fault which lie had committed pressed heavily 
 niglit and day upon iiis soul : lie groaned in heart, and 
 wept, lie turned repenting towards that meelv Saviour 
 of whom Concliessa had so often spoken ; he fell at His 
 knees in tliat heathen land ; and imagined he felt the 
 arms of a father uplifting tiie prodigal son. Succat was 
 then born from on high, but by an agent so spiritual, so 
 internnl, that he knew not tvhatce it coineth or ivhil/ier it 
 goctli. Tiie Gospel was written with the finger of God 
 on the tablets of Iiis heart. "I was sixteen years old," 
 said he, "and knew not the true God; but in that 
 strange land tlie Lord opened my unbelieving eyes, and, 
 nltliough late, I called my sins to mind, and was con- 
 verted with my whole heart to the Lord my God, wlio 
 regarded ray low estate, had pity on my youth and 
 ignorance, and consoled me as a father consoles his 
 children." 
 
 Such words as these from the lips of a swineherd in 
 the green pastures of Ireland, set clearly before us the 
 Christianity which in the fourth and fifth centuries 
 converted many souls in the British isles. In after 
 yeai-s Rome established the dominion of the priest and 
 salvation by forms, independently of the dispositions of 
 the heart ; but the iirimitive religion of these celebrated 
 islands was that living Christianity whose substance 
 is the grace of Jesus Christ, and whose power is the 
 grace of the Holy Ghost. The herdsman from tlic 
 banks of the Clyde was then undergoing tlioso experi- 
 ences which so many evangelical Christians in those 
 countries have subsequently undergone. "The love of 
 God increased more and more in me," said he, " with 
 faith and the fear of His name. The Spirit urged me 
 to such a degree that I poured forth as many as a 
 hundred prayers in one day. And even during the 
 night, in the forests and on the mountains where I 
 kejit ray flock, the rain, and snow, and frost, and 
 sufferings, wliich I endured, excited me to seek after 
 God. At that time I felt not the indifference whicli 
 now I feel : the Spirit fermented in my heart." Evan- 
 gelical faith even then existed in the British islands iu 
 the person of this slave, and of some few Christians 
 born again, like him, from on high. 
 
 Twice a captive, and twice rescued, Succat, after 
 returning to his family, felt an irresistible appeal in liis 
 heart. It was his duty to carry the Gospel to those 
 Irish pagan? among whom he had found Jesus Christ. 
 His parents and his friends endeavoured in vain to 
 detain him ; the same ardent desire pursued him in his 
 dreams. During the silent watches of the night he 
 fancied he heard voices calling to him from the dark 
 forests of Erin : " Come, holy child, and walk once 
 more among us." lie awoke in tears, his breast filled 
 with the keenest emotion. He tore himself from the 
 arms of his parents, and rushed forth — not jis hereto- 
 fore with his playfellows, when he would climb the 
 summit of some lofty hill — but with a heart full of 
 charity in Christ. He departed : " It was not done of 
 my own strength," said he ; " it was God who over- 
 came all." 
 
 Succat, afterwards known as Saint Patrick, and to 
 ■which name, as to that of St. Peter and other servants 
 of God, many superstitions have been attached, returned 
 
 to Ireland, but without visiting Rome, as an historian 
 of the twelfth century has asserted. Ever active, i 
 prompt, and ingenious, he collected the pagan tribes in ' 
 the fields by beat of drum, and then narrated to them 
 in their own tongue the history of the Son of God. 
 Erelong his simple recitals exercised a Divine power 
 over their rude hearts, and many souls were converted, 
 not by external sacraments or by the worship of images, 
 but by the preaching of the Word of God. The sou 
 of a chieftain, whom Patrick calls Beuignus, learnt 
 from him to proclaim the Gospel, and was destined to 
 succeed him. The court bard, Dubrach Mac Valubair, 
 no longer sang Druidical hymns, but canticles addressed 
 to Jesus Christ. Patrick was not entirely free from 
 the errors of the time ; perhaps he believed in pious 
 miracles ; but generally speaking we meet with nothing 
 but the Gospel in the earlier days of the British Church. 
 The time, no doubt, will come when Ireland will again 
 feel the power of the Holy Ghost, which had once 
 converted it by the ministrations of a Scotchman. 
 
 Shortly before the evangelization of Patrick in 
 Ireland, a Briton named Pelagius, having visited 
 Italy, Africa, and Palestine, began to teach a strange 
 doctrine. Desirous of making head against the moral | 
 indifference into which most of the Christians in those | 
 countries had fallen, and which would appear to have 
 been iu strong contrast with the British austerity, he 
 denied the doctrine of original sin, extolled free-will, 
 and maintained that, if man made use of all the powers 
 of his nature, he would attain perfection. We do not 
 find that he taught these opinions iu his own country; 
 but from the Continent, where he disseminated them, 
 they soon reached Britain. The British churches 
 refused to receive this " perverse doctrine," their his- 
 torian tells us, " and to bhuspheme the grace of Jesus 
 Christ." They do not appear to have held the strict 
 doctrine of Saint Augustine: they believed, indeed, that 
 man has need of an inward change, and that this the 
 Divine power alone can effect ; but like the churches 
 of Asia, from which they had sprung, they seem to 
 have conceded something to our natural strength in the 
 work of conversion ; and Pelagius, with a good inten- 
 tion it would appear, went still further. However 
 that nuiy be, these churches, strangers to the contro- 
 versy, were unacquainted with all its subtleties. Two 
 Gaulish bishops, Germ.auus and Lupus, came to their 
 aid, and those who had been perverted returned into 
 the way of truth. 
 
 Shortly after this, events of great importance took 
 place in Great Britain, and the light of faith dis- 
 appeared in profound night. In 449, Hengist and 
 llorsa, with their Saxon followers, being invited by the 
 wretched inhabitants to aid them against the cruel 
 ravages of the Picts and Scots, soon turned their 
 swords against the people they had come to assist. 
 Christianity was driven back with the Britons into 
 the mountains of AVales and the wild moors of North- 
 umberland and Cornwall. Many British families re- 
 mained in the midst of the conquerors, but without 
 exercising any religious influence over them. While 
 the conquering races, settled at Paris, Ravenna, or 
 Toledo, gradually laid aside their paganism and savage 
 manners, the barbarous customs of the Saxons pre- 
 vailed unmoderated throughout the kingdoms of the 
 
HISTORY OF THE BEFORMATION. 
 
 Heptarchy, and ia every quarter temples to Thor rose 
 above the churches in which Jesus Christ had been 
 worshipped. Gaul aud the south of Europe, which 
 still exhibited to the eyes of the barbarians the last 
 vestiges of Romau grandeur, alone had the power of 
 inspiring some degree of respect in the formidable 
 Germans, aud of transforming their faith. From 
 this period, the Greeks and Latins, and even the 
 converted Goths, looked at this island with unutter- 
 able dread. The soil, said they, is covered with ser- 
 pents ; the air is thick with deadly exhalations ; the 
 souls of the departed are transported thither at mid- 
 night from the shores of Gaul. Ferrymen, sons of 
 Erobns and Night, admit these invisible shades into 
 their boats, and listen, with a shudder, to their my- 
 sterious whisperings. England, whence light was one 
 day to be shed over the habitable globe, was then the 
 trysting-place of the dead. And yet the Christianity 
 of the British isles was not to be annihilated by tliese 
 barbarian invasions ; it possessed a strength which 
 rendered it capable of energetic resistance. 
 
 In one of the churches formed by Succat's preach- 
 ing, there arose about two centuries after him a pious 
 man named Columba, son of Feidlimyd, the son of 
 I Fergus. Valuing the cross of Christ more highly than 
 I the royal blood that flowed in his veins, he resolved to 
 j devote himself to the King of heaven. Shall he not 
 repay to the couutry of Succat what Succat had im- 
 I parted to his? "I will go," said he, "and preach 
 the Word of God in Scotland ;" for the "Word of God, 
 and not an ecclesiastical hierarchisni, was then the con- 
 verting agency. The grandson of Fergus communi- 
 cated the zeal which animated him to the hearts of 
 several fellow-Christians. They repaired to the sea- 
 shore, and cutting dowu the pliant branches of the 
 osier, constructed a frail bark, which they covered 
 with the skins of beasts. In this rude boat they em- 
 barked in the year 5(J5 ; and after being driven to and 
 fro on the oceau, the little missionary band reached 
 the waters of the Hebrides. Columba landed near the 
 barren rocks of Mull, to the south of the basaltic 
 caverns of Staffa, aud fixed his abode in a small 
 island, afterwards known as lona or Icolmkill, " the 
 island of Columba's cell." Some Christian Culdees, 
 driven out by the dissensions of the Picts and Scots, 
 had already found a refuge in the same retired spot. 
 Here the missionaries erected a chapel, whose walls, it 
 is said, still exist among the stately ruins of a later 
 age.^ Some authors have placed Columba in the first 
 rank after the apostles. True, we do not find in him 
 the faith of a Paul or a John ; but he lived as iu the 
 sight of God ; he mortified the flesh, and slept on the 
 ground with a stone for his pillow. Amid this solemn 
 scenery, and among customs so rude, the form of the 
 missionary, illumined by a light from heaven, shone 
 with love, and manifested the joy and serenity of his 
 heart. Although subject to the same passions as our- 
 selves, he wrestled against his weakness, and would 
 not have one moment lost for the glory of God. He 
 prayed and read, he wrote and taught, he preached 
 and redeemed the time. "With indefatigable activity 
 he went from house to house, and from kingdom to 
 
 1 1 visited lona, in 1845, with Dr. Patrick M'Farlan, and saw these ruins. 
 One portion of the building seems to be of primitive architecture. 
 
 kindom. The king of the Picts was converted, as were 
 also many of his people; precious manuscripts were 
 conveyed to lona ; a school of theology was founded 
 there, in which the AVord was studied; and many 
 received through faith the salvation which is in Christ 
 Jesus. Erelong a missionary spirit breathed over this 
 ocean rock, so justly named '• the light of the western 
 world." 
 
 The Judaical sacerdotalism which was beginning to 
 extend in the Christian Church found no support iu 
 lona. They had forms, but not to them did they look 
 for life. It was the Holy Ghost, Columba maintained, 
 that made a servant of God. When the youth of 
 Caledonia assembled around the elders on these savage 
 shores, or in their humble chapel, these ministers of 
 the Lord would say to them : '• The Holy Scriptures 
 are the only rule of faith. Throw aside all merit of 
 works, and look for salvation to the grace of God 
 alone. Beware of a religion which consists of outward 
 observances : it is better to keep your heart pure before 
 God than to abstain from meats. One alone is your 
 head, Jesus Christ. Bishops and presbyters are equal; 
 they should be the husbands of one wife, and have 
 their children in subjection." 
 
 The sages of lona knew nothing of transubstantia- 
 tion, or of the withdrawal of the cup in the Lord's 
 Supper, or of auricular confession, or of prayers to the 
 dead, or tapers, or incense ; they celebrated Easter on 
 a different day from Home ; synodal assemblies regu- 
 lated the affairs of the Church, and the papal supremacy 
 was unknown. The sun of the Gospel shone iqion 
 these wild and distant shores. In after years it was 
 the privilege of Great Britain to recover with a purer 
 lustre the same sun and the same Gospel. 
 
 loua, governed by a simple elder, ^ had become a 
 missionary college. It has been sometimes called a 
 montistery; but the dwelling of the grandson of Fergus 
 in nowise resembled the popish convents. When its 
 youthful inmates desired to spread the knowledge of 
 Jesus Christ, they thought not of going elsewhere in 
 quest of episcopal ordination. Kneeling iu the chapel 
 of Icolmkill, they were set apart by the laying on of 
 the hands of the elders : they were called bishoptf, but 
 remained obedient to the eldei' or presbyter of lona. 
 They even consecrated other bishops : thus Finau laid 
 bauds upon Diuma, bishop of Middlesex. These Bri- 
 tisii Christians attached great importance to the minis- 
 try; but not to one form in preference to another. 
 Presbytery and episcopacy were with them, as with 
 the primitive Church, almost identical.' Somewhat 
 later we find that neither the venerable Bade, nor Lan- 
 franc, nor Anselm — the two last were archbishops of 
 Canterbury — made any objection to the ordination of 
 
 s "Moreover, it was always the custom to have as governor in that island 
 .an abbot who is a presbyter, to whose direction the entire province and also 
 the bishops, contrary to the usual method, are subject, according to the 
 example of their first teacher, who was not a bishop, but a presbyter and 
 mimk."—Beda, Hist. Eccl, iii., cap. iv. 
 
 3 "A presbyter, accordingly, is the same as a bishop ; and before that, by 
 a suggestion of the devil, party strife entered into religion, . . , the 
 chinches were governed by a common council of presbyters. Paul spako 
 wjtliuut any distinction between bishops and presbytere. . . . The 
 bishops know that it is to custom, rather than to any actual direction of the 
 Lord, that they owe their superiority to presbyters." — Hkroiajmus iul Tititiiif 
 
CONTINENTAL MISSIONS OF THE BRITONS. 
 
 6G3 
 
 British liisliops liy plain presbyters.' The religious 
 mill iiionil i-leineiit tliat boloii.ii.s to Christianity still 
 prciloniiimtiHl ; the snccnlotiil element, which chiirac- 
 
 or I'lsewlierc, w;is ]ii-;;innin;,' Id .slicw itself; but in f;re:it 
 Britain, at least, it held a very subordinate station. 
 Christianity was still a religion, ami not a caste. They 
 did not reipiire of the servant of God, as a warrant of 
 his capacity, a long list of names succeeding one another 
 like the beads of a rosary; they entertained serious, 
 noble, and holy ideas of tlie ministry; its authority 
 proceeded wholly from Jesus Christ its head. 
 
 The missionary fire, which the grandson of Fergus 
 had kindled in a solitary islaud, soon spread over Giroat 
 Britain. Not in loiia alone, but at Bangor and other 
 places, the spirit of evangelization burst out. A fond- 
 ness for travelling had already become a second nature 
 in this people.' Men of God, burning with zeal, re- 
 solved to carry the evangelical torch to the Continent — 
 to the vast wilderness sprinkled here and tliere with 
 barbarous and heathen tribes. They did not set forth 
 as antagonists of Rome, for at that epoch there was no 
 place for such antagonism; but lona and Bangor, less 
 illustrious than Rome in the history of nations, pos- 
 sessed a more lively faith than the city of the Ca-sars ; 
 and that faith — unerring sign of the presence of Jesus 
 Christ — gave those whom it inspired a right to evan- 
 gelize the world, which Home could not gainsay. 
 
 The missionary bishops^ of Britain accordingly set 
 forth and traversed the Low Countries, Gaul, Switzer- 
 land, Germany, and even Italy.* The free church of 
 the Scots and Britons did more for the conversion of 
 central Europe than the half-enslaved church of the 
 Romans. These missionaries were not haughty and 
 insolent, like the priests of Italy; but supported them- 
 selves by the work of their hands. Columbanus, (whom 
 we must not confound with Columba,)" "feeling in 
 his heart the burning of the lire which the Lord had 
 kindled upon earth," quitted Bangor in 5'JO, with 
 twelve other missionaries, and carried the Gospel to 
 the Burgiuidians, Fianks, and Swiss. He continued to 
 preach it amidst frequent persecutions, left his disciple. 
 Gall, in Helvetia, and retired to Bobbio, where he died; 
 honouring Christian Rome, but placing the church of 
 Jerusalem above it, — exhorting it to beware of cor- 
 ruption, and declaring that the power would remain 
 with it so long only as it retained the true doctrine, 
 (recla mlio.) Thus was Britain faithful in planting the 
 standard of Christ in the heart of Europe. We mi^ht 
 almost imagine this unknown people to be a new Israel, 
 and Icolmkill and Bangor to have inherited the virtues 
 of Ziou. 
 
 1 Bishop Mimtcr Diakes tliis remark in his dissertation "On Hie Ancient 
 Britisli Cliurch," about the primitive identity of bishops and priests, and 
 episcopal consecration. 
 
 a "Tlie nation of tho Scots, in whom the habit of travelling abroad had 
 already .almost become a second nature."— Kfla S. GoHi, sec. 47. 
 
 3 Tlicy were called tpiscopi ngionarii, because they had no settled diocese. 
 
 < " In ancient times tlio most learned teachers were accustomed to come 
 from Ireland to Britain, Gaul, and lUily, and to make numerous journeys 
 among the clmrclies of Christ"— .Jlcuin, Epp. ccxxi. 
 
 5 Tliicrrj', in his " Hist, de la Conquete de 1' Anglcterrc," makes Columba 
 and Columbanus one pereonage. ColumlM preached the Gospel in Scotland 
 about SCO, and <Ucd in 597; Columb.-inus pre-ichcd among the 
 iu 000, and died in 015. 
 
 Yet they should have done more : they should have 
 preached — not only to the continental heathens, to 
 those in the north of Scotland and the distant Ireland, 
 liiit also to the still pagan Saxons of England. It is 
 true that they made several atleinpts; but while the 
 Britons considered their conijuerors as the enemies of 
 God and man, and shuddered while they pronounced 
 their name, the Saxons refused to be converted by the 
 voice of their slaves. By neglecting this field, the 
 Britons left room for other workmen, and thus it was 
 that England yielded to a foreign power, beneath 
 whose heavy yoke it long groaned in vain. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 P.jpc Gregory the Great— Desires to reduce Britain— Pulicy of Gregoiy and 
 Augustine — An'ival of the Mission— Appreciation — Britain superior to 
 Home— Dionoth at B.ingor— First and Second Komish Aggressions- 
 Anguish of the Britons— Pride of Rome- Rome has recourse to the 
 Sword — Massacre — Saint Peter Scourges an Archbishop— Oswald— His 
 Victory— Connan— Mission of Oswald and Aidan— Death of Oswald. 
 
 It is matter of fact that the si)iritual life had waned in 
 Italian Catholicism; and in proportion as the heavenly 
 spirit had become weak, the lust of dominion had grown 
 strong. The Roman metropolitans and their delegates 
 soon became impatient to mould all Christendom to 
 their peculiar forms. 
 
 About the end of the sixth century an eminent inau 
 filled the see of Rome. Gregory was born of senatorial 
 family, and already ou the high road to honour, when 
 he suddenly renounced the world, and transformed the | 
 palace of his fathers into a convent. But his ambition j 
 had only changed its object. In his views, the whole 
 Church should submit to the ecclesiastical jurisdiction 
 of Rome. True, he rejected tlie title of uiiivt-iva/ hi<Iiop, \ 
 assumed by the patriarch of Constantinople ; but if he 
 desired not the name, he was not the less eager for the 
 substance." Ou the borders of the West, in the island 
 of Great Britain, was a Christian church independent 
 of Rome : this must be conquered, and a favourable 
 opportunity soon occurred. 
 
 Before his elevation to the primacy, and while ho 
 was as yet only the monk Gregory, he chanced one 
 day to cross a market iu Rome where certain foreign 
 dealers were exposing their wares for sale. Among 
 them he perceived some fair-haired youthful slaves, 
 whose noble bearing attracted his attention. On draw- 
 ing near them, he learned that the Anglo-Saxon nation, 
 to which they belonged, had refused to received the | 
 Gospel from the Britons. "When he afterwards be- I 
 came bishop of Rome, this crafty and energetic pontiff, 
 " the last of the good and the first of the bad," as he 
 has been called, determined to convert these proud 
 conquerors, and make use of them in subduing the 
 British church to the papacy, as he had already made 
 use of the Frank monarchs to reduce the Gauls. 
 Rome has often shewn herself more eager to bring 
 
 a He says, (Ei>p., lib. ix., ep. xii. :) " Concerning the church of Constan- 
 tinople, who doubts that it is subject to the apostolical sec*" 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Christians rather than idolaters to the pope.* Was it 
 thus with Gregory' We must leave the question uu- 
 answored. 
 
 Eilielbert, king of Kent, having married a Christian 
 princess of Frank descent, the Roman bishop thought 
 the conjuncture favourable for his design, and de- 
 spatched a mission under the direction of one of his 
 friends, named Augustine, a.d. 59G At first the mis- 
 sionaries recoiled from the task appointed them ; but 
 Gregory was firm. Desirous of gaining the assistance 
 of the Frank kings, Theodoric and Theodebert, he 
 affected to consider them as the lords paramount of 
 England, and commended to them the conversion of 
 their suhjects. Nor was this all. He claimed also the 
 support of the powerful Brunehilda, grandmother of 
 these two kings, and equally notorious for her treachery, 
 her irregularities, and her crimes ; and did not scruple 
 to extol the (jood worlcs and goclhj fear of this modern 
 Jezebel. Under such auspices the Romish mission 
 arrived in England. The pope had made a skilful 
 
 choice of his delegate. Augustine posse'-«ed, even to a 
 greater extent than Gregory himself, a mixture of am- 
 bition and devotedness, of superstition and piety, of 
 cunning and zeal. He thought that faith and holiness 
 were less essential to the Church than authority and 
 power; and that its prerogative was not so much to 
 save souls as to collect all the human race under the 
 sceptre of Rome.* Gregory himself was distressed at 
 Augustine's spiritual pride, and often exhorted him to 
 humility. 
 
 Success of that kind which Popery desires soon 
 crowned the labours of its servants. The forty-one 
 missionaries having landed in the isle of Thanet, in the 
 year 597, the King of Kent consented to receive them, 
 but in the open air, for fear of magic. They drew up 
 in such a manner as to produce an effect on the rude 
 islanders. The procession was opened by a monk 
 bearing a huge cross, on which the figure of Christ 
 
 1 We know the histoiy of Taliiti, and of other motleni missions of the 
 Romish Chui-ch. 
 
 • We find the same idea in Wiseman, Lect ix., " On the principal doc- 
 trines and practices of the Catholic Church." London, 1836. 
 
 was represented : his colleagues followed, chanting their 
 Latin hymns ; and thus they approached the oak ap- 
 pointed for the place of conference. They inspired 
 sufficient confidence in Ethelbert to gain permission to 
 celebrate their worship in an old ruinous chapel at 
 Durovern, (Canterbury,) where British Ciiristians 
 had in former times adored the Saviour Christ. The 
 king and thousands of his subjects received not long 
 after, with certain forms, and certain Christian doc- 
 trines, the errors of the Roman pontiffs — as purgatory, 
 for instance, which Gregory was advocating with the 
 aid of the most absurd fables. Augustine baptized ten 
 thousand pagans in one day. As yet Rome had only 
 set her foot in Great Britain, she did not fail erelong 
 to establish her kingdom there. 
 
 We should be unwilling to undervalue the religious 
 element now placed before the Anglo-Saxons, and we 
 can readily believe that many of the missionaries sent 
 from Italy desired to work a Christian work. We 
 think, too, that the Middle Ages ought to be appre- 
 ciated with more equitable 
 sentiments than have always 
 been found in the persons who 
 have written on that period 
 Man's conscience lived, spoke, 
 and groaned, during the long 
 dominion of Popery; and like 
 a plant growing among thorns, 
 it often succeeded in forcing a 
 ])assage through the obstacles 
 of traditioualisiu and hierar- 
 chy, to blossom in the quick- 
 tiiiug sun of God's grace. 
 The Christian element is even 
 strongly marked in some of the 
 most eminent men of the tiieo- 
 cracy — in Anselm, for instance. 
 Yet as it is our task to re- 
 late the history of the struggles 
 which took place between pri- 
 mitive Christianity and Roman 
 Catholicism, we cannot for- 
 bear pointing out the superiority of the former in a 
 religious light, while we acknowledge the superiority of 
 the latter in a political point of view. We believe 
 (and we shall presently have a proof of it) that a visit 
 to lona would have taught the Anglo-Saxons much 
 more than their frequent pilgrimages to the banks of 
 the Tiber. Doubtless, as has been remarked, these 
 pilgrims contemplated at Rome " the noble monuments 
 of antiquity," but there existed at that time in the Bri- 
 tish islands— and it has been too often overlooked — a 
 Christianity ^vhich, if not perfectly pure, was at least 
 better than that of Popery. The British Church, 
 which at the beginning of the seveuth century carried 
 faith and civilization into Burgundy, the Vosges moun- 
 tains, and Switzerland, might well have spread them 
 both over Britain. The influence of the arts, whose 
 civilizing influence we are far from depreciating, would 
 have come later. 
 
 But so far was the Christianity of the Britons from 
 converting the Saxon heptarchy, that it was, alas! the 
 Romanism of the heptarchy which was destined to con- 
 quer Britain. These struggles between the Roman and 
 
FIRST AND SECOND ROISIISH AGGRESSION. 
 
 Uritish churches, which fill all the seventh century, are 
 of the highest importance to the English Ciiurch, for 
 they establish clearly its primitive liberty. They pos- 
 sess also great interest for the other churches of the 
 AVcst, as sliewing in the most striking characters the 
 usurping acts by which the papacy eventually reduced 
 them beneath its yoke. 
 
 Augustine, appointed archbishop not only of the 
 Saxons, but of the free Britons, was settled by papal 
 ordinance, first at London, and afterwards at Canter- 
 bury. Being at the head of a hierarchy composed of 
 twelve bishops, he soon attempted to bring all the 
 Christians of Britain under the Roman jurisdiction. 
 At that time there existed at Bangor, in Nortli Wales, 
 a large Christian society, amounting to nearly three 
 thousand individuals, collected togetiier to work with 
 their own hands, to study, and to pray, and from 
 whose bosom numerous missionaries (Columbanns was 
 among the number) had from time to time gone forth. 
 The president of this church was Dionoth, a faithful 
 teacher, ready to serve all men in charity, yet firmly 
 convinced that no one should have supremacy in the 
 Lord's vineyard. Although one of the most influential 
 men in the British Church, he was somewhat timid 
 and hesitating ; he would yield to a certain point for 
 the love of peace; but would never flinch from his 
 duty. He was another apostle John, full of mildness, 
 and yet condemning the Diotrephes, xrho love to have 
 pre-eminence amonj tlie brethren. Augustine thus ad- 
 dressed him : " Acknowledge the authority of the 
 Bishop of Rome." These are the first words of the 
 Papacy to the ancient Christians of Britain. " "We 
 desire to love all men," meekly replied the vener- 
 able Briton ; " and what we do for you, we will do 
 for him also whom you call the pope. But he is not 
 [ entitled to call himself the father of fathers ; and 
 I the only submission we can render him is that wliich 
 we owe to every Christian." This was not what 
 Augustine asked. 
 
 He was not discouraged by this first check. Proud 
 of the pallium which Rome liad sent him, and relying 
 on the swords of the Anglo-Saxons, he convoked, in 
 601, a general assembly of British and vSaxon bisliops. 
 The meeting took place in the open air, beneath a 
 venerable oak, near Wigornia, (Worcester or Here- 
 ford ;) and here occurred the second Romish aggression. 
 Dionoth resisted with firmness the extravagant pre- 
 tensions of Augustine, who again summoned him to 
 recognise the authority ' of Rome. Another Briton 
 protested against the presumption of the Romaus, wlio 
 ascribed to their consecration a virtue which they 
 refused to that of loua or of the Asiatic churches. 
 " The Britons," exclaimed a third, " canuot submit 
 either to the haughtiness of the Romans or the tyranny 
 of the Saxous." To no purpose did the archbishop 
 lavish his arguments, prayers, censures, and miracles 
 even ; the Britons were firm. Some of them who had 
 eaten with the Saxons while they were as yet heathens, 
 refused to do so now that they had submitted to the 
 pope. Tiie Scotch were particularly inflexible ; for one 
 of their number, by name Dagam, would not only take 
 no food at the same table with the Romaus, but not even 
 luuler the same roof. Thus did Augustine fail a second 
 time, and the independence of Britain appeared secure. 
 
 And yet the formidable power of the popes, aided by 
 the sword of the conrpiorors, alarmed the Britons. 
 They imagined they saw a mysterious decree once 
 more yoking the nations of the earth to the triumphal 
 car of Rome, and many left Wigornia unesisy and sad 
 at Iieart. How is it possible to save a cause, when 
 even its defenders begin to despair? It was not long 
 before they were summoned to a new council. "What 
 is to be done?" they exclaimed with sorrowful fore- 
 bodings. Popery was not yet thoroughly known : it 
 was hardly formed. The half -enlightened consciences 
 of these believers were a prey to the most violent agita- 
 tion. They asked themselves whether, in rejecting 
 this new power, they might not be rejecting God him- 
 self. A pious Christian, who led a solitary life, had 
 acquired a groat reputation in the surrounding district. 
 Some of the Britons visited him, and inquired whether 
 they should resist Augustine or follow him. " If he is 
 a man of God, follow him," replied the hermit. "And 
 how shall wc know that .' " — "If he is meek and humble 
 of heart, he bears Christ's yoke; but if he is violent 
 and proud he is not of God." "What sign shall we 
 have of his humility?" — "If he rises from his seat 
 when you enter the room." Thus spoke the oracle of I 
 Britain : it would have been better to have consulted | 
 the Holy Scriptures. j 
 
 But humility is not a virtue that flourishes among 1 
 Romish pontiffs and legates: they love to remain ! 
 seated while others court and worship them. The I 
 British bishops entered the council-hall, and the arch- 
 bishop, desirous of indicating his superiority, proudly 
 kept his seat. Astonished at this sight, the Britons 
 would hear no more of the authority of Rome. For 
 the third time they said No — they know no other master 
 but Christ. Augustine, who expected to see these 
 bishops prostrate their churches at his feet, was sur- 
 prised and indignant. He had reckoned on the im- 
 mediate submission of Britain, and the pope had now 
 to learn that his missionary had deceived him. . . . 
 Animated by that insolent spirit which is found too 
 often in the ministers of the Romish Church, Augustine 
 exclaimed: "If you will not receive brethren who 
 bring you peace, you shall receive enemies who will 
 bring you war. If you will not unite with us in shew- 
 ing the Saxons the way of life, you shall receive from 
 them the stroke of death." Having thus spoken, the 
 haughty archbishop withdrew, and occupied his last 
 days in preparing the accomplishment of his ill- 
 omened prophecy. Argument had failed : now for the 
 sword. 
 
 Shortly after the death of Augustine, Edelfrid, one 
 of the Anglo-Saxon kings, and who was still a heathen, 
 collected a numerous army, and advanced towards 
 Bangor, the centre of British Christianity. Alarm 
 spread through those feeble churches. They wept and 
 prayed. The sword of Edelfrid drew nearer. To 
 whom can they apply, or where shall they find help? 
 The magnitude of the danger seemed to recall the 
 Britons to their pristine piety: not to men, but to the 
 Lord himself will they turn their thoughts. Twelve 
 hundred and fifty servants of the living God, calling to 
 mind what are the arras of Christian warfare, after 
 preparing themselves by fasting, met together in a 
 retired spot to send up their prayers to God. A 
 
5G6 
 
 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 British chief, named Brocmail, moved by tender 
 compassion, stationed himself near tliem witli a few 
 soldiers; but the cruel Edelfrid, observing from a 
 distance this band of kueeliug Christians, demanded: 
 '•Who are these people, and what are they doing?" 
 On being informed, he added: "They are fighting, 
 then, against us, although unarmed;" and immediately 
 he ordered liis soldiers to fall upon the prostrate crowd. 
 Twelve hundred of tlicm were slain. They prayed 
 and they died. The Saxons forthwith proceeded to 
 Bangor, the chief seat of Christian learning, and razed 
 it to tlie ground. Romanism was triumphant in 
 England. Tlie news of these massacres tilled the 
 country inth ivceping caul great mourning; but the 
 priests of Ilomish consecration (and the venerable 
 Bedo shared their sentiments) beheld in this cruel 
 slaughter the accomplishment of the prophecy of the 
 /lol^ pontiff Augustine ; and a national tradition among 
 the Welsh for many ages pointed to him as the insti- 
 gator of this cowardly butchery. Thus did Rome loose 
 the savage Pagan against the primitive Church of 
 Britain, and fastened it, all dripping with blood, to her 
 triumphal car. A great mystery of iniquity was ac- 
 complishing. 
 
 But while the Saxon sword appeared to have swept 
 everything from before the papacy, the ground trem- 
 bled imder its feet, and seemed about to swallow it 
 up. The hierarchical ratlier than Christian conversions 
 effected by the priests of Rome were so unreal that a 
 vast number of neophytes suddenly returned to the 
 worship of their idols. Eadbald, king of Kent, was 
 himself among the number of apostates. Such i-ever- 
 sious to paganism are not unfrequent in the history of 
 the Romish missions. The bishops fled into Gaul: 
 Mellitus and Justus had already reached the continent 
 in safety, and Lawrence, Augustine's successor, was 
 about to follow them. While lying in the church 
 where he had desired to pass the night before leaving 
 England, he groaned in spirit as he saw the work 
 founded by Augustine perishing in his hands. He 
 saved it by a miracle. The next morning he presented 
 himself before the king with his clothes all disordered 
 and his body covered with wounds. "Saint Peter," 
 he said, "appeared to me during the night and scourged 
 me severely because I was about to forsake his flock." 
 Tlie scourge was a means of moral persuasion which 
 Peter had forgotten in his epistles. Did Lawrence 
 cause these blows to be inflicted by others — or did he 
 inflict them himself — or is the whole account an idle 
 dream? We should prefer adopting the latter hy- 
 pothesis. The superstitious prince, excited at the 
 news of this supernatural intervention, eagerly acknow- 
 ledged the authority of the pope, the vicar of an apostle 
 who so mercilessly scourged those who had the mis- 
 fortune to displease him. If the dominion of Rome 
 had then disappeared from England, it is probable 
 that the Britons, regaining their courage, and favoured 
 in other respects by the wants which would have been 
 felt by the Saxons, would have recovered from their 
 defeat, and would have imparted their free Chris- 
 tianity to their conquerors. But now the Roman 
 bishop seemed to remain master of England, and the 
 faith of the Britons to be crushed for ever. B>it it 
 was not so. A young man, sprung from the energetic 
 
 race of the conquerors, was about to become the cham- 
 pion of truth and liberty, and .almost the whole island 
 to be freed from the Roman yoke. 
 
 Oswald, an Anglo-Saxon prince, son of the heathen 
 and cruel Edelfrid, had been compelled by family 
 reverses to take refuge in Scotland, when very young, 
 accompanied by his brother Oswy and several other 
 youthful chiefs. He had acquired the language of the 
 country, been instructed in the truths of Holy Writ, 
 converted by the grace of God, and baptized into the 
 Scottish Church. He loved to sit at the feet of the 
 elders of lona and listen to their words. They shewed 
 him Jesus Christ going from place to place doing good, 
 and he desired to do so likewise ; they told him that 
 Christ was the only head of the Chiu'ch, and he pro- 
 mised never to acknowledge any other. Being a 
 single-hearted generous man, he was especially ani- 
 mated with tender compassion towards the poor, and 
 would take off his own cloak to cover the nakedness of 
 one of his brethren. Often, while mingling in the 
 quiet assemblies of the Scottish Christians, he had 
 desired to go as a missionary to the Anglo-Saxons. 
 It w.as not long before he conceived the bold design of 
 leading the people of Northumberland to the Saviour; 
 but being a prince as well as a Christian, he deter- 
 mined to begin by reconquering the throne of his 
 fathers. There was in this young Englishman the 
 love of a disciple and the courage of a hero. At 
 the head of an army — small indeed, but strong by 
 faith in Christ — he entered Northumberland, knelt 
 with his troops in prayer on the held of battle, and 
 gained a signal victory over a powerful enemy, 634 a.d. 
 
 To recover the kingdom of his ancestors was only a 
 part of his task. Oswald desired to give his people the 
 benefits of the true faith. The Christianity taught iu 
 025 to King Edwin and the Northumbrians by Pendin 
 of York had disappeared amidst tlie ravages of the 
 pagan armies. Oswald requested a missionary from 
 the Scots who had given him an asylum, and they 
 accordingly sent one of the brethren named Cormau, a 
 pious but uncultivated and austere man. He soon 
 returned dispirited to loua : " The people to whom 
 you sent me," he told the elders of that island, " are 
 so obstinate tli.at we must renounce all idea of chang- 
 ing their manners." As Aidan, one of their number, 
 listened to this report, he said to himself: "If thy love 
 had been offered to this people, oh, my Saviour, many 
 hearts would have been touched ! . . . I will go 
 and make thee known — tliee who breaketh not the 
 bruised reed." Then, turning to the missionary with a 
 look of mild repi-oach, he added: "Brother, you have 
 been too severe towards hearers so dull of heart. You 
 should have given them spiritual milk to drink until 
 they were able to receive more solid food." All eyes 
 were fixed on the man who spoke so wisely. "Aidan 
 is worthy of the episcopate," exclaimed the brethren of 
 Zona ; and, like Timotliy, he was consecrated by the 
 laying on of the hands of the company of elders.' 
 
 Oswald received Aidan as an angel from heaven; and 
 as the missionary was ignorant of the Saxon language, 
 
 1 " Aiilau liavmg received the dignity of a bishop at tlie time wlien Sego- 
 iiiiis, aljliot and presbyter, presided over that monastery." — Beda,lih. iii,, 
 cap. V. VTiieu Bede tells us that a plain priest was president, he excludes 
 the idea that there were hishops in the assembly. See 1 Timothy iv. 14. 
 
DEATH OF OSWALD. 
 
 567 
 
 tlie king nccompanicd him evcrjnvherc, standing by his 
 side, and interpreting his gentle discourses. The people 
 crowded joyfully around Oswald, Aidan, and other 
 missionaries from Scotland and Ireland, listening eagerly 
 to the Word of God. The king preached by his works 
 still more than by his words. One day during Eiister, 
 as lie was about to take his seat at table, he was in- 
 formed that a crowd of his subjects, driven by hunger, 
 had collected before his palace gates. Instantly he 
 ordered the food prepared for himself to be carried out 
 and distributed among them ; and taking the silver 
 vessels which stood before him, he broke them in 
 pieces, and commanded his servants to divide them 
 among the poor. He also introduced the knowledge of 
 the Saviour to the people of Wessex, whither he had 
 gone to marry the king's daughter ; and after a reign 
 of nine years, he died at the head of his army while 
 repelling an invasion of the idolatrous Mercians, headed 
 by the cruel Penda, (5th August, G42 a.d.) As he 
 fell he exclaimed : " Lord, have mercy on the souls of 
 my people !" This youthful prince has left a name 
 dear to the churches of Great IJritain. 
 
 His death did not interrupt the labours of the mis- 
 sionaries. Their meekness and the recollection of 
 Oswald endeared them to all. As soon as the vil- 
 lagers caught sight of one on the high-road, they 
 woidd throng round him, begging him to teach them 
 the Word of life. The faith which the terrible Edel- 
 frid thought he had washed away in the blood of the 
 worshippers of God, was re-appearing in every direc- 
 tion ; and Rome, which once already, in the days of 
 Honorius, had been forced to leave Britain, might be, 
 jicrhaps, a second time compelled to flee to its ships 
 from before the face of a people who asserted their 
 liberty. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 Cliarai-ter of Oswy— DiMtli of .\id.aii— Wilfrid at Rome— At Oswald's Coiirtr- 
 Fiuan and Colman— Indciiendence of the Chm-cli Attiicked— Oswj's 
 Conquests and Troubles— 5y»odiw Pliarcnsis — Cedda— Degeneration — 
 The Disputation— Peter, the Gatekeeper— Triunii* of Rome— Grief of 
 tlic Britons— Popedom Organized in England— Papal Exultation— An.li- 
 bisliopTlicodore- Ccddare-ordained- Discord in the Church— Disi,'r;i'-e 
 and Treachery of Wilfrid— His End— Scotland Attacked— Artanman— 
 lona Resists— A King Converted by Architects— The Monk Egbert at 
 lona— His Histoiy— Monkish Visions— Fall of lona. 
 
 Then up rose the Papacy. If victory remained with 
 the Britons, their church, becoming entirely free, might 
 even in these early times head a strong opposition 
 against the papal monarchy. If, on the contrary, the 
 last champions of liberty are defeated, centuries of 
 slavery awaited the Christian Church. We shall have 
 to witness the struggle that took place erelong in the 
 very palace of the Northumbrian kings. 
 
 Oswald was succeeded by his brother Oswy, a prince 
 instructed in the free doctrine of the Britons, but whose 
 religion was all external. His heart overflowed with 
 ambition, and he shrank from no crime that might in- 
 crease his power. The throne of Dcira was filled by 
 his relative, Oswin, an amiable king, much beloved by 
 
 his people. Oswy, conceiving a deadly jealousy to- 
 wards him, marched against him at the head of an 
 army, aud Oswin, desirous of avoiding bloodshed, took 
 shelter with a chief whom he had loaded with favom-s. 
 But the latter offered to lead Oswy's soldiers to his 
 hidiug-place, and at dead of night the fugitive king 
 was basely assassinated, one only of his servants fight- 
 ing in his defence. The geutle Aidan died of sor- 
 row at his cruel fate. Such was the first exploit of 
 that monarch who surrendered England to the Papacy. 
 Various circumstances tended to draw Oswy nearer 
 Rome. He looked upon the Christian religion as a 
 means of combining the Christian princes against the 
 heathen Penda ; and such a religion, in which expe- 
 diency predominated, was not very unlike Popery. 
 And further, Oswy's wife, the proud Eanfeld, was of 
 the Romish communion. The private chaplain of this 
 bigoted princess was a priest named Eomanus, a man 
 worthy of the name. He zealously maintained the 
 rites of the Latin Chiuxh, and accordingly the festival 
 of Easter was celebrated at court twice in the year; 
 for while the king, following the Eastern rule, was 
 joyfully commemorating the i-esurrection of our Lord, 
 the queen, who adopted the Roman i-itual, was keeping 
 Palm Sunday with fasting and humiliation. Eanfeld 
 aud Romanus would often converse together on the 
 means of winning over Northumberland to the Papacy. 
 But the first step was to increase the number of its 
 partisans, and the opportunity soon occurred. 
 
 A young Northumbrian, named Wilfrid, was one 
 day admitted to an audience of the queen. He was a 
 comely man, of extensive knowledge, keen wit, aud 
 enterprising character, of indefatigable activity, and 
 insatiable ambition. In this interview he remarked to 
 Eanfeld : " The way which the Scotch teach us is not 
 perfect; I will go to Rome and learn in the very 
 temples of the apostles." She approved of his project, 
 aud with her assistance and directions he set out for 
 Italy. Alas! he was destined, at uo very distant day, 
 to chain the whole British Church to the Roman see. 
 After a short stay at Lyons, where the bishop, de- 
 lighted at his talents, would have desired to keep him, 
 he arrived at Rome, and immediately became on the 
 most friendly footing with archdeacon Boniface, the 
 pope's favourite councillor. He soon discovered that 
 the priests of France aud Italy possessed more power, 
 both in ecclesiastical and secular matters, than the 
 humble missionaries of lona; and his thirst for honours 
 was inflamed at the court of the pontiifs. If he should 
 succeed in making England submit to the Papacy, 
 there was no dignity to which he might not aspire. 
 Henceforward this was his only thought, and he had 
 hardly returned to Northumberland before Eanfeld 
 eagerly summoned him to court. A fanatical queen, 
 from whom he might hope everything — a king with no 
 religious convictions, and enslaved by political interests 
 — a pious aud zealous prince, Alfred, the king's son, 
 who was desirous of imitating his noble uncle (Oswald, 
 and converting the pagans, but who had neither the 
 discernment nor the piety of the illustrious disciple of 
 lona; such were the materials Wilfrid had to work 
 upon. He saw clearly that if Rome had gained her 
 first victory by the sword of Edelfrid, she could only 
 expect to gain a second by craft aud management. 
 
568 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 He came to an understanding on the subject with the 
 queen and Eomanus, and having been placed about the 
 person of the young prince, by adroit flattery he soon 
 gained over Alfred's mind. Then finding himself 
 secure of two members of the royal family, he turned 
 all his attention to Oswy. 
 
 The elders of lona could not shut their eyes to the 
 dangers which threatened Northumberland. They had 
 sent Finan to supply Aidau's place, and this bishop, 
 consecrated by the jiresbytcrs of lona, had witnessed 
 the progress of Popery at the court ; at first humble 
 and inoffensive, and then increasing year by year in 
 ambition and audacity. He had openly opposed the 
 pontiff's agents, and his frequent contests had con- 
 firmed him in the truth. He was dead, and the 
 presbyters of the Western Isles, seeing more clearly 
 than ever the wants of Northumbria, had sent thither 
 Bishop Colman, a simple-minded, but stout-hearted 
 man, — one determined to oppose a front of adamant 
 to the wiles of the seducers. 
 
 Yet Eanfeld, Wilfrid, and Eomanus were skilfully 
 
 I digging the mine that was to destroy the apostolic 
 Church of Britain. At first Wilfrid prepared his 
 attack by adroit insinuations ; and next declared him- 
 self openly in the king's presence. If Oswy withdrew 
 into his domestic circle, he there found the bigoted 
 Eanfeld, who zealously continued the work of the 
 Eoman missionary. No opportunities were neglected : 
 in the midst of the diversions of the court, at table, and 
 even during the chase, discussions were perpetually 
 raised on the controverted doctrines. Men's minds 
 became excited: the Romanists already assumed the 
 air of conquerors ; and the Britons often withdrew full 
 
 < of anxiety and fear. The king, placed between his 
 
 j wife and his faith, and wearied by these disputes, in- 
 clined first to one side, and then to the other, as if he 
 would soon fall altogether. 
 
 The Papacy had more powerful motives than ever 
 for coveting Northumberland. Oswy had not only 
 usurped the throne of Deira, but after the death of the 
 cruel Penda, who fell in battle in G54, he had con- 
 quered his states, with the exception of a portion 
 governed by his son-in-law, Peada, the son of Penda. 
 But Peada himself having fallen in a conspiracy said 
 to have been got up by his wife, the daughter of Oswy, 
 the latter completed the conquest of Mercia, and thus 
 
 ! united the greatest part of England under Ids sceptre. 
 Kent alone at that time acknowledged the jurisdiction 
 
 j of Eome : in every other province, free ministers, pro- 
 
 j tected by the kings of Northumberland, preached the 
 Gospel. This wonderfully simplified the question. If 
 Rome gained over Oswy, she would gain England : if 
 she failed, she must sooner or later leave that island 
 altogether. 
 
 This was not all. The blood of Oswyn, the prema- 
 ture death of Aidan, and other things besides, troubled 
 the king's breast. He desii-cd to appease the Deity he 
 had offended, and not knowing that Christ is the dooi\ 
 as holy Scripture tells us, he sought among men for a 
 doorkeeper who would open to him the kingdom of 
 heaven. He was far from being the last of those kings 
 whom the necessity of expiating their crimes impelled 
 towards Eomish praelices. The crafty Wilfrid, keep- 
 
 I ing alive both the hopes and fears of the prince, often 
 
 spoke to him of Eome, and of the grace to be found 
 there. He thought that the fruit was ripe, and that 
 now he had only to shake the tree. " We must have 
 a public disputation, in which the question may be 
 settled once for all," said the queen and her advisers ; 
 " but Eome must take her part in it with as much 
 pomp as her adversaries. Let us oppose bishop to 
 bishop." A Saxon bishop, named Agilbert, a friend of 
 Wilfrid's, who had won the affection of the young 
 prince Alfred, was invited by Eanfeld to the confer- 
 ence, and he arrived in Northumberland attended by 
 a priest named Agathon. Alas ! poor British Church, 
 the earthen vessel is about to be dashed against the 
 vase of iron. Britain must yield before the invading 
 march of Eome. 
 
 On the coast of Y'orkshire, at the f.arther extremity 
 of a quiet bay, was situated the monastery of Strena;- 
 shalh, or Whitby, of which Hilda, the pious daughter 
 of King Edwin, was abbess. She, too, was desirous of 
 seeing a termination of the violent disputes which had 
 agitated the Church since Wilfrid'.s return. On the 
 shores of the North Sea the struggle was to be decided 
 between Britain and Eome, between the East and the 
 West, or, as they said then, between vSaint John and 
 Saint Peter. It was not a mere question about Easter, 
 or certain rules of discipline, but of the great doctrine 
 of the freedom of the Church under Jesus Christ, or 
 its enslavement under the Papacy. Rome, ever domi- 
 neering, desired for the second time to hold England in 
 its grasp, not by means of the sword, but by her dogmas. 
 AYith her usual cunning she concealed her enormous 
 pretensions under secondary questions, and many super- 
 ficial thinkers were deceived by this manoeuvre. 
 
 The meeting took place in the convent of Whitby. 
 The king and his son entered first; then, on the one 
 side, Colman, with the bishops and elders of the Bri- 
 tons; and on the other, Bishop Agilbert, Agathon, 
 Wilfrid, Eomanus, a deacon named James, and several 
 other priests of the Latin confession. Last of all came 
 Hilda with her attendants, among whom was an Eng- 
 lish bishop named Cedda, one of the most active mis- 
 sionaries of the age.' He had at first preached the 
 Gospel in the midland districts, whence he turned his 
 footsteps towards the Anglo-Saxons of the East, and 
 after converting a great number of these pagans, he 
 had returned to Finan, and, although an Englishman, 
 had i-eceived episcopal consecration from a bishop, 
 who had been himself ordained by the elders of lona. 
 Then proceeding westwards, the indefatigable evan- 
 gelist founded churches, and appointed elders and 
 deacons wherever he went. By birth an Englishman, 
 by ordination a Scotchman, everywhere treated with 
 respect and consideration, he appeared to be set apart 
 as mediator in this solemn conference. His interven- 
 tion could not, however, retard the victory of Eome. 
 Alas! the primitive evangelism had gi-adnally given 
 way to an ecclesiasticism, coarse and rude in one 
 place, subtle and insinuating in another. Whenever 
 the priests were called upon to justify certain doctrines 
 or ceremonies, instead of referring solely to the Word 
 of God, that fountain of all light, they maintained 
 that thus St. James did at Jerusalem, St. Mark at 
 
 1 " Tlicsc presbyters were Ceddti and Adda and Berti and Dinna, of wliom 
 the last was by nation aScot, the i-est were English."— iJedo, lib. iii , cap. xxi. 
 
THE DISPUTATION. 
 
 Alexandria, St. John at Ephesus, or St. Peter at Rome. 
 Tlicy gave the name of apostolical canons to rules 
 ■\vliich tlie apostles liad never known. They even 
 went further than this: at Kome and in the East, 
 ccclesiasticisra represented itself to be a law of God, 
 and from a state of weakness, it thus became a state 
 of sin. Some marks of this error were already begin- 
 1 ning to appear in the Christianity of the Britons. 
 ! King Oswy was the first to speak: " As servants of 
 
 I one and the same God, we hope all to enjoy the same 
 I inheritance iu heaven ; why, then, should we not have 
 ; the same rule of life here below? Let us inquire 
 j which is tlie true one, and follow it." ..." Tliose 
 who sent me hither as bishop," said Colman, " and 
 ! who gave me the rule which I observe, are the beloved 
 I of God. Let us beware how we despise their teach- 
 ing, for it is the teaching of Columba, of the blessed 
 evangelist John, and of the churches over which that 
 ajiostle presided." 
 
 " As for us," boldly rejoined Wilfrid, for to him as 
 
 to the most skilful, had Bishop Agilbert intrusted tlie 
 
 defence of their cause, " our custom is that of Rome, 
 
 where the holy apostles Peter and Paul taught ; we 
 
 ' found it in Italy and Gaul, nay, it is spread over every 
 
 nation. Sliall the Picts and Britons, cast on these two 
 
 islands, on the very confines of the ocean, dare to con- 
 
 I tend against the whole world? However holy your 
 
 I Columba may have been, will you prefer him to the 
 
 prince of the apostles, to whom Christ said. Thou art 
 
 Peter, and I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of 
 
 \ heaven?" 
 
 j Wilfrid spoke with animation, and his words being 
 i skilfully adapted to his audience, began to make them 
 waver. He had artfully substituted Columba for the 
 I Apostle John, from whom the British Church claimed 
 I descent and opposed to St. Peter a plain elder of 
 I lona. Oswy, whose idol was power, couhl not hesitate 
 j between paltry bishops and that pope of Rome who 
 commanded the whole world. Already imagining he 
 saw Peter at the gates of paradise, with the keys in 
 his hand, he exclaimed with emotion : " Is it true, 
 Colman, that these words were addressed by our Lord 
 to St. Peter V — " It is true." " Can you prove that 
 similar powers were given to your Columba?" The 
 j bishop replied : " Wo cannot ;" but he might have told 
 j the king: "John, whose doctrine we follow, and in- 
 j deed every disciple, has received, in the same sense as 
 1 St. Peter, the power to remit sins, to bind and to loose 
 j on earth and in heaven." But the knowledge of the 
 Holy Scriptures was fading away in lona, and the 
 I unsuspecting Colman had not observed Wilfrid's strat- 
 agem in substituting Columba for St. John. Upon 
 this, Oswy, delighted to yield to the continual solicita- 
 j tions of the queen, and, above all, to find some one 
 who would admit him into the kingdom of heaven, 
 exclaimed: "Peter is the doorkeeper, I will obey him, 
 lest when I appear at the gate there should be no one 
 to open it to me." The spectators, carried away by 
 this royal confession, hastened to give iu their submis- 
 sion to the vicar of St. Peter. 
 
 Thus did Rome triumph at the AVhitby conference. 
 Oswy forgot that the Lord had said: I am He that 
 openeth, and no man shiit/cth; and shiitfcth, and no man 
 openeth, (John x. 9; Rev. iii. 7.) It was by ascribing 
 
 to Peter the servant, what belongs to Jesus Christ the 
 master, that the Papacy reduced Britain. Oswy 
 stretched out his hands, Rome riveted the chains, and 
 the liberty which Oswald had given his Church seemed 
 at the last gasp. 
 
 Colman saw, with grief and consternation, Oswy 
 and his subjects bending their knees before the foreign 
 priests. He did not, however, despair of the ultimate 
 triumph of the truth. The apostolic faith could still 
 find shelter in the old sanctuaries of the British Church 
 in Scotland and Ireland. Immoveable in the doc- 
 trine he had received, and resolute to uphold Christian 
 liberty, Colman withdrew with those who would not 
 bend beneath the yoke of Rome, and returned to Scot- 
 land. Thirty Anglo-Saxons, and a great number of 
 Britons, shook off the dust of their feet against the 
 tenets of the Romish priests. The hatred of Popery 
 became more intense day by day among the remainder 
 of the Britons. Determined to repel its erroneous 
 dogmas and its illegitimate dominion, they maintained 
 their communion with the Eastern Church, which was 
 more ancient than that of Rome. They shuddered as 
 they saw the red dragou of the Celts gradually retiring 
 towards the western sea from before the white dragon 
 of the Saxons. They ascribed their misfortunes to a 
 horrible conspiracy, planned by the iniquitous ambition 
 of the foreign monks ; and the bards in their chants 
 cursed the negligent ministers who defended not the 
 flock of the Lord against the wolves of Rome. But 
 vain were their lamentations I 
 
 The Romish priests, aided by the queen, lost no 
 time. W'ilfrid, whom Oswy desired to reward for 
 his tiiumi)h, was named Bi-liop of Northumberland, 
 and he immediateK M-itedJ'ms to iecu\e episcopal 
 
570 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 consecration in due form. He soon returned, and pro- 
 ceeded with singular activity to establish the Romish 
 doctrine in all the chmxhes. Bishop of a diocese ex- 
 tending from Edinburgh to Northampton, enriched 
 with the goods which had belonged to divers monas- 
 teries, surrounded by a numerous train, served upon 
 gold and silver plate, Wilfrid congratulated himself on 
 having espoused the cause of the Papacy; he offended 
 everj^ one who approached him by his insolence, and 
 taught England liow wide was the difference hetweeu 
 the humble ministers of lona and a Romish priest. At 
 the same time Oswy, coming to an understanding with 
 the King of Kent, sent another priest, named Wighard, 
 to Rome, to learn the pope's intentions respecting the 
 Church in England, and to receive consecration as 
 Archbishop of Canterburj'. There was no episcopal 
 ordination in England worthy of a priest! In the 
 meanwhile Oswy, with all the zeal of a new convert, 
 ceased not to repeat that "the Roman Church w-as 
 the Catholic and Apostolic Church," and thought night 
 and day on the means of converting his subjects, hop- 
 ing thus (says a pope) to redeem his own soul. 
 
 The arrival of this news at Rome created a gi-eat 
 sensation. Vitalian, who then filled the episcopal 
 chair, and was as insolent to his bishops as he was 
 fawning and servile to the emperor, exclaimed with 
 transport : " Who would not be overjoyed ! — a king 
 converted to the true apostolic faith, a people that be- 
 lieves at last in Christ the Almighty God !" For many 
 long years this people had believed in Christ, but they 
 were now beginning to believe in the pope, and the 
 pope will soon make them forget Jesus the Saviour. 
 Vitalian wrote to Oswy, and sent him — not copies of 
 the Holy Scriptures, (which were already becoming 
 scarce at Rome,) but — relics of the saints, Peter, John, 
 Lawrence, Gregory, and Pancratius ; and being in an 
 especial manner desirous of rewarding Queen Eanfeld, 
 to whom with Wilfrid belonged the glory of this work, 
 he offered her a cross, made, as he assured her, out of 
 the chains of St. Peter and St. Paul. " Delay not," 
 said the pope in conclusion, " to reduce all your island 
 under Jesus Christ," or in other words, iinder the 
 bishop of Rome. 
 
 The essential thing, however, was to send an arch- 
 bishop from Rome to Britain ; but Wighard was dead, 
 and no one seemed willing to undertake so long a 
 journey. 
 
 There was not much zeal in the city of the pontiffs ; 
 and the pope was compelled to look out for a stranger. 
 There happened at that time to be in Rome a man of 
 great reputation for learning, who had come from the 
 East, and adopted the rites and doctrines of the Latins 
 in exchange for the knowledge he had brought them. 
 He was pointed out to Vitalian as well qualified to be 
 the metropolitan of England. Theodore, for such was 
 his name, belonging by birth to the churches of Asia 
 Minor, would be listened to by the Britons in preference 
 to any other, when he solicited them to abandon their 
 oriental customs. The Roman pontiff, however, fear- 
 ful perhaps that he might yet entertain some leaven of 
 his former Greek doctrines, gave him as companion, 
 or rather as overseer, a zealous African monk named 
 Adrian. 
 
 Theodore began the great crusade against British 
 
 Christianity, and, endeavouiing to shew the sincerity of 
 his conversion by his zeal, he traversed all England in 
 company with Adrian, everywhere imposing on the 
 people that ecclesiastical supremacy to which Rome is 
 indebted for her political supremacy. The superiority 
 of character which distinguished St. Peter, Theodore 
 transformed into a superiority of office. For the juris- 
 diction of Christ and His Word, he substituted that of 
 the bishop of Rome and of his decrees. He insisted 
 on the necessity of ordination by bishops who, in an 
 unbroken chain, could trace back their authority to the 
 apostles themselves. The British still maintained the 
 validity of their consecration ; but the number was 
 small of those who understood that preteuded succes- 
 sors of the apostles, who sometimes carry Satan in their 
 hearts, are not true ministers of Christ; that the one 
 thing needful for the Church is, that the apostles them- 
 selves (and not their successors only) should dwell in 
 its bosom by their word, by their teaching, and by the 
 Divine Comforter who shall be with it for ever and 
 ever. 
 
 The grand defection now began: the best were some- 
 times the first to yield. When Theodore met Cedda, 
 who had been consecrated by a bishop who had him- 
 self received ordination from the elders of loua, he 
 said to him : " You have not been regularly ordained." 
 Cedda, instead of standing up boldly for the truth, 
 gave way to a carnal modesty, and replied : " I never 
 thought myself worthy of the episcopate, and am ready 
 to lay it down." — "No," said Theodore, "you shall 
 remain a bishop, but I will consecrate you anew ac- 
 cording to the Catholic ritual." The British minister 
 submitted. Rome triumphant felt herself strong enough 
 to deny the imposition of hands of the elders of loua, 
 which she had hitherto recognised. The most stedfast 
 believers took refuge in Scotland. 
 
 In this manner a church in some respects deficient, 
 but still a church in which the religious element held 
 the foremost place, was succeeded by another in which 
 the clerical element predominated. This was soon 
 apparent: questions of authority and precedence, hither- 
 to unknown among the British Christians, were now 
 of daily occurrence. Wilfrid, who had fixed his resi- 
 dence at York, thought that no one deserved better 
 than he to be primate of all England ; and Theodore, 
 on his part, was irritated at the haughty tone assumed 
 by this bishop. During the life of Oswy peace ^vas 
 maintained, for Wilfrid was his favourite ; but erelong 
 that prince fell ill, and, terrified by the near approach 
 of death, he vowed that if he recovered he would make 
 a pilgrimage to Rome and there end his days. " If you 
 will be my guide to the city of the apostles," he said to 
 AVilfrid, " I will give you a large sum of money." But 
 his vow was of no avail : Oswy died in the spring of 
 the year 670 a. d. 
 
 The Witwi set aside Prince Alfred, and raised his 
 youngest brother Egfrid to the throne. The new 
 monarch, who had often been offended by Wilfrid's 
 insolence, denounced this haughty prelate to the arch- 
 bishop. Nothing could be more agreeable to Theo- 
 dore. He assembled a council at Hertford, before 
 which the chief of his converts were first summoned, 
 and presenting to them, not the Holy Scriptaves, but 
 the canons of the Romish Church, he received their 
 
WILFRID'S DISGRACE AND END. 
 
 571 
 
 solemn oaths: siidi wns the rcli.sion tlicn taught in 
 Eiigliinil. Hilt this was not all. "The diocese of our 
 brother AVilfrid is so extcusive," said the primate, 
 " that there is room in it for four bishops." They 
 were appointed accordingly. AVilfrid indignantly ap- 
 pealed from the primate and the king to the pope. 
 "Who converted England, who, if not I? . . . 
 and it is thus I am rewarded!" . . . Not allowing 
 himself to be checked by the dillicultiea of the journey, 
 he set out for Rome, attended by a few monks ; and 
 Tope Agathon assembling a council, (679,) the Eng- 
 lishman presented his complaint, and the pontiff de- 
 clared the destitution to be illegal. Wilfrid imme- 
 diately returned to England, and haughtily presented 
 the pope's decree to the king. But Egfrid, who was 
 not of a disposition to tolerate these transalpine man- 
 ners, far from restoring the see, cast the prelate into 
 prison, and did not release him until the end of the 
 year, and then only on condition that he would imme- 
 diately quit Northumbria. 
 
 Wilfrid — for we must follow even to the end of his 
 life that remarkable man, who exercised so great an 
 influence over the destinies of the English Church — 
 Wilfrid was determined to be a bishop at any cost. 
 The kingdom of Sussex was still pagan ; and the de- 
 posed prelate, whose indefatigable activity we cannot 
 but acknowledge, formed the resolution of winning a 
 bishopric, as other men plan the conquest of a kingdom. 
 He arrived in Sussex during a period of famine, and 
 having brought with him a number of nets, he taught 
 the people the art of fishing, and thus gained their 
 atTcctions. Tiieir king, Edilwalch, had been baptized, 
 his subjects now followed his example, and AVilfrid 
 was placed at the head of the church. But he soon 
 manifested the disposition by which he was animated : 
 he furnished supplies of men and money to Ceadwalla, 
 king of AVessex, and this cruel chieftain made a fierce 
 inroad into Sussex, laying it waste, and putting to 
 death Edilwalch, the prelate's benefactor. The career 
 of the turbulent bishop was not ended. King Egfrid 
 died, and was succeeded by his brother Alfred, whom 
 AVilfrid had brought up, a prince fond of learning and 
 religion, and emulous of the glory of his uncle Oswald. 
 The ambitious AA'^ilfrid hastened to claim his see of 
 York, by acquiescing in the partition ; it was restored 
 to him, and lie forthwith began to plunder others to 
 enrich himself. A council begged him to submit to the 
 deci-ecs of the Church of England; he refused, and, 
 having lost the esteem of the king, his former pupil, 
 he undertook, notwithstanding his advanced years, a 
 third journey to Rome. Knowing how popes are won, 
 he threw himself at the pontiff's feet, exclaiming that 
 " the suppliant bishop AA^ilfrid, the humble slave of the 
 servant of God, implored the favour of our most blessed 
 lord, the pope universal." The bishop could not re- 
 store his creature to his see, and the short remainder 
 of AA'ilfrid's life was spent in the midst of the riches 
 his cupidity had so unworthily accumulated. 
 
 Yet he had accomplished the task of his life: all 
 England was subservient to the papacy. The names 
 of OsK-ii and of Wilfrid shoidd be inscribed in letters 
 of mourning in the annals of Great Britain. Posterity 
 has erred m permitting them to sink into oblivion ; for 
 they were two of the most influential and energetic 
 
 men that ever flourished in England. Still this very 
 forgetfulness is not wanting in generosity. The grave 
 in which the liberty of the church lay buried for nine 
 centuries is the only monument — a mournful one in- 
 deed — that should perpetuate their memory. 
 
 But Scotland was still free, and to secure the defini- 
 tive triumph of Rome, it was necessary to invade that 
 virgin soil, over which the standard of the faith had 
 floated for so many years. 
 
 Adamnan was then .at the head of the church of 
 lona, the first elder of that religious house. He w;is 
 virtuous and learned, but weak and somewhat vain, 
 and his religion had little spirituality. To gain him 
 was, in the eyes of Rome, to gain Scotland. A singular 
 circumstance favoured the plans of those who desired 
 to draw him into the papal communion. One day, 
 during a violent tempest, a ship coming from the Holy 
 Land, and on board of which was a Gaulish bishop, 
 named Arculf, was wrecked in the neighbourhood of 
 lona. Arculf eagerly sought an asylum among the 
 pious inhabitants of that island. Adamnan never grew 
 tired of hearing the stranger's descriptions of Bethle- 
 hem, Jerusalem, and Golgotha, of the sun-burnt plains 
 over which our Lord had wandered, and the cleft stone 
 which still lay before the door of the sepulchre. The 
 elder of lona, who prided himself on his learning, 
 noted down Arculf's conversation, and from it com- 
 posed a description of the Holy Land. As soon as his 
 book was completed, the desire of making these won- 
 drous things more widely known, combined with a 
 little vanity, and perhaps other motives, urged him to 
 visit the court of Northumberland, where he presented 
 his work to the pious King Alfred, who, being fond of 
 learning and of the Christian traditions, caused a 
 number of copies of it to be made. 
 
 Nor was this all : the Romish clergy perceived the 
 advantage they might derive from this imprudent 
 journey. They crowded round the elder ; they shewed 
 him all the pomp of their worship, and said to him : 
 " AA^ill you and your friends, who live at the very ex- 
 tremity of the world, set yourselves in opposition to 
 the observances of the universal church?" The nobles 
 of the court flattered the author's self-love, and invited 
 him to their festivities, while the king loaded him with 
 presents. The free presbyter of Britain became a priest 
 of Rome, and Adamnan returned to lona to betray his 
 church to his new masters. But it Wi\s all to no pur- 
 pose: lona would not give way. He then went to 
 hide his shame in Ireland, -where, having brought a few 
 individuals to the Romish uniformity, he took courage 
 and revisited Scotland. But that country, still in- 
 flexible, repelled him with indignation. 
 
 AVhen Rome found herself unable to conquer by the 
 priest, she had recourse to the prince; and her eyes 
 were turned to Naitam, king of the Picts. " How 
 much more glorious it would be for you," \n-ged the 
 Latin priests, "to belong to the powerful church of 
 the universal pontiff of Rome, than to a congregation 
 superintended by miserable elders! The Romish 
 Church is a monarchy, and ought to be the church of 
 every monarch. The Roman ceremonial accords with 
 the pomp of royalty, and its temples are palaces." The 
 prince wjis convinced by the last argument. He des- 
 patched messengers to Ceolfrid, the abbot of an English 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 convent, begging him to send him architects capable of 
 building a church after the Boman jmttern — of stone, 
 and not of wood. Architects, majestic porches, lofty 
 columns, vaulted roofs, gilded altars, have often 
 proved the most influential of Kome's missionaries. 
 The builder's art, though in its earliest and simplest 
 days, was more powerful than the Bible. Naitam, 
 who, by submitting to the pope, thought himself the 
 equal of Clovis and Clotaire, assembled the nobles of 
 his court and the pastors of his church, and thus ad- 
 dressed them: "I recommend all the clergy of my 
 kingdom to receive the tonsure of St. Peter." Then 
 without delay, (as Bede informs us,) this important 
 revolution was accomplished by royal authority. He 
 sent agents and letters into every province, and caused 
 all the ministers and monks to receive the circular 
 tonsure according to the Roman fashion. It was the 
 mark that Popery stamped, not on the forehead, but 
 on the crowu. A royal proclamation and a few clips 
 of the scissors placed the Scotch, hke a flock of sheep, 
 beneath the ciook of the shepheid of the Tibi,i 
 
 ST MARYS ABBEY YORK 
 
 lona btill held out. Ihe ordeis of the Pictith kmg, 
 the example of his subjects, the sight of that Italian 
 power which was devouring the cartli, had shaken 
 some few minds; but the Church still resisted the 
 innovation. lona was the last citadel of liberty in the 
 western world, and Popery was filled with anger at 
 that miserable band which in its remote corner refused 
 to bend before it. Human means appeared insufficient 
 to con(pier this rock : something more was needed, 
 visions and miracles for example; and these Rome 
 always finds when she wants them. One day, towards 
 the end of the seventh century, an English monk, 
 named Egbert, arriving from Ireland, appeared before 
 the elders of lona, who received him with their accus- 
 tomed hospitality. He was a man in whom enthu- 
 siastic devotion was combined with great gentleness of 
 heart, and he soon won upon the minds of these simple 
 believers. He spoke to them of an external unity, 
 urging that a universality manifested under different 
 forms was unsuited to the Church of Christ. He 
 advocated the special form of Eome, and for the truly 
 
 catholic element which the Christians of lona had thus 
 far possessed, substituted a sectarian element. He 
 attacked the traditions of the British Church, and 
 lavishly distributing the rich presents confided to him 
 by the lords of Ireland and of England, he soon had 
 reason to acknowledge the truth of the saying of the 
 wise man : A gift is ccs a precious stone in the eyes of him 
 that hath it ; whithersoever it tiirneth it jwospereth. 
 
 Some pious soids, however, still held out in lona. 
 The enthusiast Egbert — for such he appears to have 
 been, rather than an impostor — had recourse to other 
 means. He represented himself to be a messenger 
 from heaven: the saints themselves, said he, have 
 commissioned mc to convert lona; and then he told 
 the following history to the elders who stood round 
 him : — "About thirty years ago I entered the monas- 
 tery of Rathmelfig in Ireland, when a terrible pestilence 
 fell upon it, and of all the brethren the monk Edclhun 
 and myself were left alone. Attacked by the plague, 
 and ftiring my last hour was come, I rose from my 
 bed and ciept into the chapel. There my whole body 
 tiembled at the recollection of my sins, 
 and my face was bathed with tears. 
 ' God !' I exclaimed, ' suffer me not 
 to die until I have redeemed my debt 
 to thee by an abundance of good works. 
 I 1 etui nod staggering to the infirmary, 
 got into bod, and fell asleep. When I 
 iwoke, I saw Edelhun with his eyes 
 fixed on mine. ' Brother Egbert,' said 
 he, 'it has been revealed to me in a 
 vision that thou slialt receive what 
 thou hast asked.' On the following 
 night Edclhun died and I recovered. 
 "Many years passed away: my rc- 
 ntance and my vigils did not satisfy 
 1 , and wishing to pay my debt, I re- 
 h ed to go with a company of monks 
 aud pi each the blessings of the Gospel 
 to the heathens of Germany. But 
 duiing the night a blessed saint from 
 hca\en appeared to one of the brethren 
 and said: 'Tell Egbert that he must 
 I go to the monasteiies of Columba, for their ploughs do 
 not plough straight, and lie must put them into the 
 right furrow.' I forbade this brother to speak of his 
 vision, and went on board a ship bound for Germany. 
 AVe were waiting for a favourable wind, when, of a 
 sudden, in the middle of the night, a frightful tempest 
 burst upon the vessel, and drove us on the shoals. 
 ' For my sake this tempest is upon us,' I exclaimed in 
 terror ; ' God speaks to me as He did to Jonah ;' and I 
 ran to take refuge in my cell. At last I determined to 
 obey the command which the holy man had brought 
 me. I left Ireland, and came among you, in order to 
 pay my debt by converting you. And now," continued 
 Egbert, "make answer to the voice of heaven, and 
 submit to Rome." 
 
 A ship thrown on shore by a storm was a frequent 
 occurrence on those coasts, and the dream of a monk, 
 absorbed in the plans of his brother, was nothing very 
 unnatural. But in those times of darkness everything 
 appeared miraculous; phantoms and apparitions had 
 more weidit than the AVord of God. Instead of 
 
THE FALL OF lONA. 
 
 573 
 
 detectinft the emptiness of these visions by the false- 
 ness of tlie religion they were brought to support, tlie 
 elders of loiia listcucd seriously to Egbert's narrative. 
 The primitive faith planted on the roek of leolmkill 
 was now like a i>ine-tree tossed by tiie winds; but one 
 gust, and it would be uprooted and blown into the sea. 
 Egbert, perceiving tiic elders to be shaken, redoubled 
 his prayers, and even had recourse to threats. "All 
 the west," said he, "bends tlie knee to Konic : alone 
 against all, what can you do?" Tiie Scotch still re- 
 sisted : obscure and unknown, the last liritish Christ- 
 ians contended in behalf of expiring liberty. At length 
 bewildered — they stumbled and fell. Tiie scissors 
 were brought; they received the Latin tonsure — they 
 were tlie jiopc's. 
 
 Thus fell .Scotland. Yet there still remained some 
 sparks of grace, and the mountains of Caledonia long 
 concealed the hidden fire which after many ages burst 
 fortli with such power and might. Here and there a 
 few independent spirits were to be found who testified 
 against the tjTaniiy of Rome. In the time of IJcde 
 they niiglit be seen "halting in their paths," (to use 
 the words of the Romish historian.) refusing to join in 
 the holidays of the pontifical adherents, and pusliing 
 away the hands that were eager to shave their crowns. 
 But the leaders of the State and of the Church had laid 
 down their arms. Tlie contest was over, after lasting 
 more than a century. British Christianity had in some 
 degree prepared its own fall, by substituting too often 
 the form for the faith. The foreign superstition took 
 advantage of this weakness, and triumphed in these 
 islands by means of royal decrees, church ornaments, 
 monkish phantoms, and conventual apparitions. At 
 the beginning of the eighth century the British Church 
 became the serf of Rome ; but an internal struggle was 
 commencing, which did not cease until the period of 
 the Reformation. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Clement— struggle between a Scotchman and an Englislimnn — Word of God 
 only— Clement's Success — His Condemnation — Virgil and the Antipodes 
 —John Scotus and Philosophical Religion— Alfred and the Bible— Dark- 
 ness and Popei7— William the Conqueror— Wulston at Edward's Tomb 
 — Struggle between William and Hildebrand— The Pope yields— Casaro- 
 papia. 
 
 The independent Christians of Scotland, who subordin- 
 ated the authority of man to that of God, were filled 
 with sorrow as they beheld these backslidiugs ; and it 
 was this, no doubt, which induced many to leave their 
 homes and fight in the very heart of Europe in behalf 
 of that Christian liberty which had just expired among 
 themselves. 
 
 At the commencement of the eighth century a great 
 idea took possession of a pious doctor of the Scottish 
 church, named Clement. The icork of God is the very 
 essence of Christianity, thought he, and this work must 
 be defended against all the encroachments of man. 
 To human traditionalism he opposed the sole authority 
 of the Word of God ; to clerical materialism, a church 
 which is the assembly of the saints ; and to Felagiauism, 
 
 the sovereignty of grace. lie was a man of decided 
 ch.aracter and firm faith, but without fanaticism ; his 
 heart was open to the holiest emotions of our nature ; 
 he was a husband and a father. He quitted Scotland 
 and travelled among the Franks, everywliere scattering 
 the seeds of the faitli. It happened, unfortunately, 
 that a man of kindred energy, Winifrid or Boniface of 
 Wessex, was planting the pontifical Christianity in 
 the same regions. This great missionary, who pos- 
 sessed in an essential degree the faculty of organiza- 
 tion, aimed at external unity above all things ; and 
 when he had taken the oath of fidelity to Gregory II., 
 ho had received from that pope a collection of tlio 
 Roman laws. Boniface, henceforth a docile disciple, or 
 rather a fanatical champion of Rome, supported on tlie 
 one hand by the pontiff, and on the other by Charles 
 IMartel, had preached to the people of Germany, among 
 some undoubted Christian truths, the doctrine of 
 titlies and of papal supremacy. The Englishman and 
 the Scotchman, representatives of two great systems, 
 were about to engage in deadly combat in the heart of 
 Europe — in a combat whose consequences might be 
 incalculable. 
 
 Alarmed at the progress made by Clement's evan- 
 gelical doctrines, Boniface, archbishop of the German 
 churches, undertook to oppose them. At first he con- 
 fronted the Scotchman with the laws of the Roman 
 Church ; but the latter denied the authority of these 
 ecclesiastical canons, and refuted their contents. Boni- 
 face then put forward the decisions of various councils ; 
 but Clement replied, that if the decisions of the coun- 
 cils are contrary to Holy Scripture, they have no 
 authority over Christians. The archbishop, astonished 
 at such audacity, next had recourse to the writings of 
 the most illustrious Fathers of the Latin Church, quot- 
 ing Jerome, Augustine, and Gregory; but the Scotch- 
 man told him, that instead of submitting to the word 
 of men, he would obey the Word of God alone. Boni- 
 face, with indignation, now introduced the Catholic 
 Church which, by its priests and bishops, all united to 
 the pope, forms an invincible unity; but to his great 
 surprise his opponent maintained that there only, 
 where the Holy Spirit dwells, can be found the 
 spouse of Jesus Christ. Vainly did the archbishop 
 express his horror ; Clement was not to be turned 
 aside from his great idea, either by the clamours of 
 the followers of Rome, or by the imprudent attacks 
 made on the Papacy by other Christian ministers. 
 Rome had, indeed, otiier adversaries. A Gallic bishop 
 named Adalbert, with whom Boniface affected to asso- 
 ciate Clement, one day saw the archbishop compla- 
 cently exhibiting to the people some relics of St. Peter 
 which he had brought from Rome ; and being desirous 
 of shewing the ridiculous character of these Romish 
 practices, he distributed among the bystanders his own 
 hair and nails, praying them to pay these the same 
 honours as Boniface claimed for the relics of the 
 Papacy. Clement smiled, like many others, at Adal- 
 bert's singular argument ; but it was not with such 
 arms that he was wont to fight. Gifted with profound 
 discernment, he had remarked, that the authority of 
 man substituted for the authority of God was the 
 source of all the errors of Romanism. At the same 
 time he maintained on nredestination what the 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 archbishop called " horrible doctrines, contrary to the 
 Catholic faith." Clemeut's character inclines us to 
 believe that he was favourable to the doctrine of pre- 
 destination. A century later the pious Gottschalk was 
 persecuted by one of Boniface's successors for holding 
 this very doctrine of Augustine's. Thus, then, did a 
 Scotchman, the representative of the ancient faith of 
 his country, withstand almost unaided in the centre of 
 Europe the invasion of the Romans. But he was not 
 long alone : the great especially, more enlightened than 
 the common people, thronged around him. If Clement 
 had succeeded, a Christian church would have been 
 founded on the continent independent of the Papacy. 
 
 Boniface was confounded. He wished to do in 
 central Europe what his fellow-countryman Wilfrid 
 liad done in England ; and at the very moment he 
 fancied he was advancing from triumph to triumph, 
 victory escaped from his hands. He turned against 
 this new enemy, and applying to Charles Martel's sons, 
 Pepin and Carloman, he obtained their consent to the 
 assembling of a council before which he summoned 
 Clement to appear. 
 
 The bishops, counts, and other notabilities, having 
 met at Soissous on the 2d March, 744, Boniface accused 
 the Scotchman of despising the laws of Rome, the 
 councils, and the Fathers; attacked his marriage, 
 which he called an adulterous union, and called in 
 question some secondary points of doctrine. Clement 
 was accordingly excommunicated by Boniface, at once 
 his adversary, accuser, and judge, and tlirown into 
 prison, with the approbation of the pope and the king 
 of the Franks. 
 
 The Scotchman's cause was everywhere taken up ; 
 accusations were brought against the German primate, 
 his persecuting spirit was severely condemned, and his 
 exertions for the triumph of the papacy were resisted. 
 Carloman yielded to this unanimous movement. The 
 prison doors were opened, and Clement had hardly 
 crossed the threshold before he began to protest boldly 
 against human authority in matters of faith ; the Word 
 of God is the only rule. Upon this Boniface applied 
 to Rome for the heretic's condemnation, and accom- 
 panied his request by a silver cup and a garment of 
 delicate texture. The pope decided in synod that if 
 Clement did not retract his errors, he should be deliv- 
 ered up to everlasting damnation, and then requested 
 Boniface to send him to Rome under a sure guard. 
 AVc here lose all traces of the Scotchman ; but it is 
 easy to conjecture what must have been his fate. 
 
 Clement was not the only Briton who became dis- 
 tinguished in this contest. Two fellovz-countrymen, 
 Sampson and Virgil, who preached in central Europe, 
 were, in like manner, persecuted by the Church of 
 Rome. Virgil, anticipating Galileo, dared maintain 
 that there were other men and another world beneath 
 our feet. He was denounced by Boniface for this 
 Jieresy, and condemned by the pope, as were other 
 Britons, for the apostolical simplicity of their lives. In 
 813, certain Scotchmen, who called themselves bishops, 
 says a canon, having appeared before a council of the 
 Roman church at Clu'dons, were rejected by the French 
 prelates, because, like St. Paul, t/iei/ woi-ked ivith their 
 oivn hands. Those enlightened and faithful men were 
 superior to their time : Boniface and his ecclesiastical 
 
 materialism were better fitted for an age in which 
 clerical forms were regarded as the substance of 
 religion. 
 
 Even Great Britain, although its light was not so 
 pure, was not altogether plunged in darkness. The 
 Anglo-Saxons imprinted on their church certain charac- 
 teristics which distinguished it from that of Rome; 
 several books of the Bible were translated into their 
 tongue ; and daring spirits on the one hand, with some 
 pious souls on the other, laboured in a direction hostile 
 to Popery. 
 
 At first we see the dawning of that philosophic 
 rationalism, which gives out a certain degree of bright- 
 ness, but which can neither conquer error, nor still less 
 establish truth. In the ninth century there was a 
 learned scholar in Ireland, who afterwards settled at 
 the court of Charles the Bald. He was a strange 
 mysterious man, of profound thought, and as much 
 raised above the doctors of his age by the boldness of 
 his ideas, as Charlemagne above the princes of his day 
 by the force of his will. John Scot Erigena — that is, 
 a native of Ireland and not of Ayr, as some have sup- 
 posed — was a meteor in the theological heavens. With 
 a great philosophic genius he combined a cheerful jest- 
 ing disposition. One day, while seated at table opposite 
 to Charles the Bald, the latter archly inquired of him : 
 "What is the distance between a Scot and a sotr' — 
 " The width of the table," was his ready answer, which 
 drew a smile from the king. While the doctrine of 
 Bede, Boniface, and even Alcuin, was traditional, ser- 
 vile, and, in one word, Romanist, that of Scot was 
 mystical, philosophic, free, and daring. He sought for 
 the truth not in the Word or in the Church, but in 
 himself: — "The knowledge of ourselves is the true 
 source of religious wisdom. Every creature is a theo- 
 phany — a manifestation of God; since revelation pre 
 supposes the existence of truth, it is this truth, which 
 is above revelation, with which man must set himself 
 in immediate relation, leaving him at liberty to shew 
 afterwards its harmony with Scripture, and the other 
 theophauies. We must first employ reason, and then 
 authority. Authority proceeds from reason, and not 
 reason from authority." Yet this bold thinker, when 
 on his knees, could give way to aspirations full of 
 piety: " Lord Jesus," exclaimed he, "I ask no other 
 happiness of thee, but to understand, unmixed with 
 deceitful theories, the Word that thou hast inspired by 
 thy Holy Spirit ! £jhew thyself to those who ask for 
 thee alone!" But while Scot rejected on the one hand 
 certain traditional errors, and in particular, the doc- 
 trine of transubstantiation, which was creeping into the 
 Church, he was near falling, as regards God and the 
 world, into other errors savouriug of Pantheism. Tlie 
 philosophic rationalism of the contemporary of Charles 
 the Bald — the strange product of one of the obscurest 
 periods of history (850) — was destined, after the lapse of 
 many centuries, to be taught once more in Great Britain 
 as a modern invention of the most enlightened age. 
 
 While Scot was thus plumbing the depths of phil- 
 osophy, others were examining their Bibles ; and if 
 thick darkness had not spread over these first glimpses 
 of the dawn, perhaps the Church of Great Britain 
 might even then have begun to labour for the regenera- 
 tion of Christendom. A youthful prince, thirsting for 
 
"WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 jntellcctiial enjoyments, for domestic happiness, and 
 for the Word of God, and wlio sought, by frequent 
 prayer, for deliverance from the bondage of sin, had 
 ascended the throne of AVcsscx, in the year 871. 
 Alfred bcinj>- convinced that Cliristianily alone could 
 rightly nioidd a nation, assinibled round him the most 
 learned men from all parts of Europe, and was anxious 
 that the English, like the Hebrews, Greeks, and Latins, 
 should possess the Holy .Scripture iu their own lau- 
 guagc. He is the real patron of the Biblical work, — 
 a title far more glorious than that of founder of the 
 university of Oxford. After having fought more than 
 fifty battles by laud and sea, he died while translating 
 the Psalms of David for his subjects. 
 
 After this gleam of light thick darkness ouce more 
 settled upon Great Britain. Nine Anglo-Saxon kings 
 ended their days in monasteries; tliere was a seminary 
 in Koine from which every year fresh scholars bore to 
 England the new forms of Popery; the celibacy of 
 priests, that cement of the Romish hierarchy, was estab- 
 lished by a bull about the close of the tenth century; 
 convents were multiplied, considerable possessions were 
 bestowed on the Church, and the tax of Peter's pence, 
 laid at the pontiff's feet, proclaimed the triumph of the 
 papal system. But a reaction soon took i)!ace: England 
 collected her forces for a war against the papacy, a war 
 at one time secular, and at another spiritual. William 
 of Normandy, Edward III., Wickliffe, and the Refor- 
 mation, are the four ascending steps of Protestantism 
 in Eughind. 
 
 A proud, enterprising, and far-sighted prince, the 
 illegitimate sou of a peasant girl of Falaise and Robert 
 the Devil, duke of Normandy, began a contest with the 
 papacy which lasted until the Reformation. William 
 the Conqueror, having defeated the Saxons at Hastings, 
 iu lOCG A. D., took possession of England, under the 
 benediction of the Roman pontiff. But the conquered 
 country was destined to conquer its master. William, 
 who had invaded England iu the pope's name, had no 
 sooner touched the soil of his new kingdom, than ho 
 learned to resist Rome, as if the aucieut liberty of the 
 British Church had revived in him. Being firmly re- 
 solved to allow no foreign prince or prelate to possess 
 iu his dominions a jurisdiction independent of his own, 
 he made preparations for a conquest far more difficult 
 thau that of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom. The papacy 
 itself furnished him with weapons. The Roman legates 
 prevailed on the king to dispossess the English episco- 
 pacy in a mass, and this was exactly what he wished. 
 To resist the papacy, William desired to be sure of the 
 submission of the priests of England. Stigand, arch- 
 bishop of Canterbiu-y, was removed, and Laufranc of 
 Pavia, who had been summoned from Bee in Normandy 
 to fdl his place, was commissioned by the conqueror to 
 bend the clergy to obedience. This prelate, who was 
 regular iu his life, abundant in almsgiving, a learned 
 disputant, a prudent politician, and a skilful mediator, 
 finding that he had to choose between his master King 
 William, and his friend the pontiff Hildebrand, gave 
 the prince the preference. He refused to go to Rome, 
 notwithstanding the threats of the pope, and applied 
 himself resolutely to the work the king had intrusted 
 to him. The Saxons sometimes resisted the Normans, 
 as the Britons had resisted the Saxons ; but the second 
 
 struggle was less glorious than the first. A synod, at 
 which the kiug was present, having met iu the abbey 
 of Westminster, William commanded Wulston, bishop 
 of AVorcester, to give up his crozicr to him. The old 
 wan rose, animated with holy fervour: •' O king!" ho 
 said, " from a better man thau you I received it, and to 
 him only will I return it." Unhappily, this " better 
 man " was not Jesus Christ. Then approaching the 
 tomb of Edward the Confessor, he continued : " O my 
 master, it was you who compelled me to assume this 
 ollice ; but now behold a new kiug and a new primate 
 who promulgate new laws. Not unto them, O master, 
 but imto you, do I resign my crozier, and the care of 
 my flock." AV'ith these words AVulstou laid his pas- 
 toral staff on Edward's tomb. On the sepulchre of the 
 Confessor perished the liberty of the Anglo-Saxon 
 hierarchy. The deprived Saxon bishops were con- 
 signed to fortresses, or shut up in convents. 
 
 The Conqueror being thus assured of the obedience 
 of the bishops, put forward the supremacy of the 
 sword in opposition to that of the pope. He nomi- 
 nated directly to all vacaut ecclesiastical offices, filled 
 his treasury ^vith the riches of the churches, required 
 that all priests should make oath to him, forbade them 
 to excommunicate his officers without his consent, not 
 even for incest, and declared that all synodal decisions 
 must be countersigned by him. " I claim," said he to 
 the archbishop one day, raising his arras towards 
 heaven, — " I claim to hold iu this hand all the pastoral 
 staffs in my kiugdom." Lanfranc was astonished at 
 this daring speech, but prudently kept silent, for a 
 time at least. Episcopacy connived at the royal pre- 
 tensions. 
 
 AYill Hildebrand, the most inflexible of popes, bend 
 before AVilliam? The king was earnest in his desire 
 to enslave the Church to the State; the pope to enslave 
 the State to the Church : the collision of these two 
 mighty champions threatened to be terrible. But the 
 haughtiest of pontiffs was seen to yield as soon as he 
 felt the mail-clad hand of the Conqueror, and to shrink 
 unresistingly before it. The pope hlled all Christendom 
 with confusion, that he might deprive princes of the 
 right of investiture to ecclesiastical dignities : William 
 would not permit him to interfere with that question 
 in England, and Hildebrand submitted. The king went 
 even farther : the pope, wishing to enslave the clergy, 
 deprived the priests of their lawful wives ; William got 
 a decree passed by the council of AViuchester, in 1076, 
 to the effect that the married priests living in castles 
 and towns should not be compelled to put away their 
 wives. This was too much : Hildebrand summoned 
 Lanfranc to Rome; but AA''illiam forbade him to go. 
 "Never did king, not even a pagan," exclaimed 
 Gregory, " attempt against the holy see what this man 
 docs not fear to carry out 1" . . . To console him- 
 self, he demanded payment of the Peter's pence, and an 
 oath of fidelity. William sent the money, but refused 
 the homage ; and when Hildebrand saw the tribute 
 which the king had paid, he said bitterly: " AV^hat 
 value can I sot on money which is contributed with so , 
 little honour!" AVilliam forbade his clergy to recog- 
 nise the pope, or to publish a bull without the royal 
 approbation ; which did not prevent Hildebrand from 
 styling him '"the pearl of princes." "It is true," said 
 
576 
 
 he to his legate, " that the English king does not be- 
 have in certain matters so religiously as wo could 
 desire. . . . Yet beware of exasperating him. 
 . . . We shall win him over to God and St. Peter 
 more surely by mildness and reason than by strictness 
 or severity." In this manner the pope acted like the 
 archbishop — silutt: he was silent. It is for feeble 
 governments that Eome reserves her energies. 
 
 The Norman kings, desirous of strengthening their 
 work, constructed Gothic cathedrals in the room of 
 wooden churches, in which they installed their soldier- 
 bishops, as if they were strong fortresses. Instead of 
 the moral power and the humble crook of the shepherd, 
 tliey gave them secular power and a staff. The reli- 
 
 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■jliPlifJit 
 
 glous episcopate was succeeded by a political one. 
 AVilliam Kufus went even to greater lengths than his 
 father. Taking advantage of the schism which divided 
 the papacy, he did without a pope for ten years, leav- 
 ing abbeys, bishoprics, and even Canterbury, vacant, 
 and scandalously squandering their revenues. Ca3sar- 
 opapia (which transforms a king into a pope) having 
 thus attained its greatest excess, a sacerdotal reaction 
 could not fail to take place. 
 
 The papacy is about to rise up again in England, 
 and royalty to decline — two movements which are 
 always found combined in Great Britain. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 -Becket's Austerity— The King Scourged— John te- 
 les the Pope's Vassal— Collision between Popery and Liberty— The 
 St\\ King ravages his Kingdom — Religion of the Senses and Super- 
 
 \Ye are now entering upon a new phase of history. 
 Romanism is on the point of triumphing by tlie exer- 
 tions of learned men, energetic prelates, and princes in 
 whom extreme imprudence was joined with extreme 
 servility. This is the era of the dominion of Popery, 
 and we shall see it unscrupulously employing the 
 despotism by which it is characterized. 
 A malady having occasioned some 
 degree of remorse in the king, he con- 
 sented to fill up the vacancy in the 
 archiepiscopal see. And now Ansclm 
 first appears in England. He was 
 born in an Alpine valley, at the town 
 of Aosta in Piedmont. Imbibing the 
 instructions of his pious mother, Ermen- 
 berga, and believing that God's throne 
 was placed on the summit of the gigan- 
 tic mountains he saw rising arouud him, 
 j^ I the child Anselm climbed them in his 
 
 Jf dreams, and received the bread of 
 
 heaven from the hands of the Lord. 
 Unhappily, in after years, ho recognised 
 another throne in the Church of Christ, 
 and bowed his head before the chair of 
 St. Peter. This was the man whom 
 AVilliani II. summoned, in 1093, to fill 
 the primacy of Canterbury. Anselm, 
 \\ho was tlicn sixty years old, and 
 engaged in teaching at Bee, refused at 
 first: the ciiaracter of Rufus terrified 
 him. "The Church of England," said 1 
 he, " is a plough that ought to be drawn 
 by two oxen of equal strength. How I 
 can you yoke together an old and timid | 
 sheep like me and that wild bull?" At j 
 length he accepted, and concealing a | 
 J^'^V- I mind of great power under an appear- 
 
 ance of humility, he had hardly arrived 
 in England before he recognised Pope 
 Urban II., demanded the estates of his | 
 see, which the treasury had seized upon, ] 
 refused to pay the king the sums he demanded, con- | 
 tested the riglit of investiture against Henry I., for- 
 bade all ecclesiastics to take the feudal oath, and 
 determined that the priests should forthwith put away 
 their wives. Scholasticism, of which Anselm was tlio 
 first representative, freed the Church from the yoke of 
 royalty, but only to chain it to the papal chair. The 
 fetters were about to be riveted by a still more ener- 
 getic hand ; and what this great theologian had begun, 
 a great worldling was to carry on. 
 
 At the hunting parties of Henry II., a man attracted 
 the attention of his sovereign by his air of frankness, 
 agreeable manners, witty conversation, and exuberant 
 \'ivacity. This was Thomas Becket, the son of an 
 Anglo-Saxon and a Syrian woman. Being both priest 
 
BECKET OPPOSES THE KING, 
 
 577 
 
 and soldier, he was appointed at the snmc time by the 
 king prebend of Hastings and governor of the Tower. 
 Wiien nominated chancellor of England, he sliewcd 
 himself no less expert than Wilfrid in misappropriating 
 the wealtii of the minors in his charge, and of the 
 abbeys and bishoprics, and indnlged in the most extra- 
 vagant luxury. Henry, the first of the Plantagenets, 
 a man of undecided character, having noticed IJecket's 
 zeal in upholding the prerogatives of the crown, ap- 
 pointed him archbishop of Canterbury. " Now, sire," 
 remarked the primate, witii a smile, "when I shall 
 have to choose between God's favour and yours, remem- 
 ber it is yours tliat I shall sacrifice." 
 
 liccket, who, as keeper of the seals, had been 
 the most magnificent of courtiers, affected, as 
 archbishop, to be the most venerable of saints. 
 He sent back the seals to the king, assumed the 
 rolio of a monk, wore sackcloth filled with ver- 
 min, lived on the plainest food, every day knelt 
 down to wash the feet of the poor, paced the 
 cloisters of his cathedral with tearful eyes, and 
 spent hours in prayer before the altar. As 
 eliampion of the priests, oven in their crimes, 
 he took under his protection one who to tlie 
 crime of seduction had added the murder of his 
 victim's father. 
 
 The judges having represented to Henry, that 
 during the first eight years of his reign a hundred 
 murders had been committed by ecclesiastics, 
 the king, in 1164, summoned a council at Clar- 
 endon, in which certain regulations or constitu- 
 tions were drawn up, with the object of prevent- 
 ing the eucroachmeuts of the hierarchy. Becket 
 at first refused to sign them, but at length con- ^ 
 
 sentcd, and then withdrew into solitary retire- .^^ 
 
 mcnt to mourn over his fault. Pope Alexander 
 HI. released him from his oath ; and tlien began 
 a fierce and long struggle between the king and 
 the primate. Four knights of the court, catch- 
 ing up a hasty expression of their master's, barbarously 
 murdered the archbishop at the foot of the altar in 
 his own cathedral church, (A. D., 1170.) The people 
 looked upon Becket as a saint : immense crowds came 
 to pray at his tomb, at which many miracles were 
 ■worked. " Even from his grave," said Becket's parti- 
 sans, "he rendered his testimony in behalf of the 
 papacy." 
 
 Henry now passed from one extreme to the other, 
 lie entered Canterbury barefooted, and prostrated 
 himself before the martyr's tomb: the bishops, priests, 
 and monks, to the number of eighty, passed before 
 him, each bearing a scourge, and struck three or five 
 blows, according to their rank, on the naked shoulders 
 of the king. In former ages, so the priestly fable 
 ran, St. Peter had scourged an archbishop of Canter- 
 bury; now Rome, in sober reality, scourges the back of 
 royalty, and nothing can henceforth check her victori- 
 ous career. A Plantagenet surrendered England to 
 the pope, and the pope gave him authority to subdue 
 Ireland.' 
 
 1 " If indeed you have intimated, dear son, that you wish to invade Ireland 
 to subdue that people, we are accordingly well pleased, that for the pur- 
 pose of extending the bounds of the Church, you should invade that island. " 
 —Adrian IV., Bulla 1151, in Bymcr, Ada rublica. 
 
 Rome, who had set her foot on the neck of a king, 
 was destined, under one of the sons of Henry II., to set 
 it on the neck of Englan<l. Jolin being unwilling to 
 acknowledge an archbishop of Canterbury illegally 
 nominated by Pope Innocent III., the latter, more 
 daring than Ilildebrand, laid the kingdom under an 
 interdict. Upon this John ordered all the prelates and 
 abbots to leave England, and sent a monk to Spain 
 as ambassador to Mahomet-el-Nasir, offering to turn 
 Mohammedan, and to become his vassal. But as 
 Philip Augustus was preparing to dethrone him, John 
 made up his mind to become a vassal of Innocent, and 
 not of Mohammed — which was about the same thing 
 
 fH^W TPI'BfUlpfl 
 
 THOMAS A BECKET S CHAPEL 
 
 to him On the loth Ma}, 1213, he hid his crown at 
 the kgate b feet, declaied that he suneudeied his king- 
 dom of England to the pope, and made oath to him as 
 to his lord paramount. 
 
 A national protest then boldly claimed the ancient 
 liberties of the people. Forty-five barons, armed in 
 complete mall, and mounted on their noble war-horses, 
 surrounded by their knights and servants, and about 
 two thousand soldiers, met at Brackley during the 
 festival of Easter in 1215, and sent a deputation to 
 Oxford, where the court then resided. " Here," said 
 they to the king, " is the charter which consecrates the 
 liberties confirmed by Henry II., and which you also 
 have solemnly sworn to observe." ..." Why do 
 
 biJjteudoc WC tuV ctvm \t'tmnf mc\xv evm wwornn* 
 tiifi^ feadz vabtm mmm^ vXv ttgevx teit P. 
 
 CLAUSE OF MAGNA CHARTA. 
 
578 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 they not demand my crown also ?" said the king in a 
 furious passion, and then, with an oath, he added: "I 
 will not grant them liberties which will make me a 
 Blavc." This is the usual language of weak and abso- 
 lute kings. Neither would the nation submit to be 
 enslaved. The barons occupied London, and on the 
 15th June, 1215, the king signed the famous 3Ia;pia 
 C/iarta at Rimnymcde. The political Protestantism of 
 the thirteenth century would have done but little, how- 
 ever, for the greatness of the nation, without the reli- 
 gious Protestantism of the sixteenth. 
 
 This was the first time that the Papacy came into 
 collision with modern liberty. It shuddered in alarm, 
 and the shock was violent. Innocent swore, (as was 
 his custom.) and then declared the Great Charter null 
 and void, forbade the king, under pain of anathema, to 
 respect the liberties which he had confirmed ; ascribed 
 the conduct of the barons to the instigation of Satan, 
 and ordered them to make apology to the king, and to 
 send a deputation to Rome to learn from the mouth of 
 the pope himself what should be the government of 
 England. This was the way in which the Papacy 
 welcomed the first manifestations of liberty among the 
 nations, and made known the model system under 
 which it claimed to govern the whole world. 
 
 The priests of England supported the anathemas 
 pronounced by their chief. They indulged in a thou- 
 sand jeers and sarcasms against John about the charter 
 he had accepted : — " This is the twenty-fifth king of 
 England — not a king, not even a kingling — but the 
 disgrace of kings — a king without a kingdom — the 
 fifth wheel of a waggon — the last of kings, and the dis- 
 grace of his people ! — I would not give a straw for him. 
 . . . Fiiisti rex, nunc fex (once a king, but now a 
 clown)." John, unable to support his disgi-ace, groaned 
 and gnashed his teeth, aud rolled his eyes, tore sticks 
 from the hedges and gnawed them like a maniac, or 
 dashed them into fragments on the ground. 
 
 The barons, unmoved alike by the insolence of the 
 pope and the despair of the king, replied that they 
 would maintain the charter. Innocent excommuni- 
 cated them. "Is it the pope's business to regulate 
 temporal matters?" asked they. " By what right do 
 vile usurers and foul simoniacs domineer over our coun- 
 try, aud excommunicate the whole world '?" 
 
 The pope soon triumphed throughout England. His 
 vassal Jolm having hired some bands of adventurers 
 from the Continent, traversed at their head the whole 
 country from the Channel to the Forth. These mer- 
 cenaries carried desolation in their track : they extorted 
 money, made prisoners, burnt the barons' castles, laid 
 waste their parks, aud dishonoured their wives and 
 daughters. The king would sleep in a house, and the 
 next morning set fire to it. Blood-stained assassins 
 scoured the country during the night, the sword in one 
 hand and the torch in the other, marking their pro- 
 gress by murder and conflagration. Such was the 
 enthronization of Popery in England. At this sight, 
 the barons, overcome by emotion, denounced both the 
 king aud the pope: "Alas, poor country!" they ex- 
 claimed. "Wretched England! . . . And thou, 
 O pope, a curse light upon thee !" 
 
 The curse was not long delayed. As the king was 
 returning from some more than usually successful 
 
 foray, and as the royal waggons were crossing the 
 sands of the Wash, the tide rose and all sank in the 
 abyss. This accident filled John with terror : it seemed 
 to him that the earth was about to open and swallow 
 him up ; he fled to a convent, where he drank copiously 
 of cider, and died of drunkenness and fright. 
 
 Such was the end of the pope's vassal — of his armed 
 missionary in Great Britain. Never had so vile a 
 prince been the involuntary occasion to his people of 
 such great benefits. From his reign England may date 
 her enthusiasm for liberty and her dread of Popery. 
 
 During this time a great transformation had been 
 accomplished. Magnificent churches and the marvels 
 of religious art, with ceremonies and a multitude of 
 prayers and chantings, dazzled the eyes, charmed the 
 ears, and captivated the senses ; but testified also to the 
 absence of every strong moral and Christian disposi- 
 tion, and the predominance of worldliness in the 
 Church. At the same time the adoration of images 
 and relics, saints, angels, and Mary the mother of God, 
 the worships of latria, doulia, and linpenlouUa,^ the real 
 Mediator transported from the throne of mercy to the 
 seat of vengeance, at once indicated and kept up among 
 the people that ignorance of truth and absence of grace 
 which characterize Popery. All these errors tended to 
 bring about a reaction : and, in fact, the march of the 
 Reformation may now be said to begin. 
 
 England had been brought low by the Papacy: it 
 rose up again by resisting Rome. Grostete, Bradwar- 
 dine, and Edward III., prepared the way for Wickliffe, 
 and Wickliffe for the Reformation. 
 
 CHAPTER \^. 
 
 Eeaetion— Groslete— Prinoiplea of Reform— Contest with the Pope— Sewal 
 — Progress of the Nation — Opposition to the Papacy — Conversion of 
 Bradwardiue— Grace is Supreme— Edward III.— Statutes of Provisors 
 ami Prcenninire. 
 
 In the reign of Henry III., son of John, while the king 
 was conniving at the usurpations of Rome, and the 
 pope ridiculing the complaints of the barons, a pious 
 and energetic man, of comprehensive understanding, 
 was occupied in the study of the Holy Scriptures iu 
 their original languages, and bowing to their sovereign 
 autliority. Robert Grostete (Grcathead or Capita) was 
 born of poor parents, in the county of Lincolnshire; and 
 being raised to the see of Lincoln in 1235, when he 
 was sixty years of age, he boldly undertook to reform 
 his diocese, one of the largest in England. Nor was 
 tills all. At the very time when the Roman pontitT, 
 who had hitherto been content to be called the vicar 
 of St. Peter, proclaimed himself the vicar of God, aud 
 was ordering the English bishops to find benefices for 
 three liundred Romans, Grostete was declaring that " to 
 follow a pope who rebels against the will of Christ, is 
 to separate from Christ and His body; and if ever the 
 time should come when all men follow an erring pon- 
 tiff, then will be the great apostasy, — then will true 
 
 1 The Romish churcli distinguishes three kinds of worsliip : latria, that 
 paid to God; doulUi, to saints ; and hT/pcrdouUa, to the Virgin Mai-y. 
 
OPPOSITION TO THE POPE. 
 
 Cliiistimis refuse to obey, and Komc will bo the cause 
 of au unprecedented scliisni." Thus did he predict the 
 Iveforniation. Disgusted at the avarice of the monks 
 and priests, lie visited Konio to demand a reform. 
 " Brother," said Innocent IV. to him, with some irri- 
 tation, "w tliine ci/e en'/, because I am goodf The 
 Englisli bishop exclaimed, with a sigh: "O money, 
 money! how great is thy power — especially in this 
 court of Komc!" 
 
 A year had scarcely elapsed before Iimocout com- 
 manded the bishop to give a canonry in Lincoln cathe- 
 dral to his infant nephew. Grostcte replied : "After the 
 sin of Lucifer, there is none more opposed to the Gospel 
 than that which ruins souls by giving them a faithless 
 minister. Bad pastors are the cause of unbelief, heresy, 
 and disorder. Those who introduce them into the 
 Ciiurch are little bettor than antichrists, and their cul- 
 pabih'ty is in proportion to their dignity. Although 
 the chief of the angels should order me to commit such 
 a sin, I would refuse. My obedience forbids me to 
 obey; and therefore I rebel." 
 
 Thus spoke a bishop to his pontiff: his obedience to 
 the Word of God forbade him to obey the pope. This 
 was the principle of the Reformation. "Who is this 
 old driveller, that in his dotage dares to judge of my 
 conduct i" exclaimed Innocent, whose wrath was ap- 
 peased by the intervention of certain cardinals. Gros- 
 tOte on his dying bed professed still more clearly the 
 principles of the reformers ; he declared that a heresy 
 was "an opinion conceived by carnal motives, contrary 
 to Scripture, openly taught and obstinately defended," 
 thus asserting the authority of Scripture instead of the 
 authority of the Church. He died in peace, and the 
 public voice proclaimed him " a searcher of the Scrip- 
 tures, an adversary of the pope, and despiser of the 
 Komaus." Innocent, desii'ing to take vengeance on his 
 bones, meditated the exhumation of his body, when one 
 night (says Matthew of Paris) the bishop appeared 
 before him. Drawing near the pontiff's bed, he struck 
 him with bis crozier, and thus addressed him with 
 terrible voice and threatening look : " Wretch ! the 
 Lord doth not permit thee to have any power over me. 
 Woe be to thee !" The vision disappeared, and the 
 pope, uttering a cry as if he had been struck by some 
 sharp weapon, lay senseless on his couch. Never after 
 did he pajs a quiet night, and pursued by the phantoms 
 of his troubled imagination, he expired while the palace 
 re-echoed with his lamentable gi-oans. 
 
 Grostcte was not single in his opposition to the pope. 
 Sewal, aichbishop of York, did the same; and "the 
 more the pope cursed him, the more the people blessed 
 liini." " Moderate your tjTanny," said the archbishop 
 to the pontitf ; "for the Lord said to Peter, Feed my 
 sheep, and not s/iear them, fiwj them, or devour them." 
 The pope smiled and let the bishop speak, because the 
 king allowed the pope to act. The power of England, 
 which was constantly increasing, was soon able to give 
 more force to these protests. 
 
 The nation was indeed growing in greatness. The 
 madness of John, which had caused the English people 
 to lose their continental possessions, had given them 
 more unity and power. The Norman kings, being 
 compelled to renounce entirely the country which bad 
 been their cradle, had at length made up their minds 
 
 to look upon England .is their home. The two races, 
 so long hostile, melted one into the other. Free 
 institutions were formed ; the laws were studied ; and 
 colleges were founded. The language began to assume 
 a regular form, and the ships of England were already 
 formidable at sea. For more than a century the most 
 brilliant victories attended the British armies. A king 
 of Fi'ance was brought captive to London : an English 
 king was crowned at Paris. Even Spain and Italy 
 felt the valour of these prond islanders. The English 
 people took their station in the foremost rank. Now 
 the character of a nation is never raised by halves. 
 AVhen the mighty ones of the earth were seen to fall 
 before her, England could no longer crawl at the feet 
 of an Italian priest. 
 
 At no period did her laws attack the papacy with 
 so much energy. At the beginning of the fourteenth 
 century an Englishman having bi'ought to Loudon one 
 of the pope's bulls — a bull of an entirely spiritual 
 character, it was an excommunication — was prosecuted 
 as a traitor to the crown, and would have been hanged, 
 had not the sentence, at the chancellor's intercession, 
 been changed to perpetual banishment. The common 
 law was the weapon the government then opposed to 
 the papal bulls. Shortly afterwards, in 1307, King 
 Edward ordered the sheriffs to resist the arrogant pre- 
 tensions of the Komish agents. But it is to two great 
 men in the fourteenth century, equally illustrious, the 
 one in the State, and the otiier in the Church, that 
 England is indebted for the development of the Pro- 
 testant element in England. 
 
 In 13iG, an English army, 34,000 strong, met face 
 to face, at Crecy, a French army of 100,000 fighting 
 men. Two individuals of very different characters 
 were in the English host. One of them was King 
 Edward III., a brave and ambitious prince, who, being 
 resolved to recover for the royal authority all its power, 
 and for England all her glory, bad undertaken the 
 conquest of France. The other was his chaplain Brad- 
 wardine, a man of so humble a character that his meek- 
 ness was often taken for stupidity. And thus it was 
 that on his receiving the pallium at Avignon from the 
 hands of the pope, on his elevation to the see of Can- 
 terbury, a jester mounted on an ass rode into the hall, 
 and petitioned the pontiff to make him primate instead 
 of that imbecile priest. 
 
 Bradwardine was one of the most pious men of the 
 age, and to his prayers his sovereign's victories were 
 ascribed. He was also one of the greatest geniuses 
 of his time, and occupied the first rank among as- 
 tronomers, philosophers, and mathematicians. The 
 pride of science had at first alienated him from the 
 doctrine of the cross. But one day while in the house 
 of God, and listening to the reading of the Holy Scrip- 
 tures, these words struck his ear: It is not of him that 
 tvilleih, nor of him that runneth, hut of God that sheweth 
 mercy. His ungrateful heart, he tells us, at first re- 
 jected this humiliating doctrine with aversion. Yet 
 the Word of God had laid its powerful hold upon him; 
 he was converted to the truths be had despised, and 
 immediately began to set fortii the doctrines of eternal 
 grace at Merton College, Oxford. He had drunk so 
 deep at the fountain of Scripture that the traditions of 
 men concerned him but little, and he was so absorbed 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 in adoration in spirit and in truth, that he remarked 
 not outward superstitious. His lectures were eagerly 
 listened to, and circulated through all Europe. The 
 grace of God was their very essence, as it was of 
 flie Keformation. With sorrow Bradwardiue beheld 
 Pelagianism everywhere substituting a mere religion of 
 externals for inward Christianity, and on his knees he 
 struggled for the salvation of the Church. "As in the 
 times of old four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal 
 strove against a single prophet of God; so now, O 
 Lord," he exclaimed, "the number of those who strive 
 with Pelagius against thy free grace cannot be c'ounted. 
 They pretend not to receive grace freely, but to buy it. 
 The will of men (they say) should precede, and thine 
 should follow : theirs is the mistress, and thine the 
 servant. , . . Alas ! nearly the whole world is 
 walking in error in the steps of Pelagius. Arise, O 
 Lord, and judge thy cause." And the Lord did arise, 
 but not until after the death of this jiious archbishop, 
 in the days of AVickliffe, who when a youth listened 
 to the lectures at Morton College, and especially in the 
 days of Luther and of Calvin. His contemporaries 
 gave him the name of tlio nr^'t'nni'l (1,,-tnr. 
 
 LINCOLN CATHEDRAL CHAPTER HOUSE 
 
 If BraJwardine walked truthfully in the patli of 
 faith, his illustrious patron, Edward, advanced trium- 
 phantly in the field of policy. Pope Clement IV. 
 having decreed that the first two vacancies in the 
 Anglican Church should be conferred on two of his 
 cardinals: "France is becoming EmjUsh," said the 
 courtiers to the king; "and by way of compensation, 
 England is becoming Italian." Edward, desirous of 
 guaranteeing the religious liberties of England, passed, 
 with the consent of parliament, in 1350, the statute of 
 Provisors, which made void every ecclesiastical appoint- 
 ment contrary to the rights of the king, the chapters, 
 or the patrons. Thus the privileges of the chapters 
 and the liberty of the English Catholics, as well as the 
 independence of the crown, were protected against the 
 invasion of foreigners ; and imprisonment or banish- 
 ment for life was denounced upon all offenders against 
 the law. 
 
 This bold step alarmed the pontiff. Accordingly, 
 three years after, the king having nominated one of 
 his secretaries to the see of Durham — a man without 
 any of the qualities becoming a bishop — the pope 
 readily confirmed the appointment. When some one 
 expressed his astonishment at this, the pope made 
 answer: "If the King of England had nominated «« 
 ass, I would have accepted him." This may remind 
 us of the ass of Avignon ; and it would seem that this 
 humble animal at that time played a significant part in 
 the elections to the papacy. But be that as it may, 
 the pope withdrew his pretensions. "Empires have 
 their term," observes an historian at this place; "when 
 once they have reached it, they halt, they retrograde, 
 they fall." 
 
 The term seemed to be drawing nearer every day. 
 In the reign of Edward III., between 1343 and 1353, 
 again in 13Gi, and finally under Richard II., in 1393, 
 those stringent laws were passed which interdicted all 
 appeal to the court of Rome, all bulls from the Roman 
 bishop, all excommunications, &c., in a word, every 
 act infringing on the rights of the crown; and declared 
 that whoever should bring such documents into England, 
 or receive, publish, or execute them, should be put out 
 of the king's protection, deprived of their property. 
 
 DRASENOSE COLLEGE OXFORD 
 
 attached m then \ li oni an 1 1 i u lit btf ic the kiog 
 in conned to uiukigo then tml accoiding to the teuns 
 of the act feueh was the statute of Pi imuniie ' 
 
 Great was the indignation of the Romans at the 
 news of this law : " If the statute of mortmain put the 
 pope into a sweat," says Fuller, " this of prwrniinire 
 gave him a fit of fever." One pope called it an 
 "execrable statute," — "a horrible crime." Such are 
 the terms applied by the pontiffs to all that thwarts 
 their ambition. 
 
 Of the two wars carried on by Edward — the one 
 against the King of France, and the other against 
 Popery — the latter was the most righteous and impor- 
 tant. The benefits which this prince had hoped to 
 
 1 The most natm-al meaning ot the word pnatmnirc (given more partiea- 
 lavly to the Act ot 1393) seems to be that suggested hy Fuller, cent, xiv., 
 (!>. 148 :) " to fence and fortify the regal power from foreign assault " See 
 the whole bill, iUcl, p. 145-147. 
 
THE BEGGING FRIARS. 
 
 derive from his brilliant victories at Crocy and Poicticrs 
 dwiudled away almost entirely before liis death ; ■while 
 his struggles with the papacy, founded as they were 
 on truth, have exerted even to our own days an indis- 
 putable influence on the destinies of Great Britain. 
 Yet the prayers and the conquests of Bradwardinc, 
 who proclaimed in that fallen age the doctrine of grace, 
 produced effects still greater, not only for the salvation 
 of many souls, but for the liberty, moral force, and 
 greatness of England. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Tlie Slcmlicnnt Friars— Tlicir Disorders and Topular Indignation— WiiklilTi; 
 — Uis Success — Sreechcs ot tlie Peers against tlie Papal Tribute- 
 Agreement of Cruges— Courtenay and Lancaster— WicklitTe before tlie 
 Convocation — Altercation between Lancaster and Courtenay — Riot- 
 Three Briefs against WickiilTe— Wickliffe at Lambeth— Mission of the 
 Poor PricsU—lhQk PrcadiiDgs and Persecutions — "WiekliCTc and the 
 Four Regents. 
 
 Thus in the first half of the fourteenth century, nearly 
 two hundred years before the Eoformation, Eugland 
 appeared weary of the yoke of Kome. Bradwardlne 
 was no more ; but a man who had been his disciple 
 was about to succeed him, and without attaining to the 
 highest functions, to exhibit in his person the past and 
 future tendencies of the Church of Christ iu Great 
 Britain. The English Reformation did not begin with 
 Henry VIII. : the revival of the sixteenth century is 
 but a link in the chain commencing with the Apostles 
 and reaching to us. 
 
 The resistance of Edward III. to the papacy tcitlioui 
 had not suppressed the papacy rcilhin. The mendicant 
 ft-iars, and particularly the Franciscans, those fanatical 
 soldiers of the pope, were endeavouring, by pious frauds, 
 to monopolize the wealth of the country. "Every 
 year," said they, "St. Francis descends from heaven 
 to purgatory, and delivers the souls of all those who 
 were buried in the dress of his order." These friars 
 used to kidnap children from their parents, and shut 
 them up in monasteries. They affected to be poor, and 
 with a wallet on their back, begged with a piteous air 
 from both high and low; but at the same time they 
 dwelt in palaces, heaped up treasures, dressed in costly 
 garments, and wasted their time in luxurious enter- 
 tainments. The least of them looked upon themselves 
 as lords, and those who wore the doctor's cap considered 
 themselves kinfjf. While they diverted themselves, 
 eating and drinking at their well-spread tables, they 
 used to send ignorant uneducated persons in their place 
 to preach fables and legends to amuse and plunder the 
 people. If any rich man talked of giving alms to the 
 poor and not to the monks, they exclaimed loudly 
 against such impiety, and declared with threatening 
 voices : " If you do so we will leave the country, and 
 return accompanied by a legion of glittering helmets." 
 Public indignation was at its height. " The monks 
 and priests of Rome," w^as the cry, "are eating us 
 away like a cancer. God must deliver us, or the people 
 will perish. . . . Woe be to them ! The cup of 
 
 wrath will run over. Men of holy Church shall be 
 despised as carrion, as dogs shall they be cast out iu 
 open places."' 
 
 The arrogance of Rome made the cup run over. 
 Pope Urban V., heedless of the laurels won by the 
 conqueror at Crecy and Poicticrs, summoned Edward 
 III. to recognise him as legitimate sovereign of Eng- 
 land, and to pay as feudal tribute the annual rent of 
 one thousand marcs. In case of refusal the king was 
 to appear before him at Rome. For thirty-three years 
 the popes had never mentioned the tribute accorded by 
 John to Innocent III., .and which had always beeu 
 paid very irregularly. The conqueror of the Valois 
 was irritated by this insolence on the part of an Italian 
 bishop, and called on GQd_tp avenge England. From 
 Oxford came forth the avenger. 
 
 {Frora 
 
 I original in the Cdkction o/llu Dulce of Dorset.) 
 
 John Wickliffe, born in 1324, in a little village in 
 Yorkshire, was one of the students who attended the 
 lectures of the pious Bradwardinc at Merton College. 
 He was in the flower of his age, and produced a great 
 sensation in the university. In 1348, a terrible pesti- 
 lence, which is said to have carried off half the hiunaa 
 race, appeared in England after successively devasta- 
 ting Asia and the continent of Europe. This visitation 
 of the Almighty sounded like the trumpet of the judg- 
 ment-day in the heart of Wickliffe. Alarmed at the 
 thoughts of eternity, the young man — for he was then 
 only twenty-four years old — passed days and nights in 
 his coll groaning and sighing, and calling upon God to 
 shew him the path he ought to follow. He found it 
 in the Holy Scriptures, and resolved to make it known 
 to others. He commenced with prudence ; but being 
 elected, in 13G1, warden of Balliol, and in 1365 warden 
 of Canterbury college also, ho began to sot forth the 
 doctrine of faith in a more energetic manner. His 
 biblical and philosophical studies, his knowledge of 
 
 1 Wickliffe, " The Last Age of the Church." 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 tlieolog)', his peuetratiug mind, tlie purity of his 
 manners, ami his unbending courage, rendefed him 
 tlic object of general admiration. A profound teacher, 
 like his master, and an eloquent preacher, he demon- 
 strated to the learned during the course of the week 
 what he intended to preach, and on Sunday he preached 
 to the people what he had previously demonstrated. 
 His disputations gave strength to his sermons, and his 
 sermons shed light upon his disputations. He accused 
 the clergy of having banished the Holy Scriptures, and 
 required that the authority of the "Word of God should 
 be re-established in the Church. Loud acclamations 
 crowned these discussions, and the crowd of vulgar 
 minds trembled with indignation when they heard 
 these shouts of applause. 
 
 Wickliffe was forty years old when the papal arro- 
 gance stirred England to its depths. Being at once an 
 able politician and a fervent Christian, he vigorously 
 defended the rights of the crown against the Romish 
 aggression, and by his arguments not only enlightened 
 his fellow-countrymen generally, but stirred up the 
 zeal of several members of both houses of parliament. 
 
 The parliament assembled, and never perhaps had it 
 been summoned on a question which excited to so 
 high a degree the emotions of England, and indeed 
 of Christendom. The debates in the House of Lords 
 were especially remarkable : all the arguments of Wick- 
 liffe were reproduced. "Feudal tribute is due," said 
 one, " ouly to him who can grant feudal iwotection in 
 return. Now, how can the pope wage war to protect 
 his fiefs?" — "Is it as vassal of the crown, or as feudal 
 superior," asked another, " that the pope demauds part 
 of our property? Urban Y. will not accept the first 
 of these titles. . . . "Well and good ! but the Eng- 
 lish people will not acknowledge the second." — " Wli}'," 
 said a third, " was this tribute originally granted? To 
 pay the pope for absolving John. . . . His demand, 
 then, is mere simony, a kind of clerical swindling, 
 which the lords spiritual and temporal should indig- 
 nantly oppose." — '-No," said another speaker, "Eng- 
 land belongs not to the pope. The pope is but a man, 
 subject to sin ; but Christ is the Lord of lords, and 
 this kingdoiu is held directly and solely of Christ 
 alone."' Thus spoke the lords inspired by Wickliffe. 
 Parliament decided unanimously that no prince had 
 the right to alienate the sovereignty of the kingdom 
 without the consent of the otlier two estates ; and that 
 if the pontiff should attempt to proceed against the 
 King of England as his vassal, the nation should rise 
 in a body to maintain the independence of the crown. 
 
 To no purpose did this generous resolution excite 
 the wrath of the partisans of Home ; to no purpose did 
 they assert that, by the canon law, the king ought to 
 be deprived of liis fief, and that England now belonged 
 to the pope: "No," replied Wickliffe, "the canon law 
 has no force when it is opposed to the Word of God." 
 Edward HI. made AVicklifte one of his cliaplains, and 
 the papacy has ceased from that hour to lay claim — in 
 explicit terms at least — to the sovereignty of England. 
 
 When the pope gave up his temporal, he was desirous, 
 
 at the very least, of keeping up his ecclesiastical pre- 
 
 1 These oijiiiioiis are reported by Wickliflc, in a trcaUsc preserved in the 
 
 SMcn MSS., ami printed by Mr. J. Lewis iu his " History of Wickliffe." 
 
 App. No. 30, p. 349. He was present during tlie debate. 
 
 tensions, and to procure the repeal of the statutes of 
 Pnrmunire and Provisors. It was accordingly resolved 
 to hold a conference at Bruges to treat of this question ; 
 and AVickliffe, who had been created doctor of theology 
 two years before, proceeded thither with the other 
 commissioners in April, 1374. They came to an 
 arrangement, in 1375, that the king should bind him- 
 self to repeal the penalties denounced against the pon- 
 tifical agent.s, and that the pope should confirm the 
 king's ecclesiastical presentations. But the nation was 
 not pleased with this compromise. "The clerks sent 
 from Rome," said the Commons, " are more dangerous 
 for the kingdom than Jews or Saracens : every papal 
 agent resident in England, and every Englishman living 
 at the court of Rome, should be punished with deatli." 
 Such was the language of the Good Farliament. In the 
 fourteenth century the English nation called a parlia- 
 ment good which did not yield to the papacy. 
 
 Wickliffe, after his return to England, was presented 
 to the rectory of Lutterworth ; and from that time a 
 practical activity was added to his academic influence. 
 At Oxford he spoke as a master to the young theo- 
 logians ; in his parish he addressed the people as a 
 preacher and as a pastor. " The Gospel," said he, " is 
 the only source of religion. The Roman pontiff is a 
 mere cut-purse ;= and, far from having the right to 
 reprimand the whole world, he may be lawfully re- 
 proved by his inferiors, and even by laymen." 
 
 The papacy grew alarmed. Courtenay, son of the 
 Earl of Devonshire, an imperious but grave priest, and 
 full of zeal for what he believed to be the truth, had 
 recently been appointed to the see of London. In 
 pariianient he had resisted Wickliife's patron, John of 
 Gaunt, dnke of Lancaster, third son of Edward III., 
 and head of the house of that name. The bishop, 
 observing that the doctrines of the reformer were 
 spreading among the people, both high and low, 
 charged him with heresy, and summoned him to 
 appear before the convocation assembled in St. Paul's 
 Cathedral. 
 
 On the 19th February, 1377, an immense crowd, 
 heated with fanaticism, thronged the approaches to the 
 church and filled its aisles, while the citizens favour- 
 able to the reform remained concealed in their houses. 
 Wickliffe moved forward, preceded by Lord Percy, 
 marshal of England, and supported by the Duke of 
 Lancaster, who defended him from purely political 
 motives. He was followed by four bachelors of 
 divinity, his counsel, and passed through the hostile 
 multitude, who looked upon Lancaster as the enemy 
 of their liberties, and upon himself as the enemy of 
 the Church. " Let not the sight of these bishops make 
 you shrink a hair's-breadth in your profession of faith," 
 said the prince to the doctor. " They are unlearned ; 
 and as for this concourse of people, fear nothing, we 
 are here to defend you." AV'hen the reformer had 
 crossed the threshold of the cathedral, the crowd 
 withiu appeared like a solid wall ; and, notwithstand- 
 ing the efforts of the earl-marshal, Wickliffe and Lan- 
 caster could not advance. Tlie people swayed to and 
 fro, hands were raised iu violence, and loud hootings 
 re-echoed through the building. At length Percy 
 2 "The proud worldly priest of Rome, and the most cursed of clippers and 
 pursc-kciTcts."— JCfwJs, History of Wickliffe, p. 37. Oxford, 1820. 
 
WICKLIFFE BEFORE THE CONVOCATION. 
 
 r.S3 
 
 made an opening in the dense multitude, and Wick- 
 lifTe pa.'ifod on. 
 
 The Iiaii^hty Courtcnay, who had been commissioned 
 by the archbisliop to preside over the assembly, watched 
 these strange movements with anxiety, and beheld with 
 displeasure the learned doctor accompanied by the two 
 most powerful men in England. He said nothing to 
 the Duke of Lancaster, who at that time administered 
 the kingdom, but turning towards Percy, observed 
 sharply: "If I had known, my lord, that you claimed 
 to be master in this church, 1 would have taken mea- 
 sures to prevent your entrance." Lancaster coldly 
 rejoined: "He shall keep such mastery here, though 
 you say nay." Percy now turned to WicklifFe, who 
 had remained standing, and said : " Sit down and rest 
 yousclf." At this Courteuay gave way to his anger, 
 and exclaimed in a loud tone : " He must not sit down ; 
 criminals stand before their judges." Lancaster, in- 
 dignant tliat a learned doctor of England should be 
 refused a favour to which his age alone entitled him, 
 (for he was between fifty and sixty,) made answer to 
 the bishop : " My lord, you are very arrogant ; take 
 care, . . . or I may bring down your pride, and 
 uot yours only, but that of all the prelacy in England." 
 — " Do me all the harm j'ou can," was Courtenay's 
 haughty reply. The prince rejoined, with some emotion : 
 " You are insolent, my lord. You think, no doubt, you 
 can trust on your family; . . , but your relations 
 will have trouble enough to protect themselves." To 
 this the bishop nobly replied : " My confidence is not 
 in my parents, nor in any man ; but only in God, in 
 whom 1 trust, and by whose assistance I will be bold 
 to speak the truth." Lancaster, who saw hypocrisy 
 only in these words, turned to one of his attendants, 
 and whispered in his ear, but so loud as to be heard 
 by the bystanders : " I would rather pluck the bishop 
 by the hair of his head out of his chair, than take this 
 at his hands." Every impartial reader must confess 
 that the prelate spoke with greater dignity than the 
 prince. Lancaster had hardly uttered these imprudent 
 words before the bishop's partisans fell upon him and 
 Percy, aud even upon Wickliffe, who alone had re- 
 mained calm. The two noblemen resisted, their friends 
 and servants defended them, the uproar became extreme, 
 and there was no hope of restoring tranquility. The 
 two lords escaped with difficulty, aud the assembly 
 broke up in great confusion. 
 
 On the following day, the earl-raarshal having called 
 upon parliament to apprehend the disturbers of the 
 public peace, the clerical party, uuiting with the ene- 
 mies of Lancaster, filled the streets with their clamour; 
 and while the duke and the earl escaped by the Thames, 
 the mob collected before Percy's house, broke down the 
 doors, searched every chamber, and thrust their swords 
 into every dark corner. When they found that he had 
 escaped, the rioters, imagining that he was concealed 
 in Lancaster's palace, rushed to the Savoy, at that time 
 the most magnificent building in the kingdom. They 
 killed a priest who endeavoiu-ed to stay them, tore down 
 the ducal arms, and hung them on the gallows like 
 those of a traitor. They would have gone still farther 
 if the bishop had not very opportunely reminded them 
 that they were in Lent. As for AVickliffe, he was dis- 
 inissedwith au injunction against preachinghis doctrines. 
 
 But this decision of the priests was not ratified by 
 the people of England. Public opinion declared in 
 favour of WicklifEc. "If ho is guilty," said they, "why 
 is he not punished ? If he is innocent, why is he ordered 
 to be silent? If he is the weakest in power, he is the 
 strongest in truth ! " And so indeed he was, and never 
 had he spoken with such energy. He openly at- 
 tacked the pretended apostolical chair, and declared 
 that the tvo antipopes who sat at Rome and Avignon 
 together made one antichrist. Being now in opposition 
 to the pope, "WicklifFe was soon to confess that Christ 
 alone was king of the Church ; and that it is not 
 possible for a man to be excommunicated, unless first 
 and principally he be excommunicated by himself. 
 
 Rome could not close her ears. ^V'ickliffe's enemies 
 sent thither nineteen propositions which they ascribed 
 to him, and in the month of June, 1377, just as Richard 
 II., son of the Black Prince, a child eleven years old, 
 ■was ascending the throne, three letters from Gregory 
 XL, addressed to the king, the archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, aud the university of Oxford, denounced Wick- 
 litTc as a heretic, aud called upon them to proceed 
 against him as against a common thief. The arch- 
 bishop issued the citation : the crown aud the univer- 
 sity were silent. 
 
 On the appointed day, "Wickliffe, unaccompanied by 
 either Lancaster or Percy, proceeded to the archicpisco- 
 pal chapel at Lambeth. " Men expected he should be 
 devoured," says an historian ; " being brought into the 
 lion's den." But the burgesses had taken the prince's 
 place. The assault of Rome had aroused the friends 
 of liberty and truth in England. " The pope's briefs," 
 said they, "ought to have no effect in the realm with- 
 out the king's consent. Every man is master in his 
 own house." 
 
 The archbishop had scarcely opened the sitting, when 
 Sir Louis Clifford entered the chapel, aud forbade the 
 court, on the part of the queen-mother, to proceed 
 against the reformer. The bishops were struck with a 
 panic-fear : " they bent their heads," says a Roman 
 Catholic historian, "like a reed before the wiud." 
 "Wickliffe retired after handing in a protest. " In the 
 first place," said he, " I resolve with my whole heart, 
 and by the grace of God, to bo a sincere Christian ; 
 and, while my life shall last, to profess and defend the 
 law of Christ so far as I have power." AYickliffe's 
 enemies attacked this protest, and one of them eagerly 
 maintained that whatever the pope ordered should be 
 looked upon as right. " "What ! " answered the re- 
 former; "the pope may then exclude from the canon 
 of the Scriptures any book that displeases him, and 
 alter the Bible at pleasure?" AYickliffe thought that 
 Rome, unsettling the grounds of infallibility, had 
 transferred it from the Scriptures to the pope, .and 
 was desirous of restoring it to its true place, and re- 
 establishing authority iu the Church on a truly Divine 
 foundation. 
 
 A groat change was now taking place in the re- 
 former. Busying himself less about the kingdom of 
 England, he occupied himself more about the kingdom 
 of Christ. In him the political phasis was followed by 
 the religious. To caiTy the glad tidings of the Gospel 
 into the remotest hamlets, was now the great idea 
 which possessed "Wickliffe. If begging friars (said he) 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 stroll over the country, preaching the legends of saints 
 and the history of the Trojan war, we must do for 
 God's glory what they do to till their wallets, and form 
 a vast itinerant evangelization to convert souls to Jesus 
 Christ. Turning to the most pious of his disciples, he 
 said to them : " Go and preach, it is the sublimest 
 work ; but imitate not the priests whom we see, after 
 
 iL 
 
 the sermon, sitting in the ale-houses, or at the gaming- 
 table, or wasting their time in hunting. After your 
 sermon is ended, do you visit tlie sick, the aged, the 
 poor, the blind, and the lame, and succour them accord- 
 ing to your ability." Such was the new practical 
 theology which Wickliffe inaugurated — it was that of 
 Christ himself. 
 
 The " poor priests," as they were called, set off bare- 
 foot, a staif in their hands, clothed iu a coarse robe, 
 living on alms, and satisfied with the plainest food. 
 
 They stopped in the fields near some village, in the 
 churchyards, in the market-places of the towns, and 
 sometimes iu the churches even. The people, among 
 whom they were favourites, thronged around them, as 
 the men of Northumbria had done at Aidau's preach- 
 ing. They spoke with a popular eloquence that entirely 
 won over those who listened to them. Of these mis- 
 sionaries none was more beloved than 
 John Ashton. He might be seen wan- 
 dering over the country in every direc- 
 tion, or seated at some cottage hearth, 
 or alone in some retired crossway, 
 preaching to an attentive crowd. Mis- 
 ^-— sious of this kind have constantly re- 
 
 ^== - vived in England at the great epochs 
 
 of the Church. 
 
 The " poor priests " were not content 
 ^\ ith mere polemics : they preached the 
 41 nt mjstery of godliness. ''An angel 
 tould hive made no propitiation for 
 ni\n,"one day exclaimed their master 
 ANickliffc; " for the nature which has 
 I lined lb not that of the angels. The 
 I i hatoi must needs be a man ; but 
 L \ a V man being indebted to God for 
 (\Li} thing that he is able to do, this 
 inia must needs have infinite merit, and 
 be at the same time God." 
 
 Ihe clergy became alarmed, and a 
 Uw was passed commanding every 
 king's officer to commit the preachers 
 and their followers to prison. In con- 
 sequence of this, as soon as the humble missionary 
 began to preach, the monks set themselves in motion. 
 They watched him from the windows of their cells, at 
 the street corners, or from behind a hedge, and then 
 hastened off to procure assistance. But when the con- 
 stables approached, a body of stout bold men stood 
 forth, with arms in their hands, who surrounded the 
 preacher, and zealously protected him against the 
 attacks of the clergy. Carnal weapons were thus 
 mingled with the preachings of the word of peace. 
 The poor priests returned to their master : Wick- 
 liffe comforted them, advised with them, and 
 then they departed once more. Every day this 
 evangelization reached some new spot, and the 
 light was thus penetrating into every quarter 
 of England, when the reformer was suddenly 
 stopped iu his work. 
 
 Wickliffe was at Oxford in the year 1379, 
 busied in the discharge of his duties as professor 
 of divinity, when he fell dangerously ill. Ilis 
 was not a strong constitution; and work, age, 
 and above all, persecution, had weakened him. 
 Great was the joy in the monasteries; but for 
 that joy to be complete the heretic must recant. 
 Every effort was made to bring this about in his 
 last moments. 
 
 The four regents, who represented the four 
 religious orders, accompanied by four aldermen, 
 hastened to the bedside of the dying man, hoping 
 to frighten him by threatening him with the 
 vengeance of Heaven. They found him calm 
 and serene. " You have death on your lips," 
 
THE BIBLE— WICKLIFFE'S TRANSLATION. 
 
 said they; " be touched by your ftuilts, and retract in 
 our presence all that you have said to oiu- injmy." 
 Wickliffc remained silent, and the monks flattered 
 themselves with an easy victory. But the nearer the 
 reformer approached eternity, the greater was his horror 
 of monkery. The consolation he had found in 
 Jesus Christ had given him fresh energy. He 
 begged his servant to raise him on his couch. 
 Then, feeble and pale, and scarcely able to sup- 
 port himself, he turned towards the friars, who 
 were waiting for his recantation, and opening 
 his livid lips, and fixing on them a piercing look, 
 he said with emphasis : " I shall not die, but live, 
 and again declare the evil deeds of the friars." 
 We might almost picture to ourselves the s])iril 
 of Elijah threatening the priests of Baal. The 
 regents and their companions looked at each other 
 with astonishment. They left the room in con- 
 fusion, and the reformer recovered to put the 
 finishing touch to the most important of his 
 works against the monks and against the pope. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TIic Bil)lc— Wicklifrc's Translation— Effects of its Publication— Opposition 
 of til.' r'l,'iL-v-Wi,l,liilVs Fimrtli riwisis— Traiisulistantiation— Excom- 
 
 iiuiriii ;ii! ■■ Ui.;iiii'. i,i:,ii.. ._\v,i 1 1 ;. I— The Synod— The Con- 
 Ociiiiii'il' I \\ ' . ' I'' :. ^'> i I. line before the Primate 
 
 nt(>\i-i I 1', , ; ., .!'U , ii . Answer— Hie Tmloguo 
 
 — Uis IK^.il.- And Cli.ua>.tii-Ilia l\.i. Iui,„— Ills Ecclcsiasticol Views 
 —A Prophecy. 
 
 WicitLiFFE's ministry had followed a progressive course. 
 
 At first he had attacked the papacy; next he preached 
 
 the Gospel to the poor; he could take 
 
 one more step, and put the people in 
 
 permanent possession of the "Word of 
 
 God. This was the third phase of his 
 
 activity. 
 
 Scholasticism had banished the Scrip- 
 tures into a mysterious obscurity. It 
 is true that Bede had translated the 
 Gospel of St. John ; that the learned 
 men at Alfred's court had translated 
 the four Evangelists; that Elfric, in tiie 
 reign of Ethelred, had translated some 
 books of the Old Testament; that an 
 Anglo-Norman priest had paraphrased 
 the Gospels and the Acts ; that Richard 
 RoIIe, "the hermit of Hampole," and 
 some pious clerks in the fourteenth 
 century, had produced a version of the 
 Psalms, the Gospels, and Epistles ; but 
 these rare volumes were hidden, like 
 theological curiosities, in the libraries 
 of a few convents. It was then a 
 maxim that the reading of the Bible 
 was injurious to the laity; and accord- 
 ingly the priests forbade it, just as the 
 Brahmins forbid the Shasters to the 
 Hindoos. Oral tradition alone pre- 
 served among the people the histories 
 
 of the Holy Scriptures, mingled with legends of the 
 saints. The time appeared ripe for the publication of 
 a Bible. The increase of population, the attention the 
 
 ish were begii 
 
 to their own language, 
 of representative 
 
 government had received, the awakening of the human 
 mind : all these circumstances favoured the reformer's 
 design. 
 
 AVickliffe was ignorant, indeed, of Greek and Hebrew; 
 but was it nothing to shake off the dust which for 
 ages had covered the Latin Bible, and to translate it 
 into English ? He was a good Latin scholar, of sound 
 understanding and great penetration ; but above all he 
 loved the Bible, he understood it, and desired to com- 
 municate this treasure to others. Let us imagine liim 
 in his quiet study: on his table is the Vulgate text, 
 corrected after the best manuscripts ; and lying open 
 around him are the commentaries of the doctors of the 
 
 F.Uir;S OF SAVOY PALACE. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 clmrcli, especially those of St. Jerome and Nicholas 
 Lyrensis. Between ten and fifteen years he steadily 
 prosecuted his task ; learned men aided him with their 
 advice, and one of them, Nicholas Hereford, appears to 
 have translated a few chapters for him. At last, in 
 1380, it was completed. This was a great event in the 
 religious history of England, who, outstripping the 
 nations on the Continent, took her station in the fore- 
 most rank in the great work of disseminating the 
 Scriptures. 
 
 As soon as the translation was finished the labour 
 of the copyists began, and the Bible was erelong widely 
 circulated, either wholly or in portions. The reception 
 of the work surpassed Wickliffe's expectations. The 
 Holy Scriptures exercised a reviving influence over 
 men's hearts; minds were enlightened; souls were 
 converted ; the voices of the •' poor priests " had done 
 little in comparison with this voice ; something new 
 had entered into the world. Citizens, soldiers, and the 
 lower classes, welcomed this new era with acclamations ; 
 the higli-born curiously examined the unknown book ; 
 and even Anne of Luxemburg, wife of Richard II., 
 having learnt English, began to read the Gospels 
 diligently. She did more than this : she made them 
 known to Arundel, archbishop of York and chancellor, 
 and afterwards a persecutor, but who now, struck at 
 the sight of a foreign lady — of a queen, humbly de- 
 voting her leisure to the study of such virtuous books, 
 commenced reading them himself, and rebuked the 
 prelates who neglected this holy pursuit. "You could 
 not meet two persons on the highway," says a contem- 
 porary writer, " but one of them was Wickliffe's dis- 
 ciple." 
 
 Yet all in England did not equally rejoice : the lower 
 clergy opposed this enthusiasm with complaints and 
 maledictions. " JIaster John Wickliffe, by translating 
 the Gospel into English," said the monks, "has rendered 
 it more acceptable and more intelligible to laymen, and 
 even to women, than it had hitherto been to learued 
 and intelligent clerks! . . The Gospel pearl is 
 
 everywhere cast out and trodden under foot of swine." 
 New contests arose for the reformer. Wherever he 
 bent his steps he was violently attacked. " It is 
 heresy," cried the monks, " to speak of Holy Scripture 
 in English." " Since the Church has approved of the 
 four Gospels, she would have been just as able to reject 
 them and admit others ! The Church sanctions and 
 condemns what she pleases. . . . Learn to believe 
 in the Church rather than in the Gospel." These 
 clamours did not alarm Wickliife. "Many nations 
 have had the Bible in their own language. The Bible 
 is the faith of the Church. Though the pope and all 
 his clerks should disappear from the face of the 
 earth," said he, " our faith woidd not fail, for it is 
 founded on Jesus alone, our Master and our God." 
 But Wickliffe did not stand alone : in the palace as in 
 the cottage, and even in parliament, the rights of Holy 
 Seripture found det'cuders. A motion having been 
 made in the Upper House (1.390) to seize all the copies 
 of the Bible, the Duke of Lancaster exclaimed: "Are 
 we, then, the very dregs of humanity, that we cannot 
 possess the laws of our religion in our own tongue?" 
 
 Having given his fellow-countrymen the Bible, 
 Wickliffe began to reflect on its contents. This was a 
 
 new step in his onward path. There comes a moment 
 when the Christian, saved by a lively faith, feels the 
 need of giving an account to himself of this faith, and 
 this originates the science of theology. This is a 
 natural movement : if the child, who at first possesses 
 sensations and affections only, feels the want, as he 
 grows up, of reflection and knowledge, why should it 
 not be the same with the Christian? Politics — home 
 missions — Holy Scripture — had engaged Wickliffe in 
 succession ; theology had its turn, and this was the 
 fourth phase of his life. Yet he did not penetrate to 
 the same degree as the men of the sixteenth century 
 into the depths of the Christian doctrine ; and he 
 attached himself in a more especial manner to those 
 ecclesiastical dogmas which were more closely con- 
 nected with the presumptuous hierarchy and the simo- 
 niacal gains of Rome — such as trausubstantiation. 
 The Anglo-Saxon Church had not professed this doc- 
 trine. " The host is the body of Christ, not bodily, 
 but spiritually," said Elfric, in the tenth century, in a 
 letter addressed to the Archbishop of York ; but Lan- 
 franc, the opponent of Berengarius, had taught Eng- 
 land, that at the word of a priest God quitted heaven 
 and descended on the altar. Wickliffe undertook to 
 overthrow the pedestal on which the pride of the priest- 
 hood was founded. " The eucharist is naturally bread 
 and wine," he taught at Oxford in 1381 ; " but by 
 virtue of the sacramental words, it contains in every 
 part the real body and blood of Christ." He did not 
 stop here. " The consecrated wafer which we see on 
 the altar," said he, " is not Christ, nor any part of Him, 
 but His eflicient sign." He oscillated between these 
 two shades of doctrine ; but to the first he more habit- 
 ually attached himself. He denied the sacrifice of the 
 mass offered by the priest, because it was substituted 
 for the sacrifice of the cross offered up by Jesus Clirist; 
 and rejected trausubstantiation, because it nullified the 
 spiritual and living presence of the Lord. 
 
 When Wickliffe's enemies heard these propositions 
 they appeared horror-stricken, and yet in secret they 
 were delighted at the prospect of destroying him. 
 They met together, examined twelve theses he had 
 published, and pronounced against him suspension 
 from all teaching, imprisonment, and the greater 
 excommunication. At the same time his friends be- 
 came alarmed, their zeal cooled, and many of them 
 forsook him. The Duke of Lancaster, in particular, 
 could not follow him into this new sphere. That 
 prince had no objection to an ecclesiastical opposition 
 which might aid the political power, and for that pur- 
 pose he had tried to enlist the reformer's talents and 
 courage; but he feared a dogmatic opposition that 
 might compi-omise him. The sky was heavy with 
 clouds ; Wickliffe was alone. 
 
 The storm soon burst upon him. One day, while 
 seated in his doctoral chair in the Augustine school, 
 and calmly explaining the uatin-o of the eucharist, an 
 officer entered the hall, and read the sentence of con- 
 demnation. It was the design of his enemies to humble 
 the professor in the eyes of his disciples. Lancaster 
 immediately became alarmed, and hastening to his old 
 friend begged him— ordered him even — to trouble him- 
 self no more about this matter. Attacked on every 
 side, Wickliffe for a time remained silent. Shall he 
 
WICKLIFFE'S FIRMNESS. 
 
 587 
 
 sacrifice the Iruth to save his reputation — his repose — 
 ])erliaps his life ? Shall expediency get the better of 
 faith — Lancaster prevail over AVickliffc? No: his 
 courage was invineihlc. " Since the year of our Lord 
 1000," said he, "all the doctors have been in error 
 about the sacrament of the altar — except, perhaps, it 
 may bo Berengarins. How canst thou, O priest! who 
 art but a man, make thy JIaker ? What! the thing 
 that groweth in the fields — that ear which thou pluckest 
 to-day, shall be God to-morrow! ... As you 
 cannot make the works which He made, how shall ye 
 make Him who made the works? AVoe to the adul- 
 terous generation that believeth the testimony of Inno- 
 cent rather than of the Gospel." Wickliffe called 
 upon his adversaries to refute the opinions they had 
 condemned, and finding that they threatened him with 
 a civil penalty, (imprisonment,) lie appealed to the 
 king. 
 
 The time was not favourable for such an appeal. 
 A fatal circumstance increased Wickliffe's danger. 
 "Wat Tyler and a dissolute priest, named Ball, taking 
 advantage of the ill-will excited by the rapacity and 
 brutality of the royal tax-gatherers, had occupied 
 London with 100,000 men. John Ball kept up the 
 spirits of the insurgents, not by expositions of the 
 Gospel, like Wickliffe's ^wor priests, but by fiery com- 
 ments on the distich they had chosen for their device : 
 
 When Adam delved and Eve span. 
 Who was then the gentleman? 
 
 There ■\\'erc many who felt no scruple in ascribing 
 these disorders to the reformer, who was quite inno- 
 cent of them ; and Courtenay, bishop of Loudon, hav- 
 ing been translated to the see of Canterbury, lost no 
 time in convoking a synod to pronounce on this matter 
 of AV^ickliffe's. They met in the middle of Blay, about 
 two o'clock in the afternoon, and were proceeding to 
 pronounce sentence, when an earthquake, which shook 
 the city of London and all Britain, so alarmed the 
 members of the council that they unanimously demanded 
 the adjournment of a decision which appeared so mani- 
 festly rebuked by God. But the archbishop skilfully 
 turned this strange phenomenon to his own purposes : 
 " Know you not," said he, " that the noxious vapours 
 which catch fire in the bosom of the earth, and give 
 rise to these phenomena which alarm you, lose all 
 their force when they burst forth ? Well, in like man- 
 ner, by rejecting the wicked from our community, we 
 shall pul an end to the convulsions of the Church." 
 The bishops regained their courage ; and one of the 
 primate's officers read ten propositions, said to be 
 Wickliffe's, but ascribing to him certain errors of 
 which he was quite innocent. The following most 
 excited the anger of the priests : " God must obey the 
 devil. After La-ban VI. we must receive no one as 
 pope, but live according to the manner of the Greeks." 
 The ten propositions were condemned as heretical, and 
 the archbishop enjoined all persons to shun, as they 
 would a venomous serpent, all who should preach the 
 aforesaid errors. '" If we permit this heretic to appeal 
 continually to the passions of the people," said the 
 primate to the king, '-our destruction is inevitable. 
 We must silence these lollards — these psalm-singers." 
 The king gave authority " to confine in the prisons of 
 
 the state any who should maintain the condemned pro- 
 positions." 
 
 Day by day the circle contracted around Wickliffe. 
 The i)rudent Repingdon, the learned Hereford, and 
 even the eloquent Ashton, the firmest of the three, 
 depirted from him. The veteran champion of the 
 truth which had once gathered a whole nation round 
 it, had reached the days when "strong men shall bow 
 themselves;" and now, when har.assed by persecution, 
 he found himself alone. But boldly he Jiplifted his 
 hoary head, "and exclaimed: "The doctrine of the 
 Gospel shall never perish; and if the earth once 
 quaked, it was because they condemned Jesus Christ." 
 
 He did not stop here. In proportion as his physical 
 strength decreased, his moral strength increased. In- 
 stead of parrying the blows aimed at him, he resolved 
 on dealing more terrible ones still. He knew that if 
 the king and the nobility were for the priests, the 
 lower house and the citizens were for liberty and truth. 
 He therefore presented a bold petition to the Commons 
 in the month of November, 1382. "Since Jesus 
 Christ shed His blood to free His Church, I demand 
 its freedom. I demand that every one may leave 
 those gloomy walls [the convents], within which a 
 tyrannical law prevails, and embrace a simple and 
 peaceful life under the open vault of heaven. I de- 
 maud that the poor inhabitants of our towns and vil- 
 lages be not constrained to furnish a worldly priest, 
 often a vicious man and a heretic, with the means < f 
 satisfying his ostentation, his gluttony, and his licen- 
 tiousness — of buying a showy horse, costly saddles, 
 bridles with tinkling bells, rich garments, and soft 
 furs, while they see their wives, children, and neigh- 
 bours, dying of hunger."' The House of Commons, 
 recollecting that they had not given their consent to 
 the persecuting statute drawn up by the clergy and 
 approved by the king and the lords, demanded its 
 repeal. Was the Reformation about to begin by the 
 will of the people ? 
 
 Courtenay, indignant at this intervention of the 
 Commons, and ever stimulated by a zeal for his 
 Church, which would have been better directed to- 
 wards the Word of God, visited Oxford in Novem- 
 ber, 1382, and having gathered round him a number 
 of bishops, doctors, priests, students, and laymen, 
 summoned Wickliffe before him. Forty years ago 
 the reformer had come up to the university: Oxford 
 had become his home, . . . and now it was turn- 
 ing against him ! AVeakened by labours, by trials, by 
 that ardent soul which preyed upon his feeble body, 
 he might have refused to appear. But AVickliffe, who 
 never feared the face of man, came before them with a 
 good conscience. We may conjecture that there were 
 among the crowd some disciples who felt their hearts 
 burn at the sight of their master; but no outward sign 
 indicated their emotion. The solemn silence of a court 
 of justice had succeeded the shouts of enthusiastic 
 youths. Yet Wickliffe did not despair : he raised hii 
 vcner.able head, and turned to Courtenay with that 
 confident look which had made the regents of Oxford 
 shrink away. Growing wroth against the pr.'ests oj 
 Baal, he reproached them with disseminating error in 
 
 1 "A Complaint of John Wycleff."— r.-ae() and TceutUes edited by tht 
 IVickUJe S<Kieti/, r. 568. 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 order to sell tlioir masses. Then ho stopped, and 
 littered these simple aud energetic words: "The truth 
 shall prevail !" Having thus spoken, he prepared to 
 leave the court : his enemies dared not say a word ; 
 aud, like his Divine Master at Nazareth, he passed 
 through the midst of them, and no man ventured to 
 stop him. He then withdrew to his cure at Lutter- 
 worth. 
 
 He had not yet reached the harbour. He was living 
 peacefully among his books and his parishioners, and 
 the priests seemed inclined to leave him alone, when 
 another blow was aimed at him. A papal brief sum- 
 moned him to Rome, to appear before that tribunal 
 which had so often shed the blood of its adversaries. 
 His bodily infirmities convinced him that he could not 
 obey this summons. But if Wickliffe refused to hear 
 Urban, Urban could not choose but hear Wickliffe. 
 Tlie Church was at that time divided between two 
 chiefs, — France, Scotland, Savoy, Lorraine, Castile, 
 and Arragon, acknowledged Clement VII.; while Italy, 
 England, Germany, Sweden, Poland, and Hungary, 
 acknowledged Urban VI. Wickliffe shall tell us who 
 is the true head of the Church universal. And while 
 the two popes were excommunicating and abusing each 
 other, and selling heaven and earth for their own gain, 
 the reformer was confessing that incorruptible Word 
 which establishes real unity in the Church. "I be- 
 lieve," said he, " that the Gospel of Christ is the whole 
 body of God's law. I believe that Christ, who gave it 
 to us, is very God and very man, and that this Gospel 
 revelation is, accordingly, superior to all other parts of 
 Holy Scripture. ' I believe that the Bishop of Rome 
 is bound, more than all other men, to submit to it ; for 
 the greatness among Christ's disciples did not consist 
 in worldly dignity or honours, but in the exact follow- 
 ing of Christ in His life and manners. No faithful 
 man ought to follow the pope but in such points as he 
 hath followed Jesus Christ. The pope ought to leave 
 unto the secular power all temporal dominion and rule ; 
 and thereunto effectually more and more exhort his 
 whole clergy. ... If I could labour according to 
 my desire in mine own person, I would surely present 
 myself before the Bishop of Rome; but the Lord hath 
 otherwise visited me to the contrary, and hath taught 
 me rather to obey God thau men." - 
 
 Urban, who at that moment chanced to be very 
 ousied in his contest with Clement, did not think it 
 prudeut to begin another with "Wickliffe, and so let the 
 matter rest there. From this time the doctor passed 
 the remainder of his days in peace in the company of 
 three personages, two of whom were his particular 
 friends, and the third his constant adversary: these 
 were, Alethcia, Fhronesis, and Pseudes. Aletheia (truth) 
 proposed questions; Pseudes (falsehood) urged objec- 
 tions; and Phroncsis (understanding) laid down the 
 sound doctrine. These three characters carried on a 
 conversation (trialoffiie) in which great truths were 
 boldly professed. The opposition between the pope 
 
 3 riiisL Ji~ reading of the Bodleian manuscript— " and lie [by] this it 
 rassis all other laws." In Foxo, Wicklifle appears to aserilie to Christ him- 
 Bci." d.is suiiciicrity over all Seriptui-e— a distinction hardly in the mind of 
 
 '■ ' An Epistle of J. Wickliffe to Pope Urban Vl."—Foxc, Ads, l p. 206, 
 fob Lond. 1684; also Uwis, Wickligc, p. 333, Append. 
 
 and Christ — between the canons of Romanism and the 
 Bible — was painted in striking colours. This is one of 
 the primary truths which the Church must never for- 
 get. "The Church has fallen," said one of the inter- 
 locutors in the work in question, "because she has 
 abandoned the Gospel, and preferred the laws of the 
 pope. Although there should be a hundred popes in 
 the world at once, and all the friars living should be 
 transformed into cardinals, we must withhold our con- 
 fidence unless so far as they are founded in Holy Scrip- 
 ture." 
 
 Tiiesc words were the last flicker of the torch. 
 Wickliffe looked upon his end as near, and entertained 
 no idea that it would come in peace. A dungeon on 
 one of the seven hills, or a burning pile iu London, 
 was all he expected. " Why do you talk of seeking 
 the crown of martyrdom afar?" asked he. "Preach 
 the Gospel of Christ to haughty prelates, and martyr- 
 dom will not fail you. What ! I should live and be 
 silent? . . . never ! Let the blow fall ; I await 
 its coming." 
 
 The stroke was spared him. The war between two 
 wicked priests, Urban and Clement, left the disciples 
 of our Lord in peace. And, besides, was it worth 
 while cutting short a life that was drawing to a close? 
 Wickliffe, therefore, continued tranquilly to preach 
 Jesus Christ; and on the 29th December, 1384:, as he 
 was in his church at Lutterworth, in the midst of his 
 flock, at the very moment that he stood before the 
 altar, and was elevating the host with trembling hands, 
 he fell upon the pavemeut struck with paralysis. He 
 was carried to his house by the affectionate friends 
 around him, and after lingering forty-eight hours, re- 
 signed his soul to God on the last day of the year. 
 
 Thus was removed from the Church one of the 
 boldest witnesses to the truth. The seriousness of his 
 language, the holiness of his life, and the energy of his 
 faith, had intimidated the popedom. Travellers relate 
 that if a lion is met in the desert, it is sufficient to look 
 steadily at him, and the beast turns away roaring from 
 the eye of man. Wickliffe had fixed the eye of a 
 Christian on the papacy, and the affrighted papacy 
 had left him iu peace. Hunted down unceasingly 
 while living, he died iu quiet, at the very moment 
 when by faith he was eating the flesh and drinking the 
 blood which give eternal life. A glorious end to a 
 glorious life. 
 
 The Reformation of England had begun. 
 
 Wickliffe is the greatest English reformer : he was, 
 iu truth, the first reformer of Christendom; and to him, 
 under God, Britain is indebted for the honour of being 
 the foremost in the attack upon the theocratic system 
 of Gregory VII. The work of the Waldenses, excel- 
 lent as it was, cannot be compared to his. If Luther 
 and Calvin are the fathers of the Reformation, Wick- 
 liffe is its gi'andfather. 
 
 AVickliffe, like most great men, possessed qualities 
 which are not generally found together. While hia 
 understanding was eminently speculative — his treatise 
 on the " Reality of Universal Ideas " made a sensation 
 in philosophy — he possessed that practical and active 
 mind which characterizes the Anglo-Saxon race. As 
 a divine, he was at once scriptural and spiritual, soundly 
 orthodox, and possessed of an inward and lively faith. 
 
WICKLIFFE'S ECCLESIASTICAL VIEWS. 
 
 589 
 
 With a boldness that impelled him to rush into the 
 midst of daiigcr, he combined a logical and consistent 
 mind, which constantly led him forward in knowledge, 
 and caused him to maintain with perseverance the 
 truths he had once proclaimed. First of all, as a 
 Christian, he had devoted his strength to the cause of 
 the Church ; but ho was, at the same time, a citizen, 
 and the realm, his nation,- and his king, had also a 
 great share in his unwearied activity, lie was a man 
 complete. 
 
 If the man is admirable, his teaching is no less so. 
 Scripture, which is the rule of truth, should be (accord- 
 ing to his views) the rule of reformation, and we must 
 reject every doctrine and every precept which does not 
 rest ou that foundation.' To believe iu the power of 
 man in the work of regeneration is the great heresy of 
 Rome, and from that error has come the 
 Church. Conversion proceeds 
 from the grace of God alone, 
 and the system which asei ibes 
 it partly to man and partly to 
 God, is worse than Pelagian- 
 ism. Christ is everything in 
 Christianity; whosoever aban- 
 dons that fountain which is 
 ever ready to impart life, and 
 turns to muddy and stagnant 
 waters, is a madman. Faith 
 is a gift of God ; it puts aside 
 all merit, and should banibli all 
 fear from the mind. The one 
 thing needful in the Christian 
 life and in tiie Lord's Supper, 
 is not a vain formalism and 
 superstitious rites, but com- 
 munion with Christ accoulin 
 to the power of the spintiiil 
 life. Let Christians sulmiit 
 not to the word of a piiLst, 
 but to the "Word of God. In 
 the primitive Church tlieie 
 were but two orders, the dea- 
 con and the priest : the pres- 
 byter and the bishop were one. 
 
 The sublimest calling which ^=rz^ ~-~'^ 
 
 man can attain on earth is that ' 
 
 of preaching tlie Word of God. 
 
 Tlie true Church is the assembly of the righteous for 
 whom Christ shed His blood. So long as Ciirist is 
 in heaven, in Him the Church possesses the best pope. 
 It is possible for a pope to be condemned at the last 
 day because of his sins. AVoukl men compel us to 
 recognise as our head "a devil of hell?'"' Such were 
 the essential points of AVickliffe's doctrine. It was the 
 echo of the doctrine of the Apostles — the prelude to 
 that of the reformers. 
 
 In many respects Wickliffo is the Luther of England; 
 but the times of revival had not 3-et come, and the 
 English reformer could not gain such striking victories 
 
 1 "The n'lt'i'^vity of H'0\ ^' ripture, 
 
 over Rome as the German reformer. While Luther 
 was surrounded by an ever-increasing number of 
 scholars and princes, who confessed the same faith 
 as liimsclf, Wickliffe shone almost alone in the firma- 
 ment of the Church. The boldness with which he 
 substituted a living spirituality for a superstitious for- 
 malism, caused those to shrink back in affright who 
 had gone with him .igainst friars, priests, and popes. 
 Erelong the Roman pontiff ordered him to be thrown 
 into prison, and the monks threiitened his life ; but 
 God protected him, and he remained calm amidst the 
 machinations of his adversaries. "Antichrist," said 
 he, " can only kill the body." Having one foot in the 
 grave already, he foretold, that from the very bosom of 
 monkery would some day proceed the regeneration of 
 tlie Ciiurch. "If the friars, whom God condescends 
 
 icli, -Jhall be converted to the 
 
 relisriou 
 
 
 ST. P A U L*S CROSS. 
 
 of Christ," said he, "we shall see them abamloning 
 their unbelief, returning freely, with or without tlie 
 permission of Antichrist, to the primitive religion 
 of the Lord, and building up the Church, as did St. 
 Paul." 
 
 Thus did Wickliffe's piercing glance discover, at the 
 distance of nearly a century and a-half, the young 
 monk Luther in the Augustine convent at Erfurt, con- 
 verted by the Epistle to the Romans, and returning to 
 the spirit of St. Paul and the religion of Jesus Christ. 
 Time was hastening on to the fulfilment of this pro- 
 phecy. " The ri.sing sun of the Reformation," for so 
 has Wickliffe been called, had appeared above the 
 horizon, and its beams were no more to be extin- 
 guished. In vain will thick clouds veil it at times ; 
 the distant hill-tops of Eastern Europe will soon 
 reflect its rays; and its piercing light, increasing in 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 brightness, will pour over all the world, at the hour 
 of the Church's renovation, floods of knowledge and 
 of life. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Tlie Wickliffltcs— Call fur Reform— Eichard 11.— The first Martyr— Lord 
 Cobliam— Appears before Henry V.— Bcfoie the Archbishoi)— His Con- 
 fession and Deatli— The Lollards. 
 
 Wickliffe's death manifested the power of his teach- 
 ing. The master being removed, his disciples set their 
 hands to the plough, and England was almost won 
 over to the refoi-nier's doctrines. The WicklilRtes re- 
 cognised a ministry independent of Kome, and deriving 
 authority from the Word of God alone. "Every 
 minister," said they, " can administer the sacraments 
 and confer the cure of souls as well as the pope." To 
 the licentious wealth of the clergy they opposed a 
 Christian poverty, and to the degenerate asceticism of 
 the mendicant orders, a sjiiritual and free life. The 
 townsfolk crowded around these humble preachers ; 
 the soldiers listened to them, armed with sword and 
 buckler to defend them ; the nobility took down the 
 images from their baronial chapels ; and even the 
 royal family was partly won over to the Reformation. 
 England was like a tree cut down to the ground, from 
 whose roots fresh buds are shooting out on every side, 
 erelong to cover all the earth beneath their shade. 
 
 Tills augmented the courage of Wickliffe's disciples, 
 and in many places the people took the initiative in 
 the reform. The walls of St. Paul's and other cathe- 
 drals were hung with placards aimed at the priests and 
 friars, and the abuses of which they were the defenders ; 
 and in 1395 the friends of the Gospel petitioned parlia- 
 ment for a general reform. "The essence of the wor- 
 ship which comes from Rome," said they, " consists in 
 signs and ceremonies, and not in the efficacy of the 
 Ilcdy Cihost; and therefore it is not that which Christ 
 has ordained. Temporal things are distinct from 
 spiritual things: a king and a bishop ought not to be 
 one and the same person." And then, from not clearly 
 understanding the principle of the separation of the 
 functions which they proclaimed, they called upon 
 parliament to "abolish celibacy, transubstantiation, 
 prayers for the dead, offei-ings to images, auricular 
 confession, war, the arts unnecessary to life, the prac- 
 tice of blessing oil, salt, wax, iucense, stones, mitres, 
 and pilgrim's staffs. All these pertain to necromancy, 
 and not to theology." Emboldened by the absence of 
 the king in Ireland, they fixed their Twelve Conclusions 
 on the gates of St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey. 
 This became the signal for persecution. 
 
 As soon as Arundel, archbishop of York, and Bray- 
 brookc, bishop of London, had read these propositions, 
 they hastily crossed St. George's Channel, and conjured 
 the king to return to England. The prince hesitated 
 not to comply, for his wife, the pious Anne of Luxem- 
 burg, was dead. Richard, during childhood and youth, 
 had been committed in succession to the charge of 
 several guardians, and like children (says an historian) 
 whose nurses have been often changed, he thrived none 
 
 the better for it. He did good or evil according to the 
 influence of those around him, and had no decided in- 
 clinations except for ostentation and licentiousness. 
 The clergy were not mistaken in calculating on such a 
 prince. On his return to London he forbade the parlia- 
 ment to take the Wickliffite petition into consideration; 
 and having summoned before him the most distin- 
 guished of its supporters, such as Story, Clifford, 
 Latimer, and Montacute, he threatened them with 
 death if they continued to defend their abomiiia1)!c 
 opinions. Tlius was the work of the reformer about 
 to be destroyed. 
 
 But Richard had hardly withdrawn his hand from 
 the Gospel, when God (says the annalist) withdrew 
 His hand from him.' His cousin, Henry of Hereford, 
 son of the famous Duke of Lancaster, and who had 
 been banished from England, suddenly sailed from the 
 Continent, lauded in Yorkshire, gathered all the mal- 
 contents around him, and was acknowledged king. 
 The unhappy Richard, after being formally deposed, 
 was confined in Pontefract castle, where he soon ter- 
 minated his earthly career. 
 
 The son of Wickliffe's old defender was now king: 
 a reform of the Church seemed imminent; but the pri- 
 mate Arundel had foreseen the danger. This cunning 
 priest and skilful politician had observed which way 
 tlie wind blew, and deserted Richard in good time. 
 Taking Lancaster by the hand, he put the crown on 
 his head, saying to him : " To consolidate your throne, 
 conciliate the clergy, and sacrifice the Lollards." — " I 
 will be the protector of the Church," replied Henry 
 IV.; and from that hour the power of the priests was 
 greater than the power of the nobility. Rome has 
 ever been adroit in profiting by revolutions. 
 
 Lancaster, in his eagerness to shew his gratitude to 
 the priests, ordered tliat every incorrigible heretic 
 should be biu-ut alive, to terrify his companions.' 
 Practice followed close upon the theory. A pious 
 priest, named William Sawtre, had presumed to say: 
 "Instead of adoring the cross on wiiich Christ suffered, 
 I adore Christ who suffered on it." He was dragged 
 to St. Paul's ; his hair was shaved off ; a layman's cap 
 was placed on his head ; and the primate handed him 
 over to the mej-ci/ of the earl-marshal of England. 
 This mercii was shewn him — he was burnt alive at 
 Smithfield in the beginning of March, l-lOl. Sawtre 
 was the first martyr to Protestantism. 
 
 Encouraged by this act of faith — this auto da fe — 
 the clergy drew up the articles known as the " Consti- 
 tutions of Arundel," which forbade the reading of the 
 Bible, and styled the pope, " not a mere man, but a 
 true God." The Lollards' tower, in the archiepiscopal 
 palace of Lambeth, was soon filled with pretended 
 heretics, many of whom carved on the walls of their 
 dungeons the expression of their sorrow and tlieir 
 hopes : Jesus amor meus, wrote one of them.'' 
 
 To crush the lowly was not enough : the Gospel 
 must be driven from the more exalted stations. The 
 priests, who were sincere in their belief, regarded those 
 noblemen as misleaders who set the Word of God above 
 
 1 Faxc, Ads, i., p. 584, fol., Load., 1GS4. 
 
 2 This is the statute known as 2 Henry IV., c. 15, tlie fust actual law in 
 En,.;land against heresy. — Ibid., p. 58li. 
 
 3 "Jesus is my love." These wordy are still to bo re.id in tlie tower. 
 
LORD COBHAM BEFORE THE ARCHBISHOP. 
 
 the laws of Kome ; :iud accordingly they girded tliem- 
 sclves for the worl^. A few miles from Rochester 
 stood Cowling Castle, in the midst of the fertile pas- 
 tures watered by tlie Jledway, 
 
 "The lair Mivlwaya that with wanton yMo 
 Forms .silver nm2es with her crookctl tidi.'." 
 
 In the beginning of the fifteenth century it was 
 inhabited by Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, a man 
 in high favour with the king. TIic "poor priests" 
 thronged to Cowling in quest of Wicklift'e'a writings, 
 of which Cobham had caused uumcrous copies to be 
 made, and whence they were circulated through the 
 dioceses of Canterbury, Rochester, London, and Hert- 
 ford. Cobiuini attended their preaching ; and if any 
 enemies ventured to interrupt them, he tlireatened 
 them with his sword. "I would sooner risk my life," 
 said he, "than submit to such unjust decrees as dis- 
 honour the everhisting Testament." The king would 
 not permit the clergy to lay hands on his favourite. 
 
 lint Henry V. having succeeded his father in 1413, 
 and passed from tlie house of ill-fame he had hitherto 
 frequented, to the foot of the altars and the head of 
 the armies, the archbishop immediately denounced 
 Cobham to him, and he was summoned to appear be- 
 fore the king. Sir John had understood AVickliffe's 
 doctrine, and experienced in his own person the miglit 
 of the Divine Word. " As touching the pope and his 
 spirituality," he said to the king, "I owe them neither 
 suit nor service, forasmuch as I know him by the Scrip- 
 tures to be the great antichrist." Henry thrust aside 
 Cobham's haud as he presented his confession of faith : 
 "I will not receive this paper; lay it before your judges." 
 When he saw his profession refused, Cobham had 
 recourse to the only arm wliich he knew of out of the 
 Gospel. The differences which we now settle by 
 pampldets were then very commonly settled by the 
 sword : " I offer, in defence of my faith, to fight for 
 life or death with any man living. Christian or pagan, 
 always excepting your majesty." Cobham was led to 
 the Tower. 
 
 On the 23d September, 1413, he was taken before 
 the ecclesiastical tribunal then sitting at St. Paul's. 
 *' We must believe," said the primate to him, " what 
 the holy church of Rome teaches, without demanding 
 Christ's authority." "Believe!" shouted the priests, 
 '•believe!" — "I am willing to believe all that God 
 desires," said Sir John; "but that the pope should 
 have authority to teach what is contrary to Scripture 
 — that I can never believe." He was led back to the 
 Tower. The Word of God was to have its martyr. 
 
 On Monday, 2,)th September, a crowd of priests, 
 canons, friars, clerks, and indulgence-sellers, thronged 
 the large hall of the Dominican convent, and attacked 
 Lord Cobham with abusive language. These insults, 
 the importance of the moment for the Reformation ot 
 Englaud, the catastrophe that must needs close the 
 scene, — all agitated his soul to its very depths. AVhen 
 the archbishop called upon him to confess his offence, 
 be fell on his knees, and lifting up his hands to heaven, 
 exclaimed: "I confess to Thee, O God! and acknow- 
 ledge that in my frail youth I seriously offeuded Thee, 
 by my pride, auger, intemperance, aud impurity: for 
 these offences I implore thy mercy!" Then standing 
 up, his face still wet with tears, he said : " I ask not 
 
 your absolution; it is God's only that I need." The 
 clergy did not despair, however, of reducing this high- 
 s[)iriled gentleman: they knew that spiritual strength 
 is not always conjoined with bodily vigour, and they 
 hoped to vanquish by priestly sophisms the man who 
 dared challenge the papal champions to single combat. 
 " Sir John," said the primate at last, "you have said 
 some very strange things; we have spent much time in 
 endeavours to convuice you, but all to no effect. The 
 day passeth away: you must either sidimit yourself to 
 the ordinance of the most holy church." . . . . — 
 "1 will uoue otherwise believe than what I have told 
 you. Do with me what you will." — " Well, then, we 
 must needs do the law," the archbishop made answer. 
 
 Arundel stood up; all the priests and people rose 
 with him and uncovered their heads. Then, holding 
 the sentence of death in his hand, he read it with a 
 loud clear voice. "It is well," said Sir John ; " though 
 you condemu my body, you can do no harm to my soul, 
 by the grace of my eternal God." He was again led 
 back to the Tower, whence he escaped one night, and 
 took refuge in Wales. He was retaken in December, 
 1417, carried to London, dragged on a hurdle to Saint 
 Giles's fields, and there suspended by chains over a slow 
 fire, aud cruelly burned to death. Thus died a Chris- 
 tian, illustrious after the fashion of his age — a cham- 
 pion of the AVord of God. The London prisons were 
 filled with Wickliffites, and it was decreed that they 
 should be hung on the king's account, and burnt for 
 God's. 
 
 The intimidated Lollards were compelled to hide 
 themselves in the humblest ranks of the people, and to 
 hold their meetings in secret. The work of redemption 
 was proceeding noiselessly among the elect of God. 
 Of these Lollards, there were many who had been 
 redeemed by Jesus Christ; but in general they knew 
 not, to the same extent as the Evangelical Christians 
 of the sixteenth century, the quickening and justifying 
 power of faith. TLey were plain, meek, and often 
 timid folks, attracted by the Word of God, affected at 
 the condemnation it pronounces against the erroi-s of 
 Rome, aud desirous of living according to its command- 
 ments. God had assigned them a part — and an im- 
 portant part too — in the great transformation of Chris- 
 tianity. Their humble piety, their passive resistance, 
 the shameful treatment which they bore with resigna- 
 tion, the penitent's robes with which they were covered, 
 the tapers they were compelled to hold at the church- 
 door — all these things betrayed the pride of the priests, 
 and filled the most generous minds with doubts and 
 vague desires. By a baptism of suffering, God was 
 then preparing the way to a glorious reformation. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Leai-ning at Florence— The Tiulors— Erasmus visits England— Sir Thomas 
 More— Dean Colet— Erasmus and young Henry— Prince Arthur- and 
 Catherine — Marriage and Death — Catherine Betrothed to Henry- 
 Accession of Henry VIII. —Enthusiasm of the Learned — Erasiuas 
 necalled to England- Cromwell before the Pope— Catherine proposed 
 to Henry— Their Mar-riage and Court— Tournaments— Henry's Danger. 
 
 This reformation was to be the result of two distinct 
 forces — the revival of learning and the resurrection of 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the "Word of God. The latter was the principal cause ; 
 but the former was necessary as a meaus. Without it 
 the living waters of the Gospel would probably have 
 
 />- .; 
 
 W: 
 
 BURNING AT SMITHFIELD 
 
 tiaversed the age, like summer sti earns which soon dry 
 up, such as tho'.e whith had buist foith liere and there 
 during the Middle Ages ; it would not have become that 
 majestic river, which, by its inundations, fertilized all 
 
 humanism (the study of the Classics) were the two 
 laboratories of the reform. We have seen the prepara- 
 tions of the one, we must now trace the commencement 
 of the other ; and as we have discovered 
 liie light in the lowly valleys, we shall 
 dibcern it also on the lofty mountain tops. 
 About the end of the fifteenth century 
 vc\ ei \\ young Englishmen chanced to 
 be at Florence, attracted thither by the 
 litei ary glory which environed the city 
 of the Medici. Cosmo had collected to- 
 gether a great number of worlds of anti- 
 quity, and his palace was thronged with 
 I ~ir*i learned men. William Selling, a young 
 ~~ir~Euglibh ecclesiastic, afterwards distin- 
 ^ "uished at Canterbury by his zeal in 
 >i j V^ t )llocting valuable manuscripts; his fel- 
 ,. h J'^'Pl u -countrymen, Grocyn, Lilly, and 
 1 itimer, "more bashful than a maiden;" 
 md, above all, Linaere, whom Erasmus 
 i\ inked before all the scliolars of Italy, 
 — used to meet, in the delicious vilLa of 
 ihc Medici, with Politian, Chalcondyles, 
 Lud other men of learning; and there, 
 in the calm evenings of summer, under 
 that glorious Tuscan sky, they dreamt 
 romantic visions of the Platonic philo- 
 sophy When they returned to England, 
 these learned men laid before the youth of 
 Oxfoid the raar\ellous treasures of the Greek language. 
 Some Italians even, attracted by the desire to enlighten 
 the barbarians, and a little, it may be, by the brilliant 
 offers made them, quitted their beloved country for 
 the distant Britain. Cornelius 
 Vitelli taught at Oxford, and 
 Cains Amberino at Cambridge. 
 Caxton imported the art of 
 printing from Germany, and the 
 nation, h.ailed with enthusiasm 
 tlie brilliant dawn which was 
 eaking at last in their cloudy 
 
 ;*r 
 
 .1" 
 
 ll 
 
 b 
 
 ^^^>i. 
 
 
 
 PONTEFRACT CASTLE. 
 
 ilh It was nLce-.saiy to discover and examine 
 i_iuil fount iins, and for this end the study of 
 
 Gieek xnd IIi.bio\\ was indispensable, Lollardism and 
 
 i^' ' ^ ' While learning was reviving 
 
 ^ m England, a cew dynasty suc- 
 
 I tded to the throne, bringing 
 
 IN ith it that energy of character 
 
 N Inch of itself is able to effect 
 
 cat revolutions: the Tudors 
 
 ceeded the Plantagenets. 
 
 I li it inflexible intrepidity by 
 ^44^'., which the reformers of Ger- 
 "'*"^ m in} , Switzerland, France, and 
 
 S( otland, were distinguished, 
 li 1 not exist so generally in 
 
 II se of England; but it was 
 )'K, t und in the character of her 
 
 kiug», who often stretched it 
 even to violence. It may be, 
 4 /'^ ^^" "j^^"" "' that to this preponderance of 
 energy in its rulers, the Cliurch 
 owes the preponderance of the 
 State in its affairs. 
 
 Henry Tudor, the Louis XI. of England, was a 
 clever prince, of decided but suspicious character, 
 
ERASMUS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 nvaricious nnd narrow-minded. Being descended from 
 a Welsh family, he belonged to that ancient race of 
 Celts, who had so long contended against the papacy. 
 Henry had extinguished faction at home, and tanght 
 foreign nations to respect his power. A good genius 
 seemed to exercise a salutary influence over his court 
 as well as over hims.lf: tliis was his mother, tlic 
 
 CHANTRY Of HENRV V., WESTMINSTER ABBEV. 
 
 Countess of Eichmond. From her closet, where she 
 consecrated the first five hours of the day to reading, 
 meditation, and prayer, she moved to another part of 
 the palace to dress the wounds of some of the lowest 
 mcudicants ; thence she passed into the gay saloons, 
 where she would converse with the scholars, whom she 
 encouraged by her munificence. Tliis noble lady's pas- 
 sion for study, of which her son inherited but little, 
 was not williout its influence in her family. Arthur 
 and Henry, the king's eldest sous, trembled in their 
 father's presence; but, captivated by the affection of 
 their pious grandmother, they began to find a pleasure 
 in tlic society of learned men. An important circum- 
 stance gave a new impulse to one of them. 
 
 Among the countess's friends was Moutjoy, who had 
 known Erasmus at I'aris, and heard his cutting sar- 
 casms upon the schoolmen and friars. He invited the 
 illustrious Dutchman to England ; and Erasmus, who 
 w.as fearful of catching the plague, gladly accepted the 
 invitation, and set out for what he believed to be the 
 kingdom of darkness. But he had not been long in 
 England before he discovered unexpected light. 
 
 Shortly after his arrival, happening to dine with the 
 lord-mayor, Erasmus noticed on the other side of the 
 table a young man of nineteen, slender, fresh-coloured, 
 
 with blue eyes, coarse hands, and the right shoulder 
 somewhat higher than the other. His features indi- 
 cated affability and gaiety; and pleasant jests were 
 continually dropping from his lips. If he could not 
 find a joke in English, he would in French, and even 
 in Latin or Greek. A literary contest soon ensued be- 
 tween Erasmus and the English youth. The former, 
 astonished at meeting with any one that could hold his 
 own agaiust him, exclaimed: ^^ Aiit tii es 3lonis aut 
 milhts!" (you arc either More or nobody;) and his 
 companion, who had not learnt the stranger's name, 
 quickly replied: ^'■Aiit fu es Erasmus aut diabohis .' " 
 (you are either the devil or Erasmus.) More flung 
 liimself into the arms of Erasmus, and they became 
 inseparable friends. More was continually joking, even 
 with women, teasing the young maidens, and making 
 fun of the dull, though without any tinge of ill-nature 
 in his jests. But under this sportive exterior he con- 
 cealed a deep understanding. He was at that time 
 lecturing on Augustine's "City of God" before a 
 numerous audience, composed of pi-iests and aged men. 
 The thought of eternity had seized him ; and being 
 ignorant of that internal discipline of the Holy Ghost, 
 which is the only true discipline, he had recourse to 
 the scourge on every Friday. Thomas More is the 
 ideal of the Catholicism of this period. He had, like 
 the Romish system, two ])oles — worldliness and asceti- 
 cism ; which, although contrary, often meat together. 
 In fact, asceticism makes a sacrifice of self, only to 
 preserve it; just as a traveller attacked by robbers 
 will readily give up a portion of his treasures to save 
 the rest. This was the case with Slore, if we rightly 
 understand his character. He sacrificed the accessories 
 of his fallen nature to save that same nature. He sub- 
 mitted to fasts and vigils, wore a shirt of hair-cloth, 
 mortified his body by small chains next his skin — in 
 a word, he immolated everything in order to preserve 
 that se/^' which a real regeneration alone can sacrifice. 
 
 From London Erasmus went to Oxford, where he 
 met with John Colet, a friend of More's, but older, and 
 of very dissimilar character. Colet, the scion of an 
 ancient family, was a very portly man, of imposing 
 aspect, great fortune, and elegance of manners, to 
 which Erasmus had not been accustomed. Oi'der, 
 cleanliness, and decorum, prevailed in his person and 
 in his house. He kept an excellent table, which was 
 open to all the friends of learning, and at which the 
 Dutchman, no great admirer of the colleges of Paris 
 with their sour wine and stale eggs, was glad to take 
 a seat. He there met also most of the classical scholars 
 of England, especially Grocyn, Linacre, Thomas Wol- 
 sey, bursar of Magdalene College, Halsey, and some 
 others. "I cannot tell you how I am delighted with 
 your England," he wrote to Lord Montjoy from Oxford. 
 " "With such men I could willingly live in the farthest 
 coasts of Scythia." 
 
 But if Erasmus on the banks of the Thames found 
 a Maecenas in Lord Montjoy, a Labeo, and perhaps a 
 Virgil, in More, he nowhere found an Augustus. One 
 day as he was expressing his regrets and his fears to 
 More, the latter said: "Come, let us go to Eltham, 
 jierhaps we shall find there what you are looking for." 
 They set out. More jesting all the way, inwardly 
 resolving to expiate his gaiety by a severe scourging 
 2q 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 at night. Ou their arrival they were heartily welcomed 
 I by Lord and Lady Montjoy, tiie governor and gover- 
 ness of the king's children. As the two friends 
 I entered the hall, a pleasing and unexpected sight 
 j greeted Erasmus. The whole of the family were 
 I assembled; and they found themselves surrounded 
 j rot only by some of the royal household, but by the 
 domestics of Lord Montjoy also. Ou the right stood 
 the Princess Margaret, a girl of eleven years, whose 
 great-grandson, under the name of Stuart, was to con- 
 tinue the Tudor Hue in England ; on the left was Mary, 
 a child four years of age ; Edmund was in his nurse's 
 arms ; and in the middle of the circle, between his two 
 sisters, stood a boy, at that time only nine years old, 
 whose handsome features, royal carriage, intelligent 
 eye, and exquisite courtesy, had an extraordinary 
 cliarm for Erasmus. That boy was Pleniy, duke of 
 York, the king's second son, born on the 28th June, 
 I 149L More, advancing towards the young prince, 
 j presented to him some piece of his own writing; and 
 from that hour Erasmus kept up a friendly intercourse 
 ! with Henry, which, in all probability, exercised a cer- 
 ; taij! influence over the destinies of England. Tlie 
 j scliolar of Rotterdam was delighted to see the prince 
 j excel in all the manly sports of the day. He sat his 
 I horse with perfect grace and rare intrepidity, could 
 ; hurl a javelin farther than any of liis companions, and, 
 j having an excellent taste for music, he was already a 
 [ performer ou several instruments. The king took care 
 j that he should receive a learned education, for he des- 
 tined him to fill the see of Canterbury; and the illus- 
 trious Erasmus, noticing his aptitude for everything he 
 undertook, did his best to cut and polish this English 
 diamond that it might glitter with the greater brilliancy. 
 " He will begin nothing that he will not finish," said 
 the scholar. And it is but too true, that this prince 
 always attained his end, even if it were necessary to 
 tread on the bleeding bodies of those he had loved. 
 Flattered by the attentions of the young Henry, at- 
 tracted by his winning grace, charmed by his wit, 
 Erasmus, on his return to the Continent, everywhere 
 proclaimed that England at last had found its Octavius. 
 As for Henry VII., he thought of everything but 
 Virgil or Augustus. Avarice and ambition were his 
 predominant tastes, which he gratified by the marriage 
 of his eldest son in 1501. Burgundy, Artois, Provence, 
 and Brittany, having been recently united to France, 
 the European powers felt the necessity of combining 
 against that encroaching state. It was in consequence 
 of this that Ferdinand of Arragou had given his daugh- 
 ter Joanna to Philip of Austria, and that Henry VII, 
 asked the hand of his daughter Catherine, then in her 
 sixteenth year, and the richest princess in Europe, for 
 Arthur, prince of Wales, a youth about ten mouths 
 youuger. The catholic king made one condition to 
 the marriage of his daughter. Warwick, the last of 
 the Plautageuets, and a pretender to the crown, was 
 confined in the Tower. Ferdinand, to secure the cer- 
 tainty that Catherine would really ascend the Englisii 
 throne, required that the unhappy prince should be put 
 to death. Nor did this alone satisfy the king of Spain. 
 Henry VII., who was not a cruel man, might conceal 
 Warwick, and say that he was no more. Ferdinand 
 demanded that the Chancellor of Castile should be 
 
 present at the execution. Tlie blood of Warwick was 
 shed ; his head rolled duly on the scaffold; the Castilian 
 chancellor verified and registered the murder ; and on 
 the 14th November the marriage was solemnized at 
 St. Paul's. At midnight the prince and princess were 
 conducted with great pomp to the bridal-chamber. 
 These were ill-omened nuptials — fated to set the kings 
 and nations of Christendom in battle against eacli 
 other, and to serve as a pretext for the external and 
 political discussions of the English Reformation. Tiie 
 marriage of Catherine the Catholic was a marriage of 
 blood. 
 
 In the early part of 1502 Prince Arthur fell ill, and 
 on the 2nd of April he died. The necessary time was 
 taken to be sure that Catherine had no hope of becom- 
 ing a mother, after which the friend of Erasmus, the 
 youthful Henry, was declared heir to the crown, to the 
 great joy of all the learned. This prince did not for- 
 sake his studies : he spoke and wrote in French, 
 Germ,an, and Spanish, with the facility of a native ; 
 and England hoped to behold one day the most learned 
 of Christian kings upon the throne of Alfred the 
 Great. 
 
 A very different question, however, filled the mind 
 of the covetous Henry VII. Must he restore to 
 Spain the two hundred thousand ducats which formed 
 Catherine's dowry? Shall this rich heiress be pei-- 
 mitted to marry some rival of England? To prevent 
 so great a misfortune, the king conceived the project of 
 uniting Henry to Arthur's widow. The most serious 
 objections were urged against it. "It is not only in- 
 consistent with i)ropriety," said Warham, the primate, 
 "but the will of God himself is against it. It is de- 
 clared in His law that ;/ a man shall take his bruthers 
 vife, it is an vncleaii t/iint/, (Lev. xx. 21;) and in the 
 Gospel, John Baptist says to Herod : It is not lawful for 
 thee to have thy brother's icife" (Mark vi. 18.) Fox, 
 bishop of Winchester, suggested that a dispensation 
 might be procured from the pope ; and in December, 
 1503, Julius II. granted a bull, declaring that, for the 
 sake of preserving union between the Catholic princes, 
 he authorized Catherine's marriage with the brother of 
 her first husband, accedenteforsan copula carnali. These 
 four words, it is said, were inserted in the bull at the 
 express desire of the princess. All these details will be 
 of importance in the course of our history. The two 
 parties were betrothed, but not married, in considera- 
 tion of the youth of the prince of Wales. 
 
 The second marriage projected by Henry VII. was 
 ushered in with auspices still less promising than the 
 first. The king having fallen sick, and lost his queen, 
 looked upon these visitations as a Divine judgment. 
 The nation murmured, and demanded wliether it was 
 in the pope's power to permit what God had forbidden. 
 Tlie young priuce, being informed of his father's 
 scruples and of the people's discontent, declared, just 
 before attaining his majority, (27th June, 1505,) ia 
 the presence of the Bishop of Winchester, and several 
 royal counsellors, that he protested against the engage- 
 ment entered into during his minority, and that he 
 would never make Catherine his wife. 
 
 His father's death, which made him free, made him 
 also recall this virtuous decision. In 1509, the hopes 
 of the learned seemed about to be realized. On the 
 
CROMWELL AND THE POPE. 
 
 595 
 
 9th of May, a lieai'se decorated with regal pomp, bcar- 
 inp: on a rich pall of cloth-of-gold the mortal remains 
 of Henry VIL, witli his sceptre and his crown, entered 
 Ijondon, followed by a long procession. The great 
 otlicers of state, assembled round the coifin, broke their 
 staves and cast them into the vault, and the heralds 
 cried with a loud voice: "God send the noble King 
 Ilcm-y VIIL long life!" Such a cry, perhaps, had 
 never on any previous occasion been so joyfully repeated 
 by the people. The young king gratified the wishes of 
 the nation by ordering the arrest of Empson and 
 Dudley, who were charged with extortion ; and he 
 conformed to the enlightened counsels of his graiid- 
 nidther, by choosing the most able ministers, aud 
 placing the Archbishop of Canterbiuy as lord-chan- 
 cellor at their head. AVarham was a man of great 
 capacity. The day was not too short for him to hear 
 mass, receive ambassadors, consult with the king in 
 the royal closet, entertain as many as two Innidred 
 guests at his table, take his seat on the woolsack, and 
 tind time for his private devotions. The joy of the 
 learned surpassed that of the people. The old king 
 wanted none of tiieir praises or congratulations, for 
 fear he should have to pay for them ; but now they 
 could give free course to their enthusiasm. Montjoy 
 pronounced the young king " divine ;" the Venetian 
 ambassador likened his port to Apollo's, and his noble 
 chest to the torso of Mars; he was lauded both in 
 Greek and Latin; he was hailed as the founder of a 
 new era; aud Henry seemed desirous of meriting these 
 eulogiums. Far from permitting himself to be intoxi- 
 cated by so much adulation, he said to Jlontjoy: "Ah! 
 how I should like to be a scholar!" — "Sire," replied 
 the courtier, " it is enough that you shew your regard 
 for those wlio possess the learning you desire for your- 
 self." " How can I do other\vise ? " he replied witli 
 earnestness; "without them we hardly exist!" Mont- 
 joy immediately communicated this to Erasmus. 
 
 Erasmus! — Erasmus! — the walls of Eltham, Oxford, 
 and London resounded with the name. The king 
 could not live witliout the learned; nor the learned 
 without Erasmus. This scholar, who was an enthusiast 
 for the young king, was not long in answering to the 
 call. "When Richard Pace, one of the most accom- 
 plished men of that age, met the learned Dutchman at 
 Ferrnra, the latter took from his pocket a little box 
 which he always carried with him : "Yon don't know," 
 he said, "what a treasure you have in England: I 
 will just shew you ;" and he took from the box a letter 
 of Henry's, expressing in Latin of considerable purity 
 the teuderest regard for his correspondent. Imme- 
 diately after the coronation Montjoy wrote to Erasmus: 
 " Our Henry Oclanis, or rather Octaviii.^, is on the 
 throne. Come and behold the new star. The heavens 
 smile, the earth leaps for joy, and all is flowing with 
 milk, nectar, and honey. Avarice has fled away, 
 liberality has desceuded, scattering on every side 'with 
 gracious hand her bounteous largesses. Our king 
 desires not gold or precious stones, but virtue, glory, 
 and immortality." 
 
 In such glowing terms was the young king described 
 by a man who had seen him closely. Erasmus could 
 resist no longer: he bade the pope farewell, and 
 hastened to London, where he met with a hearty wel- 
 
 come from Henry. Science aud power embwiced each 
 other : England was about to have its Medici ; and the 
 friends of learning no longer doubted of the regeaera- 
 tion of Britain. 
 
 Julius II., who had permitted Erasmus to exchange 
 the white frock of the monks for the black dress of the 
 seculars, allowed him to depart without much regret. 
 This pontiff had little taste for letters, but was fond of 
 war, hunting, and the pleasures of the table. The 
 English sent him a dish to his taste in exchange for 
 the scholar. Some time after Erasmue had left, as the 
 pope was one day reposing from the fatigues of the 
 chase, he heard voices near him singing a strange song. 
 He asked with surprise what it meant. " It is some 
 Englishmen," was the answer; and three foreigners 
 entered the room, each bearing a closely covered jar, 
 which the youngest presented on his knees. This was 
 Thomas Cromwell, who appears here for the first time 
 on the historic scene. lie was the son of a blacksmith 
 of Putney; but he possessed a mind so penetrating, a 
 judgment so sound, a heart so bold, ability so consum- 
 mate, such easy elocution, such an accurate memory, 
 such groat activity, and so able a pen, that the most bril- 
 liant career was foreboded him. At the age of twenty 
 he left England, being desirous to see the world, and be- 
 gan life as a clerk in the English factory at Antwerp. 
 Shortly after this two fellow-countrymen from Boston 
 came to him in their embarrassment. " What do you 
 want?" he asked them. — " Our townsmen have sent us 
 to the pope," they told him, "to get the renewal of the 
 (jreatev and lesser pardons, whose term is nearly run, 
 aud which are necessary for the repair of our harbour. 
 But we do not know how to appear before him." Crom- 
 well, prompt to undertake everything, and knowing a 
 little Italian, replied : "I will go with you." Then slap- 
 ping his forehead, he muttered to himself, "AVhat fish 
 can I throw out as a bait to these greedy cormorants?" 
 A friend informed him that the pope was very fond of 
 dainties. Cromwell immediately ordered some exquisite 
 jelly to be prepared, after the English fashiou, and set 
 out for Italy with his provisions and his two companions. 
 
 This was the man who appeared before Julius after 
 his return from the chase. "Kings and princes alone 
 eat of this preserve in England," said Cromwell to the 
 pope. One cardinal, who was a greedier "cormorant" 
 than his master, eagerly tasted the delicacy. "Try it," 
 he exclaimed ; and the pope, relishing this new confec- 
 tionery, immediately signed the pardons, ou condition, 
 however, that the receipt for the jelly should be left 
 with him. "And thus were the jelh/ pardous obtained," 
 says the annalist. It was Cromwell's first exploit; and 
 the man who began his busy career by presenting jars 
 of confectionery to the pope, was also the man destined 
 to separate England from Rome. 
 
 The coiu-t of the pontiff was not the only one in 
 Europe devoted to gaiety, Hunting parties were as 
 common in London as at Rome. The young king and 
 his companions were at that time absorbed in balls, 
 banquets, and the other festivities inseparable from a 
 new reign. He recollected, however, that he must 
 give a queen to his people : Catherine of Arragon was 
 still in England, and the council recommended her for 
 his wife. He admired her piety without caring to 
 imitate it ; he was pleased with her love for literature 
 
596 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 and even felt some inclination towards her. His 
 advisers represented to him that " Catherine, daughter 
 of the iUustrious Isabella of Castile, was the image of 
 her mother. Like her, she possessed that wisdom and 
 greatness of mind which win the respect of nations; 
 
 ^}--y6^J" 
 
 Sn THOMAS MORES HOUSE 
 
 and tint if ■~he earned to any of his mala her maiiiafic- 
 poitiou and the fepanish alliance, the long-contested 
 crown of England would soon fall from his head. . . . 
 We have the pope's dispensation : will you be more 
 scrupulous than he is ? " The Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury opposed in vain : Henry gave way, and on the 
 eleventh of Juno, about seven weeks after his father's 
 death, the nuptials were privately celebrated. On the 
 twenty-third, the king and queen went in state through 
 the city, the bride wearing a white satin dress, with 
 her hair hanging down her back nearly to her feet. 
 On the next day they were crowned at AVestminster 
 with great magnificence. 
 
 HENRY VIII., 
 
 (After Bolbein's Picture.) 
 
 Then followed a series of expensive entertainments. 
 
 The treasures which the nobility had long concealed, 
 
 from fear of the old king, were now brought out ; the 
 
 ladies glittered with gold and diamonds ; and the king 
 
 and queen, whom the people never grew tired of 
 
 admiring, amused themselves like children with 
 
 the splendour of their royal robes. Henry VIII. 
 
 was the forerunner of Louis XIV. Naturally 
 
 inclined to pomp and pleasure, the idol of his 
 
 peojjk, a devoted admirer of female beauty, and 
 
 hii'.band of almost as many wives as Louis 
 
 hid adulterous mistresses, he made the court of 
 
 Lii„l ind uhat the son of Anne of Austria made 
 
 (he court of France, — one constant scene of 
 
 iiuii^cmmts. He thought he could never get to 
 
 I lid of the riches amassed by his prudent 
 
 Ik 1 His youth — for he was only eighteen — 
 
 gxict} of his disposition, the grace he dis- 
 
 ■-- pi 1} cd in ill bodily exercises, the tales of chivalry 
 
 in which he delighted, and which even the clergy 
 
 lecommeiuled to their high-born hearers, the 
 
 Hattciy of his courtiers, — all these combined to 
 
 '.Lt hi'. J oung imagination in a ferment. Wher- 
 
 c\ei he appealed, all were filled with admiration of 
 
 his handoome countenance and graceful figure: such 
 
 is the portrait bequeathed to us by his greatest enemy. 
 
 " His brow was made to wear the crown, and his 
 
 majestic port the kingly mantle," adds Noryson. 
 
 Henry resolved to realize without delay the chival- 
 rous combats and fabulous splendours of the heroes of 
 the Round Table, as if to prepare himself for those 
 more real struggles which he would one day have to 
 maintain against the papacy. At the sound of the 
 trmnpet, the youthful monarch would enter the lists, 
 clad in costly armour, and wearing a plume that fell 
 gi-acefully down to the saddle of his vigorous courser : 
 "like an untamed bull," says an historian, "which 
 breaks away from its yoke and rushes into the arena." 
 On one occasion, at the celebration of the queen's 
 churching, Catherine with her ladies were seated in a 
 tent of purple and gold, in the midst of an artificial 
 forest, strewn with rocks and variegated with flowers. 
 On a sudden a monk stepped forward, wearing a long 
 brown robe, and kneeling jjefore her, begged permission 
 to run a course. It was granted, and rising up, he 
 threw aside his coarse frock, and appeared gorgeously 
 armed for the tourney. He was Charles Brandon, 
 afterwards Duke of Suffolk, one of the handsomest 
 and strongest men in the kingdom, and the first after 
 Henry in military exercises. He was followed by a 
 number of others dressed in black velvet, with wide- 
 brimmed hats on their heads, staffs in their hands, and 
 scarfs across their shoulders ornamented with cockle 
 shells, like pilgrims from St. James of Compostella. 
 These also threw off their disguise, and stood forth in 
 complete armour. At their head was Sir Thomas 
 Boleyn, whose daughter was fated to surpass in beauty, 
 greatness, and misfortune, all the women of England. 
 The tournament began. Henry, who has been com- 
 pared to Amadis in boldness, to the lion-hearted 
 Richard in courage, and to Edward III. in courtesy, 
 did not always escape danger in these chivalrous con- 
 tests. One day the king had forgotten to lower his 
 
THE POPE EXCITES HENRY TO WAR. 
 
 visor, ami Jirandon, liis opponent, setting off at full 
 gallop, the spectators noticed the oversight, and cried 
 out in alarm. But nothing could stop their horses : 
 the two cavaliers met. Suffolk's lance was shivered 
 against Henry, and the fragments struck him in the 
 face. Every one thought the king was dead, and some 
 were running to arrest Brandon, when Henry, recover- 
 ing from the blow, which had fallen on his helmet, 
 recommenced the combat, and ran six new courses 
 amid the admiring cries of his subjects. This intrepid 
 courage changed as he grew older into unsparing 
 cruelty ; and it was this young tiger whose movements 
 were then so graceful, that at no distant day lore with 
 his bloody fangs the mother of his children." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Tlie ropo excites to War— Colefs Sermon at St. Paul's— The Flemish Cam- 
 I>aign— JIairinge of Louis XII. and Princess Mary— Letter from Anne 
 Bole™— Marriage of Brandon and Mary- Oxford— Sir Thomas More at 
 Court— Attack upon the Monasteries— Colet's Household— lie Preaches 
 Hcform— Tlie Greeks and Trojans. 
 
 A MESSAGE from the pope stopped Henry in the midst 
 of these amusements. In Scotland, Spain, France, and 
 Italy, the young king had nothing but friends; a har- 
 mony which the papacy was intent on disturbing. One 
 day, immediately after high mass had been celebrated, 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury, on behalf of Julius II., 
 laid at his feet a golden rose, which had been blessed 
 by the pope, anointed with holy oil, and perfumed with 
 musk. It was accompanied by a letter, saluting him 
 as head of the Italian league. The warlike pontiff 
 having reduced the Venetians, desired to humble 
 France, and to employ Henry as the instrument of his 
 vengeance. Henry, only a short time before, had 
 renewed his alliance with Louis XII.; but the pope 
 was not to be baffled by such a trifle as that ; and the 
 young king soon began to dream of rivalling the glories 
 of Crecy, Poitiers, and Agincourt. To no purpose did 
 his wisest councillors represent to him that England, 
 in the most favourable times, had never been able to 
 hold her ground in France, and that the sea was the 
 true field open to her conquests. Julius, knowing his 
 vanity, had promised to deprive Louis of the title of 
 Most Christian king, and confer it upon him. " His 
 holiness hopes that your grace will utterly exterminate 
 the king of France," wrote the king's agent.' Henry 
 saw nothing objectionable in this very unapostolic mis- 
 sion, and decided on substituting the terrible game of 
 war for the gentler sports of peace. 
 
 In the spring of 1511, after some unsuccessful 
 attempts by his generals, Henry determined to invade 
 France in person. He was in the midst of his prepara- 
 tions when the festival of Easter arrived. Dean Colet 
 had been appointed to preach before Henry on Good 
 Friday; and in the course of his sermon he shewed 
 more courage than could have been expected in a 
 scholar, for a spark of the Christian spirit was glowing 
 in his bosom. He chose for the subject of his discourse 
 
 1 Letter of Cardinal Bembridge. Cotton MSS. VUell, B ii., p. S. 
 
 Christ's victory over death and the grave. " Whoever 
 takes up arms from ambition," said he, "fights not 
 under tlie standard of Christ, but of Satan. If you 
 desire to contend against your enemies, follow Jesus 
 Christ as your prince and captain, rather than Cajsar 
 or Alexander." Ilis hearers looked at each other with 
 astonishment; the friends of polite literature became 
 alarmed; and the priests, who were getting uneasy at 
 the uprising of the human mind, hoped to profit by 
 this opportunity of iiillicting a deadly blow on their 
 antagonists. There were among them men whose 
 opinions we must condemn, while we cannot forbear 
 respecting the zeal for what they believed to be the 
 truth : of this ninnber were Bricot, Fitzjames, and 
 above all, Standi.-ih. Their zeal, however, went a little 
 too far on tliis occasion : they even talked of burning 
 the dean. After the .-iriiiinn, ( Olct was informed that 
 the king requested his alh'iiii.Liicc in the garden of the 
 Franciscan monastery; and iniuuMliately the priests and 
 monks crowded round the gate, hoping to see their 
 adversary led forth as a crimiuid. " Let us be alone," 
 said Henry; "put on your cap, Mr. Dean, and we will 
 take a walk. Cheer up," ho continued, "you have 
 nothing to fear. You have spoken admirably of 
 Christian charity, and have almost reconciled me to 
 the King of Franco; yet, as the contest is not one of 
 choice, but of necessit}', I must beg of you in some 
 future sermon to explain this to my people. Unless 
 you do so, I fear my soldiers may misunderstand your 
 meaning." Colet was not a John Baptist, and, affected 
 by the king's condescension, he gave the required ex- 
 planation. The king was satisfied, and exclaimed : 
 "Let every man have his doctor as he pleases; this 
 man is my doctor, and 1 will drink his health !" 
 Henry was then young : very different was the fashion 
 with which, in after years, he treated those who opposed 
 hiin. 
 
 At heart the king cared little more about the 
 victories of Alexander than of Jesus Christ. Having 
 fitted out his army, he embarked at the end of June, 
 accompanied by his almoner, Wolsey, who ■v^^as rising 
 into favour, and set out for the war as if for a tourna- 
 ment. Shortly after this, he went, all glittering with 
 jewels, to meet the Emperor Maximilian, who received 
 him in a plain doublet and cloak of black serge. 
 After his victory at the battle of Spurs, Henrj', instead 
 of pressing forward to the conquest of France, re- 
 turned to the siege of Terouenne ; wasted his time in 
 jousts and entertainments ; conferred on Wolsey the 
 bishopric of Tournay, which he had just captured; 
 and then returned to England, delighted at having 
 made so pleasant an excursion. 
 
 Louis XII. was a widower in his fifty-thud year, and 
 bowed dowu by the infirmities of a premature old age ; 
 but being desirous of preventing, at any cost, the 
 renewal of the war, he sought the hand of Henry's 
 sister, the Princess jMary, then in her sixteenth year. 
 Her affections were already fixed on Charles Brandon, 
 and for him she would have sacrificed the splendour 
 of a throne. But reasons of state opposed their union. 
 " The princess," remarked Wolsey, " will soon return 
 to England a widow with a royal dowry." This 
 decided the question. The disconsolate Mary, who 
 was an object of universal pity, embarked at Dover 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 with a numerous train; and from Boulogne, where she 
 was received by the Duke of Angouleme, she was 
 conducted to the king, elated at tlie idea of marrying 
 the haudaomest princess in Europe. 
 
 Among Mary's attendants was the youthful Anne 
 Eoleyn. Her father, Sir Thomas Boleyn, had been 
 charged by Henry, conjointly with the Bishop of Ely, 
 with the diplomatic negotiations preliminary to this 
 marriage. Anne had passed her childhood at Hever 
 Castle, surrounded by all that could heat the imagina- 
 tion. Her maternal grandfather, the Earl of Surrey, 
 whose eldest son had married the sister of Henry the 
 Seventh's queen, had filled, as did his sons also, the 
 most important offices of state. At the age probably 
 of fourteen, when summoned by her father to court, 
 she wrote him tlie following letter in French, which 
 appears to refer to her departure for France : — 
 
 "Sir, — I find by )'our letter that you wish me to 
 appear at court ia a manner becoming a respectable 
 female, and likewise that the queen will condescend to 
 enter into couversation with me ; at this I rejoice, as 
 I do to think, that conversing with so sensible and 
 elegant a princess will make me even more desirous of 
 continuing to speak and to write good French ; the 
 more as it is by your earnest advice, which (I acquaint 
 you by this present writing) I shall follow to the best 
 
 of my ability As to myself, rest assured 
 
 that I shall not ungratefully look upon this fatherly 
 otlice as one that might be dispensed with ; nor will it 
 tend to diminish my affection, quest [wish], and de- 
 liberation to lead as holy a life as you may please to 
 desire of me ; indeed my love for you is founded on 
 so firm a basis that it can never be impaired. I put 
 an end to this my lucubration after having very 
 humbly craved your good will and affection. Written 
 at Hever, by 
 
 " Your very humble and obedient daughter, 
 
 "Anna de Boullai^."^ 
 
 Such were the feelings under which this young and 
 interesting lady, so calumniated by papistical writers, 
 appeared at court. 
 
 The marriage was celebrated at Abbeville, on the 
 9th of October, 1.514; and after a sumptuous banquet, 
 the king of France distributed his royal largesses among 
 tlie English lords, who were charmed by his courtesy. 
 But the morrow was a day of trial to the young 
 queen. Louis XII. had dismissed the numerous train 
 Avhieh had accomjianied her, and even Lady Guildford, 
 to whom Henry had specially confided her. Three 
 only were left, — of whom the youthful Anne Boleyn 
 was one. At this separation Mary gave way to the 
 keenest sorrow. To cheer her spirits, Louis pro- 
 claimed a grand tournament. Brandon hastened to 
 France at its first announcement, and carried off all 
 the prizes; while the king, languidly reclining on a 
 couch, could with difficulty look upon the brilliant 
 spectacle over which his queen presided, sick at heart, 
 yet radiant with youth and beauty. Mary was unable 
 
 1 Tlie French original is presen-ed aiuoug ArchbisUop Parker's MS3. at 
 Coi-pus Cliristi College, Cambridge. The translation in the text is (with a 
 sliglit variation) from Sir H. Ellis's CoUection of royal and other letters, 
 ■vol. iL, second series. 
 
 to conceal her emotion, and Louisa of Savoy, who was 
 watching her, divined her secret. But Louis, if he 
 experienced the tortures of jealousy, did not feel them 
 long, for his death took place on the 1st January, 151.5. 
 
 Even before her husband's funeral was over, Mary's 
 heart beat high with hope. Francis I., impatient to 
 see her wedded to some unimportant political person- 
 age, encouraged her love for Brandon. The latter, 
 who had been commissioned by Henry to convey to 
 her his letters of condolence, feared his master's 
 auger if he should dare aspire to the hand of the 
 princess. But the widowed queen, who was resolved 
 to brave everything, told her lover : " Either you 
 marry me in four days, or you see me no more." The 
 choice the king had made of his amba.ssador announced 
 that he would not behave very harshly. The marriage 
 was celebrated in the abbey of Clugny, and Henry 
 pardoned them. 
 
 While Mary returned to England, as Wolsey had 
 predicted, Anne Boleyn remained in France. Her 
 father, desiring his daughter to become an accom- 
 plished woman, intrusted her to the care of the 
 virtuous Claude of France, the good queen, at whose 
 court the daughters of the first families of the kingdom 
 were trained. Margaret, Duchess of Alen^on, the 
 sister of Francis, and afterwards Queen of Navarre, 
 often charmed the queen's circle by her lively con- 
 versation. She soon became deeply attached to the 
 young Englishwoman, and on the death of Claude, 
 took her into her own family. Anne Boleyn was 
 destined at no very remote period to be at the court of 
 London a reflection of the graceful Margaret, and her 
 relations with that princess were not without influence 
 on the English Reformation. 
 
 And indeed tlie literary movement which had 
 passed from Italy into France appeared at that time 
 as if it would cross from France into Britain. Oxford 
 exercises over England as great an influence as the 
 metropolis; and it is almost always within its walls 
 that a movement commences, whether for good or 
 evil. At this period of our history an enthusiastic 
 youth hailed with joy tlie first beams of the new sun, 
 and attacked with their sarcasms tlie idleness of the 
 monks, the immorality of the clergy, and the super- 
 stition of the people. Disgusted with the priestcraft 
 of the Middle Ages, and captivated by the writers of 
 antiquity and the purity of the Gospel, Oxford boldly 
 called for a reform which should burst the bonds of 
 clerical domination, and emancipate the human mind. 
 Men of letters thought for awhile that they had found 
 the most [lowerful man in England in Wolsey, the ally 
 that would give them the victory. 
 
 He possessed little taste for learning; but seeing 
 the wind of public favour blow in that direction, he 
 readily spread his sails before it. He got the reputa- 
 tion of a profound divine, by quoting a few words of 
 Thomas Aquinas, and the fame of a Maiceuas and 
 Ptolemy, by inviting the learned to his gorgeous 
 entertainments. "O happy cardinal," exclaimed 
 Erasmus, "who can surround his table with such 
 torches !" 
 
 At that time the king felt the same ambition as his 
 minister; and having tasted in turn the pleasures of 
 war and diplomacy, he now bent his mind to literature. 
 
COLET PREACHES THE REFORMATION. 
 
 599 
 
 lie desired 'Wol.scy to present Sir Thomas More to 
 liim. — " What shall I do at court ?" rci)licd the hitter. 
 "I shall be na awkward as a man that never rode 
 sittcth in a saddle." Happy in his family circle, 
 wiicre his father, mother, and children, gatherinj; 
 round the same table, formed a pleasing group, which 
 the pencil of Holbein has transmitted to us, More had 
 no desire to leave it. But Henry was not a man to 
 put lip with a refusal ; he employed force almost to 
 draw More from his retirement, and in a short time he 
 could not live without the society of the man of lettei-s. 
 On calm and starlight nights they would walk together 
 upon the leads at the top of the palace, discoursing on 
 the motions of the heavcidy bodies. If More did not 
 appear at court, Henry would go to Chelsea and share 
 the frugal dinner of the family with some of their 
 simple neighbours. " AVhere," asked Erasmus, "where 
 is the Athens, the Porch, or the Academe, that can be 
 compared with the court of England .^ .... It 
 
 is a scat of the muses rather than a palace 
 
 The golden age is reviving, and I congratulate the 
 world." 
 
 But the friends of Classical learning were not con- 
 tent with the cardinal's banquets or the king's favours. 
 They wanted victories, and their keenest darts were 
 aimed at the cloisters, those strong fortresses of the 
 hierarchy and of uncleanness. The Abbot of Saint 
 Albans having taken a married woman for his concu- 
 bine, and placed her at the head of a nunnery, his 
 monks had follovv-ed his example, and indulged in the 
 most scandalous debauchery. Public indignation was 
 so far aroused, that Wolsey himself — Wolsey, the 
 father of several illegitimate children, and who was 
 suffering the penalty of his irregularities — was carried 
 away by the spirit of the age, and demanded of the 
 po|ic a general reform of manners. "When they heard 
 of this request, the priests and friars were loud in their 
 outcries. "What are you about?" said they to 
 Wolsey. " You are giving the victory to the enemies 
 of the Church, and your only reward will be the hatred 
 of the whole world." As this was not the cardinal's 
 game, he abandoned his project, and conceived one 
 more easily executed. Wishing to deserve the name 
 of '-Ptolemy," conferred on him by Erasmus, he 
 undertook to build two large colleges, one at Ipswich, 
 his native town, the other at Oxford ; and found it 
 convenient to take the money necessary for their en- 
 dowment, not from his own purse, but from the purses 
 of the monks. He pointed out to the pope twenty-two 
 monasteries, in which (he said) vice and impiety had 
 taken up their abode. The pope granted their secu- 
 larization, and AVolsey having thus procured a revenue 
 of £2000 sterling, laid the foundations of his college, 
 traced out various courts, and constructed spacious 
 kitchens. He fell into disgrace before he had com- 
 pleted his work, which led Gualter to say with a sneer: 
 " He began a college, and built a cook's shop." But a 
 gi-eat example had been set : the monasteries had been 
 attacked, and the first breach made in them by a 
 cardinal. Cromwell, Wolsey's secretary, remarked 
 how his master had set about his work, and in after 
 years profited by the lesson. 
 
 It was fortunate for letters that they had sincerer 
 friends in London than Wolsey. Of these were Colet, 
 
 dean of St. Paul's, whose house was the centre of the 
 literary movement which ])receded the Reformation, 
 and his friend and guest, Erasmus. The latter was 
 the hardy pioneer who opened the road of antiquity to 
 modern Europe. One day he would entertain Colet's 
 guests with the account of a new manuscript; on 
 another, with a discussion on the forms of ancient 
 literature ; and at other times he would attack the 
 schoolmen and monks, when Colet would take the 
 same side. The only antagonist who dared measure 
 his strength with him was Sir Thomas Jlore, who, 
 although a layman, stoutly .defended the ordinances of 
 the Church. 
 
 But mere table-talk could not satisfy the dean: a 
 numerous audience attended his sermons at St. Paul's. 
 The spirituality of Christ's words, the authority which 
 characterizes them, their admirable simplicity and 
 mysterious depth, had deeply charmed him : "I admire 
 the writings of the Apostles," he would say, " but I 
 forget them almost when I contemplate the wonderful 
 majesty of Jesus Christ." Setting aside the texts 
 prescribed by the church, he explained, like Zwingle, 
 the Gospel of St. Matthew. Nor did he stop here. 
 Taking advantage of the Convocation, he delivered a 
 sermon on conformation and reformation, which was 
 one of the numerous forerunners of the great reform 
 of the sixteenth century. "We see strange and 
 heretical ideas appear in our days, and no wonder," 
 said he. " But you must know there is no heresy 
 more dangerous to the church than the vicious lives 
 of its priests. A reformation is needed ; and that 
 reformation must begin with the bishops, and be 
 extended to the priests. The clergy once reformed, 
 we shall proceed to the reformation of the people." 
 Thus spoke Colet, while the citizens of London listened 
 to him with rapture, and called him a new St. Paul. 
 
 Such discourses could not be allowed to pass un- 
 punished. Fitzjames, bishop of London, was a super- 
 stitious, obstinate old man of eighty, fond of money, 
 excessively irritable, a poor theologian, and a slave to 
 Duns Scotus, the suhtle doctor. Calling to his aid two 
 other bishops as zealous as himself for the preservation 
 of abuses, namely, Bricot and Standish, he denounced 
 the Dean of St. Paul's to Warham. The archbishop 
 having inquired v.hat he had done: "What has he 
 done ?" rejoined the Bishop of London. " He teaches 
 that we must not worship images ; he translates the 
 Lord's Prayer into English ; he'pretends that the text. 
 Feed mi/ sheep, does not include the temporal supplies 
 the clergy draw from their flock. And besides all 
 this," hecontinued with some embarrassment, " he has 
 spoken against tliose who carry their manuscripts into 
 the pulpit and read their sermons !" As this was the 
 bishop's practice, the primate could not refrain from 
 smiling; and since Colet refused to justify himself, 
 Warham did so for him. 
 
 From that time Colet laboured with fresh zeal to 
 scatter the darkness. He devoted the larger portion 
 of his fortune to found the celebrated school of St. 
 Paul, of which the learned Lilly was the first master. 
 Two parties, the Greeks and the Trojans, entered the 
 lists, not to contend with sword and spear, as in the 
 ancient epic, but with the tongue, the pen, and some- 
 times the fist. If the Trojans (the obscurants) were 
 
600 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION". 
 
 defeated in the public disputatious, they had their 
 revenge in the secret of the confessional. Cave a 
 Gnccis ne Jias hereticus,^ was the watchword of the 
 priests — their daily lesson to the youths vmder their 
 care. They looked on the school founded by Colet 
 as the monstrous horse of the perjured Sinon, and 
 announced, that from its bosom would inevitably issue 
 tlie destruction of the people. Colet and Erasmus 
 replied to the monks by iuflictiug fresh blows. 
 Linacre, a thorough literary enthusiast, — Grocyu, 
 a man of sarcastic humour, but generous heart, — 
 and many others, reinforced the Grecian phalanx. 
 Henry himself used to take one of them with him 
 duriug his journeys, and if any unlucky Trojan ven- 
 tured, in his presence, to attack the tongue of Plato 
 and of St. Paul, the young king would set his Helleuian 
 on him. Not more numerous were the contests wit- 
 nessed, in times of yore, on the Classic banks of 
 Xanthus and Simois. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Isey— His First Commission— His Couiplaisani 
 Chancellor, and Lej^ate— Ostentation and Ne 
 Enmity— Pretensions of the Clergy. 
 
 ; and Dioceses— Cardinal, 
 ronianc}'— His Spies and 
 
 Just as everything seemed tending to a reformation, a 
 powerful priest rendered the way more difficult. 
 
 One of the most striking personages of the age was 
 then making his appearance on the stage of the world. 
 
 It was the destiny of that man, in the reign of Henry 
 VIII., to combine extreme ability with extreme immo- 
 rality: and to be a new and striking example of the 
 
 1 Beware of the Greeks, lest you sIiouUl become a heretic. 
 
 wholesome truth, that immorality is more effectual to 
 destroy a man than ability to save him. Wolsey was 
 the last high-priest of Rome in England; and when his 
 fall startled the nation, it was the signal of a still more 
 striking fall — the fall of Popery. 
 
 Thomas AVolsey, the son of a wealthy butcher of 
 Ipswich, according to the common story, which is 
 sanctioned by high authority, had attained under 
 Henry VII. the post of almoner, at the recommendation 
 of Sir Richard Naufan, treasurer of Calais, and an old 
 patron of his. But "Wolsey was not at all desirous of 
 passing his life in saying mass. As soon as he had 
 discharged the regular duties of his office, instead of 
 spending the rest of the day in idleness, as his col- 
 leagues did, he strove to win the good graces of the 
 persons round the king. 
 
 Fox, bishop of Winchester, keeper of the privy-seal 
 under Henry VII., uneasy at the growing power of the 
 Earl of Surrey, looked about for a man to counter- 
 balance them. He thought he had found such an one 
 iu Wolsey. It was to oppose the Surreys, the grand- 
 father and uncles of Anne Boleyn, that the son of the 
 Ipswich butcher was drawn from his obscurity. This 
 is not an unimportant circumstance in our narrative. 
 Fox began to praise Wolsey in the king's hearing, 
 and, at the same time, he encouraged the almoner to 
 give himself to public affairs. The latter was not 
 deaf, and soon found an opportunity of winning his 
 sovereign's favour. 
 
 The kiug having business of importance with the 
 cinperor, who was then in Flanders, sent for Wolsey, 
 explained his wishes, and ordered him to prepare to 
 set out. The chaplain determined to shew Henry 
 VII. how capable he was of serving him. It was 
 long past noon when he took leave of the king at 
 Richmond — at four o'clock he was in London, at seven 
 at Gravescnd. By travelling all night he reached 
 Dover just as the packet-boat was about to sail. 
 After a passage of three hours he reached Calais, 
 whence he travelled post, and the same evening 
 appeared before Maximilian. Haviug obtained what 
 he desired, he set off again by night, and on the next 
 day but one reached Richmond, three days and some 
 few hours after his departure. The king, catching 
 sight of him just as he was going to mass, sharply 
 inquired why he had not set out. " Sire, I am just 
 returned," answered Wolsey, placing the emperor's 
 letters in his master's hands. Henry was delighted, 
 and Wolsey saw that his fortune was made. 
 
 The courtiers hoped at first that Wolsey, like an 
 inexperienced pilot, would run his vessel on some 
 hidden rock ; but never did helmsman manage his ship 
 with more skill. Although twenty years older than 
 Henry VIII., the almoner danced, and sang, and 
 laughed with the prince's companions, and amused 
 his new master with tales of scaudal and quotations 
 from Thomas Aquinas. The young king found his 
 house a temple of paganism, a shrine of voluptuous- 
 ness ; and while Henry's councillors were entreating 
 liim to leave his pleasures and attend to business, 
 Wolsey was continually reminding liim that he ought 
 to devote his youth to learning and amusement, and 
 leave the toils of government to others. Wolsey was 
 created Bishop of Tournay during the campaign in 
 
WOLSEY'S OSTENTATION AND NECROMANCY. 
 
 Flanders, and on his return to England, was raised to 
 the sees of Lincoln and of York. Three mitres had 
 been placed on his head in one year. He found at 
 last the vein he so ardently sought for. 
 
 And yet he was not satisfied. The Archbishop of 
 Canterbury had insisted, as primate, that the cross of 
 York should be lowered to his. Wolscy was not of a 
 lispositiou to concede this; and when he found that 
 Warham was not content with being his equal, he 
 resolved to make him his inferior. He wrote to I'.ins 
 and to Rome. Francis I., who desired to conciliato 
 England, demanded the purple for Wolsey; and the 
 Archbishop of Y'ork received the title of Cardinal St 
 Cecilia beyond the Tiber. In November, IT) 15, his 
 hat was brought by the envoy of the pope. " It would 
 have been better to have given him a Tyburn tippet," 
 said some indignant Englishman; "these Romish hats 
 never brought good into England," — a saying that h is 
 become proverbial. 
 
 This was not enough for "Wolsey: he desired setul ii 
 greatness above all things. Warham, tired of contend- 
 ing with so arrogant a rival, resigned the seals, and the 
 king immediately transferred tliem to the caiduial. 
 At length a bull appointed him legate a latere of the 
 holy see; and placed nuder his jurisdiction all the 
 colleges, monasteries, spiritual courts, bishops, and the 
 primate himself, (1510.) From that time, as lord- 
 chancellor of England and legate, Wolsoy administered 
 everything in Church and State. He filled his coffers 
 with money procured both at homo and from abroad, 
 and yielded witiiout restraint to his dominant vices, 
 oslcnlatiou and pride. Whenever he appeared in 
 public, two priests, the tallest and comelicst that could 
 be fonnd, carried before him two huge silver crosses, 
 one to mark his dignity as archbishop, the other as 
 papal legate. Chamberlains, gentlemen, pages, ser- 
 geants, chaplains, choristers, clerks, cupbearers, cooks, 
 and other domestics, to the number of more than oOO, 
 among whom were nine or ten lords and the stateliest 
 yeomen of the country, filled his palace. lie generally 
 wore a dress of scarlet velvet and silk, with hat and 
 gloves of the same colour. His shoes were embroidered 
 with gold and silver, inlaid with pearls and precious 
 stones. A kind of papacy was thus forming in Eng- 
 land ; for wherever pride flourishes, there Popery is 
 developed. 
 
 One thing occupied Wolsey more than all the ])omp 
 with which he was surrounded : his desire, namely, to 
 captivate the king. For this purpose ho cast Henry's 
 nativity, and procured an amulet, which he wore con- 
 stantly, in order to charm his master by its magic 
 properties. Then, having recourse to a still more 
 effectual necromancy, he selected from among the 
 licentious companions of the young monarch those of 
 the keenest discernment and most ambitious character; 
 and after binding them to him by a solemn oath, he 
 placed them at court to be as eyes and ears to him. 
 Accordingly, not a word was said in the presence of the 
 monarch, particularly against Wolsey, of which he was 
 not informed an hour afterwards. If the culprit was 
 not in favour, he was expelled without mercy; in the 
 contrary case, the minister seat him on some distant 
 mission. The queen's ladies, the king's chaplains, 
 and even their confessors, were the cardinal's spies. 
 
 He pretended to omnipresence, as the pope to infal- 
 libility. 
 
 Wolsey was not devoid of certain showy virtues, for 
 he was liberal to the poor, even to affectation ; and, 
 as chancellor, inexorable to every kind of irregularity, 
 
 and strove particularly to make the rich and high-born 
 bend beneath his power. Men of learning alone 
 obtained from him some little attention, and hence 
 Erasmus calls him "the Achates of a new jEneas." 
 But the nation was not to be carried away by the 
 eulogies of a few scholars. Wolsey — a man of more 
 than suspected morals, double-hearted, faithless to his 
 promises, oppressing the people with heavy taxes, and 
 exceedingly arrogant to everybody — Wolsey soon be- 
 came hated by the people of England. 
 
 The elevation of a prince of the Roman Church 
 could not be favourable to the Reformation. The 
 priests, encouraged by it, determined to make a stand 
 against the triple attack of the learned, the reformers, 
 and the state; and they soon had an opportunity of 
 trying their strength. Holy orders had become, during 
 the Middle Ages, a warrant for every sort of crime. 
 Parliament, desirous of correcting this abuse, and 
 checking the encroachments of the church, declared in 
 the year 1513, that any ecclesiastic, accused of theft or 
 murder, should be fried before the secular tribunals. 
 Exceptions, however, were made in favour of bishops, 
 priests, and deacons — that is to say, nearly all the 
 clergy. Notwithstanding this timid precaution, an 
 insolent clerk, the Abbot of Winchelcomb, began the 
 battle by exclaiming, at St. Paul's, '•'■Touch not mine 
 anointed, said the Lord." At the same time Wolsey, 
 accompanied by a long train of priests and prelates, 
 had an audience of the king, at which he said, with 
 hands upraised to heaven : '• Sire, to try a clerk is a 
 violation of God's laws." This time, however, Henry 
 did not give way. " By God's will, we are king of 
 England," he replied, "and the kings of England in 
 times past had never any superior but God only. 
 Therefore know you well that wo will maintain the 
 right of our crown." He saw distinctly that to put 
 the clergy above the laws was to put them above the 
 throne. The priests were beaten, but not disheartened: 
 perseverance is a characteristic feature of every 
 
602 
 
 HISTORY OP THE. REFORMATION. 
 
 hierarchical order. Not walking by faith, they walk 
 all the more by sight ; and skilful combinations supply 
 the place of the holy aspirations of the Christian. 
 Humble disciples of the Gospel were soon to ex- 
 ]ierience this ; for tlic clergy, by a few isolated attacks, 
 were about to flesh themselves for the great struggles 
 of the Reformation. 
 
 CHAPTER Xin. 
 
 Tlie Wolves— Richard Hun— A Munler— Verdict of tlie Jury— Hun Con- 
 tlenincfl, and his character vindicated — Tlie Gravesend Passage-boat— 
 A Festival disturbed— Brown Tortured— Visit from his Wife— A Wartjr 
 —Character of Erasmus— 1510 and 1517— Erasmus goes to Bale. 
 
 It is occasionally necessary to soften down the 
 somewhat exaggerated colours in whicli contemporary 
 writers describe the Romish clergy; but there are 
 certain appellations which history is bound to accept. 
 The u'oh-es, for so the priests were called, by attacking 
 the Lords and Commons, had attempted a work 
 beyond their reach. Tlioy turned their wrath on 
 others. There were many shepherds endeavouring to 
 gatlier together the sheep of the Lord beside the peace- 
 ful waters; these must be frightened, and the sliccp 
 driven into the howling wiUloruess. "The wolves" 
 determined to fall upon the Lollards. 
 
 There lived in London an honest tradesman, named 
 Richard Hun, one of those witnesses of the truth who, 
 sincere though unenlightened, have often been found 
 in tlie bosom of Catholicism. It was his practice to 
 retire to his closet and spend a portion of each day in 
 the study of the Bible. At the death of one of his 
 chiklren, the priest required of him an exorbitant fee, 
 v/iiich Hun refused to pay, and for which he was 
 summoned before the legate's court. Animated by 
 that public S[iirit which characterizes the people of 
 England, he felt indignant that an Englishman should 
 be cited before a foreign tribunal, and laid an informa- 
 tion against the priest and his counsel under the act 
 of pvcmiunirc. Such boldness — most extraordinary at 
 that time — exasperated the clergy beyond all bounds. 
 " If these proud citizens are allowed to have their 
 way," exclaimed the monks, " every layman will dare 
 to resist a priest." 
 
 Exertions were accordingly made to snare the pre- 
 tended rebel in the trap of heresy. He was thrown 
 into the Lollards' tower at St. Paul's, aud an iron 
 collar was fastened round his neck, attached to which 
 was a chain so heavy that neither man nor beast (says 
 Foxe) would have been able to bear it long. When 
 taken before his judges, they could not convict him of 
 heresy, and it was observed with astonishment " that 
 he had his beads in prison with him." They would 
 have set him at liberty, after inflicting on him perhaps 
 some trifling penance, — but then, what a bad example 
 it would be, and who could sto|) the reformers, if it 
 was so easy to resist the papacy? Unable to triumph 
 by justice, certain fanatics resolved to triumph by crime. 
 
 At midnight on the 2d December — the day of his 
 examination — three men stealthily ascended the stairs 
 
 of the Lollards' tower. The bellriuger went first, 
 carrying a torch ; a sergeant named Charles Joseph 
 followed, and last came the bishop's chancellor. 
 Having entered the cell, they went up to the bed on 
 which Hun was lying, and finding that he was asleep, 
 the chancellor said : " Lay hands on the thief." 
 Charles Joseph and the bellriuger fell upon the 
 prisoner, who, awaking with a start, saw at a glance 
 what this midnight visit meant. He resisted the 
 assassins at first, but was soon overpowered aud 
 strangled. Ciiarles Joseph then fixed the dead man's 
 belt round his neck, the bellriuger helped to raise his 
 lifeless body, and the chancellor slipped the other end 
 of the belt through a ring fixed in the wall. They 
 then placed his cap on his head, and hastily quitted 
 the cell. Immediately after, the consciriicr-itrirken 
 Charles Joseph got on horseback and r.nl.' [rnm ihc 
 city; the bellriuger left the cathedral and hid liim-rlt' : 
 the crime dispersed the criminals. The cliaucelior 
 alone kept his ground; and he was at prayers when 
 the news was brought him that the turnkey had found 
 Hun hanging. "He must have killed himself in 
 despair," said the hypocrite. But every one knew 
 poor Hun's Christian feelings. "It is the priests who 
 liave murdered him," was the general cry in Loudon, 
 and an inquest was ordered to be held on his body. 
 
 On Tuesday, the .5th of December, William Barn- 
 well, the city coroner, the two sheriffs, and twenty- 
 four jurymen, proceeded to the Lollards' tower. They 
 remarked that the belt was so short that the head 
 could not be got out of it, and that consequently it 
 had never been placed in it voluntarily; and hence 
 the jury concluded that the suspension was an after- 
 thought of some other persons. Moreover, they found 
 that the ring was too high for the poor victim to reach 
 it; that the body bore marks of violence; and that 
 traces of blood were to be seen in the cell : " AVhere- 
 fore all we find by God and all our consciences, (runs 
 the verdict,) that Richard Hun was murdered. Also, 
 we acquit the said Richard Hun of his own death." 
 
 It was but too true, and the criminals themselves 
 confessed it. The miserable Charles Joseph having j 
 returned home on the evening of the 6th Decemljer, 
 said to his maid-servant: "If you will swear to keep 
 my secret, I will tell you all." — " Yes, master," she 
 replied, "if it is neither felony nor treason." Joseph 
 took a book, swore the girl on it, and then said to her : 
 "I have killed Richard Hun!" — "O master! how? — 
 he was called a worthy man." "I would lever [rather] 
 than a hundred pounds it were not done," he made 
 answer ; " but what is done cannot be undone." He 
 then rushed out of the house. 
 
 The clergy foresaw what a serious blow this un- 
 hajipy affair would be to them ; and to justify them- 
 selves, they examined Hun's Bible, (it was WickiiflVs 
 version ;) and having read in the preface that " poor 
 men and idiots [simple folks] have the truth of the 
 holy Scriptures more than a thousand prelates aud 
 religious men and clerks of the school," aud further, 
 that " the pope ought to be called Antichrist," the 
 Bishop of Loudon, assisted by the bishops of Durham 
 and Lincoln, declared Hun guilty of heresy; and, on 
 the 20th December, his dead body was burnt at 
 Smithfield. "Hun's bones have been burned, and 
 
JOHN BROWN AND THE PRIEST. 
 
 603 
 
 tlicrcforo lie was a heretic," said the priests; "ho was 
 a liorutic, and therefore he committed suicide." 
 
 Tiie triumph of the cleriry was of short duration ; 
 for ahnost at the same time 'William Horsey, the 
 bishop's chancellor, Charles Joseph, and John 8pnld- 
 injr, the bcllringer, were convicted of the murder. 
 A bill passed the Commons, restoring Ilmi's properly 
 to his family, and vindicating his chanieter. The 
 Lords accepted tlie bill; and the king himself said to 
 the priests : '• Restore to these wretched children the 
 property of their father whom you so cruelly murdered, 
 to our great and just horror." "If the clerical theo- 
 cracy should gain the mastery of the state," was the 
 general remark in London, " it would not only be a 
 very great lie, but the most frightful tyranny!" 
 England has never gone back since that time ; and a 
 theocratic rule has always inspired the sound portion of 
 the nation with a just and insurmountable anti|):ithy. 
 Such were (he events taking place in England shortly 
 before the Reformation. This was not all. 
 
 The clergy had not been fortunate in IIuu's affair; 
 but they were not for that reason unwilling to attempt 
 a new one. 
 
 In the spring of 1517 — the year in which Luther 
 posted up his t/ieses — a priest, whose manners announced 
 a man swollen with pride, happened to be on board the 
 passage-boat from London to Gravesend with an intel- 
 ligent and pious Christian of Ashford, by name John 
 Brown. The passengers, as they floated down the 
 stream, were amusing themselves by watching the 
 banks glide away from them, when the priest, turning 
 towards Brown, said to him insolently: " You are too 
 near me, get farther off. Do you know who I am i" 
 — '"No, sir," answered Brown. "Well, then, you 
 must know that I am a priest." — "Indeed, sir; are 
 you a parson, or vicar, or a lady's chaplain .' " — " No ; I 
 am a soul-priest," he haughtily replied ; " I sing mass 
 to save souls." " Do you, sir?" rejoined Brown some- 
 what ironically; "that is well done; and can you tell 
 mc where you find the soul when you begin the mass?" 
 — "I cannot," said the priest. "And where you leave 
 it when the mass is ended?" — "I do not know." 
 "What!" continued Brown, with marks of astonish- 
 ment, "you do not know where you find the soul or 
 where you leave it, . . . and yet you say that yon 
 save it ! " — " Go thy ways," said the priest angrily, 
 "thou art a heretic, and I will be even with thee." 
 Thenceforward the priest and his neighbour conversed 
 no more together. At last- they reached Gravesend, 
 and the boat anchored. 
 
 As soon as the priest had landed, he hastened to two 
 
 j of his friends, "Walter and William More; and all three 
 
 I mounting their horses, set off for Canterbury, and 
 
 j denounced Brown to the archbishop. 
 
 I In the meantime John Brown had reached home. 
 
 I Three days later, his wife, Elizabeth, who had just 
 left her chamber, went to church, dressed all in white, 
 to return thanks to God for delivering her in the perils 
 
 I of childbirth. Ilcr husband, assisted by her daughter 
 Alice and the maid-servant, were preparing for their 
 friends the feast usual on such occasions ; and they 
 had all of them taken their scats at table, joy beaming 
 on every face, when the street-door was abruptly 
 opened, and Chilton, the constable, a cruel and savage 
 
 man, accompanied by several of the archbishop's 
 apparitors, seized npon the worthy townsman. All 
 sprang from their seats in alai-m; Elizabeth and Alice 
 uttered the most heart-rending cries; but the primate's 
 oflicers, without shewing any emotion, pulled Brown 
 out of the house, and placed him on horseback, tying 
 his feet nndcr the animal's belly. It is a serious 
 matter to jest with a priest. The cavalcade rode off 
 quickly, and Brown was thrown into prison, and there 
 left forty days. 
 
 At the end of this time the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury and the Bishop of Rochester called before them 
 the impudent fellow who doubted whether a priest's 
 mass could save souls, and required him to retract this 
 "blasphemy." But Brown, if he did not believe in 
 the mass, believed in the Gospel: "Christ was once 
 offered," he said, " to fake away the sins of many. It 
 is by this sacrifice we are saved, and not by the 
 repetitions of the priests." At this reply the arch- 
 bishop made a sign to the executioners, one of whom 
 took off the shoes and stockings of this pious Christian, 
 while tl'.e other brought in a pan of burning coals, 
 npon which they set the martyr's feet. The English 
 laws, in tr\ith, forbade torture to be inflicted on any 
 subject of the crown, but the clergy thought themselves 
 above the laws. " Confess the etiicacity of the mass," 
 cried the two bishops to poor Brown. " If I deny my 
 Lord iqjon earth," he replied, " He will deny me before 
 His Father in heaven." The flesh was burnt off the 
 soles of the feet even to the bones, and still John 
 Brown remained unshaken. The bishops tl'.erefore 
 ordered him to be given over to the secular arm, that 
 he might be burnt alive. 
 
 On the Saturday preceding the festival of Pentecost, 
 in the year 1517, the martyr was led back to Ashford, 
 where he ariived just as the day was drawing to a 
 close. A number of idle persons were collected in the 
 street, and among them was Brown's maid-servant, 
 who ran off crying to the house, and told her mistress: 
 " I have seen him ! . . , He was bound, and they 
 were taking him to prison." Elizabeth hastened to 
 her husband, and found him sitting with his feet in 
 the stocks, his features changed by suffering, and ex- 
 pecting to be burnt alive on the morrow. The poor 
 woman sat down beside him, weeping most bitterly; 
 while he, being hindered by his chains, could not so 
 much as bend towards her. " I cannot set my feet to 
 the ground," said he, "for bishops have bin-ut them to 
 the bones; but they could not burn my tongue and 
 prevent my confessing the Lord. . . . O Elizabeth! 
 
 . . . continue to love Him, for He is good; and 
 bring up our children in His fear." 
 
 On the following morning — it was Whitsunday — 
 the brutal Chilton and his assistants led Brown to 
 the place of execution, and fastened him to the stake. 
 Elizabeth and Alice, with his other children and bis 
 friends, desirous of receiving his last sigh, surrounded 
 the pile, uttering cries of anguish. The fagots were 
 set on fire, while Brown, calm and collected, and full 
 of confidence in the blood of the Saviour, clasped his 
 hands, and repeated this hymn, which Foxe has 
 preserved : — 
 
 Lord, I yicM mc to tliy sracc, 
 Grant mc mercy for my ttesrass; 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Let never the fiend my soul chase. 
 Lord, I will bow, and thou shalt beat. 
 Let never my soul come in hell-heat. 
 
 The martyr was silent ; the flames had consumed 
 their victim. Then redoubled cries of anguish rent the 
 air. His wife and daughter seemed as if they would 
 lose their senses. The bystanders showed thorn the 
 tinderobt conipa=sion, and turned T\ith a mo\enunt ot 
 
 indignation towards the executioners. The brutal 
 Chilton perceiving this, cried out: "Come along; let 
 us toss the heretic's children into the flames, lest they 
 should one day spring from their father's ashes." He 
 rushed towards Alice, and was about to lay hold of 
 her, when the maiden shrank back screaming with 
 horror. To the end of her life she recollected the 
 feiilul moment, and to hi i ia t lie m 
 
 particulars. The fury of the monster was checked. 
 Such were the scenes passing in England shortly 
 before the Reformation. 
 
 The priests were not yet satisfied, for the scholars still 
 remained in England : if they could not be burnt, they 
 should at least bo banished. They set to work accord- 
 ingly. Staudish, bishop of St. Asaph, a sincere man, 
 as it would seem, but fanatical, was inveterate in his 
 hatred of Erasmus, who had irritated him by an idle 
 sarcasm. When speaking of St. Asaph's, it was very 
 common to abbreviate it into St. As's; and as Standish 
 was a theologian of no great learning, Erasmus, in his 
 jesting way, would sometimes call him Episcopus a 
 Sancto Asino. As the bishop could not destroy Colet, 
 the disciple, he flattered himself that he shoidd triumph 
 over the master. 
 
 Erasmus knew Standish's intentions. Should he 
 commence in England that struggle with the papacy 
 which Luther was about to begin in Germany? It 
 was no longer possible to steer a middle course: he 
 
 must either tight or leave. The Dulchman was faith- 
 ful to his nature — we may even say, to his vocation : 
 he left the country. 
 
 Erasmus was, in his time, the head of the great 
 literary community. By means of his connections and 
 his correspondence, which extended over all Europe, 
 he established between those countries where learning 
 was reviving, an interchange of ideas and manuscripts. 
 The pioneer of antiquity, an eminent critic, a witty 
 satirist, the advocate of correct taste, and a restorer of 
 literature; one only glory was wanting : he had not the 
 creative spirit, the heroic soul of a Luther. He cal- 
 culated with no little skill, could detect the smile on 
 the lips or the knitting of the brows ; but he had not 
 that self-abandonment, that enthusiasm for the truth, 
 that firm confidence in God, without which nothing 
 great can be done in the world, and least of all in the 
 Church. " Erasmus had much, but was little," said one 
 of his biographers.' 
 
 1 Ad. MuUtr. 
 
ERASMUS GOES TO BALE. 
 
 In the year 1517 a crisis had arrived: the period of 
 the revival was over, that of the Reformation was 
 beginning. The restoration of letters was succeeded 
 by the regeneration of religion : tlie days of criticism 
 and neutrality by tiiose of courage and action. Eras- 
 mus was then only forty-nine years old ; but he had 
 finished his career. From being lirst, ho must now bo 
 Second: tlie monk of WiUemberg delhroned him. He 
 looked around himself in vain : placed in a new 
 country, he had lost his road. A hero was needed to 
 inaugurate the great movement of modern times : 
 Erasmus was a more man of letters. 
 
 When attacked by Standish, in 151G, the literary 
 king determined to ([uit the court of England, and 
 take refuge in a printing otfice. But before laj-ing 
 down his sceptre at the foot of a Saxon monk, he 
 signalized the end of his reign by the most brilliant of 
 his publications. The epoch of 151G-17, memorable 
 for the theses of Luther, was destined to be equally 
 remarkable by a work which was to imprint on the 
 new times their essential character. What distinguishes 
 the Reformation from all anterior revivals, is the union 
 of learning with piety, and a faith more profound, 
 more enlightened, and based on the Word of God. 
 The Christian people was then emancipated from the 
 tutelage of the schools and the popes, and its charter 
 of enfranchisement was the Bible. The sixteenth 
 century did more than its predecessors : it went straight 
 to the fountain, (the Holy Scriptures,) cleared it of 
 weeds and brambles, plumbed its depths, and caused 
 its abundant streams to pour forth on all around. The 
 Reformation age studied the Greek Testament, which 
 the clerical age had almost forgotten, — and this is its 
 greatest glory. Now, the first explorer of this Divine 
 
 source was Erasmus. When attacked by the hierarchy, 
 the leader of the schools withdrew from the splendid 
 halls of llcnry VIII. It seemed to him that the new 
 
 THE LOLLARD'S PRISON, 
 era which he had announced to the world was rudely 
 interrupted : he could do nothing more by his conver- 
 sation for the country of the Tiidors. But he carried 
 with him those precious leaves, the fruit of his labours 
 — a book which would do more than ho desired. He 
 hastened to Bale, and took up his quarters in Fro- 
 beuius's printing office, where he not only laboured 
 himself, iDut made others labour. England will soon 
 receive the seed of the now life, and the Reformation 
 is about to begin. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK XVIII. 
 
 THE REVIVAL OF THE CnUKCH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was williiii the province of four powers in the 
 sixteenth century to effect a reformation of tiie 
 Churcli; these w<Te — the papacy, the episcopate, tlie 
 monarchy, and Holy Scripture. 
 
 The Keformatiou in England was essentially the 
 work of Scripture. 
 
 The only true reformation is that which emanates 
 from the Word of God. The Holy Scriptures, by 
 bearing witness to the incarnation, death, and resur- 
 rection of the Son of God, create iu man, by the Holy 
 Ghost, a faith which justifies him. That faith which 
 produces iu him a uew life, luiites him to Christ, 
 without his requiring a chain of bishops or a Roman 
 mediator, who would separate him from the Saviour 
 instead of drawing him nearer. This reformation by 
 the Word restores that spiritual Christianity which the 
 outward and hierarchical religion had destroyed; and 
 from the regeneration of individuals naturally results 
 the regeneration of the Church. 
 
 The Reformation of England, perhaps to a greater 
 extent than that of the Continent, was effected by the 
 Word of God. This statement may appear para- 
 doxical, but it is not the less true. Tliose great 
 individualities we meet with in Germany, Switzerland, 
 aud France — men like Luther, Zwingle, and Calvin — 
 do not aiipear in England; but Holy Scripture is 
 widely circulated. What brought light into the British 
 isles subsequently to the year 1.517, and on a more 
 extended scale after the year 152(5, was the Word — 
 the invisible power of the invisible God. The religion 
 of the Anglo-Saxon race — a race called more than 
 any other to cii'culate the oracles of God throughout 
 the world — is particularly distinguished by its biblical 
 clinracter. 
 
 The Reformation of England could not be papal. 
 No reform can be hoped from that which ought to be 
 not only reformed but abolished; and besides, no 
 monarch dethrones himself. We may even affirm that 
 the popedom has always felt a peculiar affection for its 
 conquests in Britain, and that they would have been 
 the last it would have renounced. A serious voice had 
 declared in the middle of the fifteenth century: "A 
 reform is neither in the will uor in the power of the 
 popes." ' 
 
 1 James of Juteibock, prior ot the Cailliusiana. 
 
 The Reformation of England was not episcopal. 
 Roman hierarchism will never be abolished by Roman 
 bishops. An episcopal assembly may perhaps, as at 
 Constance, depose three competing popes, but then it 
 will be to save the papacy. And if the bishops could 
 not abolish the papacy, still less could they reform 
 themselves. The then existing episcopal power being 
 at enmity with the AVord of God, and the slave of its 
 own abuses, was incapable of renovating the Church. 
 On the contrary, it exerted all its influence to prevent 
 such a renovation. 
 
 The Reformation in England was not royal. Samuel, 
 David, and Josiah, were able to do something for the 
 raising up of the Church when God again turned His 
 face towards it ; but a king cannot rob his people of 
 their religion, aud still less can he give them one. It 
 has often been repeated that " the English Reformation 
 derives its origin from the monarch ;" but the assertion 
 is incorrect. The work of God, here as elsewhere, 
 cannot be put in comparison with the work of the 
 king; and if the latter was infinitely surpassed in im- 
 portance, it was also preceded in time by many 
 years. The monarch was still keeping up a vigorous 
 resistance behind his entrenchments, when God had 
 already decided the victory along the whole line of 
 operations. 
 
 Shall we be told that a reform effected by any other 
 principle than the established authorities, both in 
 CImrch and State, would have been a revolution ? But 
 has God, the lawful sovereign of the Church, for- 
 bidden all revolution iu a sinful world? A revolution 
 is not a revolt. The fall of the first man was a great 
 revolution : the restoration of man by Jesus Christ 
 was a counter-revolution. The corruption occasioned 
 by Popery was allied to the fall : the reformation ac- 
 complished in the sixteenth century was connected, 
 therefore, with the restoration. There will no doubt 
 be other interventions of the Deity, which will be 
 revolutions in the same direction as the Reformation. 
 When God creates a new heaven and a new earth, 
 will not that be one of the most glorious of revolu- 
 tions'? The reformation by the Word alone gives 
 truth, alone gives unity; but more than that, it alone 
 bears the marks of true lei/itimaci/ ; for the Church be- 
 longs not unto men, even though they be priests. God 
 alone is its lawful sovereign. 
 
 And yet the human elements which we have 
 enumerated were not wholly foreign to the work 
 that was accomplishing in England. Besides the 
 Word of God, other principles were in operation; 
 and although less radical and less primitive, they 
 still retain the sympathy of eminent men of that 
 nation. 
 
 Aud in the first place, the intervention of the king's 
 
ARRIVAL OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 607 
 
 nuthority was necessary to a certain point. Since the 
 supremacy of Rome had been established in Enghind 
 by several usages, which had the force of law, tiie in- 
 tervention of tlie temporal power was necessary to 
 break the bonds whicli it had previously sanctioned. 
 But it was requisite for tlie monarchy, while adopt- 
 ing a negative and political action, to leave tlic 
 positive, doctrinal, and creative action to the Word 
 of God. 
 
 Besides the reformation in the name of the Scriptures, 
 there was then in England another in the name of the 
 king. The AVord of God began, the kingly power fol- 
 lowed ; and ever since, these two forces have some- 
 times gone together against the authority of tlie Roman 
 pontiffs — sometimes in opposition to each other, like 
 those troops which march side by side in the same 
 army, against the same enemy, and which have occa- 
 sionally been seen, even on the field of battle, to turn 
 tlieir swords against each other. 
 
 Finally, the episcopate, which had begun by oppos- 
 ing the Reformation, was compelled to accept it in 
 despite of its convictions. The majority of the bishops 
 were opposed to it ; but the better portion wore found 
 to incline, some to the side of outward reform, of 
 which separation from the papacy was the very essence; 
 and others to the side of internal reform, whose main- 
 spring was union with Jesus Christ. Lastly, the epis- 
 copate took up its ground on it^j own account, and soon 
 two great parties alone existed in England: the scrip- 
 tural party, and the clerical party. 
 
 These two parties have survived even to our days, 
 and their colours are still distinguishable in the rivor 
 of the Church, like the muddy Arve and tlie limpid 
 Rhone after their confluence. The royal supremacy, 
 from which many Christians, preferring the paths of 
 independence, have withdrawn since the end of the 
 sixteenth century, is recognised by both parties in the 
 establishment, with some few exceptions. But whilst 
 the High Church is essentially hierarchical, the Low 
 Church is essentially biblical. In the one, the Church 
 is above and the Word below; in the other, the Church 
 is below and the Word above. These two principles, 
 evangelism and hierarchism, are found in the Chris- 
 tianity of the first centuries, but with a signal differ- 
 ence. Hierarchism then almost entirely effaced evan- 
 gelism ; in the age of Protestantism, on tlie contrary, 
 evangelism continued to exist by the side of hierarchism, 
 and it has remained de jure, if not always de facto, the 
 only legitimate opinion of the Church. 
 
 Thus there is in England a complication of in- 
 fluences and contests, which render the work more 
 difficult to describe ; but it is on that very account 
 more worthy the attention of the philosopher and the 
 Christian. 
 
 Great events had just occurred in Europe. Francis I. 
 had crossed the Alps, gained a signal victory at Marig- 
 nano, and concpiered the north of Italy. The affrighted 
 Maximilian knew of none who could save him but 
 Ileury VIII. "I will adopt you; you shall be my 
 successor in the empire," he intimated to him, in May, 
 1516. " Your array shall invade France ; and then we 
 will march together to Rome, where the sovereign 
 pontiff shall crown you king of the Romans." The 
 
 King of France, anxious to effect a diversion, had 
 formed a league with Denmark and Scotland, and had 
 made ))rcparations for invading England to place on 
 the throne the " white rose " — the jiretender Pole, 
 heir to the claims of the house of York. Henry now 
 showed his prudence ; he declined Maximilian's offer, 
 and turned his whole attention to tlie security of his 
 kingdom. But' while he refused to bear arms in 
 France and Italy, a war of quite another kind broke 
 out in England. 
 
 The great work of the sixteenth century was about 
 to begiu. A volume, fresh from the presses of Bale, 
 had just crossed the Ciiaunel. Being transmitted to 
 London, Oxford, and Cambridge, this book, the fruit 
 of Erasmus's vigils, soon found its way wherever there 
 were friends of learning. It was the New Testament of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, published, for the first time, in 
 (ireek with a new Latin translation — an event more 
 important for the world than would have been the 
 landing of the pretender in England, or the appearance 
 of the chief of the Tudors in Italy. Tliis book, in 
 which God has deposited for man's salvation the seeds 
 of life, was about to effect alone, without patrons and 
 without interpreters, the most astonishing revolution 
 in Britain. 
 
 When Erasmus published this work, at the dawn, 
 so to say, of modern times, he did not see all its scope. 
 Had he foreseen it, he would perhaps have recoiled in 
 alarm. He saw, indeed, that there was a great work 
 to be done, but he believed that all good men would 
 unite to do it with common accord. "A spiritual 
 temple must be raised in desolated Christendom," said 
 he. '• The mighty of this world will contribute towards 
 it their marble, their ivory, and their gold ; I who am 
 poor and humble offer the foundation stone ;" and he 
 laid down before the world his edition of the Greek 
 Testament. Then, glancing disdainfully at the tra- 
 ditions of men, he said: "It is not from human reser- 
 voirs, fetid with stagnant waters, that we should draw 
 the doctrine of salvation ; but from the pure and 
 abundant streams that flow from the heart of God." 
 And when some of his suspicious friends spoke to him 
 of the difficulties of the times, he replied: '-If the 
 ship of the Church is to be saved from being swallowed 
 up by the tempest, there is only one anchor that can 
 save it : it is the heavenly Word, which, issuing from 
 the bosom of the Father, lives, speaks, and works still 
 in the Gospel." Those noble sentimeuts served as an 
 introduction to those blessed pages which were to 
 reform England. Erasmus, like Caiaphas, prophesied 
 without being aware of it. 
 
 The Xew Testament in Greek and Latin had hardly 
 appeared when it was received by all men of upright 
 mind with unprecedented enthusiasm. Never had any 
 book produced such a sensation. It was in every 
 hand • men struggled to procure it, read it eagerly, and 
 would even kiss it. The words it contained enlightened 
 every heart. But a reaction soon took place. Tra- 
 ditional Catholicism uttered a cry from tlie depths of 
 its noisome pools, (to use Erasmus's figure.) Francis- 
 cans and Dominicans, priests and bishops, not daring 
 to attack the educated and well-born, went among the 
 ignorant populace, and endeavoured, by their tales and 
 clamours, to stir up susceptible women and credulous 
 
6U8 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 men. " Here are horrible heresies," they exdaimedi 
 "here are frightful antichrists! If tliis book be 
 tolerated it will be the death of the papacy!" — "We 
 must drive tliis man from the university," said one. 
 " We must turn him out of the church," added another. 
 '• The public jdaces re-echoed with their bowlings," 
 said Erasmus. The firebrands tossed by their furious 
 hands were raising fires in every quarter; and the 
 flames kindled in a few obscure convents threatened to 
 spread over the whole country. 
 
 This irritation was not without a cause. The book, 
 indeed, contained nothing but Latin and C4reek; but 
 this first step seemed to augur another — the translation 
 of the Bible into the vulgiir tongue. Erasmus loudly 
 called for it. " Perhaps it may be necessary to con- 
 ceal the secrets of kings," he remarked; "but we 
 must publish the mysteries of Christ. The Holy 
 Scriptures, translated into all languages, should be 
 read not only by the Scotch and Irish, but even by 
 Turks and Saracens. The husbandman should sing 
 them as he holds the handle of his plough; the weaver 
 repeat them as he plies his shuttle ; and the wearied 
 traveller, haltiug on his journey, refresh him under 
 some shady tree by these godly narratives." These 
 words prefigured a golden age after the iron age of 
 Popery. A number of Christian families in Britain 
 and on the Continent were soon to realize these evan- 
 gelical forebodings ; and England, after three centuries, 
 was to endeavour to carry them out for the benefit of 
 all the nations on the face of the earth. 
 
 The priests saw the danger, and by a skilful 
 manccuvre, instead of finding fault with the Greek 
 Testament, attacked the translation and the translator. 
 " He has corrected the Vulgate," they said, " and puts 
 himself in the place of St. Jerome. Ho sets aside a 
 work authorized by the consent of ages, and inspired 
 by the Holy Ghost. What audacity!" And then, 
 turning over the pages, they pointed out the most 
 odious passages: "Look here! this book calls upon 
 men to repent, instead of requiring them, as the Vulgate 
 does, to do penanae!" (Matt. iv. 17.) The priests 
 thundered against him from their pulpits : " This man 
 has committed the unpardonable sin," they asserted ; 
 " for he maintains that there is nothing in common 
 between the Holy Ghost and the monks— that they 
 are logs rather than men!" These simple remarks 
 were received with a general laugh ; but the priests, 
 in no wise disconcerted, cried out all the louder : 
 " He 's a heretic, an heresiarch, a forger ! he 's a goose 
 . . . what do I say ? he's a veiy antichrist!" 
 
 It was not sufficient for the papal janissaries to 
 make war in the plain ; they must carry it to the 
 higher ground. Was not the king a friend of Erasmus ? 
 If he should declare himself a patron of the Greek and 
 Latin Testament, what an awful calamity! . . . 
 After having agitated the cloisters, towns, and univer- 
 sities, they resolved to protest against it boldly, even 
 in Henry's presence. They thought: "If he is won, 
 all is won." It happened one day that a certain theo- 
 logian, (whose name is not given,) having to preach in 
 his turn before the king, he declaimed violently against 
 the Greek language and its new intcrpi-eters. Pace, 
 the king's secretary, was present, and turning his eyes 
 ou Henry, observed him smiling good-humouredly. 
 
 On leaving the church, every one began to exclaim 
 against the preacher. " Bring the priest to me," said 
 the king ; and then turning to More, he added : " 1 on 
 shall defend the Greek cause against him, and I will 
 listen to the disputation." The literary tribunal was 
 soon formed ; but the sovereign's order had taken 
 away all the priest's courage. He came forward 
 trembling, fell on his knees, and with clasped hands 
 exclaimed: "I know not what spirit impelled me." 
 "A spirit of madness," said the king, "and not the 
 spirit of Jesus Christ." He then added : " Have you 
 ever read Erasmus?" — "No, sire." "Away with you 
 then, you are a blockhead." — "And yet," said the 
 preacher in confusion, " I remember to have read 
 something about Moria" (Erasmus's treatise on Follif.) 
 — "A subject, your majesty, that ought to be very 
 familiar to him," wickedly interrupted Pace. Tlie 
 obscurant could say nothing in his justification. "I 
 am not altogether opposed to the Greek," he added at 
 last, " seeiug that it is derived from the Hebrew." 
 This was greeted with a general laugh ; and the 
 king impatiently ordered the monk to leave the room, 
 and never appear before him again. 
 
 Erasmus was astonished at these discussicms. He 
 had imagined the season to be most favourable. 
 " Everything looks peaceful," he had said to himself ; 
 " now is the time to launch my Greek Testament into 
 the learned world." As well might the sun rise upon 
 the earth, and no one see it ! At that very hour God 
 was raising up a monk at Wittemberg, who would lift 
 the trumpet to his lips, and proclaim the new day. 
 "Wretch that I am!" exclaimed the timid scholar, 
 beating his breast, " who could have foreseen this 
 horrible tempest ! " 
 
 Nothing was more important at the dawn of the 
 Reformation than the publication of the Testament of 
 Jesus Christ in the original language. Never had 
 Erasmus worked so carefully. " If I told wiiat sweat 
 it cost me, no one would believe me." He had collated 
 many Greek MSS. of the New Testament; and was 
 surrounded by all the commentaries and translations, 
 by the writings of Orlgen, Cyprian, Ambrose, Basil, 
 Chrysostom, Cyril, Jerome, and Augustine. Ilic sum 
 in cctmpo meo! he exclaimed, as he sat in the midst of 
 his books. He had investigated the texts according to 
 the principles of sacred criticism. When a knowledge 
 of Hebrew was necessary, he had consulted Capito, 
 and more particularly CEcolampadius. Nothing with- 
 out Theseus, said he of the latter, making use of a 
 Greek proverb. He had corrected the amphibologies, 
 obscurities, hebraisms, and barbarisms of the Vulgate; 
 and had caused a list to be printed of the errors in 
 that version. 
 
 "We must restore the pure text of the Word of 
 God," he had said ; and when he heard the maledic- 
 tions of the priests, he had exclaimed : " I call God to 
 witness I thought I was doing a work acceptable to 
 the Lord, and necessary to the cause of Christ." Nor 
 in this was he deceived. 
 
 At the head of his adversaries was Edward Lee, 
 successively king's almoner, archdeacon of Colchester, 
 and archbi'shop of York. Lee, at that time but little 
 known, was a man of talent and activity, but also 
 vain and loquacious, and determined to make his way 
 
LEE'S CHARACTER AND MANIFESTO. 
 
 at any cost. Even wlien a school-boy ho looked down 
 on all his companions. As child, youth, man, and in 
 mature years, he was always the same, Erasmus tells 
 us ; that is to say, vain, envious, jealous, boastiiif^, 
 passionate, and revengeful. AVe must bear in mind, 
 however, that when Erasmus describes the character 
 of his opponents, he is far from being an impartial 
 judge. In the bosom of Roman Catholicism, there have 
 always existed well-meaning, though ill-informed mcu, 
 wiio, not knowing the interior [lowcr of the Word of 
 God, have thought that if its authority were substituted 
 for that of the Komish Churcli, the only foundation of 
 trutii and of Christian society would be shaken. Yet, 
 while we judge Lee less severely tiiau Erasmus does, 
 we cannot close our eyes to his faults. His memory 
 was richly furnished, but his heart was a stranger to 
 Divine truth : he was a schoolman, and not a believer. 
 He wanted the people to obey the Churcli, and not 
 trouble themselves about the Scriptures. He was the 
 Doctor Eck of England ; but with more of outward 
 appearance and morality than Luther's adversary. 
 Yet he was by no means a rigid moralist. On one 
 occasion, when preaching at the palace, he introduced 
 ballads into his sermon, one of which began thus : — 
 
 'Taas time with good company." 
 
 And the other ; — 
 
 "We are indebted to Secretary Pace for this charac- 
 teristic trait. 
 
 During tlie sojourn of Erasmus in England, Lee, 
 observing his inHueuce, had souglit his friendship ; 
 and Erasmus, with his usual courtesy, had solicited his 
 advice upon his work. But Lee, jealous of his great 
 reputation, only waited for an opportunity to injure it, 
 which he seized upon as soon as it occurred. The 
 New Testament had not been long published, when 
 Lee turned round abruptly, and from being Erasmus's 
 frieud became his implacable adversary. " If we do 
 not stop this leak," said he, when he heard of the 
 New Testament, " it will sink the ship." Nothing 
 terrifies tiie defenders of human traditions so much as 
 the Word of God. 
 
 Lee immediately leagued himself with all those in 
 England who abhorred the study of Scripture, says 
 Erasmus. Although exceedingly conceited, he shewed 
 himself the most amiable of meu, in order to accom- 
 plish his designs. He invited Englishmen to his house, 
 welcomed strangers, and gained many recruits by the 
 excellence of his dinners. While seated at table among 
 his guests, he hinted perfidious charges against Eras- 
 mus, and his company left him "loaded with lies." — 
 "III this New Testament," said he, "there are three 
 huudred dangerous, frightful passages . . ^ three 
 hundred did I say? . . there are more than a 
 
 thousand ! " Not satisfied with using his tongue, Lee 
 wrote scores of letters, and employed several secretaries. 
 AVas there any convent in the odour of sanctity, he 
 "forwarded to it iustantly wine, choice viands, and 
 other presents." To each one he assigned his part, 
 and over all England they were rehearsing what 
 Erasmus calls Lee's Trmjedy. In this manner they 
 were preparing the catastrophe : a prison for Erasmus, 
 the fire for the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 AVhen all was arranged, Lee issued his manifesto. 
 Although a poor Cireek scholar, he drew up some 
 Annutatiuiis on Erasmus's book, which the latter called 
 " mere abuse and blasphemy," but which the members 
 of the league regarded as uracleg. Tiiey passed them 
 secretly from hand to hand; and these obscure sheets, 
 by many indirect channels, found their way into every 
 part of England, and met with numerous readers. 
 There was to be no publication — such w:us the watch- 
 word ; Lee was too much afraid. " AVhy did you not 
 publish your work ?" asked Erasmus, with cutting 
 irony. "AVho knows whether the holy father, ap- 
 pointing you the Aristarchus of letters, might not 
 have sent you a birch to keep the whole world ia 
 order." 
 
 The Annotations having triumphed in the convents, 
 the conspiraci/ took a new fiight. In every place of 
 public resort, at fairs and markets, at the dinner-table 
 and in the council-chamber, in shops, and taverus, 
 and houses of ill-fame, in churches and in the uni- 
 versities, in cottages and in palaces, the league blat- 
 tered against Erasmus and the Greek Testament. 
 Carmelites, Dominicaus, and Sophists, invoked heaven i 
 and conjured hell. AVhat need was there of Scripture? j 
 ILad they not the apostolical succession of the clergy ? 
 No hostile landing in England could, in their eyes, 
 be more fatal than that of the New Testament. The 
 whole nation must rise to repel this impudent invasion. 
 There is, perhaps, no country in Europe where the I 
 licformation was received by so uuexpected a storm. 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Elects of the New Testament in the Univcr 
 Cambridge Fellow— Bilney buys the \cw To 
 sage— His Conversion— Protestantism, the Fniit of the Gospel— Tlio 
 Vale of the Severn— WiUiara Tyndale— Evangelization at Oxford— 
 Bilney Teaches at Cambridge — Fryth — Is Conversion Possible? — Tnre 
 Consecration— The Reformation has begun. 
 
 AVniLE this rude blast was rushing over England, and 
 roaring in the long galleries of its convents, the stUl 
 small voice of the AVord was making its way into the 
 peaceful homes of praying men, and the ancient halls 
 of Oxford and Cambridge. In private chambers, in 
 the lecture-rooms aud refectories, students, and even 
 masters of arts, were to be seen reading the Greek 
 aud Latin Testament. Animated groups were dis- 
 cussing the principles of the Reformation. When 
 Christ came on earth (said some) He gave the AA'ord, 
 and when He ascended up into heaven He gave the 
 Holy Spirit. These are the two forces which created 
 the Church, aud these are the forces that must re- 
 generate it. No, (replied the partisans of Rome.) it 
 was the teaching of the Apostles at first, and it is the 
 teaching of the priests now. The Apostles (rejoined 
 the friends of the Testament of Erasmus)— yes, it is 
 true — the Apostles were, during their ministry, a living 
 Scripture; but their oral tcachiug would infallibly 
 have been altered by passing from mouth to mouth, 
 God willed, therefore, that these precious lessons 
 2 R 
 
610 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 should be preserved to us iu their writings, and thus 
 become the over-uudefiled source of trutli aud salva- 
 tion. To set the Scriptures iu the foremost place, as 
 your pretended reformers are doing, (replied the scliool- 
 men of Oxford and Cambridge,) is to propagate 
 heresy! Aud what are the reformers doing (asked 
 tlicir apologists) except wliat Clirist did before them ? 
 The sayings of the prophets existed in the time of 
 Jesus only as Scripture; aud it was to this written Word 
 that our Lord appealed when lie founded His kingdom. 
 And now, in like manner, the teaching of the Apostles 
 exists only as Scripture; aud it is to this written AVord 
 that we appeal in order to re-establish the kingdom of 
 our Lord in its primitive condition. The uight is far 
 spent, the day is at hand; all is in motion, — in the 
 lofty halls of our colleges, in the mansions of the rich 
 and noble, and iu the lowly dwellings of the poor. If 
 we want to scatter the darkness, must we light the 
 shrivelled wick of some old lamp? Ought we not 
 rather to open the doors and shutters, and admit freely 
 into the house the great light which God has placed 
 in the heavens ? 
 
 There was in Trinity Hall, Cambridge, a young 
 doctor much given to the study of the canon law, of 
 serious turn of mind aud bashful disposition; and 
 whose tender conscience strove, although ineffectually, 
 to fulfil the commandments of God. Anxious about 
 his salvation, Thomas Bilney applied to the priests, 
 whom he looked upon as physicians of the soul. 
 Kneeling before his confessor, with humble look and 
 pale face, he told him all his sins, and even those of 
 which he doubted. The priest prescribed at one time 
 fasting, at another prolonged vigils, and then masses 
 aud indulgences which cost him dearly. The poor 
 doctor went through all these practices with great 
 devotion, but found no consolation iu them. Being 
 weak and slender, his body wasted away by degrees ; 
 his understanding grew weaker, his imagination faded, 
 and his purse became empty. " Alas !" said he, with 
 anguish, " my last state is worse than the first." 
 From time to time an idea crossed his mind: "May not 
 the priests be seeking their own interest, and not the sal- 
 vation of my soul." But immediately rejecting the rash 
 doubt, he fell back under the iron hand of the clergy. 
 
 One day Bilney heard his friends talking about a 
 new book : it was the Greek Testament, printed with 
 a translation which was highly praised for its elegant 
 Latinity. Attracted by the beauty of the style, 
 rather than by the divinity of the subject, he stretched 
 out his hand; but just as he was going to take the 
 volume, fear came upon him, and he withdrew it 
 hastily. In fact, the confessors strictly prohibited 
 Greek and Hebrew books, — "the sources of all 
 heresies;" and Erasmus's Testament was particularly 
 forbidden. Yet Bilney regretted so great a sacrifice : 
 was it not the Testament of Jesus Christ ? Might not 
 God have placed therein some word which perhaps 
 might heal his soul? He stepped forward, aud then 
 
 again shrank back At last he took 
 
 courage. Urged, said he, by the hand of God, he 
 walked out of the college, slipped into the house 
 where the volume was sold in secret, bought it with 
 fear and trembling, and then hastened back aud shut 
 himself up in his room. 
 
 He opened it — his eyes caught these words ; This is 
 a faithful saying, and u-orthij of all acceptation, that 
 Christ Jesus came into the irorld to save sinners; of whom 
 I am chief. He laid down the hook, and meditated on 
 the astonishing declaration. "What! St. Paul the 
 chief of sinners, and yet St. Paul is sure of being 
 saved !" He read the verse again and again. '• O 
 assertion of St. Paul, how sweet art thou to my soul !" 
 he exclaimed. This declaration continually haunted 
 him; and in this manner God iustructed him in the 
 secret of his heart. He could not tell what had 
 happened to him; it seemed as if a refreshing wind 
 were blowing over his soul, or as if a rich treasure 
 had been placed in his hands. The Holy Spirit took 
 what was Christ's, and announced it to him. " I also 
 am like Paid," exclaimed he, with emotion, " and 
 more than Paul, the greatest of sinners! .... 
 But Christ saves sinners. At last I have heard of 
 Jesus." 
 
 His doubts were ended, — he was saved. Then took 
 place in him a wonderful transformation. An un- 
 known joy pervaded him ; his conscience, until then 
 sore with the wounds of sin, was healed ; instead of 
 despair, he felt an inward peace passing all under- 
 standing. "Jesus Christ," exclaimed he, "yes, Jesus 
 Christ saves !" .... Such is the character of 
 the Reformation ; it is Jesus Christ who saves, and 
 not the Church. "I see it all," said Bilney; "my 
 vigils, my fasts, my pilgrimages, my purchase of 
 masses aud indulgences, were destroying instead of 
 saving me. All these efforts were, as St. Augustine 
 says, a hasty running out of the right way." 
 
 Bilney never grew tired of reading his New Testa- 
 ment. He no longer lent an attentive ear to the 
 teaching of the schoolmen; he heard Jesus at Caper- 
 naum, Peter in the temple, Paul on ISIars' hill, and 
 felt within himself that Christ possesses the words of 
 eternal life. A witness to Jesus Christ had just been 
 boru by the same power which had transformed Paul, 
 Apollos, and Timothy. The Reformation of England 
 was beginning. Bilney was united to the Son of God, 
 not by a remote succession, but by an immediate 
 generation. Leaving to the disciples of the pope the 
 entangled chain of their imaginary succession, whose 
 links it is impossible to disengage, he attached himself 
 closely to Christ. The Word of the first century gave 
 birth to the sixteenth. Protestantism does not descend 
 from the Gospel in the fiftieth generation, like the 
 Romish Chm-ch of the Council of Trent, or in the 
 sixtieth, like some modern doctors ; it is the direct 
 legitimate son — the son of the Master. 
 
 God's action was not limited to one spot. The first 
 rays of the sun from on high gilded with their fires at 
 once the gothic colleges of Oxford and the antique 
 schools of Cambridge. 
 
 Along the banks of the Severn extends a picturesque 
 couutry, bounded by the forest of Dean, and sprinkled 
 with villages, steeples, aud ancient castles. In the 
 sixteenth century it was particularly admired by 
 priests aud friars, aud a familiar oath among them 
 was: "As sure as God's in Glo'ster!" The papal 
 birds of prey had swooped upon it. For fifty years, 
 from 1484 to 1534, four Italian bishops, placed in 
 succession over the diocese, had surrendered it to tlie 
 
EVANGELIZATION AT OXFORD. 
 
 CU 
 
 pope, to the monlis, and to immorality. Thieves in 
 parlit'uhir were the objects of the teiulerest fivvours of 
 the Iiierarchy. Joliii ilc Gijjlis, collector of the 
 niiostoliciil chambei', had received from the sovereign 
 lioiititT luitluirity to pardon mnrdor and theft, on con- 
 dition tluit the criminal shared liis i)rofits with the 
 pontifical commissioners. 
 
 In this valley, at the foot of Stinchconib hill, to the 
 soutli-west of Gloucester, there dwelt, dnrinjr the 
 latter lialf of the fifteenth century, a family -which 
 had taken refuge there during the wars of the Koses, 
 and assumed the name of Llutchins. In the reign of 
 Henry Xll., the Lancasterian party having the upper 
 hand, they resumed their name of Tyndale, -which had 
 been borne of yore by many noble barons. In 1464, 
 about a year after the birth of Luther, and about the 
 time that Zwingle first saw light in the mountains of 
 the Tockeuburg, these partisans of the i-ed rose were 
 blessed with a son, whom they called William. His 
 youth was passed in the fields surrounding his native 
 village of North Nibley, beneath the shadows of 
 Berkeley Castle, or beside the rapid waters of the 
 Severn, and in the midst of friars and pontifical 
 collectors. He was sent very early to Oxford, where 
 he learnt grammar and philosophy in the school of 
 St. Mary Magdalene, adjoining the college of that 
 name. He made rapid progress, particularly in 
 languages, luidcr the first Classical scholars in Eng- 
 land — Grocyn, W. Latimer, and Liuacre, — and took 
 his degrees. A more excellent master than these 
 doctors — the Holy Spirit speaking in Scripture — was 
 soon to teach him a science which it is not in the 
 power of man to impart. 
 
 Oxford, where Erasmus had so many friends, was 
 the city in which his New Testament met with 
 the warmest welcome. The young Gloucestershire 
 student, inwardly impelled towards the study of sacred 
 literature, read the celebrated book, which was then 
 attracting the attention of Christendom. At first he 
 regarded it only as a work of learning, or at most as 
 a manual of piety, whose beauties were calculated to 
 excite religious feelings ; but erelong he found it to be 
 something more. The more he read it, the more was 
 lie struck by the truth and energy of the Word. 
 The strange book spoke to him of God, of Christ, and 
 of regeneration, with a simplicity and authority which 
 completely subdued him. 'William had found a master 
 whom he had not sought at Oxford— this was God 
 himself. The pages he held in his hand were the 
 Diviue revelation so long mislaid. Possessing a noble 
 soul, a bold spirit, and indefatigable activity, he did 
 not keep this treasure to himself. He uttered that 
 cr}', more suited to a Christian than to Archimedes : 
 fSpTiKa, 1 have found it. It was not long before several 
 of the younger members of the university, attracted 
 by the purity of his life and the charms of his con- 
 versation, gathered round him, and read with him 
 the Greek and Latin G ospels of Erasmus. " A certain 
 well-informed young man," ■v'lTote Erasmus in a letter 
 wherein he speaks of the publication of his New 
 Testament, " began to lecture with success on Greek 
 literature at Oxford." He was probably speaking of 
 Tyndale. 
 
 The monks took the alarm. ".4 barhaiian," con- 
 
 tinues Erasmus, " entered the pulpit and violently 
 abused the Greek language.'' — "These folk," said 
 Tyndale, '"wished to extinguish the light which ex- 
 posed their trickery, and tiiey have been laying their 
 plans these dozen years." This observation was made 
 in loSl, and refers, therefore, to the proceedings of 
 1517. Germany and England were beginning the 
 struggle at nearly the same time ; and Oxforil perhaps 
 before Wittemberg. Tyndale, bearing in mind the 
 injunction: "When they persecute you in one city, 
 flee j'o into another," left Oxford and proceeded to 
 Cambridge. It nuist needs be that souls whom God 
 has brought to His knowledge should meet and en- 
 lighten one another: live coals, when separated, go 
 out; when gathered together, they brighten up, so 
 ius even to purify silver and gold. The Romish 
 hierarchy, not knowing what they did, were collecting 
 the scattered brands of the Keformation. 
 
 Bilney was not inactive at Cambridge. Not long 
 had the "sublime lesson of Jesus Christ" filled him with 
 joy, before he fell on his knees, and exclaimed : " 
 Thou who art the truth, give me strength that I may 
 teach it ; and convert the ungodly by means of one 
 who has been ungodly himself." After this prayer his 
 eyes gleamed with new fire ; he had assembled his 
 friends, and opening Erasmus's Testament, had placed 
 his finger on the words that had reached his soul, and 
 these words had touched many. The arrival of 
 Tyndale gave him fresh courage, and the light burnt 
 brighter in Cambridge. 
 
 John Fryth, a young man of eighteen, the son of an 
 innkeeper of Sevenoaks in Kent, was distinguished 
 among the students of King's College, by the prompti- 
 tude of his understanding and the integrity of his life. 
 He was as deeply read in the mathematics as Tyndale 
 in the Classics, and Bilney in canon law. Although 
 of an exact turn of mind, yet his soul was elevated ; 
 and he recognised in Holy Scripture a learning of a 
 new kind. " These things are not demonstrated like a 
 proposition of Euclid," he said ; " mere study is 
 sullicient to impress the theories of mathematics on 
 our minds ; but this science of God meets with a 
 resistance in man that necessitates the intervention of 
 a divine power. Christianity is a regeneration." The 
 heavenly seed soon grew up in Fryth's heart. 
 
 These three young scholars set to work with en- 
 thusiasm. They declared that neither priestly absolu- 
 tion nor any other religious rite could give remission 
 of sins ; that the assurance of pardon is obtained by 
 faith alone; and that faith purifies the heart. Then 
 they addressed to all men that saying of Christ's at 
 which the monks were so offended: Itcjienl and be 
 converted! 
 
 Ideas so new produced a gi-eat clamour. A famous 
 orator undertook one day at Cambridge to shew that 
 it was useless to preach conversion to the sinner. 
 "Thou, who, for sixty years past," said he, "hast 
 wallowed in thy lusts, like a sow in her mire, dost 
 thou think that thou canst, in one year, take as many 
 stops towards heaven, and that in thine age, as thou 
 hast done towards hell?" Bilney left the church with 
 indignation. "Is that preaching repentance in the 
 name of Jesus '?" he asked. •' Does not this priest tell 
 us: Christ will not save thee. Alas! for so many 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 years that this deadly doctrine has been taught in 
 Christendom, not one man has dared open his mouth 
 against it!" Many of the Cambridge fellows were 
 scandalized at Bilney's language: was not the preacher 
 whose teaching he condemned duly ordained by the 
 bishop? He replied: "What would be the use of 
 
 T Y N D A L E. 
 
 being a hundred times consecrated, were it even by a 
 thousand papal bulls, if the inward calling is wanting? 
 To no purpose hath the bishop breathed on our heads, 
 if we have never felt the breath of the Holy Ghost in 
 our hearts!" Thus, at the very beginning of the 
 Reformation, England, rejecting the Roman super- 
 stitions, discerned with extreme nicety what constitutes 
 the essence of consecration to the service of the Lord. 
 
 After pronouncing these noble words, Bilney, who 
 longed for an outpouring of the Holy Ghost, shut him- 
 self up in his room, fell on his kuees, and called upon 
 God to come to the assistance of His Church. Then 
 rising up, he exclaimed, as if animated by a prophetic 
 spirit : " A new time is beginning. The Christian 
 assembly is about to be renewed. . . . Some one 
 is coming unto us; I see Him, I hear Him — it is Jesus 
 Christ. ... He is the king; and it is He who 
 will call the true ministers commissioned to evangelize 
 His people." 
 
 Tyndale, full of the same hopes as Bilney, left Cam- 
 bridge in the course of the year 1519. 
 
 Thus the English Reformation began independently 
 of those of Luther and Zwiugle — deriving its origin 
 from God alone. In every province of Christendom 
 there was a simultaneous action of the Divine Word. 
 The principle of the Reformation at Oxford, Cam- 
 bridge, and London, was the Greek New Testament, 
 published by Erasmus. England, in course of time, 
 learut to be proud of this origin of its Reformation. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 Alarm of the Clergy— The Two Days- Thomas Man's Preaching— Trae Real 
 Presence— Persecutions at Coventry— Standish Preaches at St. Paul's— 
 His Petition to the King and Queen— His Arguments and Defeat— 
 Wolsey's Anihition— First Overtures— Henry and Francis Candidates 
 for the Empire— Conference between Francis I. and Sii' T. Boleyn— The 
 Tiara promised to Wolsey— The Cardinal's Intrigues with Charles aud 
 Fi-ancis. 
 
 This revival caused great alarm throughout the Roman 
 hierarchy. Content with the baptism they adminis- 
 tered, they feared the baptism of the Holy Ghost 
 perfected by faith in the Word of God. Some of 
 the clerg)', who were full of zeal, but of zeal with- 
 out knowledge, prepared for the struggle; aud the 
 cries raised by the prelates were repeated by all the 
 inferior orders. 
 
 The first blows did not fall on the members of the 
 universities, but on those humble Christians, the relics 
 of Wicklifte's ministry, to whom the reform movement 
 among the learned had imparted a new life. The 
 awakening of the fourteenth century was about to be 
 succeeded by that of the sixteenth, and the last gleams 
 of the closing day were almost lost in the first rays of 
 that which was commencing. The young doctors of 
 Oxford and Cambridge aroused the attention of the 
 alarmed hierarchy, and attracted their eyes to the 
 humble Lollards, who, here and there, still recalled 
 the days of Wickliffe. 
 
 An humble artisan, named Thomas Man, and 
 sometimes also called Doctor Man, from his know- 
 
 DOORWAY, KING'S COLLEGE 
 
THE COVENTRY MARTYRS 
 
 013 
 
 ledge of Holy Scripture, had been imprisoned for his 
 faith in the priory of Fridcswidc at Oxford, (1511 
 A.D.) Tormented by the remembrance of a recantation 
 whicli had been extorted from him, he had escaped 
 from tliis monastery, and fled into tlie eastern parts of 
 Eughmd, where he had preached the Word, supplying 
 his daily wants by the labour of his hands. This 
 "champion of God" afterwards drew near the capital, 
 and, assisted by his wife, the new Priscilla of this new 
 Aquilla, he proclaimed the doctrine of Christ to the 
 crowd collected around hira, in some "upper chamber" 
 of London, or in some lonely meadow watered by the 
 Thames, or under the aged oaks of Windsor Forest. 
 He thought with Chrysostom of old, that " all priests 
 arc not saints, but all saints are priests." " He that 
 reccivctli tiie Word of God," said he, "receivcth God 
 himself, that is the true real jwesence. The vendors of 
 masses are not the high priests of this mystery; but the 
 men whom God hatli anointed with His Spirit to be 
 kings and priests." From six to seven hundred persons 
 were converted by his preaching. 
 
 The monks, who dared not as yet attack the univer- 
 sities, resolved to fall upon those preachers who made 
 their temple on the banks of the Thames, or in some 
 remote corner of the city. Man was seized, con- 
 demned, and burnt alive on the 29th March, 1519. 
 
 And this was not all. There lived at Coventry a 
 little band of serious Christians — four shoemakers, a 
 glover, a hosier, and a widow named Smith — who gave 
 their children a pious education. The Franciscans 
 were annoyed that laymen, and even a ivoman, should 
 dare meddle with religious instruction. On Ash 
 Wednesday (1519) Simon Morton, the bishop's sum- 
 ner, apprehended them all, men, women, and children. 
 On the following Friday, the parents were taken to 
 the Abbey of Mackstock, about six miles from 
 Coventry, and the children to the Grey Friars' con- 
 vent. " Let us see what heresies you have been 
 taught?" said Friar Stafford to the intimidated little 
 ones. The poor children confessed they had been 
 taught in English the Lord's prayer, the Apostles' 
 creed, and the ten commandments. On hearing this, 
 Stafford told them angrily: "I forbid you (unless you 
 wish to be burnt as your parents will be) to have 
 anything to do with the Pater, the credo, or the ten 
 commandments, in English. 
 
 Five weeks after this, the men were condemned to 
 be burnt alive ; but the judges had compassion on the 
 widow, because of her young family, (for she was their 
 only support,) and let her go. It was night : Morton 
 offered to see Darac Smith home ; she took his arm, 
 and they threaded the dark and narrow streets of 
 Coventry. " Eh, ch ! " said the apparitor, on a sudden, 
 " what have we here ? " He heard, in fact, the noise 
 of paper rubbing against something. " What have 
 you got there?" he continued, dropping her arm, and 
 putting his hand up her sleeve, from which he drew 
 out a parchment. Approaching a window whence 
 issued the faint rays of a lamp, he examined the 
 mysterious scroll, and found it to contahi the Lord's 
 prayer, the Apostles' creed, and the ten command- 
 ments, in English. " Oh, oh ! sirrah ! " said he ; 
 " come along. As good now as another time ! " Then 
 seizing the poor widow by the arm, he dragged her 
 
 before the bishop. Sentence of death was immediately 
 pronounced on her; and on the 4th of April, Dame 
 Smith, Robert Hatchets, Archer, Hawkins, "Thomas 
 Bond, Wrigshara, and Landsdale, were burnt alive at 
 Coventry, in the Little Park, for the crime of teaching 
 their children the Lord's prayer, the Apostles' creed, 
 and the commandments of God. 
 
 But what availed it to silence those obscure lips so 
 long as the Testament of Erasmus could speak ? Lee's 
 conspiracy must be revived. Standish, bishop of St. 
 Asaph, was a narrow-minded man, rather fanatical, 
 but probably sincere, of great courage, and not with- 
 out some degree of piety. This prelate, being deter- 
 mined to preach a crusade against the Now Testament, 
 began at London, in St. Paul's catiicdral, before the 
 mayor and corporation, "Away with these new trans- 
 lations," he said, " or else the religion of Jesus Christ 
 is threatened with utter ruin." But Standish was 
 deficient in tact, and instead of confining himself to 
 general statements, like most of his party, he endea- 
 voured to shew how far Erasmus had corrupted the 
 Gospel, and continued thus in a whining voice : "Must 
 I, who for so many years have been a doctor of the 
 Holy Scriptures, and who have always read in my 
 Bible : la principio erat vkrbuii, — must I now be 
 obliged to read : In ^^ri/tcipio erat sermo," for thus had 
 Erasmus translated the opening words of St. John's 
 Gospel. Hisitm teneatis, whispered one to another, 
 when they heard this puerile charge : " My lord," pro- 
 ceeded the bishop, turning to the mayor, "magistrates 
 of the city, and citizens all, fly to the succour of re- 
 ligion!" Standish continued his pathetic appeals, but 
 his oratory was all in vain ; some stood unmoved, 
 others shrugged their shoulders, and others grew im- 
 patient. The citizens of London seemed determined 
 to support liberty and the Bible. 
 
 Standish, seeing the failin-e of his attack in the city, 
 sighed, and groaned, and prayed, and repeated mass 
 against the so much dreaded book. But he also made 
 up his mind to do more. One da}', during the rejoic- 
 ings at court for the betrothal of the Princess Mary, 
 then two years old, with a French prince who was just 
 born, St. Asaph, absorbed and absent in the midst of 
 the gay crowd, meditated a bold step. Suddenly he 
 made his way through the crowd, and threw himself 
 at the feet of the king and queen. All were thunder- 
 struck, and asked one another what the old bishop 
 could mean. "Great king," said he, "your ancestors 
 who have reigned over this island, — and yours, O great 
 queen, who have governed Arragon, were always dis- 
 tinguished by their zeal for the church. Shew your- 
 selves worthy of your forefathers. Times full of danger 
 are come upon us, a book has just appeared, and been 
 published too, by Erasmus! It is such a book that, if 
 you close not your kingdom against it, it is all over 
 with the religion of Christ among us." 
 
 The bishop ceased, and a dead silence ensued. The 
 devout Standish, fearing lest Henry's well-known love 
 of learning should be an obstacle to his prayer, raised 
 his eyes and his hands toward heaven, and kneeling in 
 the midst of the courtly assembly, exclaimed in a 
 sorrowful tone : " Christ I O Son of God ! save thy 
 spouse ! . . . for no man cometh to her help." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the prelate, whose courage was 
 
614 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 worthy of a better cause, rose up and -waited. Every 
 one strove to guess at the king's thoughts. Sir Thomas 
 More was present, and he could not forsake liis friend 
 Erasmus. " What are the heresies this book is likely 
 to engender?" he inquired. After the sublime came 
 tlie ridiculous. AVith the forefinger of his right hand, 
 touching successively the fingers of his left, Staudish 
 replied: "First, this book destroys the resurrection; 
 secondly, it annuls the sacrament of marriage ; thirdly, 
 it abolishes t/ie mass." Then, uplifting his thumb and 
 two fingers, he shewed them to the assembly with 
 a look of triumph. The bigoted Catherine shuddered 
 as she saw Staudish's three fingers — signs of the three 
 heresies of Erasmus ; and Henry himself, an admirer 
 of Aquinas, was embarrassed. It was a critical 
 moment: the Greek Testament was on the point of 
 being banished from England, "The proof, the 
 proof," exclaimed the friends of literature. " I will 
 give it," rejoined the impetuous Standish, and then 
 once more touchiug his left thumb : " Firstly," he said. 
 . . . But he brought forward such foolish reasons, 
 tliat even the women and the unlearned were ashamed 
 of them. The more he endeavoured to justify his 
 assertions, the more confused he became : he aflfirmed, 
 among other things, that the epistles of St. Paul were 
 written in Ilehrev: "There is not a schoolboy that 
 does not know that Paul's epistles were written in 
 Greek," said a doctor of divinity, kneeling before the 
 king. Henry, blushing for the bishop, turued the con- 
 versation, and Staudish, ashamed at having made a 
 Greek write to tlie Greeks in Hebrew, would have 
 withdrawn unobserved. " The beetle must not attack 
 the eagle," was whispered in his ear. Thus did the 
 book of God remain in England the standard of a 
 faitliful band, who found in its pages the motto, which 
 the Church of Rome had usurped : llie truth is in me 
 alone." 
 
 A more formidable adversary than Standish aspired 
 to combat the Reformation, not only in England, but 
 in all the West. One of those ambitious designs, 
 which easily germinate in the human heart, developed 
 itself in the soul of the chief minister of Henry V^III.; 
 and if this project succeeded, it promised to secure for 
 ever the empire of the papacy on the banks of the 
 Thames, and perhaps in the whole of Christendom. 
 
 Wolsey, as chancellor and legate, governed both in 
 State and in Church ; and could, without an untruth, 
 utter his famous Ego et rex mens. Having reached so 
 great a height, he desired to soar still higher. The 
 favourite of Henry VIII., almost his master ; treated 
 as a brother by the emperor, by the King of France, 
 and by other crowned heads ; invested with the title of 
 majesty, the peculiar property of sovereigns, the car- 
 dinal, sincere in his faith in the popedom, aspired to 
 fill the throne of the pontiffs, and thus become Deus in 
 terris. He thought, that if God permitted a Luther 
 to appear in the world, it was because he had a Wolsey 
 to oppose to him. 
 
 It would be difficult to fix the precise moment when 
 this immoderate desire entered his mind : it was about 
 the end of 1.518 that it began to shew itself. The 
 Bishop of Ely, ambassador at the court of Francis I., 
 being in conference with that prince on the 18fh of 
 December in that year, said to Lim mysteriously: "The 
 
 cardinal has an idea in his mind ... on which he 
 can unbosom himself to nobody , . . except it be 
 to your majesty." Francis understood him. 
 
 An event occurred to facilitate the cardinal's plans. 
 If Wolsey desired to be the first priest, Henry desired 
 to be the first king. The imperial crown, vacant by the 
 death of Maximilian, was sought by two princes: by 
 Charles of Austria, a cold and calculating man, caring 
 little about the pleasures and even the pomp of power, 
 but forming great designs, and knowing how to imrsue 
 them with energy; and by Francis I., a man of less pene- 
 trating glance aud less indefatigable activity, but more 
 daring and impetuous. Henry VIII., inferior to both, 
 passionate, capricious, and selfish, thought himself 
 strong enough to contend with such puissant com- 
 petitors, and secretly strove to win " the monarchy 
 of all Christendom." Wolsey flattered himself that, 
 hidden under the cloak of his master's ambition, he 
 might satisfy his own. If he procured the crown of 
 the Ca'sars for Henry, he might easily obtain the tiara 
 of the popes for himself; if he failed, the least that 
 could be done to compensate England for the loss of 
 the empire, would be to give the sovereignty of the 
 church to her prime minister. 
 
 Henry first sounded the King of France. Sir Thomas 
 Boleyn appeared one day before Francis I. just as the 
 latter was returning from mass. The king, desirous to 
 anticipate a confidence that might be embarrassing, 
 took the ambassador aside to the window and whis- 
 pered to him : " Some of the electors have offered me 
 the empire; I hope your master will be favourable to 
 me." Sir Thomas, in confusion, made some vague 
 reply, and the chivalrous king, following up his idea, 
 took the ambassador firmly by one hand, and laying 
 the other on his breast, exclaimed : " By my faith, if I 
 become emperor, in three years I shall be in Constan- 
 tinople, or I shall die on the road!" This was not 
 what Henry wanted ; but dissembling his wishes, he 
 took care to inform Francis that he would support his 
 candidature. Upon hearing this, Francis raised his hat 
 and exclaimed : " I desire to see the King of England ; 
 I will see him, I tell you, even if I go to London with 
 only one page and one lackey." 
 
 I''rancis was well aware that if he threatened the 
 king's ambition, he must flatter the minister's ; and re- 
 collecting the hint given by the Bishop of Ely, he said 
 one day to Boleyn : " It seems to mo that my brother 
 of England and I could do, indeed ought to do . , . 
 something for the cardinal. He was prepared by God 
 for the good of Christendom, . . , one of the 
 greatest men in the church, . . . and on the word 
 of a king, if he consents, I will do it." A few minutes 
 after, he continued : " Write and tell the cardinal, that 
 if he aspires to be the head of the Church, and if any- 
 thing should happen to the reigning pope, I will pro- 
 mise him fourteen cardinals on my part. Let us only 
 act in concert, your master and me, aud I promise you, 
 Mr. Ambassador, that neitlier pope nor emperor shall 
 be created in Europe without our consent." 
 
 But Henry did not act in concert with the King of 
 France. At Wolsey's instigation he supported three 
 candidates at once : at Paris he was for Francis I. ; at 
 Madrid for Charles V. ; and at Frankfort for himself. 
 The kings of France and England failed; and on the 
 
THE CARDINAL'S PRACTICES. 
 
 G15 
 
 10th August, Pace, Henry's cuvoy at Frankfort, having 
 rctnrnccl to Enghind, desired to console the king by 
 mentioning the sums of money which Charles liad 
 spent. " By the mass ! " exclaimed the king, congratu- 
 lating himself at not having obtained the crown at so 
 dear a rate. Wolsey proposed to sing a Tc Dcion in 
 St. Paul's, and bonfires were lighted in the city. 
 
 The cardinal's rejoicings were not misplaced. Charles 
 had scarcely ascended the imperial throne, in despite of 
 the King of France, when these two princes swore 
 eternal hatred of each other, and each was anxious to 
 win over Ilcnry VIII. At one time Charles, under 
 the pretence of seeing his imclc and aunt, visited 
 England ; at another, Francis had an interview with 
 the king in the neighbourhood of Calais. The cardinal 
 shared in the flattering attentions of the two monarchs. 
 '• It is easy for the King of Spain, who has become the 
 head of the empire, to raise whomsoever he pleases to 
 the supreme pontificate," said the young emperor to 
 him ; and at these words the ambitions cardinal sur- 
 rendered himself to Maximilian's successor. But ere- 
 long Francis I. flattered him in his turn, and Wolsey 
 replied also to his advances. The King of France gave 
 Henry toviruamcnts and banquets of Asiatic luxiu-y; 
 and "Wolsey, whose countenance yet bore the marks of 
 the graceful smile with which he had taken leave of 
 Charles, smiled also on Francis, and sang mass in his 
 honour. He engaged the hand of the Princess Mary 
 to the dauphin of France and to Charles V., leaving 
 the care of unravelling the matter to futurity. Then, 
 proud of his skilful practices, he returned to London 
 full of hope. By walking in falsehood he hoped to 
 attain the tiara: and if it was yet too far above him, 
 there were certain Gospelkrs in England who might 
 serve as a ladder to roach it. Murder might serve as 
 the complement to fraud. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 TjTMlalc— Soilbury Hall— Sii- Jolm nnd Lady 'Wiilsli— Talilc-Talk— Tlie Holy 
 Sciiptui-es— Tlio Images— The Anchor of Faith— A Hoinan Camp- 
 Preaching of FaiUi and Works— Tyndale Accused by the Priests— Tliey 
 Tear up what he has Planted— Tyndale resolves to Translate the Bible 
 —His first Triumph— The Priests in the Taverns— Tj-ndale Summoned 
 before the Chancellor of Worcester- Consoled by an aged Doctor — 
 Attacked by a Schoolman— His Secret becomes known— He leaves 
 Sodbury HaU. 
 
 Whilst this ambitious prelate was thinking of nothing 
 but his own glory and that of the Roman pontificate, a 
 great desire, but of a very different nature, was spring- 
 ing up in the heart of one of the humble "gospellers" 
 of England. If "Wolsey had his eyes fixed on the 
 throne of the popedom in order to seat liimself there, 
 Tyndale thought of raising up the true throne of the 
 Church by re-establishing the legitimate sovereignty of 
 the Word of God. The Greek Testament of Erasmus 
 had been one step ; and it now became necessary to 
 place before the simple what the king of the schools 
 had given to the learned. This idea, which pursued 
 the young Oxford doctor everywhere, was to be the 
 Blighty mainspring of the English Reformation. 
 
 On the slope of Sodbury hill there stood a plain but 
 large mansion, commanding an extensive view over the 
 beautiful vale of the Severn, whore Tyndale was born. 
 It was inhabited by a family of gentle birth : vSir John 
 AValsh had shone in the tournaments of the court, and 
 by this means conciliated the favour of his prince. 
 He kept open table ; and gentlemen, deans, abbots, arch- 
 deacons, doctors of divinity, and fat rectors, charmed 
 by Sir John's cordial welcome, and by his good dinners, 
 were ever at his house. The former brother-at-arms 
 of Henry VIII. felt an interest in the questions then 
 discussing throughout Christendom. Lady AV^alsh her- 
 self, a sensible and gcnei'ous woman, lost not a word of 
 the animated conversation of her guests, and discreetly 
 tried to incline the balance to the side of truth. 
 
 Tyndale, after leaving Oxford and Cambridge, had 
 returned to the home of his fathers. Sir John had 
 requested him to educate his children, and he had ac- 
 cei)tcd. "William was then in the prime of life, (he was 
 about thirty-six,) well instructed in Scripture, and full 
 of desire to shew forth the light which God had given 
 him. Opportunities were not wanting. Seated at table 
 with all the doctors welcomed by Sir John, Tyndale 
 entered into conversation with them. They talked of 
 the learned men of the day — of Erasmus much ; and 
 sometimes of Luther, who was beginning to astonish 
 England. They discussed several questions touching 
 the Holy Scriptures, and sundry points of theology. 
 Tyndale expressed his convictions with admirable clear- 
 ness, supported them with great learning, and kept his 
 ground against all with unbending courage. These 
 animated conversations iu the vale of the Severn are 
 one of the essential features of the picture presented 
 by the Reformation iu this country. The historians 
 of antiquity invented the speeches which they have 
 put into the mouths of their heroes. In our times, 
 history, without iuveuting, should make us acquainted 
 with the sentiments of the persons of whom it treats. 
 It is sufficient to read Tyndale's works to form some 
 idea of these conversations. It is from his writings 
 that the following discussion has been drawn. 
 
 In the dining-room of the old hall a varied group 
 was assembled round the hospitable table. There were 
 Sir John and Lady "Walsh, a few gentlemen of the 
 neighbourhood, with several abbots, deans, monks, and 
 doctors, in their respective costumes. Tyndale occu- 
 pied the humblest place, and generally kept Erasmus's 
 New Testament within reach, iu order to prove what 
 he advanced. Numerous domestics were moviug about 
 engaged in waiting on the guests ; and at length the 
 conversation, after wandering a little, took a more 
 precise direction. The priests grew impatient when 
 they saw the terrible volume appear. " Your Scrip- 
 tures only serve to make heretics," they exclaimed.— 
 " On the contrary," replied Tyndale, " the source of 
 all heresies is prick; now the AVord of God strips 
 man of everything, and leaves him as bare as Job."— 
 " T/ie Word of God ! why, even xve don't understand 
 your "Word, how can the viilr/ar understand it?"— 
 " You do not understand it," rejoined Tyndale, " be- 
 cause you look into it only for foolish questions, as you 
 would into our Ladi/'s Motiii.^, or Merlin's Prophecies. 
 Now, the Scriptures are a clue which we must follow, 
 without turning aside, until we arrive at Christ ; for 
 
616 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Christ is the end." — "And I tell you," shouted out a 
 priest, " that the Scriptures are a Dajdalian labyrinth, 
 rather than Ariadne's clue — a conjuring book wherein 
 everybody finds what he wants." — "Alas!" replied 
 Tyndale; "you read them without Jesus Christ; that's 
 why they are an obscure book to you. What do I say? 
 a den of thorns where you only escape from the briers 
 to be caught by the brambles." — "No!" exclaimed 
 I another clerk, heedless of contradicting his colleague, 
 ! " nothing is obscure to us ; it is we who give the Scrip- 
 • tures, and we who explain them to you." — " You would 
 [ lose both your time and your trouble," said Tyndale ; 
 "do you know who taught the eagles to find their 
 prey? Well, that same God teaches His hungry chil- 
 dren to find their Father in His Word. Far from hav- 
 ing given us the Scriptures, it is you who have hidden 
 them from us ; it is you who burn those who teach 
 them ; and if you could, you would burn the Scriptures 
 themselves." 
 
 Tyndale was not satisfied with merely laying down 
 the great principles of faith : he always sought after 
 what he calls "the sweet marrow within;" but to the 
 Divine unction he added no little humour, and un- 
 mercifully ridiculed the superstitions of his adversaries. 
 " You set candles before images," he said to them ; 
 i "and since you give them !/ff/it, why don't you give 
 ihemfood? Why don't you make their bellies hollow, 
 and put victuals and drink inside ? To serve God by 
 such mummeries is treating Him like a spoilt child, 
 whom you pacify with a toy, or with a horse made of 
 a stick." 
 
 But the learned Christian soon returned to more 
 serious thoughts ; and when his adversaries extolled 
 the papacy as the power that would save the Church 
 in the tempest, he replied: "Let us only take on board 
 the anchor of faith, after having dipped it in the blood 
 of Christ, and when the storm bursts upon us, let us 
 \ boldly cast the anchor into the sea; then you may be 
 j sure the ship will remain safe on the great waters." 
 And, in fine, if his opponents rejected any doctrine of 
 the truth, Tyndale, (says the chronicler,) opening his 
 Testament, would set his finger on the verse which 
 refuted the Eomish error, and exclaim: "Look and 
 read." 
 
 The beginnings of the English Reformation arc not 
 to be found, as we have seen, in a material ecclesias- 
 ticism, which has been decorated with the name of 
 I English Catholicism : they are essentially spiritual. The 
 Divine Word, the creator of the new life in the indivi- 
 dual, is also the founder and reformer of the Church. 
 The reformed churches, and particularly the reformed 
 churches of Great Britain, belong to evangelism. 
 
 The contemplation of God's works refreshed Tyndale 
 
 after the discussions he had to maintain at his patron's 
 
 table. He would often ramble to the top of Sodbury 
 
 hill, and there repose amidst the ruins of an ancient 
 
 Eoman camp which crowned the summit. It was here 
 
 that Queen Margaret of Anjou halted ; and here, too, 
 
 rested Edward IV., ^vho pursued her, before the fatal 
 
 I battle of Tewkesbury, which caused this princess to 
 
 I fall into the hands of the White Kose. Amidst these 
 
 j ruins, monuments of t!ie Romau invasion and of the 
 
 I civil dissensions of England, Tyndale meditated upon 
 
 j other battles, which were to restore liberty and truth 
 
 to Christendom. Then rousing himself, he would 
 descend the hill, and courageously resume his task. 
 
 Behind the mansion stood a little church, over- 
 shadowed by two large yew trees, and dedicated to 
 St. Adeline. On Sundays Tyndale used to preach 
 there. Sir John and Lady Walsh, with the eldest of 
 the children, occupying the manorial pew. This 
 humble sanctuary was filled by their household and 
 tenantry, listening attentively to the words of their 
 teacher, which fell from his lips like the ivaters of 
 Shiloah that go softhi. Tyndale was very lively in con- 
 versation ; but he explained the Scriptures with so 
 much unction, says the chronicler, " that his hearers 
 thought they heard St. John himself." If he re- 
 sembled John in the mildness of his language, he 
 resembled Paul in the strength of his doctrine. " Ac- 
 cording to the pope," he said, " we must first be good 
 after his doctrine, and compel God to be good again 
 for our goodness. Nay, verily, God's goodness is the 
 root of all goodness. Antichrist turneth the tree of 
 salvation topsy-turvy; he planteth the branches, and 
 setteth the roots upwards. We must put it straight. 
 . . . . As the husband marrieth the wife before 
 he can have any lawful children by her, even so faith 
 justifieth us to make us fruitful in good works. But 
 neither the one nor the other should remain barren. 
 Faith is the only candle wherewith we must bless 
 ourselves at the last hour; without it, you will go 
 astray in the valley of the shadow of death, though 
 you had a thousand tapers lighted around your bed." 
 
 The priests, irritated at such observations, deter- 
 mined to ruin Tyndale; and some of them invited 
 Sir John and his lady to an entertainment, at which 
 he was not present. During dinner, they so abused 
 the young doctor and his New Testament, that his 
 patrons retired, greatly annoyed that their tutor should 
 have made so many enemies. They told him all they 
 had heard, and Tyndale successfully refuted his 
 adversaries' arguments. " What !" exclaimed Lady 
 Walsh, " there are some of these doctors worth one 
 hundred, some two hundred, and some three hundred 
 pounds, .... and were it reason, think you, 
 Master William, that we should believe you before 
 them?" Tyndale, opening the New Testament, re- 
 plied : " No ! it is not me you should believe. That 
 is what the priests have told you; but look here, 
 St. Peter, St. Paul, and the Lord himself say quite 
 the contrary." The AYord of God was there, positive 
 and supreme : the sword of the Spirit cut the difficulty. 
 
 Before long the manor house and St. Adeline's 
 church became too narrow for Tyndale's zeal. He 
 preached every Sunday, sometimes in a village, some- 
 times in a town. The inhabitants of Bristol assembled 
 to hear him in a large meadow, c:.lled St. Austin's 
 Green. But no sooner had he preached in any place 
 than the priests hastened thither, tore up what he had 
 planted, called him a heretic, and threatened to expel 
 from the church every one who dared listen to him. 
 When Tyndale returned, he found the field laid waste 
 by the enemy; and, looking sadly upon it, as the 
 husbandman who sees his corn beaten down by the 
 hail, and his rich furrows turned into a barren waste, 
 he exclaimed: "What is to be done? While I am 
 sowing in one place, the enemy ravages the field I 
 
TYNDALE CITED BEFORE THE CHANCELLOR. 
 
 617 
 
 have just left. I cannot be everywhere. Oh ! if 
 Christians possessed the Holy Scriptures in their own 
 tongue, they could of themselves withstand these 
 sophists. '\Vithout the Bible, it is impossible to 
 establish the laity in the truth." 
 
 Then a great idea sprang up in Tyndalc's heart. 
 "It was in the language of Israel," said he, "that the 
 Psalms were sung in the temple of Jehovah ; and 
 shall not the Gospel speak the language of England 
 among us ? . . . . Ought the Church to have 
 less light at noonday than at the dawn .' . . . 
 Christians must read the New Testament in their 
 mother-tongue." Tyndale believed that this idea pro- 
 ceeded from God. The new sun would lead to the 
 discovery of a new world; and the infallible rule would 
 make all human diversities give way to a Divine unity 
 " One holdcth this doctor, another that," said Tyndale; 
 '■one foUoweth Duns Scotus, another St. Thomas, 
 another Bonaveuture, Alexander Hales, Raymoud of 
 Penaford, Lyra, Gorram, Hugh de Sancto Victore, 
 
 and so many others besides Now, each 
 
 of these authors contradicts the other. How, then, 
 can we distinguish him who says right from him who 
 says wrong? .... How? .... Verily, 
 by God's Word." Tyndale hesitated no longer. , 
 AVhile Wolsey sought to win the papal tiara, the 
 humble tutor of Sodbury undertook to place the torch 
 of heaven in the midst of his fellow-countrymen. The 
 translation of the Bible shall be the work of his life. 
 
 The first triumph of the AYord was a revolution in 
 the manor-house. In proportion as Sir John and 
 Lady Walsh acquired a taste for the Gospel, they 
 became disgusted with the priests. The clergy were 
 not so often invited to Sodbury, nor did they meet 
 with the same welcome. They soon discontinued their 
 visits, and thought of nothing but how they could 
 drive Tyndale from the mansion and from the diocese. 
 
 Unwilling to compromise themselves in this warfare, 
 they sent forward some of those light troo])S which 
 the church has always at her disposal. JNIendicant 
 friars and poor curates, who could hardly understand 
 their missal, and the most learned of whom made 
 Albertus de sccretis mulicrum their habitual study, fell 
 upon Tyndale like a pack of hungry hounds. _ They 
 trooped to the alehouses ; and, calling for a jug of 
 beer, took their seats, one at one table, another at 
 another. They invited the peasantry to drink with 
 them; and, entering into conversation with them, 
 poured forth a thousand curses upon the daring re- 
 former; "He's a hypocrite," said one; "he's a heretic," 
 said another. The most skilful among them would 
 mount upon a stool, and, turning the tavern into a 
 temple, deliver, for the first time in his life, an ex- 
 temporaneous discourse. They reported words that 
 Tyndale had never uttered, and actions that he had 
 never committed. Ru-shing upon the poor tutor (he 
 himself informs us) "like unclean swine that follow 
 their carnal lusts," they tore his good name to very 
 tatters, and shared the spoil among them; while the 
 audience, excited by their calumnies, and heated by 
 tho beer, departed overflowing with rage and hatred 
 against the heretic of Sodbury. 
 
 After the monks came the dignitaries. The deans 
 and abbots, Sir John's former guests, accused Tyndale 
 
 to the chancellor of tho diocese; and the storm which 
 had begun in the tavern burst forth in the episcopal 
 palace. 
 
 The titular bishop of Worcester (an appanage of the 
 Italian prelates) was Giulio de Medici, a learned man, 
 great politician, and crafty priest, who already governed 
 the popedom without being pope. Wolsey, who ad- 
 ministered the diocese for his absent colleague, had 
 appointed Thomas Parker chancellor, a man devoted to 
 the Roman Church. It was to him the churchmen 
 made their complaint. A judicial inquiiy had its 
 dilliculties ; the king's compauion-at-arms was the 
 patron of the pretended heretic ; and Sir Anthony 
 Poyntz, Lady "\Valsh'.s brother, was sheriff of the 
 county. The chancellor was therefore content to con- 
 voke a general conference of the clergy. Tyndale 
 obeyed the summons, but foreseeing what awaited him, 
 he cried heartily to God, as he pursued his way up the 
 banks of the Severn, " to give him strength to stand 
 fast in the truth of His Word." 
 
 When they were assembled, the abbots and deans, 
 and other ecclesiastics of the diocese, with haughty 
 lieads and threatening looks, crowded round the humble 
 but unbending Tyndale. AVhen his turn arrived, he 
 stood forward, and the chancellor administered him a 
 severe reprimand, to which he made a calm reply. 
 This so exasperated the chancellor, that, giving way to 
 his passion, he treated Tyndale as if he had been a dog. 
 " AVhere are your witnesses?" demanded the latter. 
 " Let them come forward and I will answer them." 
 Not one of them dared support the charge — they looked 
 another way. The chancellor waited, one witness at 
 least he must have, but he could not got that. An- 
 noyed at this desertion of the priests, tlie representa- 
 tive of the Medici became more equitable, and let the 
 accusation drop. Tyndale quietly returned to Sod- 
 bur}', blessing God who had saved him from the cruel 
 hands of his adversaries, and entertaining nothing but 
 the tenderest charity towards them. " Take away my 
 goods," he said to them one day; " take away my good 
 name ! yet so long as Christ dwelleth in my heart, 
 so long shall I love you not a whit the less." Here, 
 indeed, is the St. John to whom Tyndale has been 
 compared. 
 
 In this violent warfare, however, he could not fail 
 to receive some heavy blows ; and where could he find 
 consolation ? Fryth and Bilney were far from him. 
 Tyndale recollected an aged ductor who lived near Sod- 
 bury, and who had shewn him great affection. He 
 went to see him, and opened his heart to him. The 
 old man looked at him for awhile, as if he hesitated to 
 disclose some great mystery. " Do you not know," 
 said he, lowering his voice, " that the pnpe is very Anti- 
 christ whom the Scripture speaketh of / . . . But 
 beware what you say. . . . That knowledge may 
 cost you your life." This doctrine of Antichrist, which 
 Luther was at that moment enunciating so boldly, 
 struck Tyndale. Strengthened by it, as was the Saxon 
 reformer, he felt fresh energy in his heart ; and the 
 aged doctor was to him what the aged friar had been 
 to Luther. 
 
 When the priests saw that their plot had failed, 
 they commissioned a celebrated divine to undertake his 
 conversion. The reformer replied with Lis Greek 
 
HISTOEY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Testament to the schoolman's arguments. The theolo- 
 gian was speechless: at last he exclaimed: "Well, then, 
 it were better to be without God's laws than the pope's." 
 Tyndale, who did not expect so plain and blasphemous 
 a confession, made answer : " And I defy the pope 
 and all his laws ! " — and then, as if unable to keep his 
 secret, he added: "If God spares my life, I will take 
 care that a ploughboy shall know more of the Scrip- 
 tures than you do." 
 
 All his thoughts were now directed to the means of 
 carrying out his plans ; and desirous of avoiding con- 
 versations that might compromise them, he thenceforth 
 passed the greater portion of his time in the library.' 
 He prayed, he read, he began his translation of the 
 Bible, and in all probability communicated portions of 
 it to Sir John and Lady Walsh. 
 
 All his precautions were useless ; the scholastic 
 divine had betrayed him ; and the priests had sworn to 
 stop him in his translation of the Bible. One day he 
 fell in with a troop of monks and curates, who abused 
 him in the grossest manner. " It's the favour of the 
 gentry of the country that makes you so proud," said 
 they; "but notwithstanding your patrons, there will 
 be a talk about you before long, and iu a pretty 
 fashion too ! . . . You shall not always live in a 
 mauor-house!" — "Banish me to the obscurest corner 
 of England," replied Tyndale ; " provided you will 
 permit me to teach children and preach the Gospel, 
 and give me ten pounds a-year for my support, . • . 
 I shall be satisfied!" The pi-iests left him, but with 
 the iutention of preparing him a very different fate. 
 
 Tyndale indulged iu his pleasant dreams no longer. 
 He saw that he was on the poiut of being arrested, 
 condemned, and interrupted iu his great work. He 
 must seek a retreat where he can discharge in peace 
 the task God has allotted him. "You cannot save me 
 from the hands of the priests," said he to Sir John, 
 " and God knows to what troubles you would expose 
 yourself by keeping me iu your family. Permit me to 
 leave you." Having said this, he gathered up his 
 papers, took his Testament, pressed the hands of his 
 benefactors, kissed the children, and then descending 
 the hill, bade farewell to the smiling banks of the 
 Severn, and departed alone — alone with his faith. 
 What shall he do? What will become of him? 
 Where shall he go? He went forth like Abraham, 
 one thing alone engrossing his mind: the Scriptures 
 shall be translated into the vulgar tongue, and he will 
 deposit the oracles of God in the midst of his country- 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Luther's 'Wnrlis in EiiglanJ— Consultation of the Bisliops— The Bull of Leo 
 X. iiublished in England— Luther's books burnt— Letter of Henry VIIL 
 —He nndci-takes to write against Luther— Cry of Alarm— Tradition and 
 Sacrainentalism— Prudence of Sir T. More— The Boole presented to the 
 Tojie— Defender of the Fai't/i- Exultation of the King. 
 
 '\yHiLST a plain minister was commencing the Reforma- 
 tion in a tranquil valley in the west of England, power- 
 
 ' Tliis part of the house was standing in 1839, but has since been pulled 
 down.— ^nrfcrsoii, Bible Annals, i, p. 3". We cannot but unite in the wisli 
 expressed in that volume, tliat the remainder of the building, now tenanted 
 by a farmer, may be carefiUly preserved 
 
 ful reinforcements were landing on the shores of Kent. 
 The writings and actions of Luther excited a lively 
 sensation in Great Britain. His appearance before the 
 Diet of Worms was a common subject of conversation. 
 Ships from the harbours of the Low Countries brought 
 his books to Loudon ; aud the German printers had 
 made answer to the nuncio Aleauder, who was pro- 
 hibiting the Lutheran works in the empire: "Verywell! 
 we shall send them to Eiujlundr One might almost 
 say that England was destined to be the asylum of 
 truth. And in fact, the Theses of 1517, the " Explana- 
 tion of the Lord's Prayer," the books ar)ainst Einse.r, 
 against the Papacy of Rome, ajainst the hull of Antichrist^ 
 the "Epistle to the Galatiaus," the "Appeal to the 
 German Nobility," aud above all, the "Babylonish. 
 Captivity of the Church," — all crossed the sea, were 
 translated, and circulated throughout the kiugdom. 
 The German and English nations, having <i commoa 
 origin, and being sufficiently alike at that time in cha- 
 racter and civilization, the works intended for one 
 might be read by the other with advantage. The 
 monk in his cell, the countiy gentleman in his hall, the 
 doctor in his college, the tradesman in his shop, and 
 even the bishop iu his palace, studied these extraor- 
 dinary writings. The laity in particular, who had 
 been prepared by Wickliffe, and disgusted by the 
 avarice and disorderly lives of the priests, read with 
 enthusiasm the eloquent pages of the Saxon monk. 
 They strengthened all hearts. 
 
 The papacy was not inactive in presence of all these 
 efforts. The times of Gregory VII., and of Innocent 
 III., it is true, were passed ; and weakness and irresolu- 
 tion had succeeded to the former energy and activity 
 of the Roman pontificate. The spiritual power had 
 resigned the dominion of Europe to the secular powers, 
 aud it was doubtful whether faith in the papacy could 
 be found in the papacy itself. Y'"et a German, (Dr. 
 Eck,) by the most indefatigable exertions, had extorted 
 a bull from the profane Leo X., and this bull had just 
 reached England. The pope himself sent it to Henry, 
 calling upon him to extirpate the Lutheran heresy. 
 The king handed it to Wolsey, and the latter trans- 
 mitted it to the bishops, who, after reading the heretics 
 books, met together to discuss the matter. There was 
 more Romish faith in London than in the Vatican. 
 " This false friar," exclaimed Wolsey, " attacks sub- 
 mission to the clergy — that fountain of all virtues." 
 The humanist prelates were the most auno3-ed ; the 
 road thsy had taken ended in an abyss, and they shrank 
 back in alarm. Tonstall, the friend of Erasmus, after- 
 wards bishop of London, and who had just returned 
 from his embassy to Germany, where Luther had been 
 painted to him in the darkest colours, was particularly 
 violent: "This monk is a Proteus. ... I mean 
 an atheist. If you allow the heresies to grow up which 
 he is scattering with both hands, they will choke the 
 faith, and the church will perish. Had we not enough 
 of the Wicklitfites — here are new legions of the same 
 kind 1 . . . To-day Luther calls for the abolition 
 of the mass; to-morrow he will ask "for the abolition 
 of Jesus Christ. He rejects everything, and puts 
 nothing in its place. What? if barbarians plunder 
 our froutiers, we punish them ; . . . and shall we 
 bear with heretics Vfho plunder our altai-s? . . . 
 
PUBLICATION OF THE PAPAL BULL. 
 
 No! by the mortal aiony that Christ endured, I 
 entreat j-ou. . . . What am I saying? the whole 
 church conjures you to combat against this devouring 
 draijon, ... to punish this /icll-do/), to silence his 
 sinister bowlings, and to drive him shamefully back 
 into his den." Thus spoke the eloquent Toustall ; nor 
 was AVolsey far behind him. The only attachment 
 at all respectable in this man was that which he entcr- 
 tamed for the church; it may perhaps be called respect- 
 able, for it was tlic only one that did not exclusively 
 regard himself. On the 14th May, 1521, this Euglisli 
 pope, in imitation of the Italian pope, issued his bull 
 against Luther. 
 
 It was read (probably on the first Sunday in June) 
 in all the churches during high mass, when the con- 
 gregation was most numerous. A priest exclaimed : 
 "For every book of Martin Luther's found in your 
 possession witliin fifteen daj-s after this injunction, you 
 will incur the gi-catcr excommunication." Then a 
 public notary, holding tlie pope's bull in his hand, with 
 a description of Lutlier's pr-rvcn<e opiniuiis, proceeded 
 towards the principal door of the church, and fastened 
 up the document. The people gathered round it ; the 
 most competent person read it aloud, while the rest 
 listened ; and the following are some of tlie sentences 
 which, by the pope's order, resounded in the porches 
 of all the cathedral, conventual, collegiate, and parish 
 churches of every county in England : — 
 
 "11. Sins are not pardoned to any, unless, the priest 
 remitting them, he believe they are remitted to him. 
 
 " 13. If by reason of some impossibility the contrite 
 be not confessed, or the priest absolve him, not in 
 earnest, but in jest ; yet if he believe that he is ab- 
 solved, he is most truly absolved. 
 
 " 14. In the sacrament of penance and the remission 
 of a fault, the pope or bishop doth not more than the 
 lowest priest ; yea, where there is not a priest, then 
 any Christian will do ; yea, if it were a woman or a 
 child. 
 
 '• 26. The pope, the successor of Peter, is not Christ's 
 vicar. 
 
 " 28. It is not at all in the hand of the church or the 
 pope to decree articles of faith, no, nor to decree the 
 laws of manners or of good works." 
 
 The cardinal legate, accompanied by the nuncio, by 
 the ambassador of Charles V., and by several bishops, 
 proceeded in great pomp to St. Paul's, where the 
 Bishop of Eochcster preached, and "Wolsey burnt 
 Luther's books. But they w-ere hardly reduced to 
 ashes before sarcasms and jests were heard in every 
 direction, "i^/re is not a theological argument," said 
 one. "The papists, who accuse Martin Luther of 
 slaying and miu-dering Christians," added another, 
 " are like the pickpocket, who began to cry stop thiej\ 
 as soon as lie saw liimself in danger of being caught." 
 "The Bishop of Rochester," said a third, "concludes, 
 that because Lutlier has thrown the pope's decretals 
 into the £u-e, he would throw in the pope himself. 
 . . . We may hence deduce another syllogism, quite 
 as sound : The popes have burnt the New Testament, 
 therefore, if they could, they would burn Christ him- 
 self." These jests were rapidly circulated from mouth 
 
 to mouth. It was not enough that Luther's writings 
 were in England, thoy must needs be known ; and the 
 priests took upon themselves to advertise them. The 
 Reformation was advancing, and Rome herself pushed 
 behind the car. 
 
 The cardinal saw that something more was required 
 than these paper autos-da-fi, and the activity he 
 displayed may indicate what he would have done 
 in Europe, if ever he had reached the pontifical 
 chair. "The spirit of Satan left him no repose," says 
 the papist Sanders. Some action out of tlie ordin- 
 ary course is needful, thought AVolsey. Kings have 
 hitlierto been the enemies of the popes : a king shall 
 now undertake their defence. Princes are not very 
 anxious about learning; a prince shall publish a book ! 
 . . . " Sire," said he to the king, to get Henry in 
 the vein, "you ought to write to the princes of Ger- 
 many on the subject of tliis heresy." He did so. 
 Writing to the Archduke Palatine, he said: "This 
 fire, which has been kindled by Luther, and fanned by 
 the arts of the devil, is raging everywhere. If Luther 
 docs not repent, deliver him and his audacious treatises 
 to the flames. I offer you my royal co-operation, and 
 even, if necessary, my life." This was the first time 
 Henry shewed that cruel thirst which was, in after 
 days, to be quenched in the blood of his wives and 
 friends. 
 
 The king having taken the first step, it was not 
 diificult for Wolsey to induce him to take another. To 
 defend the honour of Thomas Aquinas, to stand for- 
 ward as the champion of the church, and to obtain 
 from the pope a title equivalent to that of CliviManis- 
 siwtis, most Christian king, were more than sufiicient 
 motives to induce Henry to break a lance with Luther. 
 " I will combat with the pen this Cerberus, sprung 
 from the depths of hell," said he ; " and if he refuses 
 to retract, the fire shall consume the heretic and his 
 heresies together." 
 
 The king shut himself up in his library: all the 
 scholastic tastes with which his youth had been imbued 
 were revived ; he worked as if he wore archbishop of 
 Canterbury, and not king of England ; with the pope's 
 permission he read Luther's writings ; he ransacked 
 Thomas Aquinas ; forged, with infinite labour, the 
 arrows with which he hoped to pierce the heretic ; 
 calU il several learned men to his aid ; and at last pub- 
 lished liis book. His first words were a ciy of alarm. 
 " Beware of the track of this sei-pent," said he to his 
 Christian readers; "walk on tiptoe; fear the thickets 
 and caves in which he lies concealed, and whence ho 
 will dart his poison on you. If he licks you, be care- 
 ful ! the cvmning viper caresses only that he may bite ! " 
 After that Henry sounded a charge: "Be of good 
 cheer ! Filled with the same valom- that you would 
 display against Tiu-ks, Saracens, and other infidels, 
 march now against this little friar, — a fellow ap- 
 parently weak, but more formidable through the spirit 
 that animates him, than all infidels, Saracens, and Turks 
 put together." Thus did Ilcniy VIII., the Feter the 
 Hermit of the sixteenth centuiy, preach a crusade 
 against Luther, in order to save the papacy. 
 
 He had skQfully chosen the ground on which he gave 
 battle : sacranientalism and tradition are, in fact, the 
 two essential features of the papal religion ; just as a 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFOEMATION. 
 
 lively faith and Holy Scripture are of the religion of 
 the Gospel. Hemy did a service to the Reformation, 
 by pointing out the principles it would mainly have to 
 combat ; and by f ui'nishing Luther with an opportunity 
 of establishing the authority of the Bible, he made him 
 take a most important step in the path of reform. " If 
 a teaching is opposed to Scripture," said the reformer, 
 " whatever be its origin — traditions, custom, kings, 
 Thomists, sophists, Satan, or even an angel from 
 heaven, — all fi-om whom it proceeds must be accursed. 
 Nothing can exist contrary to Scripture, and eveiything 
 must exist for it." 
 
 Heni-y's book being terminated by the aid of the 
 Bishop of Rochester, the king shewed it to Sir Thomas 
 More, who begged him to pronounce less decidedly in 
 favour of the papal supremacy. " I will not change 
 a word," rejjlied the king, full of servile devotion to 
 the popedom. " Besides, I have my reasons ; " and he 
 whispered them in More's ear. 
 
 Doctor Clarke, ambassador from England at the 
 court of Rome, was commissioned to present the pope 
 with a magnificently bound copy of the king's work. 
 '• The gloiy of England," said he, " is to be in the 
 foremost rank among the nations in obedience to 
 the papacy." Happily Britain was erelong to know a 
 glory of a very different kind. The ambassador added, 
 that his master, after having refuted Luther's errors 
 with the pen, was ready to combat his adherents with 
 the sword. The pope, touched with this offer, gave 
 him liis foot, and then his check to kiss, and said to 
 him : " I will do for your master's book as much as 
 the church has done for the works of St. Jerome and 
 St. Augustine." 
 
 The enfeebled papacy had neither the power of in- 
 telligence, nor even of fanaticism. It still maintained 
 its pretensions and its pomp, but it resembled the corpses 
 of the mighty ones of the earth that lie in state, clad in 
 their most magnificent robss : splendour above, death 
 and coiTuption below. The thunderbolts of a Hilde- 
 brand ceasing to produce their effect, Rome gratefully 
 accepted the defence of laymen, such as Henry VIII. 
 and Sir Thomas More, without disdaining their judi- 
 cial sentences and their scaffolds. " We must honour- 
 those noble champions," said the pope to his cardinals, 
 "who shew themselves prepared to cut off with the 
 sword the rotten members of Jesus Christ. "What title 
 shall we give to the virtuous king of England?" — 
 Protector of the Roman Church, suggested one ; Apostolic 
 king, said another; and, finally, but not without some 
 opposition, Heniy VHI. was proclaimed Defender of the 
 Faith. At the same time the pope promised ten years' 
 j indulgence to all readers of the king's book. Tliis was 
 a lure after the fashion of the Middle Ages, and which 
 never failed in its effect. The clergy compared its 
 author to the wisest of kings ; and the book, of which 
 many thousand copies were printed, filled the Christian 
 world (Coehloeus tells us) with admiration and delight. 
 
 Kothing could equal Henry's joy. " His majesty," 
 said the Vicar of Croydon, " would uot exchange that 
 name for all London and twenty miles round." The 
 king's fool, entering the room just as his master had 
 received the bull, asked him the cause of his transports. 
 "The pope has just named me Defender of the Faith!" 
 •^" Ho ! ho ! good Han-y," reijlied the fool, " let you 
 
 and me defend one another; but . . . take my 
 word for it , , ,. let the faith alone to defend itself ." 
 An entire modern system was found in those words. 
 In the midst of the general intoxication, the fool was 
 the only sensible person. But Henry could listen to 
 nothing. Seated on an elevated throne, with the cardi- 
 nal at his right hand, he caused the pope's letter to be 
 read in public. The trumpets sounded : Wolsey said 
 mass ; the king and his court took tlieii' seats around a 
 sumptuous table, and the heralds-at-arms proclaimed : 
 Henriciis Dei gratia Rex Anglice et Francia, Defensor 
 Fidei et Dominus Hiberniai! 
 
 Thus was the king of England more than ever 
 united to the pope : whoever brings the Holy Scrip- 
 tures into his kingdom shall there encounter that 
 material sword, ferrum et materialem gladium, in which 
 the papacy so much delighted. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Wolsey's Machinations to obtain the Tiara— Ho gains Charles V.— Alliance 
 between Henry and Charles— Wolsey offers to Command the Troops — 
 Treaty of Bruges— Henry believes himself King of France— Victories of 
 Francis I. — Death of Leo X. 
 
 One thing only was wanting to check more surely the 
 progress of the Gospel : . "Wolsey's accession to the 
 pontifical throne. Consumed by the desire of reaching 
 " the summit of sacerdotal unity," he formed, to attain 
 this end, one of the most perfidious schemes ambition 
 ever engendered. He thought with others, " The end 
 justifies the means." 
 
 The cardinal could only attain the popedom through 
 the emperor or the king of France; for then, as now, 
 it was the secular powers that really elected the chief 
 of catholicity. After carefully weighing the influence 
 of these two princes, Wolsey found that the balance 
 inclined to the side of Charles, and his choice was 
 made. A close intimacy of long standing united him 
 to Francis I., but that mattered little ; he must betray 
 his friend to gain his friend's rival. 
 
 But this was no easy matter. Hemy was dissatis- 
 fied with Charles the Fifth. Wolsey was therefore 
 obliged to employ eveiy imaginable delicacy in his 
 mauoBuvres. First he sent Sir Richard "Wingfield to 
 the empei'or ; then he wrote a flattering letter in 
 Henry's name to the princess-regent of the Low 
 Countries. Tlie difficulty was to get the king to sign 
 it. " Have the goodness to put yoiu" name," said 
 Wolsey, " even if it should annoy your Highness. 
 . . . You know vciy well . . that women 
 
 like to be pleased." This argument prevailed with the 
 king, who still possessed a spirit of gallantly. Lastly, 
 Wolsey, being named arbitrator between Charles and 
 Francis, resolved to depart for Calais, apparently to 
 hear the complaints of the two princes ; but in reality 
 to betray one of them. Wolsey felt as much pleasm-e 
 in such practices, as Francis in giving battle. 
 
 The king of France rejected his arbitration : he had 
 a sharp eye, and his mother one stLU sharper. " Your 
 
WOLSEY'S PRACTICES. 
 
 621 
 
 ma<!ter loves me not," said he to Charles's ambassador ; 
 " and I do not love him any more, and urn determined 
 to be his enemy." It was impossible to speak more 
 plainly. Far from imitating; this frankii«-s, t\w yoVuit: 
 Cliarlos endeavoured to j;;iin AVi>N. y. aii'l \\ nl-i y. who 
 was eager to sell himself, udroillv luiilnl at what juire 
 he mi-jht be bought. "If the king c.f Kngland .Mdes 
 with me," Charles informed the cardinal, " you shall 
 be elected pope at the death of Leo X." Francis, 
 betrayed by "Wolsey, abandoned by the pojjc, and 
 threatened by the emperor, determined at last to accept 
 Henry's mediation. 
 
 But Charles was now thinking of veiy different 
 matters. Instead of a mediation, he demanded of the 
 king of England 4000 of his famous bowmen. Henry 
 smiled as he read the despatch ; and, looking at Pace, 
 his secretary, and Marney, the captain of his guards, 
 he said: '■'• Bmti qui audinnt et iioii inlelligunt!" — thus 
 forbidding thorn to nuderstand, and, above all, to bruit 
 abroad this strange request. It was agreed to raise 
 the number of archers to GOOO; and the cardinal, 
 having the tiara coutimially before his eyes, departed 
 to perform at Calais the odious comedy of a hypo- 
 critical arbitration. Being detained at Dover by con- 
 trary winds, the mediator took advantage of this delay 
 to draw up a list of the 6000 archers and then- cap- 
 tains, not forgetting to insert in it, " certain obstinate 
 deer," as Ileniy had said, " that must of necessity be 
 hunted down." These were some gentlemen whom the 
 king desired to get rid of. 
 
 AVhile the ambassadors of the king of France were 
 received at Calais, on the 4th of August, with great 
 honours, by the lord high chamberlain of England, the 
 cardinal signed a convention with Charles's ministers 
 that Henry shoidd withdraw his promise of the Prin- 
 cess Mary's hand to the dauphin, and give her to the 
 emperor. At the same time he issued orders to destroy 
 the French navy, and to invade France. And, finally, 
 he procured, by way of compensating England for the 
 pension of 16,000 pounds hitherto received from the 
 court of St. Germ.aius, that the emperor should pay 
 henceforward the annual sum of 40,000 marks With- 
 out ready money the bargain would not have been a 
 good one. 
 
 This was not all. While Wolsey was waiting to be 
 elected pope, he conceived the idea of becoming a 
 soldier. A commander was wanted for the GOOO 
 archers Heniy was sending against the king of France ; 
 and why should he not be the cardinal himself ? He 
 immediately intrigued to get the noblemen set aside 
 who had been proposed as geuerals-in-chief. "Shrews- 
 buiy," he said to the king, " is wanted for Scotland — 
 Worcester, by his experience, is worthy that , . . 
 you should keep him near you. As for Dorset . . . 
 he will be veiy dear." Then the priest added ; " Sire, 
 if, during my sojourn on the other side of the sea, you 
 have good reivson to send yom- archers, ... I 
 hasten to inform you, that whenever the emperor takes 
 the command of his soldiers, I am ready, although an 
 ecclesiastic, to put myself at the head of yoiu's." AVhat 
 devoteduess ! AVolsey would cause his cross of cardinal 
 o latere to be carried before him (he said) ; and neither 
 Francis nor Bayard would be able to resist him. To 
 command at the same time the State, the Church, and 
 
 the army, while awaiting the tiara, — to sun-ound his 
 head with laurels ; such was this man's ambition. Un- 
 fortunately for him, they were not of that opinion at 
 court. The king made the Earl of Essex commauder- 
 
 As AVolsey could not be general, ho turned to diplo- 
 macy. He hastened to Bruges ; and as he entered at 
 the emperor's side, a voice was heard above the crowd, 
 exclaiming: Salve, Bex regis iui atque reijni sui! — a 
 sound most pleasing to his cars. People were very 
 much astonislied at Bruges by the intunacy existing 
 between the cardinal and the emperor. "There is 
 some mysleiy beneath it all," they said. Wolsey de- 
 sired to place the crown of France on Hemy's head, 
 and the tiara on his own. Such was the mystery, 
 which was well worth a few civilities to the mighty 
 Charles V. The alliance was concluded, and the con- 
 tracting parties agreed "to avenge the insults offered 
 to the throne of Jesus Chi-ist," or in other words, to 
 the popedom. 
 
 Wolsey, in order to drag Heniy into the intrigues 
 which were to procure him the tiara, had reminded 
 him that he was king of France, and the suggestion 
 had been eagerly caught at. At midnight, on the 7th 
 of August, tiie liing dictated to his secretary a letter 
 for Wolsey, containing this strange expression ; Si ibitis 
 parare regi locum in regno ejus hereditaria, Majestas ejus 
 (juuin tenipiis erit opportumim, sequetur. The theologian 
 who had corrected the famous Latin book of the king's 
 against Luther, most certainly had not revised this 
 phrase. According to Henry, France was his heredi- 
 tary kingdom, and Wolsey was going to prepare the 
 throne for him . . . The king could not restrain 
 his joy at the mere idea, and already he surpassed in 
 imagination both Edward HI. and the Black Prince. 
 " I am about to attain a gloiy superior to that which 
 my ancestors have gained by so many wars and battles." 
 Wolsey traced out for him the road to his palace on 
 the banks of the Seine- "Mezieres is about to fall; 
 afterwards there is only Rheims, which is not a strong 
 city ; and thus your grace will verj' easily reach Paris." 
 Heniy followed on the map the route he would have 
 to take: "Affairs are going on well," wrote the car- 
 dinal, " the Lord be praised." In him this Christian 
 language was a mere official formality. 
 
 Wolsey was mistaken : things were going on badly. 
 On the 20th of October, 1522, Francis I., whom so 
 much perfidy had been unable to deceive, — Francis, 
 ambitious and turbulent, but honest in this matter, at 
 least, and confiding in the strength of his arms, had 
 suddenly appeared between Cambray and Valenciennes. 
 The emperoi- fled to Flanders in alai-m ; and AVolsey, 
 instead of putting himself at the head of the army, had 
 shielded himself under his arbitrator's cloak. Writing 
 to Heniy, who, a fortnight before, had, by his advice, 
 excited Charles to attack France, he said: "I am 
 confident that your virtuous mediation will greatly 
 increase your reputation and honour throughout 
 Christendom." Francis rejected AVolsey 's offers, but 
 the object of the latter was attained. The negotiations 
 had gained time for Charles ; and bad weather soon 
 stopiied the French army. AVolsey returned satisfied 
 to London about the middle of December. It was true 
 that Henry's triumphant entry into Paris became very 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 difficult ; but the cardinal was sure of tlie emperor's 
 favour, and through it (he imagined) of the tiara. 
 AYolscy had done, therefore, wliat he desired. He liad 
 hardly arrived in England, when there came news 
 which raised liini to tlie height of happiness : Leo X. 
 was dead. His joy sur[)assed what Heury had felt at 
 the tliought of his hereditarij l-inrjdom. Protected hy 
 tlie powerful Charles V., to whom he had sacrificed 
 everything, the English cardinal was at last ou the 
 point of receiving that pontifical crown which would 
 permit him to crush heresy, and which was, in his 
 eyes, the just reward of so many infamous transactions. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Just Men of Lincolnshire— Their Assemblies and Teaching— Agnes and 
 Murden — Itinerant Libraries — Polemical Conversations — Sarcasm — 
 Hoyal Decree and Terror — Depositions and Condemnations — Four 
 Martyrs— A Conclave— Charles consoles Wolsey. 
 
 "VVOLSEY did not stay until he was pope, before perse- 
 cuting the disciples of the Word of God. Desirous of 
 carrying out the stipulations of the convention at 
 Bruges, he had broken out against " the king's subjects 
 who disturbed the apostolic see." Heuiy had to vindi- 
 cate the title conferred ou hhn by the pope ; the cardi- 
 nal had to gain the popedom ; and both could satisfy 
 their desires by the erection of a few scaffolds. 
 
 In the county of Lincoln, ou tlio shores of the North 
 Sea, along the fertile banks of the Plumber, Trent, and 
 Witham, and on the slopes of the smiling hills, dwelt 
 many peaceful Christians — labourers, artificers, and 
 shepherds — who spent theii- days iu toil, in keeping 
 their flocks, in doing good, and in reading the Bible. 
 The more the Gospel light increased in England, tlie 
 greater was the increase in the number of these chil- 
 di'en of peace. These " just men," as they were called, 
 were devoid of human knowledge, but they thirsted for 
 tlic knowledge of God. Thinking they were alone the 
 true disciples of the Lord, they married only among 
 thuinselves. They ap|)eai-ed occasionally at ehiu-cli; 
 but instead of repeatiim' lliflr |irayers like the rest, 
 they sat, said their eiHinic-, •• ihhiil like beasts." Ou 
 Sundays and holidays, they assembled in each other's 
 houses, and sometimes passed a whole night in reading 
 a portion of Scripture. If there duxnced to be few 
 books among them, one of the brethren, wlio had 
 learnt by heart the Epistle of St. James, the beginning 
 of St. Luke's gospel, the sermon on the mount, or au 
 epistle of St. Paul's, would recite a few verses iu a 
 loud and calm voice ; tlien all would piously converse 
 about the holy truths of the faith, and exhort one 
 another to put tliem in practice. But if any person 
 joined their meetings who did not bddng to theli- 
 body, they would all keep silmi. S|„akiiig much 
 among each other, they were ,^|»i rhlos Ijufore those 
 from without: fear of the prirsls and of the faggot 
 made tliem dumb. There was no family rejoicing 
 without the Scriptures. At the marriage of a daugh- 
 ter of the aged Durdant, one of their patriarchs, the 
 wedding party met secretly in a barn, and read the 
 
 whole of one of St. Paul's epistles. Marriages are 
 rarely celebrated with such pastimes as this ! 
 
 Although they were dumb before enemies or sus- 
 pected persons, these poor people did not keep silence 
 iu the presence of tlie humble : a glowing proselytism 
 characterized them all. " Come to my house," said 
 the pious Agnes Asliford, to James Mordcn, " and I 
 will teach you some verses of Scripture." Agnes was 
 an educated woman ; slie could read ; Morden came, 
 and the poor woman's chamber was transformed into a 
 school of theology. Agues began ; Ye are tlie salt of 
 the earth, and then recited the following verses. Five 
 times did Morden return to Agnes before he knew that 
 beautiful discourse. " We are si)read like salt over 
 the ^al•ious parts of the kingdom," said this Christian 
 woman to tho neopliyte, "in order that we may check 
 the progress ..f siiiM'i>iilion, by our doctrine and our 
 life. But," aiMiil sh.-, in alarm, "keep this secret iu 
 your heart, as a man wuidd keep a thief in prison." 
 
 As boolvs were rare, these pious Christians had 
 established a kmd of itinerant library, and one Jolin 
 Scrivener was continually engaged iu carrying the 
 precious volumes from one to another. But at times, 
 as he was proceeding along the banks of the river, or 
 through the forest glades, he observed that he was 
 followed. He would quicken his pace and run into 
 some barn, whore the friendly peasants promptly hid 
 him beneath the straw, or, like the spies of Israel, under 
 the stalks of flax. The bloodhounds arrived, sought 
 and found nothing ; and more than once those who so 
 generously harboured tliese evangelists cruelly expiated 
 the crime of charity. 
 
 The disaj)i)ointed officers had scarcely retired from 
 the neighbourliood, when these friends of the Word of 
 God came out of their hiding-place, and profited by 
 the moment of liberty to assemble the brethren. Tiie 
 persecutions they suffered irritated them against the 
 priests. They worsliipped God, read, and sang with a 
 low voice ; but wlieu the conversation became general, 
 they gave free course to their indignation. " Woidd 
 you know the use of the pope's pardons 1 " said one of 
 them ; " they are to blind the eyes and empty the purse." 
 — " True pilgrimages," said the tailor Geoffrey of Ux- 
 bridge, " consist in visiting the poor and sick, barefoot, 
 if so it please you, for these are the little ones that are 
 God's true image." — " Money spent iu pilgrimages," 
 added a third, " serves only to maintain thieves and 
 Iiarlots." The women were often the most animated 
 in the controversy. " What need is there to go to the 
 feet" said Agnes Ward, who disbelieved iu sauits, 
 " when we may go to the head '? " — " The clergy of the 
 good old times," said the wife of David Lewis, " used 
 to lead the jieople as a hen leadeth her chickens ; but 
 now, if oui" priests lead their flocks anywhere, it is to 
 the devil assuredly." 
 
 Erelong there was a general panic throughout this 
 district. The king's confessor, Jolin Longlaud, was 
 bisliop of Lincoln. This fanatic priest, AVolsey's 
 creature, took advantage of his positiou to petition 
 Henry for a severe persecution : this was the ordinary 
 use iu England, I^'rance, and elsewhere, of the con- 
 fessors of princes. It was unfortunate that among 
 these pious disciples of the Word, men of a cynical turn 
 were now and then met with, whose biting sarcasms 
 
WOLSEY LOSES THE TIARA. 
 
 623 
 
 went beyond all bounds. AVolsey and Longhmd knew 
 how to employ those expressions in arousing the king's 
 anger. " As one of these fellows," they said, " was 
 biisv beating out his corn in his barn, a man chanced 
 to pass by. ' Good morrow, neighbour,' said the lat- 
 ter, 'you arc hard at it!' — 'Yes,' replied the old 
 heretic, thinking of transubstantiation, 'laui thrash- 
 ing tiie corn out of which the priests make God 
 Almighty.'" Henry hesitated no longer. 
 
 Ou tiie 20th October, 1521, nine days after the bull 
 on tiio Dej'endiT of the Faith had been signed at Rome, 
 the king, wiio was at AViudsor, summoned his secretary, 
 and dictated an order, commanding all his subjects to 
 assist the Bishop of Lincoln against the heretics. " You 
 will obey it at the peril of your lives," added he. The 
 order was transmitted to Longland, and the bishop 
 immediately issued his warrants, and his ollicers spread 
 terror far and wide. When they beheld them, tliise 
 peaceful but timid Christians were troubled. Isabella 
 Bartlet, hearing them approach her cottage, screamed 
 out to her husband : " Y'ou are a lost man ! and I am 
 a dead woman!" This cry was re-echoed from all 
 the cottages of Lincolnshire. The bishop, ou his judg- 
 ment-seat, skilfully played upon these poor unhappy 
 beings, to make them accuse one another. Alas! 
 according to the ancient prophecy, "the brother 
 delivered up the brother to death." Robert Bartlet 
 deposed against his brother Richard aud his own wife ; 
 Jane Bernard accused her own father, and Tredway 
 his mother. It Avas not until after the most cruel 
 anguish that these poor creatures were driven to such 
 frightful extremities ; but the bishop aud death terrilied 
 them : a small number alone remained firm. As regards 
 heroism, Wickliffe's Reformation brought but a feeble 
 aid to the Reformation of the sixteenth century; still, 
 if it did not furnish many heroes, it prepared the 
 English people to love God's Word above all things. 
 Of these humble people, some were condemned to 
 do penance in different monasteries; others to carry 
 a faggot ou their shoulders thrice round the market- 
 place, and then to stand some time exposed to the 
 jeers of the populace ; others were fastened to a post 
 while the executiouer branded them on the cheek with 
 a red-hot iron. They also had their martyrs. Wick- 
 liffe's revival had never been without them. Four of 
 these brethren were chosen to be put to death, aud 
 among them the pious evangelical colporteur Scrivener. 
 By burning him to ashes, the clergy desired to make 
 sure that he would no longer circulate the AVord of 
 God ; and by a horrible refinement of cruelty, his chil- 
 dren were compelled to set fire to the pile that was 
 to consume their father. They stretched forth their 
 trembling hands, held in the strong grasp of the execu- 
 tioners. . . . Poor children! . . . But it is 
 easier to burn the limbs of Christians than to (piench 
 the Spirit of Heaven. These cruel fires could not 
 destroy among the Lincolnshire peasantry that love 
 of the Bible which, in all ages, has been England's 
 strength, far more than the wisdom of her senators 
 or the bravery of her generals. 
 
 Ilaviug by these exploits gained indisputable claims 
 to the tiara, Wolsey turned his efforts towards Rome. 
 Leo X., as we have seen, was just dead, (1522.) 
 The cardinal sent Pace to Rome, instructing him to 
 
 " Represent to the cardinals that by choosing a partisan 
 of Charles or Francis, they will incur the enmity of 
 one or the other of these princes, and that if they elect 
 some feeble Italian jirince, the apust<jlical see must be- 
 come the i)rey of the strongest. Luther's revolt and 
 the emperor's ambition endanger the papacy. There 
 is only one means of prcventiug the threatening dangers. 
 . . . It is to choose me. . . Now, go aud exert 
 yoiu-self." The conclave opened at Rome on the 27th 
 December, and Wolsey was proposed; but the cardi- 
 nals were not generally favourable to his election, 
 " He is too young," said one ; " too firm," said another. 
 " He will lix the scat of the papacy in Englaud and 
 not in Rome," urged many. He did not receive twenty 
 votes. "The cardinals," wrote the English ambassador, 
 "snarled and quarrelled with each other; and their 
 bad faith aud hatred increased every day." Ou the 
 sixth day, only one dish was sent them ; and then in 
 despair they chose Adrian, who had been tutor to the 
 emperor, and the cry was raised : Papain huhemus ! 
 
 During all this time Wolsey was in London, con- 
 sumed by ambition, aud counting the days and hours. 
 At length a despatch from Gheut, dated the 22d 
 January, reached him with these words : " On the 'Jth 
 of January, the Cardinal of Tortosa was elected ! " 
 Wolsey was almost distracted. To gain 
 Charles, he had sacrificed the alliance of Francis I.; 
 there was no stratagem that he had not employed, and 
 yet Charles, in spite of his engagements, had procured 
 the election of his tutor ! . . . The emperor knew 
 what must be the cardinal's anger, and endeavoured to 
 appease it: "The new pope," he wrote, "is old and 
 sickly; he cannot hold his olfice long. . . . Beg 
 the Cardinal of York, for my sake, to taica great care of 
 his health." 
 
 Charles did more than this : he visited London in 
 person, under pretence of his betrothal with Mary of 
 England, and, in the treaty then drawn up, he con- 
 sented to the insertion of an article, by virtue of which 
 Henry VIII. and the mighty empor(}r bound themselves, 
 if cither should infringe the treaty, to appear before 
 Wolsey aud to submit to his decisions, i'he cardinal, 
 gratified by such condescension, grew calm ; and at the 
 same time he was soothed with the most flattering hopes. 
 " Charles's imbecile preceptor," they told him, " has 
 arrived at the Vatican, attended only by his female 
 cook ; you shall soon make your entrance there sur- 
 rounded by all your grandeur." To be certain of his 
 game, Wolsey made secret approaches to Francis I., 
 and then waited for the death of the pope. 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 Cliaracter of Tyndale— He AiTives in London— He Preaches— Tlie Cloth and 
 the Ell — The Bishop of London gives Audience to Tjudale— He is Dis- 
 missed— A Christian Merchant of London— Spirit of Love in the Refor- 
 mation— Tyndale in Monmouth's House— Fryth lielps him to Translate 
 the New Testament— Importunities of the Bishop of Liiicoto— Persecu- 
 tion in London— Tyndale's Resolution— Uo Departs— His Indignation 
 against the Prelates— His Hopes. 
 
 While the cardinal was intriguing to attain his selfish 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ends, Tyndale was humbly carrying: out the great idea 
 of giving the Scriptures of God to England. 
 
 After bidding a sad farewell to the manor-house of 
 Sodbui-y, the learned tutor had departed for London. 
 This occurred about the end of 1522, or the beginning 
 of 1523. He had left the university — he had forsaken 
 the house of his protector ; his wandering career was 
 about to commence, but a thick veil hid from him all 
 its sorrows. Tyndale, a man simple in his habits, 
 sober, daring, and generous, fearing neither fatigue 
 nor danger, inflexible in his duty, anointed with the 
 Spirit of God, overflowing with love for his brethren, 
 emancipated from human traditions, the servant of God 
 alone, and loving nought but Jesus Christ ; imaginative, 
 quick at repartee, and of touching eloquence — such a 
 man might have shone in the foremost ranks ; but he 
 preferred a retired life in some poor corner, provided 
 he could give his countrymen the Scriptures of God. 
 Where could he find this calm retreat? was the ques- 
 tion he put to himself, as he was making his solitary 
 way to London. The metropolitan see was then filled 
 by Cuthbert Tonstall, who was more of a statesman 
 and a scholar than of a churchman, " the first of 
 English men in Greek and Latin literature," said 
 Erasmus. This eulogy of the learned Dutchman 
 occurred to Tyudale's memory. It was the Greek 
 Testament of Erasmus that led me to Christ, said 
 he to himself ; why should not the house of Erasmus's 
 friend offer me a shelter that I may translate it ? . . . 
 At last he reached London, and, a stranger in that 
 crowded city, he wandered along the streets, a prey 
 by turns to hope and fear. 
 
 Being recommended by Sir John Walsh to Sir Harry 
 Guildford, the king's comptroller, and by him to several 
 priests, Tyndale began to preach almost immediately, 
 especially at St. Dunstan's, and bore into the heart of 
 the capital the truth which had been banished from 
 the banks of the Severn. The Wui'd of God was with 
 him the basis of salvation, and the f/race of God its 
 essence. His inventive mind presented the truths he 
 proclaimed in a striking manner. He said on one 
 occasion : " It is the blood of Christ that opens the 
 gates of heaven, and not thy works. I am wrong. 
 . . . Yes, if thou wilt have it so, by thy good 
 works shalt thou be saved. Yet, understand me well, 
 not by those which thou hast done, but by those which 
 Christ has done for thee. Christ is in thee and thou 
 in Him, knit together inseparably. Thou canst not be 
 damned, except Christ be damned with thee ; neither 
 can Christ be saved except thou be saved with Him." 
 This lucid view of justification by faith places Tyndale 
 among the reformers. He did not take his seat on a 
 bishop's throne, or wear a silken cope ; but he mounted 
 the scaffold, and was clothed with a garment of flames. 
 In the service of a crucified Saviour this latter distinc- 
 tion is higher than the former. 
 
 Yet the translation was his chief business ; he spoke 
 to his acquaintances about it, and some of them opposed 
 his project. '• The teachings of the doctors," said some 
 of the city tradesmen, " can alone make us understand 
 Scripture." — "That is to say," replied Tyndale, "I 
 must measure the )/ard by the doth. Look here," con- 
 tinued he, using a practical argument, " here are in 
 your shop twenty pieces of stuff of different lengths. 
 
 . . Do you measure the yard by these pieces, or 
 
 the pieces by the yard ? . . . The universal stand- 
 ard is Scripture." This comparison was easily fixed 
 in the minds of the petty tradesmen of the capitaL 
 
 Desirous of carrying out his project, Tyndale aspired 
 to become the bishop's chaplain ; his ambition was more 
 modest than AVolsey's. The hellenist possessed quali- 
 ties which could not fail to please the most learned of 
 Englishmen in Greek literature : Tonstall and Tyndale 
 both liked and read the same authors. The ex-tutor 
 determined to plead his cause through the elegant and 
 harmonious disciple of Radicus and Gorgias " Here is 
 one of Isocrates' orations that I have translated into 
 Latin," said he to Sir Harry Guildford ; " I should be 
 pleased to become chaplain to his lordship the Bishop 
 of London ; will you beg him to accept this trifle. 
 Isocrates ought to be an excellent recommendation to 
 a scholar ; will you be good enough to add yours." 
 Guildford spoke to the bishop, placed the translation 
 in his hands, and Tonstall replied with that benevo- 
 lence which he shewed to every one. " Your business 
 is in a fair way," said the comptroller to Tyndale; 
 " write a letter to his lordship, and deliver it yourself." 
 
 Tyndale's hopes now began to be realized. He wrote 
 his letter in the best style, and then, commending him- 
 self to God, proceeded to the episcopal palace. He 
 fortunately knew one of the bishop's olficers, William 
 Hebilthwayte, to whom he gave the letter. Hebilth- 
 wayte carried it to his lordship, while Tyndale waited. 
 His heart throbbed with anxiety: shall he find at last 
 the long hoped for asylum? The bishop's answer 
 might decide the whole course of his life. If the door 
 is opened, — if the translator of the Scriptures should 
 be settled in the episcopal palace, why should not his 
 London patron receive the truth like his patron at Sod- 
 bury? and, in that case, what a future for the Church 
 and for the kingdom ! . . . The Reformation was 
 knocking at the door of the hierarchy of England, and 
 the latter was about to utter its yea or its nay. After 
 a few moments' absence Hebilthwayte returned . " I 
 am going to conduct you to his lordship." Tyndale 
 fancied himself that he had attained his wishes. 
 
 The bishop was too kind-hearted to refuse an audience 
 to a man who called upon him with the triple recom- 
 mendation of Isocrates, of the comptroller, and of the 
 king's old companion-in-arms. He received Tyndale 
 with kindness, a little tempered, however, with cold- 
 ness, as if he were a man whose acquaintanceship 
 might compromise him. Tyndale haviug made known 
 his wishes, the bishop hastened to reply : " Alas ! my 
 house is full. I have now more people than I can 
 employ." Tyndale was discomfited by this answer. 
 The Bishop of London was a learned man, but want- 
 ing in couriige and consistency; he gave his right hand 
 to the friends of letters and of the Gospel, and his left 
 hand to the friends of the priests ; and then endeavoured 
 to walk with both. But when he had to choose be- 
 tween the two parties, clerical interests i)revailed. 
 There was no lack of bishops, priests, and laymen 
 about him, who intimidated him by their clamours. 
 After taking a few steps forward, he suddenly recoiled. 
 Still Tyndale ventured to hazard a word ; but the pre- 
 late was cold as before. The humanists, who laughed 
 at the ignorance of the monks, hesitated to touch an 
 
TYNDALE AND THE LONDON MERCHANT. 
 
 625 
 
 ecclesiastical system which lavished on them such rich 
 sinecures. Tliey accepted the new ideas in theory, but 
 not in practice. They were very willing to discuss them 
 at table, but not to proclaim them from the pulpit ; 
 and covering the Greek Testament with applause, they 
 toro it in pieces when rendered into the vulgar tongue. 
 '■Jfyou will look well about London," said Toustall 
 coldly to the poor priest, '"you will not fail to meet 
 with some suitable employment." This was all Tyn- 
 dalc could obtain. Hebilthwaytc waited on him to the 
 door, and the hellcnist departed sad and desponding. 
 
 Ili-i expectations were disaiipointed. Driven from 
 the banks of the Severn, without a home in the capital, 
 what would become of the translation of the Scriptures? 
 " Alas ! " ho said ; " I was deceived, . , there is 
 
 nothing to be looked for from the bishops 
 
 Christ was smitten on the cheek before the bishop, 
 Paid was buffeted before the bishop, , . , and a 
 bishop has just turned me away." His dejection did 
 not last long: there was an elastic principle in his soid. 
 " I hunger for the Word of God," said he ; '* I will 
 translate it, whatever they may say or do. God will 
 not suffer me to pei-ish. He never made a mouth but 
 He made food for it, nor a body but He made raunent 
 also." 
 
 This tnistfulness was not misplaced. It was the 
 privilege of a layman to give what the bishop refused. 
 Among Tyndale's hearers at St. Dunstan's was a rich 
 merchant, named Humphrey Monmouth, who had visited 
 Kome, and to whom (as well as to his companions) the 
 pope had been so kind as to give certain Roman curio- 
 sities, such as indulgences, a culpa et a pwiid. Ships 
 laden with his manufactures evei-y year quitted Loudon 
 for foreign countries. He had formerly attended 
 Colet's preaching at St. Paul's, and from the year 1515 
 he had known the 'Word of God. He was one of the 
 gentlest and most obliging men in England; he kept 
 open house for the friends of learning and of the Gospel, 
 and his library contained the newest publications. In 
 putting on Jesus Christ, Monmouth had particularly 
 striven to put on His character; he helped generously 
 with his purse both priests and men of letters ; he gave 
 forty pounds sterling to the chaplain of the bishop of 
 London, the same to the king's, to the provincial of the 
 Augustiues, and to others besides. Latimer, who some- 
 times dined with him, once related in the pulpit an 
 anecdote characteristic of the friends of the Eeformation 
 in England. Among the regular guests at Monmouth's 
 table was one of his poorest neighbours, a zealous Ro- 
 manist, to whom his generous host often used to lend 
 money. One day when the pious merchant was extol- 
 ling Scripture and blaming popery, his neighboiu" turned 
 pale, rose from the table, and left the room. " I will 
 never set foot in his house again," he said to his friends ; 
 " and I will never borrow another shilling of him." 
 He next went to the bishop and laid an information 
 against his benefactor. Monmouth forgave him, and 
 tried to bring him back ; but the neighbour constantly 
 turned out of his way. Ouce, however, they met in a 
 street so narrow that he could not escape. "I will 
 pass by without looking at him," said the Romanist, 
 turning away his head. But Monmouth went straight 
 to him, took him by the hand, and said affectionately ; 
 '• Neighbour, what wrong have I done you?" and he 
 
 continued to speak to him with so much love, that the 
 poor man fell on his knees, bui-st into tears, and begged 
 his forgiveness. Such was the spirit wliich, at tho 
 veiy outset, animated tho work of the Reformation in 
 England : it was acceptable to God, and found favour 
 with the people. 
 
 Jlonmouth being edified by Tyndale's sermons, in- 
 quired iuto his means of living. " I have none," 
 reidied he; "but I hope to enter into the bishop's 
 ser\ice.'' "This was before his visit to Tonstall. AVhen 
 Tyndalo saw all his hopes frustrated, he went to Mon- 
 mouth and told him cveiythiug. " Come and live with 
 me," said the wealthy merchant, " and there labour." 
 God did to Tyudale according to his faith. Simple, 
 frugal, devoted to work, he studied night and day; 
 and, wishing to guard his mind against " being over- 
 charged with surfeiting," he refused the delicacies of 
 his patron's table, and would take nothing but sodden 
 meat and small beer. It would even seem that he 
 carried simplicity in dress almost too far. By his 
 conversation and his works, he shed over the house 
 of his patron the mild light of the Christian virtues, [ 
 and Monmouth loved him more and more every day. 
 
 Tyndale was advancing in his work, when John 
 Fryth, the mathematician of King's College, Cam- 
 bridge, arrived in London. It is probable that Tyndale, 
 feeling the want of an associate, had i ::vited him. 
 United like Luther and Melancthon, the two friends 
 held many precious conversations together " I will 
 consecrate my life wholly to the Church of Jesus 
 Christ," said Fryth. " To be a good man, you must 
 give great part of yourself to your parents, a greater 
 part to your countiy; but the greatest of all to the 
 Church of the Lord." " The people shoidd know the 
 AVord of God," they said both. " The interpretation 
 of the Gospel, without the intervention of councils or 
 popes, is sufficient to create a saving faith in the heart." 
 They shut themselves up in the little room in Mon- 
 mouth's house, and translated chapter after chapter 
 from the Greek into plain English. The Bishop of 
 London knew notliing of the work going on a few 
 yards from him ; and everything was succeeding to 
 Tyndale's wishes when it was interrupted by an im- 
 foreseen cii-cumstance. 
 
 Longland, the persecutor of the Lincolnsliire Chris- 
 tians, did not confine his activity within the limits 
 of his diocese ; he besieged the king, the cardinal, and 
 the queen, with his cruel importunities, using "Wolsey's 
 inlhience with Henry, and Henry's with Wolsey. 
 "His majesty," he wrote to the cardinal, "shews in 
 this holy dispute as much goodness as zeal, . . . yet, 
 be pleased to urge him to overthrow God's enemies." 
 And then turning to the king, the confessor said, to 
 spur him on ; " The cardinal is about to fulminate 
 the greater excommunication against all who possess 
 Luther's works or hold his opinions ; and to make the 
 booksellei-s sign a bond before the magistrates, not to 
 sell heretical books." " Wonderful ! " replied Heniy 
 with a sneer, " they will fear the magisterial bond, I 
 think, more than the clerical excommunication." And 
 yet the consequences of the " clerical " excommuni- 
 cation were to be very positive . whosoever persevered j 
 in his offence was to be pursued by the law ad ignem, 
 even to the fire. At last the confessor applied to tho 
 
 2s 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 queen : " We cannot be sure of rcstraiuiug the press," 
 lie said to her. " These wretched books come to iis 
 from Germany, France, and the Low Countries ; and 
 are even printed iu the veiy midst of us. Madam, we 
 must train and prepare skilful men, such as are able 
 to discuss the controverted points, so that the laity, 
 struck on the one hand by weU developed arguments, 
 and frightened by the fear of punishment on the other, 
 may be kept iu obedience." In the bishop's system, 
 " fire " was to bo the complement of Roman learning. 
 The essential idea of Jesuitism is already visible iu 
 this conception of Hemy the Eiglith's confessor. That 
 system is the natural development of Eomanism. 
 
 TonstaU, nrged forward by Longland, and desirous 
 of shewing himself as holy a churchman as he had 
 once been a skilful statesman and elegant scholar — 
 TonstaU, the friend of Erasmus, began to persecute. 
 He would have feared to shed blood, like Longland ; 
 but there are measures which torture the mind and not 
 the body, and which the most moderate men fear not 
 to make use of. John Iliggins, Hemy Chambers, 
 Thomas Eaglestone, a priest named Edmund Spilman, 
 and some other Christians in Londou, used to meet 
 and read portions of the Bible in English ; and even 
 asserted pulili<-!v, that "Luther had more learning in 
 his lililr liii-> r 'ili:iu iiU the doctors in England." The 
 bisliop c.rili-nil llir,e rebels to be arrested: he flattered 
 and ulanuL'd thuia, threatening them with a cruel death, 
 (which he would hardly have inflicted on them,) and 
 by these skilful practices reduced them to silence. 
 
 Tyndale, who witnessed this persecution, feared lest 
 the stake should interrupt his labour. If those who 
 read a few fragments of Scripture are threatened with 
 death, what will he not have to endure who is tran- 
 slating the whole ? His friends entreated him to with- 
 draw from the bishop's pursuit. "Alas !" he exclaimed, 
 "is there then no place where I can translate the 
 Bible! . . . It Ls not the bishop's house alone 
 that is closed against me, but all England." 
 
 He then made a great sacrifice. Since there is no 
 place in his own countiy where he can translate the 
 Word of God, he will go and seek one among tlie 
 nations of tlie Continent. It is true the people are 
 unknown to him ; he is without resources ; perhaps 
 persecution, and even death, await him there. . . . 
 It matters not! some time must elapse before it is 
 known what he is doing; and perliaps he will have 
 been able to translate the Bible. He turned his eyes 
 towards Germany. " God does not destine us to a 
 quiet life here below," he said. " If He calls us to 
 peace on the part of Jesus Christ, He calls us to war 
 on the part of the world." 
 
 There lay at that moment in the river Thames a 
 vessel loading for Hamburg. Monmouth gave Tyn- 
 dale ten pounds sterling for his voyage, and other 
 friends contributed a like amount. He left the half of 
 this sum in the hands of his benefactor, to provide for 
 his future wants, and prepared to quit London, where 
 he had spent a year. Rejected by Iiis fellow-country- 
 men, persecuted by the clergy, and carrying witli him 
 only his New Testament and his ten pounds, he went 
 on board the ship, shaking off the dust of liis feet, ac- 
 cording to his Master's precept ; and that dust fell back 
 on the priests of England. He was indignant (says the 
 
 chronicler) against those coarse monks, covetous priests, 
 and pompous prelates, who were waging an impious 
 war against God. "AVhat a trade is that of the 
 priests ! " he said in one of his later writings ; " they 
 want money for everything: money for baptism, 
 money for churchings, for weddings, for buryings, for 
 images, brotherhoods, penances, soul-masses, bells, 
 organs, chalices, copes, surplices, ewers, censers, and 
 all manner of ornaments. Poor sheep ! The parson 
 shears, the vicar shaves, the parish priest polls, the 
 friar scrapes, the indulgence seller pares . . . all 
 that you want is a butcher to flay you and take away 
 your skin. He will not leave you long. AVhy are 
 your prelates dressed in red ? Because they are ready 
 to shed the blood of whomsoever seeketh the Word of 
 God. Scourge of states, devastators of kingdoms, the 
 priests take aw.ay not only Holy Scripture, but also 
 prosperity and peace ; but of then- councils is no lay- 
 man; reigning over all, they obey nobody; and making 
 all concur to their own greatness, they conspire against 
 every kingdom." 
 
 No kingdom was to be more familiar than England 
 with the conspiracies of the papacy of which Tyndale 
 spoke ; and yet none was to free itself more irrevocably 
 from the power of Rome. 
 
 Yet Tyndale was leaving the shores of his native 
 land, and, as he turned his eyes towards the new 
 countries, hope revived in his heart. He was going to 
 be free ; and he would use his liberty to deliver the 
 Word of God, so long held captive. " The priests," he 
 said one day, " when they had slain Christ, set pole- 
 axes to keep Him iu His sepulchre, that He should 
 not rise .again ; even so have our priests buried the 
 Testament of God, and all their study is to keep it 
 down, that it rise not again. But the hour of the Lord 
 is come, and nothing can hinder the AVord of God, as 
 nothing could hinder Jesus Christ of old from issuing 
 from the tomb." Indeed that poor man, then sailing 
 towards Germany, was to send back, even from the 
 banks of the Elbe, the eternal Gospel to his country- 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Biluej' at Cambridge— Conversions— Tlie University Cross-bearer — A Leices- 
 tersliire Farmer— A Party of Students— Superstitious Practices— An 
 Obstinate Papist— Tlie Sophists— Latimer attacks Stafford— Bilney's 
 Resolution— Latimer hears Bilney's Confession— Confessor Converted— 
 New Life in Latimer— Bilney Preaches Grace — Nature of the Ministry — 
 Latimer's Cliaracter and Teaching- Works of Charity— Three Classes of 
 Adversaries— Clark and Dalaber. 
 
 This ship did not bear away all the hopes of England. 
 A society of Christians had been foi-med at Cambridge, 
 of which Bilney was the centre. He now knew no 
 other canon law than Scripture, and had found a new 
 master, " the Holy Spirit of Christ," says an historian. 
 Although he was naturally timid, and often suffered 
 from the exhaustion brought on by his fasts and vigils, 
 there was in his language a life, liberty, and strength, 
 strikingly in contrast with his sickly appearance. He 
 desired to draw to the knowledge of God all who came 
 
A LEICESTERSHIRE FARMER. 
 
 nigli him ; and by degrees, the rays of the Gospel sun, 
 wliich was tiioii rising in the firmament of Christen- 
 dom, pierced tlie ancient windows of the colleges, and 
 iihimiuated tlie solitary chambers of certain of the 
 masters auj fellows. Master Arthnr, Master Tliistlc 
 of Pembroke Hall, and Master Stafford, were among 
 the first to join Bilney. G corge Stafford, jirofessor of 
 divinity, was a man of deep learning and holy life, 
 clc. r and precise in his teaching. He was admired by 
 every one in Cambridge, so that his conversion, lilce 
 that of his friends, spread alarm among the partisans 
 of the schoolmen, lint a conversion still more striking 
 than this was destined to give the English Eeforma- 
 ■ tion a champion more illustrious than either Stafford 
 or Bilney. 
 
 There was in Cambridge, at that time, a priest noto- 
 rious for his ardent fanaticism. In the processions, 
 amidst the pomp, prayers, and chanting of the train, 
 none could fail to notice a master-of-arts, about thirty 
 years of age, who, with erect head, carried proudly the 
 university cross. Hugh Latimer, for such was his 
 name, combined a bitiug humour with an impetuous 
 disposition and indefatigable zeal, and was very quick 
 in ridiculing tlie faults of his adversaries. There was 
 more wit and raillery in his fanaticism than can often 
 be found in such characters. He followed the friends 
 of the AVord of God into the colleges and houses where 
 they used to meet, debated with them, and pressed 
 them to abandon their faith. He was a second Saul, 
 and was soon to resemble the apostle of the Gentiles 
 in another respect. 
 
 He first saw light in the year 1491, in the county of 
 Leicester. Hugh's father was an honest yeoinau ; and, 
 accompanied by one of his six sisters, the little boy 
 had often tended in the pastures the five score sheep 
 belonging to the farm, or driven home to his mother 
 the thirty cows it was her busiuess to milk. In 1497, 
 the Cornish rebels, under Lord Audley, having en- 
 camped at Blackheath, our farmer had donned his 
 rusty armour, and mounting his horse, responded to 
 the summons of the crown. Hugh, then only six years 
 old, was present at his departure, and as if he had 
 wished to take his little part in the battle, he had 
 buckled the straps of his father's armour. Fifty-two 
 years afterwards he recalled this circumstance to mind, 
 in a sermon preached before King Edward. His 
 father's house was always open to the neighbours ; and 
 no poor man ever turned away from the door without 
 having received alms. The old man brought up his 
 family in the love of men and in the fear of God, and 
 having remarked with joy the precocious understanding 
 of his son, he had him educated in the country schools, 
 and then sent to Cambridge at the age of fourteen. 
 This was in 1505, just as Luther was entering the 
 Augustine convent. 
 
 The sou of the Leicestershire yeoman was lively, 
 fond of pleasure, and of cheerful couTersation, and 
 mingled frequently in the amusements of his fellow- 
 students. One day, as they were dining together, one 
 of the party exclaimed : Xil melius qiiam Lctari et faccre 
 bene.' — " There is nothing better than to be merry and 
 to do well." — "A vengeance on that bene!" replied a 
 monk of impudent mien ; " I wish it were beyond the 
 sea ; it mars all the rest." Young Latimer was much 
 
 surprised at the remark : " I imderstand it now," said 
 he ; " that will be a heavy bene to these monks when 
 they liave to render God an account of their lives." 
 
 Latimer having become more serious, threw himself 
 heart and soul into the practices of superstition, and a 
 very bigoted old cousin imdertook to instruct him in 
 them. One day, when one of their relations lay dead, 
 she said to him : " Now we must drive out the devil. 
 Take this holy taper, my child, and pass it over the 
 body, first longways and then athwart, so as always to 
 make the sign of the cross." 
 
 But the scholar performing this exorcism very awk- 
 wardly, his aged cousin snatched the candle from his 
 hand, exclaiming angrily: "It's a great pity your 
 father spends so much money on your studies : he will 
 never make anything of you." 
 
 This prophecy was not fulfilled. He became Fellow 
 of Clare Hall in 150'J, and took his niixster's degree in 
 1514. His classical studies being ended, he begau to 
 study divinity. Duns Scotus, Aquinas, and Hugo de 
 Saiicto Yictore, were his favourite authors. The 
 practical side of things, however, eugaged him more 
 than the speculative ; and he was more distinguished 
 in Cambridge for his asceticism and enthusiasm than 
 for his learning. He attached importance to the merest 
 trifles. As the missal directs that water should be 
 mingled with the sacramental wine, often while saying 
 mass he would be troubled in his conscience for fear 
 he had not put su/Jicieiit u-ater. This remorse never 
 left him a moment's tranquility during the service. In 
 him, as in many others, attachment to puerile ordi- 
 nances occupied in his heart the place of faith in the 
 great truths. With him, the cause of the church was 
 the cause of God, and he respected Thomas a Becket 
 at least as much as St. Paul. " I was then," said ho, 
 "as obstmate a papist as any in England." Luther 
 said the same thing of himself. 
 
 The fervent Latimer soon observed that everybody 
 around him was not equally zealous with himself for 
 the ceremonies of the church. He watched with sur- 
 prise certain young members of the university who, 
 forsaking the doctors of the School, met daily to read 
 and search into the Holy Scriptures. People sneered 
 at them in Cambridge : " It is only the sophists," was 
 the cry; but raillery was not enough for Latimer. 
 One day he entered the room where these sophists 
 were assembled, and begged them to cease studying 
 the Bible. All his entreaties were useless. Can we 
 be astonished at it? said Latimer to himself. Don't 
 we see even the tutors setting an example to these 
 stray sheep ? There is Master Stafford, the most illus- 
 trious professor in English universities, devoting his 
 time ad Biblici, like Luther at "Wittemberg, and ex- 
 plaining the Scriptures according to the Hebrew and 
 Greek texts ! and the dcUghted students celebrate in 
 bad verse the doctor. 
 
 Qui rauhnn cx^lkui' jife el evangcUum.l 
 
 That young people should occupy themselves with 
 these new doctrines, was conceivable, but that a doctor 
 of divinity should do so — what a disgrace ! Latimer 
 therefore determined to attack Stafford. He insulted 
 him ; he entreated the youth of Cambridge to abandon 
 the professor and his heretical teaching ; he attended 
 
 1 Who has cxiilaincd to us the true sense of St. Paul aud of the Gosiiel. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the hall in which the doctor taught, made signs of 
 impatience during the lesson, and cavilled at it after 
 leaving the school. He even preached in public against 
 the learned doctor. But it seemed to him that Cam- 
 bridge and England were struck bliud : true, the clergy- 
 approved of Latimer's proceedings — nay, praised them ; 
 and yet they did nothing. To console him, however, 
 he was named cross-bearer to the university, and we 
 have already seen him discharging this duty. 
 
 Latimer desired to sliew himself worthy of such an 
 honour He had left the students to attack Stafford ; 
 and he now left Stafford for a more illustrious adver- 
 sary. But this attack led him to some one that was 
 stronger than he. At the occasion of receiving the 
 degree of bachelor of divinity, ho had to deliver a Latin 
 discourse in the presence of the university; Latimer 
 
 chose for his subject Philip Melanclhon and his doc- 
 trines. Had not this daring heretic presumed to say 
 quite recently that the Fathers of the Church have 
 altered the sense of Scripture ? Had he not asserted 
 that, like those rocks whose various colours are im- 
 parted to the polypus wliich clings to them, so the 
 doctors of the Church give each their own opinion in 
 the passages they explain ? And, finally, had he not 
 discovered a new touchstone (it is thus he styles the 
 Holy Scripture) by which we must test the sentences 
 even of St. Thomas ? 
 
 Latimer's discourse made a great impression. At 
 last (said his hearers) Eugland, nay Cambridge, will 
 furnish a champion for the church that will confront 
 the Wittemberg doctors, and save the vessel of our 
 Lord. But very different was to be the result. There 
 was among the hearers one man, almost hidden through 
 his small stature : it was Bilney. For some time he 
 had been watching Latimer's movements ; and his zeal 
 interested him, though it was a zeal without knowledge. 
 His energy was not great, but he possessed a delicate 
 
 tact, a skilful discernment of character, which enabled 
 him to distinguish error, and to select the fittest 
 method for combating it. Accordingly, a chronicler 
 styles him " a trier of Satan's subtleties, appointed by 
 God to detect the bad money that the enemy was circu- 
 lating throughout the church." Bilney easily detected 
 Latimer's sophisms, but at the same time loved his 
 person, and conceived the design of winning him to 
 the Gospel. But how to manage it? The prejudiced 
 Latimer woidd not even listen to the evangelical 
 Bilney. The latter reflected, prayed, and at last 
 planned a very candid and very strange plot, which 
 led to one of the most astonishing conversions recorded 
 in history. 
 
 He went to the college where Latimer resided. "For 
 the love of God," he said to him, " be pleased to hear 
 my confession." Tlie heretic prayed to make confession 
 to the catholic : what a singular fact ! My discourse 
 against Melancthon has, no doubt, converted him, said 
 Latimer to himself. Had not Bilney once been among 
 the number of the most pious zealots? His pale face, 
 his wasted frame, and his humble look, are clear signs 
 that he ought to belong to the ascetics of Catholicism. 
 If he turns back, all will turn back with him, and the 
 reaction will be complete at Cambridge. The ardent 
 Latimer eagerly yielded to Bilney 's request, and the 
 latter, kneeling before the cross-bearer, related to him 
 with touching simplicity the anguish he had once felt 
 in his soul, the efforts he had made to remove it ; 
 their unprofitableness so long as he determined to fol- 
 low the precepts of the church ; and, lastly, the peace 
 he had felt when he believed that Jesus Clu-ist is the 
 Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the ivoj-ld. He 
 described to Latimer the spirit of adoption he had 
 received, and the happiness he exjierienced in being 
 able now to call God his Father. . . . Latimer, 
 who expected to receive a confession, listened without 
 mistrust. His heart was opened, and the voice of the 
 pious Bilney penetrated it without obstacle. From 
 time to time the confessor would have chased away the 
 new thoughts which came crowding into his bosom ; 
 but the penitent continued. His language, at once so 
 sinqilc and so lively, entered like a two-edged sword. 
 Bilney was not without assistance in his work. A 
 new, a strange witness, — the Holy Ghost, — was speak- 
 ing in Latimer's soul. He learned from God to know 
 God: he received a new heart. At length grace pre- 
 vailed : the penitent rose up, but Latuuer remained 
 seated, absorbed in thought. The strong cross-bearer 
 contended in vain against the words of the feeble 
 Bilney. Like Saul, on the way to Damascus, he was 
 conquered ; and his conversion, like the Apostle's, was 
 instantaneous. He stammered out a few words : Bilney 
 drew near him with love, and God scattered the dark- 
 ness which still obscured his mind. He saw Jesus 
 Christ as the only >Saviour given to man : he contem- 
 plated and adored Him. " I learnt more by this con- 
 fession," he said aftcnvards, " than by much reading, 
 and in many years before. ... I now tasted the 
 Word of God, and forsook the doctors of the school, 
 and all their fooleries." It was not the penitent but 
 the confessor who received absolution. Latimer viewed 
 with horror the obstinate war he had waged against 
 God; he wept bitterly; but Bilney consoled him, 
 
THE CONFESSOR CONVERTED. 
 
 " Brother," said ho, " tJioiir/7i t/oiir sins be as scarlet, t/ici/ 
 shall be white as snoiv." These two young men, then 
 locked in their solitary chamber at Cambriilij;e, were one 
 (lay to monnt the se;itTolcl for that Divine Master whoso 
 Spirit was iiM.IiiiiL' iliriii. But one of them, before go- 
 ing to the >i;iki', w :i^ iii>t to sit on an episcopal throne. 
 
 Latimer was ehaii;;iil. The energy of his cliaracter 
 was tempered by a Divine unction. Becoming a 
 believer, he had ceased to be superstitious. Instead of 
 persecuting Jesus Christ, he became a zealous seeker 
 after Ilim. Instead of cavilling and railing, he shewed 
 himself meek and gentle ; instead of frequenting com- 
 pany, ho sought solitude, studying the Scriptures and 
 advancing in true theology. He throw off the old man 
 an<l |)ut on the new. He waited upon Stafford, begged 
 forgi\eness for the insult he had offered him, and tlieu 
 regularly attended his lectures, being subjugated more 
 by this doctor's angelic conversation than by his learn- 
 ing. But it was Bilney's society Latimer cultivated 
 most. They cohmi-mmI luL^.tlar dally, took fre(piont 
 walks together inlo the ciniiiliN, ami nccasionally rested 
 at a place long knuwn as •■ ihc ii.riiii's hill." 
 
 So striking a eonversiim gave fresli vigour to the 
 evangelical movement. Hitherto Bilney and Latimer 
 had been the most zealous champions of tho two oppo- 
 site causes — the one despised, the other honoured ; tho 
 weak man had conquered the strong. This action of 
 the Spirit of God was not thrown away upon Cambridge. 
 Latimer's conversion, as of old tho miracles of the 
 Apostles, struck nirirs iiiimls ; and was it not, in truth, 
 a miracle ? All tin' ymith nl' (lie university ran to hear 
 Bilney preach, lie piciclainird "Jesus Christ as He 
 who, having tasted death, has delivered His people 
 from the penalty of sin." While tho doctors of the 
 school (even the most pious of them) laid most stress 
 upon man's part in the work of redemption, Bihiey, on 
 the coutraiy, emphasized the other terra, namely, God's 
 part. This doctrine of grace, said his adversaries, an- 
 nuls the sacraments, and contradicts baptismal regene- 
 ration. The selfishness which forms the essence of 
 fallen humanity rejected the evangelical doctrine, and 
 felt that to aeeei)t it was to be lost. " Many listened 
 with the left ear," to use an expression of Bilney's ; " like 
 Malehus, having their riyht ear cutoff;" and they filled 
 the university with their complaints. 
 
 But Bilney did not allow himself to be stopped. The 
 idea of eternity had seized on his mind, and, perhaps, 
 he still retained some feeble relic of the exaggerations of 
 asceticism. Ho condemned every kind of recreation, 
 even when innocent. Music in the churches seemed to 
 him a mockery of God ; and when Thurlby, who was 
 afterwards a bishop, and who lived at Cambridge in 
 the room below his, used to begin playing on the 
 recorder, BUncy would fall on his knees and pour out 
 his soul in prayer : to him prayer was the sweetest 
 melody. He prayed that tho lively faith of the chil- 
 dren of God might, in all England, be substituted for 
 the vanity and pride of the priests. He believed — ho 
 prayed — ho waited. His waiting was not to be in vain. 
 
 Latimer trod in his footsteps : tho transformation of 
 his soul was going on ; and the more fanaticism ho had 
 shewn for the sacerdotal system, which places salvation 
 in the hands of tho priest, the more zeal he now shewed 
 for the evangelical system, which placed it in the hands 
 
 of Christ. He saw thai if the churches must needs 
 have ministers, it is imi linaii .• ihry require a human 
 mediation, but from the n.c. ,,-iiv ..f a regular preach- 
 ing of tho Gospel, and a slea.iy direction of the tiock ; 
 and, accordingly, ho would have wished to call tho ser- 
 vant of tho Lord minister, (iir7jp(T?)s or SiaKoyos toD \6yov,) 
 and not priest, (/f/icu? or facfrdos.) In his view, it was 
 not tho imposii;,,ii ,,{ hands by the bishop that gave 
 grace, but grare wlii.h aulliorized the imposition of 
 hands. He coii-i.Krcd atti\ ity to bo one of the essen- 
 tial features of the Gospel ministiy. "Would you 
 know," said he, " why the Lord chose fishermen to be 
 His Apostles ? . . . See how they watch day and 
 night at their nets to take all such fishes that they can 
 got and come in their way. ... So all our bishops, 
 and curates, and vicars, shoidd be as painfid in casting 
 their nets, — that is to say, in preaching God's Word." 
 Ho regarded all confidence in human strength as a 
 remnant of paganism. " Lot us not do," he said, " as 
 the hatighty Ajax, who said to his father, as he wont 
 to battle : Without the help of God I am able to fight, 
 and I will get the victory with mine own strength." 
 
 Tho Reformation had gained in Latimer a veiy 
 different man from Bilney. Ho had not so much dis- 
 cernment and prudence perhaps, but he had more 
 energy and eloquence. What Tyndalo was to be for 
 England by his i\Titiugs, Latimer was to be by his 
 discourses. The tenderness of his conscience, the 
 warmth of his zeal, and tho vivacity of his under- 
 standing, were enlisted in the service of Jesus Christ ; 
 and if at times ho was carried too far by the liveliness 
 of his wit, it only shews that the reformers were not 
 saints, but sanctified men. " Ho was one of the first," 
 says an historian, " who, in the days of King Henry 
 VUL, set himself to preach the Gospel in the truth 
 and simplicity of it." He preached in Latin, ad denim, 
 and in English, ad popxilum. He boldly placed the law 
 with its curses before his hearers ; aud then conjm-od 
 thorn to flee towards the Saviour of the world. The 
 same zeal which ho had employed in saying mass, he 
 now employed in preaching the true sacrifice of Christ. 
 He said one day : " If one man had committed all the 
 sins since Adam, you may be sure he should be 
 punished with the same horror of death, in such a 
 sort, as all men in tho world should have suffered. 
 . . . Such was the pain Christ endured. . . . 
 If our Saviour had committed all the sins of the world; 
 all that I for my part have done, all that you for your 
 part have done, and all that any man else hath done ; 
 if lie had done all this himself. His agony that Ho 
 suffered should have been no greater nor gi'iovouser 
 than it was. . . . Believe in Jesus Christ, and 
 you shall overcome death. . . . But, alas !" said 
 he, at another time, "the devil, by the help of that 
 Italian bishop, his chaplain, has laboured by all moans 
 that ho might frustrate the death of Christ aud the 
 merits of His passion." 
 
 Thus began in British Christendom the preaching 
 of tho Cross. The Reformation was not the substitu- 
 tion of tho Catholicism of the First Ages for the Popciy 
 of tho Middle Ages : it was a revival of the preaching 
 of St. Paul ; and thus it was, that on hearing Latimer, 
 every one exclaimed with raptui-e : " Of a Saul, God 
 has made him a very Paul." 
 
HISTOPvY OF THE REFOEMATION. 
 
 To the inward power of faith the Cambridge evan- 
 gelists added the outward power of the life. Saul 
 become Paid, the strong, the ardent Latimer, had need 
 of action ; and Biluey, the weak and humble Bilney, 
 in delicate health, observing a severe tliet, taking 
 ordinarily but one meal a-day, and never sleeping more 
 than four hours, absorbed in prayer and in the study 
 of the Word, displayed at that time all the energy 
 of charity. These two friends devoted themselves not 
 merely to the easy labours of Christian beneficence; 
 but caring little for that formal Clu-istianity so often 
 met with among the easy classes, they explored the 
 gloomy cells of the madhouse, to bear the sweet and 
 subtle voice of the Gospel to the infuriate maniacs. 
 They visited the miserable lazar-housc without the 
 town, in which several poor lepers were dwelling ; 
 they carefully tended them, wrapped them in clean 
 sheets, and wooed them to be converted to Christ. 
 The gates of the jail at Cambridge wore oj>ened to 
 them ; and they annoimced to the poor prisoners that 
 word which giveth liberty. Some were converted by 
 it, and longed for the day of their execution. Latimer, 
 afterwards bishoj) of AVorcester, was one of the most 
 beautiful types of the Reformation in England. 
 
 lie -was opposed by uumex-ous adversaries. In the 
 front rank were the priests, who spai'ed no endeavours 
 to retain souls. " Beware," said Latimer to the new 
 converts, " lest robbers overtake you, and plunge you 
 into the pope's prison of purgatory." After these came 
 the sons and favourites of the aristocracy, worldly and 
 frivolous students, who felt little disposition to listen 
 to the Gospel. "By yeoman's sons the faith of Christ 
 is and luith been chiefly maintained in the Church," 
 Slid Latiini-i-. "Is this realm taught by rich men's 
 sous .- No, no ; read the chronicles ; ye shall find 
 sometime noblemen's sons which have been impreach- 
 ing bishops and prelates ; but ye shall find none of 
 them learned men." He would have desired a mode 
 of election which placed in the Chi'istian puli)it, not 
 the richest and most fashionable men, but the ablest 
 and most pious. This important reform was reserved 
 for other days. Lastly, the evangelists of Cambridge 
 came into collision with the hrutalitij of many, to use 
 Latimer's own expression. "What need have we of 
 universities and schools?" said the students of this 
 class. The Holy Ghost "will give us always what 
 to say." — " We must trust in the Holy Ghost," replied 
 Latimer; "but not presume on it. If you will not 
 maintain universities, you shall have a hrutaliti/." In 
 this manner the Reformation restored to Cambridge 
 gravity and knowledge, along with truth and charity. 
 
 Yet Biluey and Latimer often tm-ned their eyes 
 towards Oxford, and wondered how the light would 
 be able to penetrate there. Wolsey provided for that. 
 A Cambridge master of arts, John Clark, a consci- 
 entious man, of tender heart, great prudence, and 
 indjounded devotion to his duty, had been enlightened 
 by the Word of God. Wolsey, wdio, since 152;!, had 
 been seeking eveiywhere for distinguished scholars to 
 adorn his new college, invited Clark among the first. 
 This doctor, desirous of bearing to Oxford the light 
 which God had given Cambridge, immediately began 
 to deliver a course of divinity lectiu'es, to hold con- 
 ferences, and to preach in his eloquent manner. He 
 
 taught every day. Among the graduates and students 
 who followed him was Anthony Dalaber, a young man 
 of simple but profound feeling, who, while listeniu"' 
 to him, had f.\|icriciKTil in )iis heart the regenerating 
 power of the (m'-|..1. ()\.iI|,,u in^^ with llio happiness 
 which the kuciwlr.l-v i.t' .Irsu, Christ imparted to him, 
 he went to the cai-^linal's ci.ll.'i;-,', knocked at Clark's 
 door, and said: "Fatlh r. allow mc never to quit you 
 more!" The teaclici-, iiclLuldiug the young disciple's 
 enthusiasm, loved him; but thcjught it is duty to try 
 him : " Anthony," said he, " you kuow not what you 
 ask. My teaching is now pleasant to you, but the 
 time will come when God will lay the cross of per- 
 secution on yon ; you will be dragged before bishops ; 
 your name will be covered with shame in the world ; 
 and all who love you will be heart-broken on account 
 of you. . . . Then, my friend, you will regret 
 that you ever knew me." 
 
 Anthony, believing himself rejected, and unable to 
 bear the idea of retm-ning to the barren instructions 
 of the priests, fell on his knees, and weeping bitterly, 
 exclaimed: "For the tender mercy of God, turn mo 
 not away." Touched by his sorrow, Clark folded him 
 in his arms, kissed him, and with tears in his eyes, 
 exclaimed : " The Lord give thee what thou askest ! 
 . Take me for thy father, I take thee for my 
 sou." From that hour Anthony, all joy, was like 
 Timothy at the feet of Paul. He united a quick 
 understanding with tender affections. When any of 
 the students had not attended Clark's conferences, the 
 master commissioned his disciple to visit them, to 
 inquire into their doubts, and to impart to them his 
 instructions. " This exercise did mc much good," said 
 Dalaber ; " and I made great progress in the know- 
 ledge of Scripture." 
 
 Thus the kingdom of God, which consists not in 
 forms, but in the power of the Spirit, was set up in 
 Cambridge and Oxford. The alarmed schoolmen, 
 beholding their most jiious scholars escajiing one after 
 another from their teaching, called the bishops to their 
 aid ; and the latter determined to send agents to Cam- 
 bridge, the focus of the heresy, to apprehend the 
 leaders. This took place in 1523, or the beginning 
 of 1524:. The episcopal officers had arrived, and were 
 proceeding to business. The most timid began to feel 
 alarm; but Latimer was full of courage; when sud- 
 denly the agents of the clergy were forbidden to go 
 on ; and this prohibition, strange to say, originated with 
 Wolsey ; " upon what ground I cannot imagine," says 
 Burnet. Certain events were taking place at Rome, 
 of a nature to exercise great influence over the priestly 
 councils, and which may perhaps explain what Bm-not 
 could not understand. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Wolsey seeks tlie Tiara—Clement VII. is Elected— Wolsey's Dissimulation— 
 Charles Offers France to Henry— Pace's Mission on tliis Subject— 
 Wolsey Reforms the Convents— His Secret Alliances— Treaty between 
 France and England— Taxation and Inaun-ection— False Charges against 
 the Reformers— Latimer's Defence— Tenterden Steeple. 
 
 Adrian VI. died on the 14th September, 1523, before 
 the end of the second year of his pontificate. Wolsey 
 
WOLSEY'S DISAPPOINTMENT AND DISSIMULATION. 
 
 thoiiglit hiuiscll:" iio])0. At length he woukl uo longoi- 
 bo tiio favourite only, but the arbiter of the kings of 
 the ciirlh ; and his genius, for wliich Englniul was too 
 narrow, would have Europe aud the world for its stage. 
 Already revolving gigantic projects in his mind, the 
 future i)opo dreamt of the destruction of heresy in the 
 west, and in the cast the cessation of the Greek schism, 
 and iiru- irii-.ides to replant the cross on the walls of 
 C'iMi-.i;iii\Lii(.|il<>. There is nothing that Wolsey would 
 IK. I lia\ • (land undertake when once seated on the 
 tluoiie lit Catholicism, and the pontificates of Gregoiy 
 VII. and Innocent III. Avould have been eclipsed by 
 that of the Ipswich butcher's sou. The cardinal re- 
 minded IIoniT of his jM'omise, and the very next day 
 the king signed a letter addressed to Charles the Fifth. 
 
 Believing himself sure of the emperor, AVolsey turned 
 all his exertions to the side of Rome. "The legate of 
 England," said Henry's nmbassadors to the cardinals, 
 "is the very man for tiie present time. He is the only 
 one tlioroughly ac(piaiiited with the interests and wants 
 of Clu-istendom, and strong enough to provide for them. 
 He is all kindness, and will share his dignities aud 
 wealth among all the prelates who support him." 
 
 But Julio de' Medici himself aspu-ed to the papacy, 
 and as eighteen cardinals were devoted to him, the 
 election could not take place without his support. 
 " Rather than yield," said he in the conclave, " I would 
 die in this prison." A month passed away, and nothing 
 was done. New intrigues were then resorted to ; there 
 were cabals for Wolsey, cabals for Medici. The cardi- 
 nals were besieged ; 
 
 Into their midst, by many a secret path. 
 Creeps sly intrigue. 
 
 At length, on the 19th November, 1523, the people 
 collected under their windows, shouting : " No foreign 
 pope." After forty-nine days debating, Julio was 
 elected, and, according to his own expression, " bent 
 his head beneath the yoke of apostolic sei-vitude." He 
 took the name of Clement VH. 
 
 Wolsey was exasperated. It was in vain that he 
 presented himself before St. Peter's chair at each 
 vacancy: a more active or more fortunate rival 
 always reached it before him. Master of England, 
 and the most influential of European diplomatists, he 
 saw men preferred to him who were his inferiors. 
 This election was an event for the Reformation. 
 AVolsey as pope would, humanly speaking, have tight- 
 ciicd the cords which already bound England so closely 
 to Rome; but "Wolsey, rejected, could hardly fail to 
 throw himself into tortuous paths, which would perhaps 
 contribute to the emancipatiou of the Church. He 
 became more crafty than ever ; declared to Henry that 
 the new election was quite in conformity with his 
 wishes, and hastened to congratulate the new pope. 
 He wrote to his agents at Rome : " This election, I 
 assure you, is as much to the king's aud my rejoicing, 
 consolation, aud gladness, as possibly may be devised 
 or imagined. . . . Ye shall shew imto his holiness 
 Avhat joy, comfort, and gladness, it is both to the king's 
 highness and me to perceive that once in our lives it 
 hath pleased God of His gi-eat goodness to provide such 
 a pastor unto His Church, as his grace and I have loug 
 inwardly desired ; who for his virtue, wisdom, and other 
 high aud notable qualities, we have always reputed the 
 
 most able and worthy person to be called to that • dig- 
 nity." But the pope, divining his competitor's vexa- 
 tion, sent the king a golden rose, aud a ring to "Wolsey. 
 "I am sorry," he said, as he drew it from his finger, 
 " that I cannot present it to his eminence in person." 
 Clement, moreover, conferred on him the quality of 
 legate for life — an olhcc which had hitherto been 
 temporary only. Thus the popedom and England 
 embraced each other, and nothing appeared more dis- 
 tant than that Christian revolution wliicli was destined 
 very shortly to emancipate Britain from the tutelage of 
 the Vatican. 
 
 "Wolsey 's disappointed ambition made him suspend 
 the proceedings of the clergy at Cambridge. He had 
 revenge in his heart, and cared not to persecute his 
 fellow-coimtiymen merely to please his rival; and 
 besides, like several popes, ho had a certain fondness 
 for learning. To send a few Lollards to prison was a 
 matter of no ditRcidty; but learned doctors, . . . 
 this required a closer examination. Hence he gave 
 Rome a sign of independence. Aud yet it was not 
 specially against the pope that he began to entertain 
 sinister designs: Clement had been more fortunate 
 than himself ; but that was no reason why he should 
 be angiy with him. . . . Charles V. was the 
 offender, and Wolsey swore a deadly hatred agaiast 
 him. Resolved to strike, he sought only the place 
 where he could inflict the severest blow. To obtain IiLs 
 end, he resolved to dissemble his passion, and to distil 
 drop by drop into Ileniy's mind that mortal hatred 
 against Charles which gave fresh energy to his activity. 
 
 Charles discovered the indignation that lay hid under 
 Wolsey 's apparent mildness, and wishing to retain 
 Henry's alliance, he made more pressing advances to 
 the king. Having deprived the minister of a tiara, he 
 resolved to offer the king a crown : this w.w, indeed, a 
 noble compensation ! " You are king of France," the 
 emperor said, " and I undertake to win your kmgdom 
 for you. Only send an ambassador to Italy to nego- 
 tiate the matter." Wolsey, who could hardly contain his 
 vexation, was forced to comply, in appearance at least, 
 with the emperor's views. The king, indeed, seemed 
 to think of nothing but his arrival at St. Germains, 
 aud commissioned Pace to visit Italy for this important 
 business. AVolsey hoped that he would be uuable to 
 execute his commission ; it was impossible to cross the 
 Alps, for the French troops blockaded every passage. 
 But Pace, who was one of those adventm-ous characters 
 whom nothing can stop, spurred on by the thought that 
 the king himself had sent him, determined to cross the 
 Col di Tenda. On the 27th July, ho entered the moun- 
 tains, traversed precipitous passes, sometimes climbuig 
 them on aU-fours, and often faUiug during the descent, 
 lu some places he coidd ride on horseback ; " but in the 
 most part thereof I durst not either turn my horse tra- 
 verse (he wi-ote to the king) for all the worldly riches, 
 nor in manner look on my left hand, for the pronite 
 and deepness to the valley." After this passage, which 
 lasted six days. Pace arrived in Italy, worn out by 
 fatigue. " If the king of England will enter France 
 immediately by way of Normandy,'' said the constable 
 of Bourbon to him, " I will give him leave to pluck out 
 both my eyes -if he is not master of Paris before All- 
 Saints ; and when Paris is taken, he will be master of 
 
632 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the whole kingdom." But "VVolsey, to whom these 
 remarks were transmitted by the ambassador, slighted 
 them, delayed furnishing the subsidies, and required 
 certain conditions which were calculated to thwart the 
 project. Pace, who was ardent and ever imprudent, 
 but i^lain and straightforward, forgot himself, and in 
 a moment of vexation wrote to AVolsey. "To speak 
 frankly, if you do not attend to these things, I shall 
 impute to your grace the loss of the crown of France." 
 These words ruined Henry's envoy in the cardinal's 
 mind. Was this man, who owed everything to him, 
 trying to supplant him ? . . . Pace in vain assured 
 Wolsey that he sliould not take seriously what he had 
 said ; but the bolt had hit. Pace was associated with 
 ] Charles in the cruel enmity of the minister, and he was 
 one day to feel its terrible effects. It was not long 
 before Wolsey was able to satisfy himself that the ser- 
 vice Charles had desired to render the king of England 
 was beyond the emperor's strength. 
 
 No sooner at case ou one side, than Wolsey found 
 himself attacked on another. Tliis man, the most 
 powerful among kings' favourites, felt at this time the 
 first breath of disfavour blow over him. On the pon- 
 tifical throne, he would no doubt have attempted a 
 reform after the manner of Sixtus V.; and wishing 
 to rehearse ou a smaller stage, and regenerate after his 
 own fashion the Catholic Church in England, he sum- 
 mitted the monasteries to a strict inquisition, patronized 
 the instruction of youth, and was the first to set a great 
 example, by suppressing certain religious houses, whose 
 revenues he applied to his college in Oxford. Tliomas 
 CromweU, his solicitor, disphiyed much skill and in- 
 dustiy in this business, and thus, under the orders of a 
 cardinal of the Roman Church, made his first cam- 
 paign in a war of which he was in later days to hold 
 the chief command. Wolsey and Cromwell, by their 
 reforms, drew down the hatred of certain monks, 
 priests, and noblemen, always the very humble servants 
 of the clerical party. The latter accused the cardinal 
 of not having estimated the monasteries at their just 
 value, and of having, in certain cases, encroached on 
 the royal jurisdiction. Hemy, whom the loss of the 
 crown of France had jaut in a bad humour, resolved, 
 for the first time, not to spare his minister : " There 
 are loud murmurs throughout this kingdom," he said 
 to him ; " it is asserted that your new college at Oxford 
 is only a convenient cloak to hide your malversations." 
 — " God forbid," replied the cardinal, " that this vir- 
 tuous foundation at Oxford, uudertakeu for the good 
 of my poor soul, should be raised ex rapinis ! But, 
 above all, God forbid that I shoidd ever encroach upon 
 your royal authority." He then cunningly insinuated, 
 I that by his will he left all his property to the king. 
 I Henry was satisfied : ho had a share in the business. 
 j Events of very different importance drew the king's 
 I attention to another quarter. The two armies, of the 
 I empire and of France, were in presence before Pavia. 
 I Wolsey, who openly gave his right hand to Charles V., 
 I and secretly his left to Francis, repeated to his master : 
 1 " If the emperor gains the victory, are you not liis ally? 
 and if Francis, am I not in secret communication with 
 him ? Thus," added the cardinal, " whatever happens, 
 your highness will have great cause to give thanks to 
 Almighty God." 
 
 On the 24th of February, 1525, the battle of Pavia 
 was fought, and the Imperialists found in the French 
 king's tent several of Wolsey 's letters, and in his mili- 
 tary chest, and in the pockets of his soldiers, the cardi- 
 nal's corrupting gold. This alliance had been contrived 
 by Giovanni Gioacchino, a Genoese master of the 
 household to Louisa, regent of France, who passed for 
 a merchant of Bologna, and lived in concealment at 
 Blackfriars. Charles now saw what he had to trust to ; 
 but the news of the battle of Pavia had scarcely reached 
 England, when, faitliful in perfidy, AVolsey gave utter- 
 ance to a feigned pleasure. The people rejoiced also, 
 but they were in earnest. Bonfires were lighted in the 
 streets of London ; the fountains ran wine, and the 
 lord-mayor, attended by the aldermen, passed through 
 the city on horseback to the sound of the trumpet. 
 
 The cardinal's joy was not altogether false. He 
 would have been pleased at his enemy's defeat ; but 
 his victory was perhaps still more useful to him. 
 
 He said to Henry : " The emperor is a liar, observ- 
 ing neither faith nor p)-omise ; the Archduchess Mar- 
 garet is a woman of evil life ; Don Ferdinand is a child, 
 and Bourbon a traitor. Sire, you have other things to 
 do with your money than to squander it on these four 
 individuals. Charles is aiming at universal monarchy ; 
 Pavia is the first step of this throne ; and if England 
 does not oppose liim, he will attain it." Joachim hav- 
 ing come privily to London, Wolsey prevailed upon 
 Henry to conclude between England and France an 
 " indissoluble peace by land and sea." At last, then, 
 he was in a position to prove to Charles that it 
 is a dangerous thing to oppose the ambition of a 
 priest. 
 
 This was not the only advantage Wolsey derived 
 from the triumph of his enemy. The citizens of London 
 imagined that the king of England would be in a few 
 weeks in Paris ; Wolsey, rancorous and grasping, deter- 
 mined to make them pay dearly for theu- enthusiasm. 
 " You desire to conquer France," said he ; " you are 
 right. Give me, then, for that piu-pose, the sixth part 
 of your property ; that is a trifle to gratify so noble an 
 inclination." England did not tliink so; this illegal 
 demand aroused universal complaint. " We are Eng- 
 lish, and not French ; freemen, and not slaves," was 
 the universal ciy. Henry might tyi-annize over his 
 court, but not lay hands on his subjects' property. 
 
 The eastern counties rose in insurrection : four thou- 
 sand men were under arms in a moment ; and Henry 
 was guarded in his own palace by only a few servants. 
 It was necessary to break down the bridges to stop the 
 insurgents. The courtiers complained to the king ; the 
 king threw the blame on the cardinal ; the cardinal laid 
 it on the clergy, who had encouraged him to impose 
 this tax, by quoting to him the example of Joseph 
 demanding of the Egyptians the fifth part of their 
 goods ; and the clergy, in their tm-n, ascribed the insur- 
 rection to the Gospellers, who (said they) were stirring 
 up a peasant war in England, as they had done in 
 Germany. Reformation produces revolution : this is 
 the favourite text of the followers of the pope. Violent 
 hands must be laid upon the heretics. Non pluit Beus, 
 due ad C/tristianos.^ 
 
 1 " God sends no rain. . . . Lead us .igainst tho CliiUtians." Aery 
 ascribed by Augustine, to the pagans of the first ages. 
 
■^m 
 
 
 p-_ 
 
 ^j% 
 
TYNDALE AT HAMBURG. 
 
 The chargo of the priests was absurd ; but tlio people 
 arc blind wliencver the Gospel is coiiccrued, and occa- 
 sionally the governors are blind also. Serious reason- 
 ing was not necessary to confute this invention. " Here, 
 by the way, I will tell you a merry toj'," said Latimer, 
 one day, in the pulpit. " Master More was once sent 
 in commission into Kent to help to try out, if it might 
 bo, what was the cause of Goodwin Sands and the 
 shelf that stojijied up Sandwich haven. lie calleth 
 the countiy afore him, such as were thought to be 
 men of experience, and among others came in an old 
 man with a white head, and one that was thought to 
 be little less than one hundred years old. So Master 
 More called the old aged man unto him, and said : 
 Father, tell me, if you can, what is the cause of this 
 great arising of the sands and shelves hereabout, that 
 stop up Sandwich haven? Forsooth, sir, (quoth be,) 
 I am an old man, for I am well-nigh an hundred, and 
 I think that Tentcrden steeple is the cause of the 
 Goodwin Sands. For I am an old man, sir, and I 
 may remember the building of Tentordon steeple, and 
 before that steeple was in building, there wjis no 
 manner of flats or sands." After relating this anec- 
 dote, Latimer slyly added : " Even so, to my purpose, 
 is preaching of God's Word the cause of rebellion, as 
 Tenterden steeple was the cause Sandwich haven is 
 decayed." 
 
 There was no persecution : there was something else 
 to be done. Wolsey, feeling certain that Charles had 
 obstructed his accession to the popedom, thought only 
 in what manner he might take his revenge. But 
 during this time Tyndale also was pursuing his aim ; 
 and the year 1525, memorable for the battle of Pavia, 
 was destined to be no less so in the British isles, by a 
 still more important victory. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TjTidale at HamLurg— First Two Gospels— Embairassmeii^-Tynclalc at 
 Wittemberg— At Cologne— Tlio New Testament at Press— Sinlilen In- 
 tcmiption— Cochlmus at Cologne— Eupert's Manuscripts— Discovery of 
 Coclilreus- His Inquiries— His Alarm— Rincke and the Senate's Pro- 
 hibition— Consternation and Decision of Tyndale- Coehlreus Writes to 
 England— TjTidale Ascends the lihine— Prints T\vo Editions at Worms 
 — Tyndale's Prayer. 
 
 The ship which carried Tyndale and his MSS. cast 
 anchor at Hamburg, where, since the year 1521, the 
 Gospel had counted numerous friends. Encouraged 
 by the presence of his brethren, the Oxford fellow had 
 taken a quiet lodging in one of the narrow winding 
 streets of that old city, and had immediately resumed 
 his task. A secretary, whom he terms his " faithful 
 companion," aided him in collating texts ; but it was 
 not long before this brother, whose name is unknown 
 to us, thinking himself called to preach Christ in places 
 where He had as yet never been proclaimed, left 
 Tyndale. A former friar-observant of the Franciscan 
 order at Greenwich, having abandoned the cloister, 
 and being at this time without resources, offered his 
 services to the Hellenist. William Koye was one of 
 
 those men (and they are always pretty numerous) whom 
 impatience of the yoke alienates from Rome Avithout 
 their being attracted by the Spirit of God to Christ. 
 Acute, insinuating, crafty, and yet of pleasing manners, 
 he charmed all those who had mere casual relations 
 with him. Tyndale, banished to the distant shores of 
 the Elbe, surrounded by strange customs, and hearing 
 only a foreign tongue, often thought of England, and 
 was impatient that his country should enjoy the result 
 of his labours : he accepted Royc's aid. The Gospels 
 of Blatthew and Mark, translated and printed at Ham- 
 burg, became, it would seem, the first fruits to England 
 of his great task. 
 
 But Tyndale was soon overwhelmed by annoyances. 
 Roye, who was pretty manageable while he had no 
 money, had become intractable now that his purse was 
 less empty. AVhat was to be done? The reformer 
 having spent the ten pounds he had brought from 
 England, could not satisfy the demands of his assist- 
 ant, pay his own debts, and remove to another city. 
 He became still more sparing and economical. The 
 AVartburg, in which Luther had translated the New 
 Testament, was a palace in comparison with the lodg- 
 ing in which the reformer of wealthy England endured 
 hunger and cold, while toiling day and night to give 
 the Gospel to the English Christians. 
 
 About the end of 1524 Tyndale sent the two Gospels 
 to Monmouth ; and a merchant, named John Collen- 
 beke, having brought him the ten pounds he had left 
 in the hands of his old patron, he prepared to depart 
 immediately. 
 
 Where should he go? Not to England; he must 
 complete his task before all things. Could he be in 
 Luther's neighbourhood and not desire to see him ? He 
 needed not the Saxon reformer either to find the truth, 
 which he had alicady knoT\n ■\t Oxftid, or to under- 
 take the trau htnn of the Scrii)ture , which he had 
 already begun m tl c \ il of the S \ ei ri But did not 
 
 COLOGNE c 
 
HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 .all evangelical foreigners flock to Wittemberg? To 
 remove all doubt as to the interview of the reformers, 
 it would be desirable, perhaps, to find some trace at 
 Wittemberg,^ cither in the university registers, or in 
 the writings of the Saxon reformers. Yet several 
 contemporaneous testimonies seem to give a sufRcient 
 degree of probability to this conference. Foxe tells 
 us : " He had an interview with Luther and other 
 learned men of that country.'"' This must have been 
 in the spring of 1525. 
 
 Tyndale, desirous of drawing nearer to his native 
 country, turned his eyes towards the Rhine. There 
 were at Cologne some celebrated printers well known 
 in England, and among others Quentel and the Byrck- 
 mans. Francis Byrckraan had warehouses in St. Paul's 
 churchyard in London, — a circumstance that might 
 facilitate the introduction and sale of the Testament 
 printed on the banks of the Rhine. This providential 
 circumstance decided Tyndale in favour of Cologne, 
 and thither he repaired with Roye and his MSS. 
 Arrived in the gloomy streets of the city of Agrippina, 
 he contemplated its innumerable churches, and above 
 all its ancient cathedral re-echoing to the voices of its 
 canons, and was oppressed with sorrow as he beheld 
 the priests, and monks, and mendicants, and pilgrims, 
 who, from all parts of Europe, poured in to adore the 
 pretended relics of the three ivi'se men and of the eleven 
 tlwnsand virgins. And then Tyndale asked himself 
 whether it was really in this superstitious city that the 
 New Testament was to be printed in English. This 
 was not all. The reform movement then at work in 
 Germany had broken out at Cologne during the feast 
 of Whitsuntide, and the archbishop had just forbidden 
 all e\-angelical worship. Y'et Tyndale persevered, and 
 submitting to the most minute precautions, not to 
 compromise his work, he took an obscure lodging, 
 where he kept himself closely hidden. 
 
 Soon, however, trusting in God, he called on the 
 printer, presented his manuscripts to him, ordered six 
 thousand copies, and then, upon reflection, sank down 
 to three thousand, for fear of a seizure. The print- 
 ing went on; one sheet followed another; gradually 
 the Gospel unfolded its mysteries in the English 
 tongue, and Tyndale could not contain himself for 
 ■^'"7 .i"y- He saw in his mind's eye the triumphs of 
 the Scriptures over all the kingdom, and exclaimed 
 with transport: "Whether the king wills it or not, 
 erelong all the peo]ilc of England, enlightened by the 
 New Testament, will obey the Gospel." 
 
 1 I iic|\i.';,tf (1 a Ceiinan divine to investigate tliis matter, but his researches 
 wir.' Uli.suf.'.svsful. 
 
 •-' Mr, Audi rswi, in his excellent work, ("Annals of tlie English Bible," vol. 
 i., !>. 47, > ilisimtcs tlie interview between these two reformers ; but his .argu- 
 
 But on a sudden that sun, whose earliest beams he 
 had hailed with songs of joy, was hidden by thick 
 clouds. One day, just as the tenth sheet had been 
 thrown off, the printer hastened to Tvndale, and io- 
 fonur,] liiii, dial llir >rnalc of C,.l,.uncVoil.aae him to 
 cnntiiinr lli,' woik. E\.T\ilnn- was (li>.M,\ vrr.l then. 
 No doubt Ilcmy \iU., wiio has burnt Luther's books, 
 wishes to burn the New Testament also, to destroy 
 Tyndale's manuscripts, aud deliver him up to death. 
 'WHio had betrayed him 1 He was lost in unavailing 
 conjectures, and one thing only appeared certain : alas ! 
 his vessel, which was moving onwards in full sail, had 
 struck upon a reef ! The following is the explanation 
 of this unexpected incident : — • 
 
 A man whom we have often met with in the course 
 of this history, one of the mcot violent enemies of the 
 Reformation, — we mean CochloMis, — lad arrived in 
 Cologne. The wave of popular auila'.lou which had 
 stirred this city during the \VliilMHiliii.' holidays, had 
 prcviou-lv sw.'pt over Frankfort (luiiiiLT lln' festival of 
 East,!-: and llir ,lran of Notre-Dauir. Mkinu advantage 
 of a mnn. Ill when the gates of llii' rily wrw ojieii, 
 had escaped a few minutes before the burgliers entered 
 his house to arrest him. On arriving at Cologne, 
 where he hoped to live unknown under the shadow 
 of the powerful elector, he had gone to lodge with 
 George Lauer, a canon in the church of the Apostles. 
 
 By a singular destiny, the two most opposite men, 
 Tyndale and Cochloeus, were in hiding in the same 
 city; they could not long remain there without coming 
 into collision. 
 
 On the right bank of the Rhine, aud opposite Cologne, 
 stood the monasteiy of Deutz, one of whose abbots, 
 Rupert, who lived in the twelfth century, had said: 
 "To be ignorant of Scripture, is to be ignorant of 
 Jesus Christ. This is the scripture of nations ! This 
 book of God, which is not pompous in words, and poor 
 in meaning, like Plato, ought to be set before every 
 people, aud to proclaim aloud to the whole world the 
 salvation of all." One day, when Cochloeus and his 
 host were talking of Rupert, the canon informed the 
 dean that the heretic Osiander of Nuremberg was in 
 treaty with the abbot of Deutz about publishing the 
 writings of this ancient doctor. Cochloeus guessed 
 siaiider was desirous of bringing forward the 
 pniary nf St. Bernard as a witness in defence 
 K' fMiiiiaiiiin. Hastening to the monastery, he 
 1 llie aiiliol : "Intrast to me the manuscripts of 
 ■li'lualcil predecessor," he said; "I will under- 
 print III. Ill, and prove that he was one of us." 
 inks placed them in his hands, stipulating for 
 an early publication, from which they expected no 
 little renown, Cochloeus immediately went to Peter 
 Quentel and Arnold Byrckmau to make the necessaiy 
 arrangements. They were Tyndale's printers. 
 
 There Cochloeus made a more important discovery 
 than that of Rupert's manuscripts. Byrckmau aiul 
 <^i!hii(rl ha\iuu- iii\iti-(l Iiini one day to meet several of 
 Iheir culleauius al dinner, a ]jrinler, somewhat elevated 
 l.y «ine, (l.'elarecl in his eups, (to borrow the WOrds 
 of Cochkcus:) "Whether the king and the cardinal 
 of York wish it or not, all England will soon be 
 Lutheran." Cochloeus listened aud grew alarmed ; he 
 made inquiry, and was informed that two Englishmen, 
 
THE SECRET BETRAYED-TYNDALE'S FLIGHT. 
 
 Ipiirncil inc-ii, and skillril in the languages, were con- 
 coaU'tl at Cologne. But all his efforts to discover more 
 proved unavailing. 
 
 There was no more repose for the Dean of Frank- 
 fort ; his imaginatiou foi'nicuted, his mind became 
 alarmed. " "What !" said he, " shall England, that 
 faithful servant of the jiopodom, be perverted like 
 Germany/ Shall the English, the most religious 
 people of Christondoni, and -nliose king once ennobled 
 himself by writing against Luther, — shall they bo 
 invaded by heresy.' . . . Shall the mighty car- 
 dinal-legate of York be compelled to flee from his 
 jialace, as I was from Frankfort?" Cochloous con- 
 tinued his search ; he paid frequent visits to the 
 ]irinters, sjjoke to thom in a friendly tone, flattered 
 them, invited thom to visit him at the canon's; but 
 as yet he dared not hazard the important question ; 
 it was snflicient for the moment to have won the 
 good graces of tlic dejiositaries of the secret. He 
 soon took a now step ; he was careful not to ques- 
 tion them before one another; but he jirocured a 
 ])rivate interview with one of them, and supplied 
 liini plentifully with Wiino wine: ho himself is our 
 informant. Artful questions embarrassed the unwary 
 printer, and at last the secret was disclosed. " The 
 New Testament," ('ochhrus learnt, "is translated into 
 English; three tluiu-ainl cnpiis are in the press; foui-- 
 .scorc pages in ([uai in an- voady; the expense is fully 
 stipplicd by Englili uu i\liaiils, who are secretly to 
 convey the work when printed, and to disperse it 
 widely through all England, before the king or the 
 cardinal can discover or prohibit it. , . . Thus 
 will Britain be converted to the opinions of Luther. 
 
 The surprise of Coehlosus equalled his alarm ; he 
 dissembled ; he wished to learn, however, where the 
 two Englishmeu lay concealed; but all his exertious 
 ])rovi-d ineffectual, and he returned to his lodgings 
 tilled with emotion. The danger was very great. A 
 stranger and an exile, what can he do to ojiposc this 
 impious undertaking? "Where shall he find a friend to 
 England, iirejiared to shew his zeal in warding off the 
 threatened blow ? ... He was bewililered. 
 
 A ilash of light suddenly dispelled the darkness. A 
 person of some consequence at Cologne, Hei-man 
 Kincke, a patrician and imperial councillor, had been 
 sent on important business by tlio Emperor Maximilian 
 to Henry VII., and from that time he had always 
 shewn a gi'eat attachment to England. Cochlocus 
 determined to reveal the fatal secret to him; but, 
 being still alarmed by the scenes at Frankfort, he 
 was afraid to conspire openly against the Reforma- 
 tion. He had left au aged mother and a little niece 
 at home, and was luiwilling to do anything which 
 might compromise them. He therefore crept stealthily 
 towards IJineke's house, (as he tells us himself,) slipped 
 in secretly, and unfolded the whole matter to him. 
 Ivinekc could not believe that the New Testament in 
 English was ])riutiug at Cologne; however, he sent a 
 conlidential person to make inquiries, who reported to 
 him that C'cuhhcus's information was correct, and that 
 hi' had I'uuiiil in the printing office a large supply of 
 ]ia|ii r iiiimi!, ,1 for the edition. The patrician imme- 
 diaiily piucirdcd to the senate, and spoke of "Wolsey, 
 of Heuiy \'HI., and of the preservation of the Romish 
 
 Church in England ; and that body, which, under the 
 intlucnce of the archbi>hnp, liad long since forgotten 
 the rights of liberty, forbade the printer to continue 
 the work. Thus, then, there were to be no New 
 Testaments for England ! A practised hand had 
 warded off the blow aimed at Roman Catholicism ; 
 Tyndalo woidd, perhaps, be thrown into prison, and 
 Cochlocus enjoy a complete triunqdi. 
 
 Tyndale was at first confounded. "U'"erc so many 
 years of toil lost, then, for ever? His trial seemed 
 beyond his strength. " They are ravening wolves," 
 he exclaimed ; " they preach to others. Steal not, and 
 yet they have robbed tlie soid of man of the bread of 
 life, and fed her with the shales [shells ?] and cods 
 of the hope in their merits and confidence in their good 
 works." Yet Tyndale diil not long renuiin cast down ; 
 for his faith was of that kind which would remove 
 moiuitains. Is it not the AVord of God that is im- 
 perilled? If he does not abandon himself, God will 
 not abandon him. He must anticipate the senate of 
 Cologne. Daring and prompt in all his movements, 
 Tyndale bade Roye follow hhn, hastened to tlic print- 
 ing office, collected the sheets, jumped into a boat, and 
 ra|)idly ascended the river, carrying with him the hope 
 of England. 
 
 When Cochloeus and Rincko, accompanied by the offi- 
 cers of the senate, reached the printing office, they were 
 surprised beyond measure. The apostate had secured 
 the abominable papers ! . , . Their enemy had 
 escaped like a bird from the net of the fowler. "VVherc 
 was he to be found now ? He would no doubt go and 
 place himself under the protection of some Lvtheiaii 
 prince, whither Cochlojus would take good care not 
 to pursue him ; but thei'e was one resource left. These 
 English books can do no harm in Germany; they must 
 be prevented reaching London. He wrote to Hemy 
 VIII., to "Wolsey, and to the Bishop of Rochester. 
 " Two Englishmen," said he to the king, " like the two 
 cmiuchs who desired to lay hands on Ahasuerus, are 
 idotting wickedly against the peace of your kingdom ; 
 but I, like the faithful Mordecai, will lay open their 
 designs to you. They wish to send the New Testa- 
 ment in English to your people. Give orders at every 
 seaport to prevent the introduction of this most baneful 
 merchandise." Such was the name given by this zeal- 
 ous follower of the pope to the "Word of God. An 
 unexpected ally soon restored peace to the sold of 
 Cochlocus. The celebrated Dr. Eck, a champion of 
 Popery far more formidable than he was, had arrivcid 
 at Cologne on his way to London, and he undertook to 
 arouse the anger of the bishops and of the king. The 
 eyes of the greatest opponents of the Reformation 
 seemed now to be fixed on England. Eck, who 
 boasted of having gained the most signal triumphs 
 over Luther, would easily get the better of the 
 humble tutor and his New Testament. 
 
 During this time Tyndale, guarding his precious 
 bales, ascended the rapid river as quickly as he 
 could. He passed before the antique cities and the 
 smiling villages scattered along the banks of tlie 
 Rhine amidst scenes of jncturcsquo beauty. The 
 mountains, glens, and rocks, the dark forests, the 
 ruined fortresses, the Gothic churches, tlie boats that 
 passed and repassed each other, the birds of prey 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 that soared over his head, as if they bore a mission 
 from Coeliloeus — nothing could turn Ms eyes from 
 the treasure he was cariying -w-itli him. At last, 
 after a voyage of five or six days, ho reached AVorms, 
 ■where Luther, foiu- years before, had exclaimed: 
 "Here I stand, I can do no other; may God help 
 me ! " These words of the German reformer, so well 
 known to Tyndale, were the star that had guided 
 him to Worms. He knew that the Gospel was 
 preached in that ancient city. " The citizens are 
 subject to fits of Lutheranism," said Cochlocus. Tyn- 
 dale arrived there, not as Luther did, surrounded by 
 an immense crowd, but unknown, and imagining him- 
 self pursued by the myrmidons of Charles and of 
 Heniy. As he landed from the boat, he cast an 
 uneasy glance around him, and laid down his pre- 
 cious burden on the bank of the river. 
 
 He had had time to reflect on the dangers which 
 threatened his work. As his enemies woidd have 
 marked the edition, some few sheets of it having 
 fallen into their hands, he took steps to mislead the 
 inquisitors, and began a new edition, striking out the 
 prologue and the notes, and substituting the more 
 portable octavo form for the original quarto. Peter 
 Schajffer, the gi-andson of Faust, one of the inventors 
 of printing, lent his presses for this important work. 
 The two editions were quietly completed about the 
 end of the year 1525.' 
 
 Thus were the wicked deceived : they would have 
 deprived the English pooi)le of the oracles of God, and 
 tico editions were now ready to enter England. " Give 
 diligence," said Tyndale to his fellow-coimtrymen, as 
 he sent from AN'orms the Testament he had just trans- 
 lated, " unto the words of eternal life, by the which, 
 if we repent and believe them, we are born anew, 
 created afresh, and enjoy the fruits of the blood of 
 Christ." In the beginning of 1526, these books crossed 
 the sea by way of Antwerp or Rotterdam. T3-ndale 
 was happy; but he knew that the unction of the Holy 
 Ghost alone could enable the people of England to 
 understand these sacred pages ; and, accordingly, he 
 followed them night and day with his prayers. '• The 
 scribes and Pharisees," said he, " had thrust up the 
 sword of the "Word of God in a scabbard or sheath 
 of glosses, and therein had knit it fast, so that it 
 could neither stick nor cut. Now, O God! draw 
 this sharp sword from the scabbard. Strike, wound, 
 cut asunder, the soul and the flesh, so that man being 
 divided in two, and set at variance with himself, may 
 be in peace with thee to all eternity!" 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Woi-rns and Cambridge— St Paul Resuscitated— Latimer's Preaching- Never 
 Man spake like this Man— Joy and Vexation at Cambridge— Sermon 
 by Prior Bnekingham — Irony — Latimer's Reply to Buckingham — Tlic 
 Students threatened- Latimer Preaches before the Bishop— He Is for- 
 bidden to Preach — ^The most zealous of Bishops— Barnes, the Restorer 
 
 > "A copy of the ocfaiv edition exists in the Museum of the Baptist Col- 
 lege at Bristol. If it is compared with the quarto edition, a sensible pro- 
 gr.ss will be found in the orthography. Thus we read in the latter: 
 pTophelle^, syiincrs, moosu, sclynge; in the octavo we find, prophets, sinners, 
 m^st, seking" — Annals of the LibU, i., p, 70. 
 
 of Letters— Bilney undertakes to Convert him— Barnes offere his Pulpit 
 to Latimer — Fryth*s Thirst for God— Ciiristmas Eve, 1525 — Stoi-ra against 
 Barnes— Ferment in the Colleges— Germany at Cambridge— Meetings at 
 Oxford— General Expectation. 
 
 While these works were accomplishing at Cologne 
 and Worms, others were going on at Cambridge and 
 Oxford. On the banks of the Rhine they were pre- 
 paring the seed ; in England they were di-awing the 
 fun-ows to receive it. The Gospel produced a great 
 agitation at Cambridge. Bilney, whom we may call 
 the father of the English Reformation, since, being the 
 first converted by the New Testament, he had brought 
 to the knowledge of God the energetic Latimer, and so 
 many other witnesses of the truth, — Bilney did not at 
 that time put himself forward, like many of those who 
 had listened to him : his vocation was prayer. Timid 
 before men, he was fuU of boldness before God, and 
 day and night called upon him for souls. But while 
 he was kneeling in his closet, others were at work in 
 the world. Among these, Stafford was particularly 
 remarkable. "Paul is risen from the dead," said 
 many as they heard him. And in fact Stafford ex- 
 plained with so much life the true meaning of the 
 words of the apostle and of the four evangelists, 
 that these holy men, whose faces had been so long 
 hidden under the dense traditions of the schools, re- 
 appeared before the youth of the university such as 
 the apostolic times had beheld them. But it was 
 not only their persons., (for that would have been a 
 trifling matter,) it was their doctrine which Stafford 
 laid before his hearers. AVhile the schoolmen of Cam- 
 bridge were declaring to then- pupils a reconciliation 
 which was not yet worked out, and teUuig them that 
 pardon must be purchased by the works prescribed 
 by the church, Stafford taught that redemption was 
 accomplished., that the satisfaction offered by Jesus 
 Christ was perfict ; and he added, that Popery hav- 
 ing revived the kingdom oj the law, God, by the Refor- 
 mation, was now reviving the kingdom of grace. The 
 Cambridge students, charmed by their master's teach- 
 ing, greeted him with applause ; and, indulging a little 
 too far in their enthusiasm, said to one another as they 
 left the lecture-room : " Wiiich is the most indebted to 
 the other? Stafford to Paul, who left him the holy 
 epistles ; or Paul to Stafford, who has resuscitated that 
 apostle and his holy doctrines, which the Middle Ages 
 had obscured ]" 
 
 Above Bilney and Stafford rose Latimer, who, by 
 the power of the Holy Ghost, transfused into other 
 hearts the learned lessons of his master. Being in- 
 formed of the work that Tj-ndale was preparing, he 
 maintained from the Cambridge pulpits that the Bible 
 ought to be road in the vulgar tongue. " The author 
 of Holy Scripture," said he, " is the mighty One, the 
 Everlasting . . . God himself! . . . and tliis 
 Scripture partakes of the might and eternity of its 
 Author. There is neither king nor emperor that is 
 not bound to obey it. Let us beware of tliose bypatiis 
 of human tradition, filled of stones, brambles, and up- 
 rooted trees. Let us foUow the straight road of the 
 AVord. It does not concern us what the Fatliers have 
 done, but what they should have done." 
 
 A numerous congregation crowded to Latimer's 
 preaching, and his hearers hung listening to his lips. 
 
PRIOR BUCKINGHAM'S SERMON-LATIMER'S REPLY. 
 
 One ill ])aiticuliir attracted attcntiou. He was a 
 Norfolk youth, sixteeu years of age, whose features 
 wire li^jhted up with undcrstaiuliiig and piety. This 
 poor Sfiiolur liad received with eagerness the truth 
 announced by the former cross-bearer. lie did not 
 miss one of his sermons; with a sheet of paper on his 
 kiiei'-;, and a jicncil in his hand, he took down part of 
 till' ili-ioiii M-, tiu-li:ii; the remainder to his memory. 
 Tlii^ \\;i- riinnia- lli.oii, afterwards chaplain to Craii- 
 nuT, ar(.libi>hi)p of Canterbury. "If I possess the 
 knowledge of God," said he, " I owe it (uuder God) to 
 Latimer." 
 
 Latimer had hearers of many sorts. By the side of 
 those who gave way to their enthusiasm stood men 
 " swelling, blown full, and puffed up like unto ^Ivsop's 
 frog, with envy and malice against him," said Becon ; 
 these were the partisans of traditional Catholicism, 
 whom curiosity had attracted, or whom their evan- 
 gelical friends had dragged to the church. But as 
 Latimer spoke a marvellous transformation was worked 
 in them ; by degrees their angry features relaxed, their 
 fierce looks grew softer; and if these friends of the 
 priests were asked, after their return lionic, what they 
 thought of the heretic preacher, tluy replied, in the 
 exaggeration of their surprLse and rai)ture: ••Xiiii(/i(am 
 sic locutus est homo, sicut hie homo!" (John vii. 40.) 
 
 When he descended from the pulpit, Latimer hastened 
 to 2)ractise what ho had taught. He visited the narrow 
 chambers of the poor scholars, and the dark rooms of 
 the working classes : " he watered with good deeds 
 wliatsoever he had before planted with godly words," 
 said the student who collected his discourses. The 
 disciples conversed together with joy and simplicity of 
 heart ; everywhere the breath of a new life was felt ; 
 I as yet no external reforms had been effected, and yet 
 the spiritual Church of the Ciospel and of the Reforma- 
 tion was already there. And thus the recollection of 
 these happy times was long commemorated in the 
 adage ■ 
 
 " Wlien Master Stafford react, 
 And Master Latimer preaehed, 
 Then was Cambridge bicsscd." 
 
 The priests could not remain inactive ; they heard 
 speak of grace and liberty, and would have nothing to 
 do with either. If tjrace is tolerated, will it not take 
 from the hands of the clergy the manipulation of sal- 
 vation, indulgences, penance, and all the rubrics of the 
 canon law ] If libcrti/ is conceded, will not the hier- 
 archy, with all its degrees, pomps, violence, and scaf- 
 folds, be shaken.' Rome desires no other liberty than 
 that of free-will, which, exalting the natural strength 
 of fallen man, dries up, as regards mankind, the springs 
 of Divine life, withers Christianity, and changes that 
 heavenly religion into a human moralism and legal 
 observances. 
 
 The friends of Popery, therefore, collected their 
 forces to oppose the new religion. " Satan, who never 
 sleeps," says the simple chronicler, " called up his 
 familiar spirits, and sent them forth against the re- 
 fonners." Meetings were held in the convents, but 
 particidarly in that belonging to the Grcyfriars. They 
 mustered all their forces. An ojc for an eye, and a 
 tooth for a tooth, said they. Latimer extols in his 
 sermons the blessings of Scripture ■ we must deliver a 
 
 sermon also to shew its dangers. But where was the 
 orator to bo found who could cope with him ? Tliis 
 was a very embarrassing (piestion to the clerical party. 
 Among the Grcyfriars there was a haughty monk, 
 adroit and skilful in little matters, and full at once 
 of ignorance and pride : it was the ])rior Buckingham. 
 No one had shewn more hatred against the evangelical 
 Christians, and no one was, in truth, a greater stranger 
 to the Gospel. This was the man commissioned to set 
 forth the dangers of the "Word of God. lie was by no 
 means familiar with the New Testament ; he opened it, 
 however, picked out a few passages here and there 
 which seemed to favour his thesis ; and then, arrayed 
 in his costliest robes, with head erect and solemn step, 
 already sure of victory, he went into the pulpit, com- 
 bated the heretic, and, with pompous voice, stormed 
 against the reading of the Bible ; it was, in his eyes, 
 the fountain of all heresies and misfortunes. " If that 
 heresy should prevail," he exclaimed, " there will be 
 an end of eveiythiug useful among us. The plough- 
 man, reading in the Gospel that no man having put his 
 hand to the plough should look bach; would soon lay 
 aside his labour. . . . The baker, reading that a 
 little leaven leaveneth the whole lump, will in future make 
 us nothing but very insipid bread ; and the simple man, 
 finding himself commanded to pluck out the right ei/e 
 and cast it from thee, England, after a few years, will 
 be a frighful spectacle ; it will be little better than a 
 nation of blind and one-eyed men, sadly begging their 
 bread from door to door." 
 
 This discourse moved that part of the audience for 
 which it was intended. " The heretic is silenced," 
 said the monks and clerks ; but sensible people smiled, 
 and Latimer was delighted that they had given him 
 such an advcrsaiy. Being of a lively disposition, and 
 inclined to irony, he resolved to lash the platitudes of 
 the pompous friar. There are some absurdities, he 
 thought, which can only be refuted by shewing how 
 foolish they are. Does not even the grave Tertullian 
 speak of things which are only to be laughed at, for 
 fear of giving them importance by a serious refutation ? 
 " Next Sunday I will reply to him," said Latimer. 
 
 The church was crowded when Buckingham, with the 
 hood of St. Francis on his shoulders, and with a vain- 
 glorious air, took his place solemnly in front of the 
 preacher. Latimer began by recapitulating the least 
 weak of his adversaiy's arguments ; then, taking them 
 up one by one, he turned them over and over, and 
 pointed out all their absurdity with so much wit, that 
 the poor prior was buried in his own nonsense. Then, 
 turning towards the listening crowd, he exclaimed with 
 warmth : " This is how yom- skilful guides abuse your 
 understanding. They look upon you as children that 
 must be for ever kept in leading-strings. Now the 
 hour of your majority has arrived ; boldly examine the 
 Scriptures, and you will easily discover the absurdity 
 of the teadiiug of your doctors." And then, desiious, 
 as Solomon has it, of answering a fool according to his 
 fvlbj, he added : " As for the comparisons drawn from 
 the plough, the leaven, and the eye, of which the rever- 
 end prior lias made so singular a use, is it necessary to 
 justify these passages of Scripture ' Must I tell you 
 what plough, what leaven, what eye is here meant? 
 Is not our Lord's teaching distinguished by those 
 
a38 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 expressions •which, uiiclcr a popular form, couceal a 
 spiritual aud profound mcauiug? Do uot we know 
 that iu all languages, and in all speeches, it is not 
 on the image that we must fix our eyes, but on the 
 thlnri which the image represents ? . . . For iu- 
 I s'-mco," he continued, and as he said these words he 
 cast a piercing glance on the prior, " if we see a fox 
 jiaiuted preaching in a friar's hood, nobody imagines 
 that a fox is meant, but that craft and hypocrisy are 
 described, which arc so often found disguised in that 
 garb." At these words the poor prior, on whom the 
 eyes of all the congregation were turned, rose and left 
 tlie church hastily, and ran off to his convent to hide 
 his rage and confusion among his brethren. The 
 monks and their creatures uttered loud cries against 
 Latimer. It was unpardonable, they said, to have 
 been thus wanting iu respect to the cowl of St. 
 Francis. But his friends replied : " Do we not whip 
 ehiklren? and he who treats Scripture worse than a 
 cliild, docs he uot deserve to be well flogged ?" 
 
 The Komish party did not consider themselves beateu. 
 The heads of colleges and the priests held frequent 
 conferences. The professors were desired to watch 
 carefully over their pupils, and to lead them back to 
 the teaching of the church, by flatteiy and by threats. 
 " "SVe are putting our lance in rest," they told the 
 students ; " if you become evangelicals, yovu- advance- 
 ment Js at an end." But these open-hearted generous 
 youths loved rather to be poor with Christ, tluiu rich 
 with the priests. Stafford continued to teach, Latimer 
 to preach, and Biluey to visit the poor : tlie doctrine of 
 Christ ceased not to be spread abroad, and souls to be 
 converted. 
 
 One weapon only was left to the schoolmen ; this 
 was persecution, the favourite arm of Rome. " Our 
 enterprise has not succeeded," said they; "Bucking- 
 ham is a fool. The best way of answering these gos- 
 pellers is to prevent their speaking." Dr. West, bishop 
 of Ely, was ordinary of Cambridge ; they called for 
 his intervention, aud he ordered one of the doctors to 
 inform him the next time Latimer was to preach ; 
 " but," added he, " do not say a word to any one. I 
 wish to come without being expected." 
 
 One day as Latimer was preaching iu Latin, ad 
 clenim, the bishop suddenly entered the university 
 church, attended by a luunber of j>riests. Latimer 
 stopped, waiting respectfidly imtil West and his train 
 had taken their places. "A new audience," thought 
 he ; " and besides, an audience worthy of greater hon- 
 our calls for a new theme. Leaving, therefore, the 
 subject I had proposed, I will take up one that 
 relates to the episcopal charge, and will preach on 
 these words : Christus existens Pontifex futurorum bo- 
 norvm," (Hebrews ix. 11.) Then, describing Jesus 
 Christ, Latimer represented Him as tlie "true and 
 perfect pattern unto all other bishops." There was 
 not a single virtue pointed out in the Divine Bishop 
 that did not correspond with some defect in the 
 Romish bishops. Latimer's caustic wit had a free 
 course at their expense; but there was so much 
 gravity in Us sallies, and so lively a Christianity iu 
 his descriptions, that cveiy one must hav3 felt them 
 to be tlie cries of a Christian conscience, rather than 
 the sarcasms of on ill-natured disposition. Never 
 
 had bishop been taught by one of his priests like 
 this man. " Alas ! " said many, " our bishops are not 
 of that breed: they arc descended from Annas and 
 Caiaphas." West was not more at his ease than 
 Buckingham had been formerly. Ho stifled his anger, 
 however; aud after the sermon, said to Latimer with 
 a gracious accent: "You have excellent talents, and 
 if you woidd do one tiling I should be ready to kiss 
 your feet." . . . What humility in a bishop ! . . 
 "Preach in this same church," continued West, "a 
 sermon . . . against Martin Luther. That is the 
 best way of checking heresy." Latimer undei-stood 
 the prelate's meaning, and replied calmly: "If Luther 
 preaches the Woi'd of God, I cannot oppose him. 
 But if he teaches the contraiy, I am ready to at- 
 tack him." — " Well, well, Master Latimer," exclamied 
 the bishop, "I perceive that you smell somewhat of 
 the pan. . . . One day or another you will repent 
 of tliat merchandise." 
 
 West having left Cambridge in great ii-ritation 
 against that rebellious clerk, hastened to convoke Iiis 
 chapter, aud forbade Latimer to preach either in i.ie 
 university or in the diocese. All that will live godbj 
 shall suffer persecution, St. Paul had said: Latimer 
 was now experiencing the truth of the saying. It 
 was not enough that the name of heretic had been 
 given him by the priests and their friends, and that 
 the passers-by insulted him in the streets; . . . 
 tlie work of God was violently checked. "Behold, 
 then," he exclaimed, with a bitter sigh, " the use of 
 the episcopal office ... to binder the preaching 
 of Jesus Christ ! " Some few years later he sketched, 
 with his usual caustic irony, the portrait of a certain 
 bishop, of whom Luther also used frequently to speak : 
 " Do you know," said Latimer, " who is the most 
 diligentest bishop and prelate in all England • . . . 
 I see you listening and hearkening that I should name 
 him. ... I will tell you. ... It is the 
 devil. He is never out of his diocese ; ye shall never 
 find him out of the way; call for him when you will, 
 he's ever at home. He is ever at his plough. Ye 
 shall never find him idle, I warrant you. AVhere the 
 devil is resident — there away with books, and up witli 
 candles ; away with Bibles, aud up with beads ; away 
 with the light of the Gospel, and up witli the light of 
 candles, yea at noondays ; down with Christ's cross, 
 up with purgatory pick-purse ; away with clotliing the 
 naked, the poor, and impotent, up with decking of 
 images and gay garnishing of stocks and stones ; 
 down with God's traditions aud His most holy Word. 
 . . . Oh ! that our prelates would be as diligent 
 to sow the corn of good doctrine as Satan is to sow 
 cockle and darnel ! " Truly may it be said, " There 
 was never such a preacher in England as he is." 
 
 The reformer was not satisfied with merely speak- 
 ing : he acted. " Neither the menacing words of his 
 adversaries, nor their cruel imprisonments," says one 
 of his contemporaries, " could hinder him from pro- 
 claiming God's truth." Forbidden to preach in the 
 churches, he went about from house to house. He 
 longed for a pulpit, however, and this he obtained. 
 A hauglity prelate had, in vain, interdicted his preach- 
 ing; Jesus Christ, who is above all bishops, is able, 
 when one door is shut, to open another. Instead 
 
EGBERT BARNES-JOHN FRYTH. 
 
 C39 
 
 of one great preacher there were soou two at Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 An Augustine monk named Robert Barnes, a native 
 of the county of Norfolk, aud a great scholar, had 
 gone to Louvain to ])roseciitc his studies. Here he 
 received the degree of doctor of divinity, and haviug 
 returned to Cambridge, was nominated prior of his 
 monastery in 1523. It was his fortune to reconcile 
 learning and the (iospel in the university; but by lean- 
 ing too much to learning, he diminished the force of 
 the AVord of God. A great crowd collected every 
 day in the Augustine convent to hear his lectures upon 
 Terence, and, in particular, upon Cicero. Many of 
 those -who were oftVndc<l by tlie simple Christianity of 
 Bilney and Latimer, were attracted liy tliis reformer of 
 another kind. Coleman, Covordale, Field, Cambridge, 
 Barley, aud many other young men of the university, 
 gathered round Barnes aud proclaimed him " the re- 
 storer of letters." 
 
 But the Classics were only a preparatory teaching. 
 The masterpieces of antiquity having aided Barnes to 
 clear the soil, he opened before his class the epistles of 
 St. Paul. He did not understand their Divine depth, 
 like Stafford ; he was not, like him, anointed with the 
 Holy Ghost; he differed from him on several of the 
 apostle's doctrines, on justification by faith, aud on 
 the new creature ; but Barnes was an enlightened and 
 liberal man, not ^xathout some degree of piety, aud 
 desirous, like Stafford, of substituting the teaching of 
 Scriptm-e for the barren disputations of the school. 
 But they soon came into collision, aud Cambridge 
 long remembered that celebrated discussion, in which 
 Barnes aud Stafford contended mth so much renoTvu, 
 employing no other weapons than the Word of God, 
 to the great astonishment of the blind doctors, and 
 the gi-eat Joy of the clear-sighted, says the chronicler. 
 
 Barues was not as yet thoroughly enlightened, aud 
 the friends of the Gospel were astonished that a man, 
 a stranger to the truth, should deal such heavy blows 
 against error. Bilney, whom wo continually meet with 
 when any secret work, a work of iiTesistible charity, 
 is in hand, — Bilney, who had converted Latimer, under- 
 took to convert Barnes ; aud Stafford, Arthur, Thistel 
 of Pembroke, and Foolse of Beuet's, earnestly prayed 
 God to grant His assistance. The experiment was 
 diflicult : Barnes had reached that juste milieu, that 
 " golden mean " of the Hiunanists, that uitoxication of 
 learning and gloiy, which render conversion more diffi- 
 cult. Besides, coidd a man like Bilney really dare to 
 instruct the restorer of antiquity? But the humble 
 baclielor of arts, so simple in appearance, knew, like 
 David of old, a secret power by which the Goliath of 
 the university might be vanquished. He passed days 
 and nights in prayer ; and then urged Barnes openly to 
 manifest his convictions, without fearing the reproaches 
 of the world. After many conversations and prayers, 
 Barnes was converted to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 Still, the prior retaiued something undecided in his 
 character, and only half relinquished that middle state 
 with which he had begim. For instance, he appears 
 to have always believed in the eSicacy of sacerdotal 
 consecration to transform the bread and wiue into the 
 body and blood of Christ. His eye was not single, 
 and his mind was often agitated and driven to and fro 
 
 by contrary thouglits : " Alas !" said this divided cha- 
 racter one day, " I confess that my cogitations be in- 
 nimierable." 
 
 Barnes, having como to a knowledge of tlic truth, 
 immediately displayed a zeal that was somewhat iin- 
 l>rudcnt. Men of the least decided character, and even 
 tliose who arc destined to make a signal fall, are often 
 those who begin their course with the greatest ardour. 
 Barnes seemed prepared at this time to withstand all 
 Euglaud. Being now imited to Latimer by a tender 
 Christian affection, he was indignant that the powerful 
 voice of his friend should be lost to tlie church. "The 
 bishop has forbidden you to preach," he said to him ; 
 " but my monastery is not under episcopal jurisdiction. 
 You can preach there." Latimer went into the pul|)it 
 at the Augustine's, aud the church could not contain 
 the crowd that flocked to it. At Cambridge, a.s at 
 AVittemberg, the chapel of the Augustine monks was 
 used for the first struggles of the Gospel. It was here 
 that Latimer delivered some of his best sermous. 
 
 A very different man from Latimer, and particularly 
 from Barnes, was daily gi-owiug in influence among the 
 English reformers : this was Fryth. Xo one was more 
 humble than he, and on that very account no one was 
 stronger. He was less brilliant than Barues, but more 
 solid. He might have penetrated into the highest 
 departments of science, but he was drawn away by 
 the deep mysteries of God's Word; the call of con- 
 science prevailed over that of the understanding. He 
 did not devote the energj' of his soul to difficult ques- 
 tions ; he thirsted for God, for His truth, aud for His 
 love. Instead of propagating his particular opinions, 
 and forming divisions, he cluug ouly to the faith which 
 saves, aud advanced the domluion of true unity. This 
 is the mark of the great servants of God. Humble 
 before the Lord, mild before men, and even, in appear- 
 ance, somewhat timid, Fiyth, in the face of danger, 
 displayed an intrepid courage. " My leai-ning is small," 
 he said ; " but the little I have I am determined to give 
 to Jesus Christ for the building of his temple." 
 
 Latimer's sermons, Barnes's ardour, and Fiyth's 
 firmness, excited fresh zeal at Cambridge. They knew 
 what was going on in Germany and Switzerland ; shall 
 the English, ever in front, now remain in the rear? 
 Shall not Latimer, Biluey, Stafford, Barues, and Fryth, 
 do what the servants of God are doing in other places ? 
 
 A secret ferment aunoimced an ajiproaching crisis : 
 eveiy one expected some change for better or for 
 worse. The evangelicals, confident in the truth, and 
 thinking themselves sure of victory, resolved to fall 
 upon the enemy simidtaneously on several points. The 
 Sunday before Christmas, in the year 1525, was chosen 
 for this great attack. While Latimer should address 
 the crowtls that continued to fill the Augustine chapel, 
 and others were preaching in other jdaces, Barnes was 
 to deliver a sermon in one of the churches in the town. 
 But nothing compromises the Gospel so much as a dis- 
 positiou turned towards outward things. God, who 
 grants His blessing only to undivided hearts, permitted 
 this general 'assault, of which Barnes was to be the 
 hero, to be marked by a defeat. The prior, as he went 
 into the pulpit, thought ouly of Wolsey. As the repre- 
 sentative of the popedom in England, the cardinal was 
 the great obstacle to the Reformation. Barnes preached 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 from the epistle for the day Rejoice in the Lord alwai/, 
 (Philippians iv. 4-7.) But instead of announcing Christ 
 and the joy of the Christian, he im25rudently declaimed 
 against the luxuiy, pride, and diversions of the church- 
 men ; and everybody understood that he aimed at the 
 cardinal. He described those magnificent palaces, that 
 brilliant suite, those scarlet robes, and pearls, and gold, 
 and precious stones, and all the prelate's osteutatiou, 
 so little in keeping (said he) with the stable of Bethle- 
 hem. Two fellows of King's College, Kobert Ridley 
 and Walter Preston, i-elations of Tonstall, bishop of 
 London, who were intentionally among the congi-cga- 
 tion, noted down in theii- tablets the prior's imj/radent 
 expressions. 
 
 The sermon was scarcely over when the stonn broke 
 out. " These people are not satisfied with propagat- 
 ing monstrous heresies," exclaimed their enemies ; " but 
 they must find fault with the powers that be. To-day 
 they attack the cardinal, to-morrow they will attack 
 the king!" Ridley and Preston accused Barnes to the 
 vice-chancellor. All Cambridge was in commotion. 
 What! Barnes, the Augustine prior, the restorer of 
 letters, accused as a Lollard! . . The Gospel 
 
 was threatened with a danger more formidable than a 
 prison or a scaffold. The friends of the priests, know- 
 ing Barnes's weakness, and even his vanity, hoped to 
 obtain of him a disavowal that would cover the evan- 
 gelical party with shame. " What !" said these dan- 
 gerous counsellors to bira, " the noblest career was 
 open to you, and would you close it? . . . Do, 
 pray, explain away your sermon." They alarmed, 
 tlicy flattered him j and the poor prior was near yield- 
 ing to their solicitations. " Next Sunday you will read 
 this declaration," they said to him. Barnes ran over 
 the paper put into his hands, and saw no great harm 
 in it. However, he desired to shew it to Bilney and 
 Stafford. " Beware of such weakness," said these 
 faithful men. Barnes then recalled his promise, and 
 for a season the enemies of the Gospel were silent. 
 
 ST. u'OHNS CAMBRID 
 
 Its friends worked with increased energy. The fall 
 from which one of their companions had so narrowly 
 escaped inspired them with fresh zeal. The more inde- 
 cision and weakness Barnes had shewn, the more did 
 his brethren flee to God for courage and firmness. It 
 was reported, moreover, that a powerful ally was 
 coming across the sea, and that the Holy Scriptures, 
 translated into the vulgar tongue, were at last to be 
 given to the people. Wherever the Word was preached, 
 there the congregation was largest. It was the seed- 
 time of the Church ; all were busy in the fields to pre- 
 pare the soil and trace the furrows. Seven colleges at 
 least were in full ferment : Pembroke, St. John's, 
 Queen's, King's, Cains, Benet's, and Peterhouse, The 
 Gospel was preached at the Augustine's, at St. Mary's, 
 (the university church,) and in otlier places ; and when 
 the bells rang to prayers, the streets were alive with 
 students issuing from the colleges, and hastening to the 
 sermon. 
 
 There was at Cambridge a house called the White 
 Horse, so situated as to permit the most timid members 
 of King's, Queen's, and St. John's colleges, to enter at 
 the rear without being perceived. Li every age Nico- 
 demus has had his followers. Here those persons used 
 to assemble who desired to read the Bible and the 
 works of the German reformers. The priests, looking 
 upon Wittemberg as the focus of the Reformation, 
 named this house Germany ; the people will always 
 have their bywords. At first the frequenters of the 
 White Horse were called sophists ; and now, whenever 
 a group of " fellows " was seen walking in that direction, 
 the cry was ; " There are the Germans going to Ger- 
 many." — " We are not Germans," was the reply ; 
 '' neither are we Romans." The Greek New Testament 
 had made them Cliristians. The Gospel-meetings had 
 never been more fervent. Some attended them to 
 commimicate the new life they possessed j others to 
 receive what God had given to the more advanced 
 brethren The Holy Spirit united them all, and thus, 
 by the fellowship of the saints, were 
 leil churches created. To these young 
 "^ , Cliii tnns the Word of God was the 
 
 ^ ~^ ouue of so much light, that they ima- 
 
 ^nicd themselves transported to that 
 heavenly city of which the Scriptures 
 peak u'/iich had no need of the sun, 
 I I the qlory oj God did lighten it. " So 
 tt IS I was in the company of these 
 1 1 1 tin en," said a youthful student of St. 
 u , " methought I was quietly placed 
 the new glorious Jerusalem." 
 Similar things were taking place at 
 «i\foid In 1524 and 1525, Wolsey 
 ftl'iAll lI '' "^ successively invited thither several 
 l?!iili!'W C imbiidge fellows; and although only 
 el ing the most able, he found that he 
 1 tikon some of the most pious. Be- 
 1 John Clark, there were Richard 
 \ Jolin Fryer, Godfrey Harmau, W, 
 tt , Henry Sumner, AV. Baily, Michael 
 Diumm, Til. Lawuey, and, lastly, the 
 Lxeellent John Fryth. These Christians, 
 lb ociatiug with Clark, with his faithful 
 Dalaber, and with other evangelicals of 
 
MEETINGS AT OXFORD. 
 
 641 
 
 Oxford, held iuei!tiiij;s, like their Caiubrid<j;o brethren, 
 at which God maiiitVst.^d His pri'^enoc. The bishops 
 made war upon the Gospel; the kin;.' supported them 
 with all his power; but the Word had gained the 
 victory j there was no longer any doubt. Tlie Church 
 was born again in England. 
 
 The great movomont of the sixteenth ccntuiy had 
 begun more parlLulnly ;iiiim:ii; t lie younger doctors and 
 stiulents at Oxfonl ;t\\<i ( ';.iiil.ii(lge. From them it was 
 necessary that it sli.nil.l ]n- extruded to the people, and 
 for that end tlie New Testament, hitherto read in Latin 
 and in Greek, must be circulated in English. The voices 
 of these youthful evangelists were hoard, indeed, in 
 London and in the provinces; but their exhortations 
 would have been insufficient, if the mighty hand which 
 directs all things had not made this Christian activity 
 coincide with that holy work for which it had set 
 
 Tyndalo apart. AVhile all was agitation in England, 
 tlie waves of ocean were bearing from the Continent to 
 the banks of the Thames tlm^r Script ures of God, 
 wliieh, three centuries later, iii\ilti[ilii-d Ijy thousands 
 and by millions, and, translated into a hundred and lifty 
 tongues, were to be wafti-d from tlic same banks to the 
 ends of the world. If, in the tiftcciitli century, and even 
 in the early years of tlie sixteenth, the English New 
 Testament had been brought to London, it would only 
 have fallen into the hands of a few Lollards. Now, in 
 every place, — in the parsonages, the universities, and the 
 palaces, as well as in the cottages of the husbandmen 
 and the shops of the tradesmen, there was an ardent 
 desire to possess the Holy Scriptures. TUoJiut lii.v was 
 about to bo uttered over the chaos of the Church, and 
 light to be separated from darkness by the Word of 
 God. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BOOK XIX. 
 
 THE ENGLISH NEW TESTAMENT AND THE COUKT OF KOJIE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 C'lmrch and State esqoi tnllj Distinet— Tli u fundamental Principles— 
 ■\\Int 1 -.t ic Life t3 the Chtireh— Separation fiorn Rome neces<iary— 
 Refoim and Libeit\— The ^ew Testament ciosaes the Sea— Is hidden 
 m L ndon— C i a Ti i 1 n and Zeal— Dmu in t nn of Sciiptnie 
 — ^\h^t the 1 I I 1 I — Tindales Ex- 
 
 ll m 1 1 s-r Ule s Testa- 
 
 ment t 0\f 1— ! the Beggars 
 
 — Twj So tb 1 - J '^ ippheatleins 
 
 of the boulb m P „ t i } 
 
 The Church and the State are essentially distinct. 
 They both receive their task from God ; but that task 
 is diiTereut in each. The task of the Church is to lead 
 men to God; the task of the State is to secure the 
 earthly development of a people in conformity with its 
 peculiar character. There are certain bounds, traced 
 by the particular spirit of each nation, within which 
 the State should confine itself ; while the Church, whose 
 limits are co-extensive with the human race, has a uni- 
 versal character, which raises it above all national 
 differences. These two distinctive features should be 
 maintained. A State which aims at universality loses 
 itself ; a Church whose mind and aim are sectarian falls 
 away. Nevertheless, the Church and the State, the 
 two poles of social life, while they are, in many re- 
 spects, opposed to one another, are far from excluding 
 each other absolutely. The Church has need of that 
 justice, order, and liberty, which the State is bound to 
 maintain ; but the State has especial need of the Church. 
 If Jesus can do without kings to establish His kingdom, 
 kings cannot do without Jesus if they would have their 
 kingdoms prosper. Juctice, which is the fundamental 
 principle of the State, is continually fettered in its pro- 
 gress by the internal power of sin ; and as force can do 
 nothing against tliis power, the State requires the Gos- 
 pel in order to overcome it. That country will always 
 be the most prosperous where the Church is the most 
 evangelical. These two communities having thus need 
 one of the other, wo must be prepared, whenever a 
 great religious manifestation takes place in the world, 
 to witness the appearance on the scene not only of the 
 little ones, but of the great ones also, of the State. 
 We must not then be surprised to meet with Henry 
 VIII., but let us endeavour to appreciate accurately 
 the part he played. 
 
 If the Reformation, particularly in England, hap- 
 pened necessarily to be mixed up with the State, with 
 the world even, it originated neither in the State nor 
 in the world. There was much worldliness in the 
 age of Henry VHI., — passions, violence, festivities, a 
 trial, a divorce; and some historians call that tlie 
 historij of the Eeformation in England. We shall not 
 pass by in silence these manifestations of the worldly 
 
 life; opposed as they are to the Christian life, they 
 are in histoiy, and it is not our business to tear them 
 out. But most assuredly they are not the Reforma- 
 tion. From a very different quarter proceeded the 
 Divine light which then rose upon the human race. 
 
 To say that Henry VIII. was the reformer of h-s 
 l^eople, is to betray our ignorance of history. The 
 kingly power in England by turns opposed and fa- 
 voured the reform in the Church ; but it opposed 
 before it favoured, and much more than it favoured. 
 This great transformation was begun and extended by 
 its own strength, by the Spirit from on high. 
 
 "When the Church has lost the life that is pecidiar to 
 it, it must again put itself in communication with its 
 creative principle — that is, with the Word of God. 
 Just as the buckets of a wheel employed in irrigating 
 the meadows have no sooner discharged their reviving 
 waters, than they dip again into the stream to be re- 
 filled, so every generation, void of the Spirit of Christ, 
 must return to the Divine source to be again filled up. 
 The primitive words which created the Church have 
 been preserved for us in the Gospels, the Acts, and 
 the Epistles ; and the humble reading of these Divine 
 writings will create in every age the communion of 
 saints. God was the father of the Reformation, not 
 Henry VIII. The visible world which then glittered 
 with such brightness ; those princes and sports, those 
 noblemen, and trials, and laws, far from effecting a 
 reform, were calculated to stifle it. But the light and 
 the warmth came from heaven, and the new creation 
 was completed. 
 
 In the reign of Henry VHI. a great number of 
 citizens, priests, and noblemen, possessed that degree of 
 cultivation which favours the action of the holy books. 
 It was sufficient for this Divine seed to bo scattered 
 on the well-pi-epared soil for the woi'k of germination 
 to be accomplished. 
 
 A time not less important also was approaching— 
 that in which the action of the popedom was to come 
 to an end. The hour had not yet struck. God was 
 first creating within, by His Word, a spiritual Church, 
 before He broke without by His dispensations the bonds 
 which had so long fastened England to the power of 
 Rome. It was His good pleasure first to give truth 
 and life, and then liberty. It has been said that if the 
 pope had consented to a reform of abuses and doctrines, 
 on condition of his keeping his position, the religious 
 revolution would not have been satisfied at that price ; 
 and that after demanding reform, the next demand 
 would have been for liberty. The only reproach that 
 can be made to this assertion is, that it is superabun- 
 dantly true. Liberty was an integral part of tlie 
 Reformation, and one of the changes imperatively 
 required was to withdraw religious authority from the 
 
ARRIViVL OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 G43 
 
 j)opo, ami restore it to the AVonl of God. In tlie 
 sixtoontli century tlioi-e was a j>:rcat outpouring of the 
 Christian life in Franco, Italy, and Siiain ; it is 
 atlosted by martyrs without number, and history shews 
 that to transform these three groat nations, all that tlie 
 Gospel wanti'd was liberty. "If we had set to work 
 two months later," said a grand inquisitor of Spain, 
 who had dyed himself in the blood of the saints, "it 
 would have been too late: Spain would have been lost 
 I to the Konmn Church." AVe may therefore believe, 
 that if Italy, France, and Spain, had had some generous 
 king to check the myrmidons of the pope, those three 
 countries, carried along by the renovating power of the 
 Gospel, would have entered upon an era of liberty and 
 faith. 
 
 The struggles of Engla ml with the popedom began 
 .shortly after the dissemination of the English New 
 Testament by Tyudale. The ei)och at which we are 
 arrived, accordingly brings in one view before oui" eyes 
 both the Testament of Jesus Christ and the court of 
 Rome. AVc can thus study the nicu, (the reformers 
 and the Romanists,) and the works they produce, and 
 arrrivc at a just valuation of the two great principles 
 which dispute the possession of authority iu the Chm-ch. 
 
 It was about the close of the year 1525 ; the English 
 New Testament was crossing the sea ; five pious 
 llansoatic merchants had taken charge of the books. 
 Captivated by the Holy Scriptures, they had taken 
 them on board their si ips, hidden them among their 
 merchandise, and theu made sail from Antwerp for 
 London. 
 
 Thus those prec-Icm- ]m'jv^ were ai)proachiug England 
 ■which were to luciinr ii~ lijiit and the source of its 
 gi-eatness. The m. icliant.-. \\ hose zeal unh.ippily cost 
 them dear, were not without akirm. Had not Cochloeus 
 caused orders to be sent to every port, to pi-eveut the 
 entrance of the precious cargo they wore bringing to 
 England? They arrived and cast anchor; they lowered 
 the boat to reach the shore ; what were they likely to 
 meet there ? TonstaU's agents, no doubt, and "Wolsey's, 
 and Henry's, ready to take away their New Testa- 
 ments ! They landed, and soon again returned to 
 the ship ; boats passed to and fro, and the vessel 
 was imloaded. No enemy appeared ; and no one 
 seemed to imagine that these shijis contained so great a 
 treasure. 
 
 Just at the tiiiie this invaluable cargo was ascending 
 the river, an in\ i-ll.lc hand had dispersed the preventive 
 guard. T.KiMiill. ll>li,,p of London, had been sent to 
 Spain : AVol.s.y nvus oe<;upied in political combinations 
 with Scotland, France, and the enipu-e ; Henry VHI., 
 driven from his capital by an unhealthy winter, was 
 passing the Christmas holidays at Eltham ; and even 
 the courts of justice, alarmed by an extr.aordinary 
 mortality, had suspended tlieir sittings. God, if we 
 may so speak, had sent His angel to remove the 
 guards. 
 
 Seeing nothing that could stop them, the iivo mer- 
 chants, whose establishment was at the Steel yard in 
 Thames Street, hastened to conceal their precious charge 
 in their warehouses. But who will receive them ? 
 Wlio will undertake to distribute these Holy Scriptures 
 iu London, Oxford, Cambridge, and all England ? It 
 
 is a little matter that they have crossed the sea. The 
 ])rincipal instrument God was about to use for their 
 dissemination was an humble servant of Christ. 
 
 In Honey Lane, a narrow thoroughfare adjoining 
 Choapside, stood the old church of All Hallows, of 
 which Robert Fornuui was rector. His curat<'. was a, 
 plain man, of lively imagination, delicate conscience, 
 and timid disposition, but rendered bold by his faith, 
 to which he was to become a martyr. Thomas Garret, 
 for that was his name, having believed in the Gospel, 
 earnestly called his hearers to repentance ; he lU'ged 
 upon them that works, however good they might be in 
 appearance, were by no means capable of justifying the 
 sinner, and that faith alone could save him. He main- 
 tained that every man had the right to preach the "Word 
 of God ; and called those bishops iiharisees who per- 
 secuted Christian men. Garret's discourses, at once so 
 rpiickening and so gentle, attracted great crowds ; and 
 to many of his hearers the street in which he preached 
 was rightly named Honey Lane, for there they found 
 the Jwnei/ out of the rock. But Garret was about to 
 commit a fault still more heinous in the eyes of the 
 priests than preaching faith. The Hanse merchants 
 were seeking some sure place where they might store 
 up the New Testaments and other books sent from 
 Germany; the curate offered his house, stealthily 
 trausported the holy deposit thither, hid them in the 
 most secret corners, and kept a faithful watch over 
 this sacred libraiy. He did not confine liimself to this. 
 Night and day he studied the holy books; he held 
 Gospel meetings, read the AVord, and explained its 
 doctrines to the citizens of London. At last, not 
 satisfied with being at once student, librarian, and 
 preacher, he became a trader, and sold the New 
 Testament to laymen, and even to priests and monks, 
 so that the Holy Scriptures were dispersed over the 
 whole realm. This humble and timid priest was then 
 performing alone the biblical work of England. 
 
 And thus the ATord of God, presented by Erasmus 
 to the learned in 1517, was given to the people by 
 Tyndale iu 1526. In the parsonages and iu the convent 
 cells, but particularly in shops and cottages, a crowd 
 of persons were studying the New Testament. The 
 clearness of tlie Holy Scriptures struck each reader. 
 None of the systematic or aphoristic forms of the School 
 were to be found there ; it was the language of human 
 life whiclx they discovered in those Divine writings : 
 hero a conversation, there a discourse; here a narrative, 
 and there a comparison ; here a command, and there 
 an argument ; here a parable, luid there a prayer. It 
 was not all doctrine or all history; but these two 
 elements mingled togetlier made an admirable whole. 
 Above all, the life of our Saviour, so Divine and so 
 human, had an inexpressible charm which captivated 
 the simple. One work of Jesus Christ explained 
 another, and the great facts of the redemption, birth, 
 death, and resurrection, of the Son of God, and tho 
 sending of the Holy Ghost, followed and completed 
 each other. The authority of Christ's teaching, so 
 strongly contrasting with the doubts of the Schools, 
 increased the clearness of His discourses to his readers ; 
 for the more certain a truth is, the more distinctly it 
 strikes the mind. Academical explanations were not 
 necessary to those noblemen, farmers, and citizeus. It 
 
644 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 is to me, for me, and of me, that this book speaks, said 
 each one. It is I whom all these promises and teachings 
 concern. This fall and this restoration, . . . they 
 are mine. That old death and this new life, . . . 
 I have passed through them. That Jlesh and that 
 stpirit, ... I know them. This law and this grace, 
 thin fait/i, these works, this slaverij, this glory, this Christ, 
 and this Belial, . . . all are familiar to me. It is 
 ray own history that I find iu this book. Thus, by the 
 aid of the Holy Ghost, each one had in his own 
 
 ELTHAM PALACE, 
 experience a key to the mysteries of tlie Bible. To 
 understand certain autliors and certain philosophers, 
 the intellectual life of the reader must be in harmony 
 with theirs ; so must there be an intimate affinity with 
 the holy books to penetrate their mysteries. "The man 
 that has not the Spirit of God," said a reformer, " does 
 not understand one jot or tittle of the Scrijjtm-e." 
 Now that this condition was fulfilled, the Spirit of God 
 moved upon the face of the waters. 
 
 Such, at that period, were the hermeueutics of 
 England. Tyndale had set the example himself by 
 explaining many of the words which might stop the 
 reader. " The Kew Testament .'" we may suppose some 
 farmer saying, as he took up the book ; " what 'Testa- 
 ment is that?" — "Christ," replied Tyndale, in his pro- 
 logue, " commanded His disciples before His death to 
 publish over all the world His last ivill, which is to give 
 all His goods unto all that repent and believe. He 
 bequeaths them His righteousness to blot out their sins 
 — His salvation to overcome their condemnation ; and 
 this is why that document is called the Testament of 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 " The Law and the Gospel," said a citizen of London 
 in his shop; "what is that?" — "They are two keys," 
 answered Tyndale. " The Laiv is the key which shuts 
 up all men imder condemnation, and the Gospel is the 
 key wliich opens the door and lets them out. Or, if 
 you like it, they are two salves. The Law, sharp and 
 biting, driveth out the disease and killeth it ; while the 
 Gospel, soothing and soft, softens the wound and brings 
 life." Eveiy one understood and read, or rather de- 
 Tom-ed the inspired pages ; and the hearts of the elect, 
 (to use Tyndale's words,) warmed by the love of Jesus 
 Christ, began to melt like wax. 
 
 This transformation was observed to take place even 
 in the most catholic families. Roper, More's son-in- 
 law, having read the New Testament, received the 
 truth. " I have no more need," said he, " of auricular 
 confession, of vigils, or of the invocation of saints. 
 The ears of God are always open to hear us. Faith 
 alone is necessary to salvation. I believe . . . 
 and I am saved. . . . Nothing can deprive me of 
 God's favour." 
 
 The amiable and zealous young man desu-ed to do 
 more. " Father," said he, one day to Sir Thomas, 
 " procure for me from the king, who is very fond of 
 you, a license to preach. God hath sent me to in- 
 struct the world." More was uneasy. Must this new 
 doctrine, which he detests, spread even to his children ? 
 He exerted all his authority to destroy the work begun 
 in Roper's heart. " What," said he with a smile, " is 
 it not sufficient that we that are your friends should 
 know that you are a fool, but you would proclaim your 
 folly to the world ? Hold your tongue : I will debate 
 with you no longer." The young man's imagination 
 was struck, but his heart had not been changed. The 
 discussions having ceased, the father's authority being 
 restored. Roper became less fervent in his faith, and 
 gradually he returned to Popery, of which he was after- 
 wards a zealous champion. 
 
 The humble curate of All Hallows having sold the 
 New Testament to persons living in London and its 
 neighbourhood, and to many pious men who would 
 carry it to the farthest parts of England, formed the 
 resolution to introduce it into the University of Oxford, 
 that citadel of traditional Catholicism. It was there he 
 liad studied, and he felt towards that school the affec- 
 tion which a soa bears to his mother: he set out with 
 his books. Terror occasionally seized him, for he knew 
 that the AVord of God had many deadly enemies at 
 Oxford ; but his inexliaustible zeal overcame his 
 timidity. Iu consort with Dalaber, he stealthily offered 
 the mysterious book for sale; many students bought it, 
 and Garret carefully entered their names in his register. 
 This was in January, 1526 ; an incident distm-bed this 
 Christian activity. 
 
 One morning, when Edmimd Moddis, one of Henry's 
 valets-de-chambre, was in attendance on his master, 
 the prince, who was much attached to him, spoke to 
 him of the new books come from beyond tlie sea. " If 
 your grace," said Moddis, " would promise to pardon 
 me and certain individuals, I would present you a 
 wonderful book which is dedicated to your majesty." 
 " AVho is the author ? " — " A lawyer of Gray's Inn 
 named Simon Fish, at present on the Continent." 
 " What is he doing there ? " — " About three years ago, 
 Mr. Row, a fellow-student of Gray's Inn, composed 
 for a private theatre a drama against my lord the 
 cardinal." The king smiled ; when his minister was 
 attacked, his own yoke seemed lighter. " As no one 
 was willing to represent the character employed to give 
 the cardinal his lesson," continued the valet, " Master 
 Fish boldly accepted it. The piece produced a great 
 effect ; and my lord, being informed of this imperti- 
 nence, sent the police one night to arrest Fish. The 
 latter managed to escape, crossed the sea, joined one 
 Tyndale, the author of some of the books so much 
 talked of; and, carried away by his friend's example, 
 
THE SUPPLICATION OF THE BEGGAES 
 
 he composed the book of which I was speaking to 
 your grace." "AVhat's the uamc of it?" — '"The 
 Supplication of the Beggars.'" " AVhere did yon see 
 it.'" — "At two of your tradespeople's, George Elyot 
 and George Robinson ; if your grace desires it, they 
 shall bring it you." The king appointed the day and 
 the liour. 
 
 Tlie book was written for the king ; and evciybody 
 read it but the king himself. At the appointed day 
 Moddis appeai-ed with Elyot and Robinson, who were 
 not entirely without fear, a.s they might be accused 
 of proselytisni even in the royal palace. The king 
 received them in his private apartments. " AVhat do 
 you want ? " lie said to them. — " Sir," replied one of 
 the merchants, " wo arc come about au e.\traordinaiy 
 book that is addressed to you." "Can one of you 
 read it to me?" — "Yes, if it so please your grace," 
 replied Elyot. "You may repeat the contents from 
 menioiy," rejoined the king, ..." but, no, 
 read it all; that will be better. I am ready." Elyot 
 began : 
 
 " The Si tplication of the Beggaks." 
 " To the king, our sovereign lord, — 
 
 " Most lamentably coniplaineth of their woeful 
 misery, unto your liiL'Iim -<. your poor daily bedes- 
 men, the wretelied liiil. nii- nmnsters, on whom scarcely, 
 for horror, any eve ibii«' \'">k; the foul unhappy sort 
 of lepers and other sore jjcople, needy, impotent, blind, 
 lame, and sick, that live only by alms ; how that their 
 number is daily sore increased, that all the alms of all 
 the well-disposed people of this your realm are not half 
 enough to sustain them, but that for veiy constraint 
 they die for hunger. 
 
 "And this most pestUeut mischief is come upon your 
 said poor bedesmen, by the reason that there hatli, in 
 the time of your noble predecessors, craftily crept into 
 this your realm, another sort, not of impotent, but of 
 strong, puissant, and counterfeit, holy and idle beggars 
 and vagabonds, who, by all the craft and -wiliness of 
 Satan, are now increased not only into a great number, 
 but also into a kingdom." 
 
 Heniy was very attentive : Elj'Ot continued : — 
 
 "These are not the shepherds, but the ravenous 
 wolves going in shepherds' clothing, devouring the 
 flock : bishops, abbots, prioi-s, deacons, archdeacons, 
 suffragans, priests, monks, canons, friars, pardoners, 
 and sumuers. . . . The goodliest lordships, manors, 
 lands, and territories, are theirs. Besides this, they 
 liave the tenth part of all the corn, meadow, pasture, 
 grass, wood, colts, calves, lambs, pigs, geese, and 
 chickens. Over and besides, the tenth part of every 
 servant's wages ; the tenth part of wool, milk, honey, 
 wax, cheese, and butter. The poor wives must be 
 accountable to them for eveiy tenth egg, or else she 
 getteth not her rights [(". c, absolution] at Easter. . .. 
 Finally, what get they in a year ? Siimma totalis : 
 £430,333 Cs. 8d. sterling; whereof not four himdrcd 
 years past they had not a penny. , . . 
 
 "What subjects shall bo able to help their prince, 
 that be after tliis fashion yearly polled >. AVhat good 
 Christian people can be able to succour ua poor lepers, 
 blind, sore, and lame, that be thus yearly oppressed 1 
 . . . The ancient Romans had never been able to 
 
 have put iill the whole world under their obeisance, 
 if they had had at home such an idle sort of cormo- 
 
 Xo subject coidJ ha^-e been found more likely to 
 captivate the king's attention. "And what doth all this 
 greedy sort of sturdy, idle, holy thieves, with their 
 yearly exactions, that they take of the people ? Truly 
 nothing, but translate all rule, power, lordship, 
 authority, obedience, and dignity, from your grace unto 
 them. Nothing, but that all your subjects should fall 
 into disobedience and rebellion. . . . Priest.s and 
 doves make foul houses ; aufl if you will ruin a state, 
 sot up in it the pope with his monks and clergy. . . 
 Send these sturdy loobies abroad in the world to take 
 them wives of their own, and to get their living with 
 
 their labour in the sweat of their faces 
 
 Then shall your commons increase in riches ; then 
 shall matrimony be much better kept; then shall not 
 your sword, power, crown, dignity, and obedience of 
 your people be translated from you." 
 
 AVhen Elyot had finished reading, the king was 
 silent, sunk in thought. The true cause of the ruin of 
 the state had been laid before him ; but Henry's mind 
 was not ripe for these important truths. At last ho 
 said, with an uneasy manner: "If a man who desires 
 to pull down au old wall begins at the bottom, I fear 
 the upper part may chance to fall on his head." Thus, 
 then, in the king's eyes. Fish, by attacking the priests, I 
 was disturbing the foundations of religion and society. 
 After this royal verdict, Henry rose, took the book, j 
 locked it up in his desk, and forbade the two mer- 
 chants to reveal to any one the fact of their having | 
 read it to him. j 
 
 Shortly after the king had received this copy, on | 
 ■\Vcdnesday, the 2nd of February, the feast of Candle- 
 mas, a number of persons, including the king himself, ' 
 were to take part in the procession, bearing wax tapers [ 
 in their hands. During the night this famous invec- 
 tive was scattered about all the streets through which 
 the procession had to pass. The cardinal ordered the 
 pamphlet to be seized, and immediately waited upon 
 the king. The latter put his hand under his robe, and 
 with a smile, took out the so much dreaded work, and 
 then, as if satisfied with this proof of independence, he j 
 gave it up to the cardiual. I 
 
 While AVolsey replied to Fish by confiscation, Sir I 
 Thomas More, with greater liberality, desiring that j 
 press should reply to press, published " The Supplica- ; 
 tions of the Souls in Purgatory." " Suppress," said i 
 they, " the pious stipends paid to the monks, and then 
 Luther's Gospel will come in, Tyndalo's Testament will I 
 be read, heresy will preach, fasts will be neglected, | 
 the saints will be blasphemed, God will be offended, [ 
 virtue will be mocked of, vice will run riot, and 
 England will be peopled with beggars and thieves." 
 The Souls in Piu-gatoiy then call the author of the 
 " Beggars' Supplication " " a goose, an ass, a mad dog." 
 Thus did superstition degi-ade More's noble genius. 
 Notwithstanding the abuse of the souls in purgatory, 
 the New Testament was daily read more and more iu 
 England, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER U. 
 
 AVoLSEY did uot stop with Fisli's book. It was not 
 that " miserable pamphlet " ouly that it was necessary 
 to hunt down ; the New Testament in English had 
 entered the kingdom by surprise ; there was the dangei". 
 The Gospellers, who presumed to emancipate man from 
 the priests, and put hun in absolute dependence on 
 (iod, did ])recisely the reverse of what Eome demands. 
 The cardiiKil hastened to assemble the bishops, and 
 these (particularly Warliam and Tonstall, who had 
 long enjoyed the jests launched against superstition) 
 took the matter seriously, when they were shewn that 
 tlie New Testament was circulating throughout 
 England. These priests believed with Wolsey, that 
 the authority of the pope and of the clergy was a 
 dogma to which all others were subordinate. They 
 saw in the reform an uprising of the human mind, a 
 desire of thiidvin'jr fm- tlii'mselve*, of judging freely the 
 doctrines and insliliiiidiis ivliidi tin' nations had hitherto 
 received humbly IVi.ni tin' li;iiiil-. nt the priests. The 
 new doctors ju>tilh'(l tlicii- attempt at enfranchisement 
 by substituting a new authority for the old. It was 
 the New Testament that compromised the absolute 
 power of Rome. It must bo seized and destroyed, said 
 the bishops. London, Oxford, and above all, Cam- 
 bridge, those three haunts of heresy, must be carefully 
 searched. Definitive orders were issued on Saturday, 
 3rd Fobruaiy, 1526, and tlie work began immediately. 
 
 The first visit of the inquisitors was to Honey Lane, 
 to the house of the curate of All Hallows. They did 
 uot find Garret ; they sought after hiin at Monmouth's, 
 and tliroughout the city, but he could not be met with. 
 " He is gone to Oxford to sell his detestable wares," 
 the inquisitors were informed, and they set off after 
 him immediately, determined to burn the evangelist 
 and his books ; " so burning hot," says an historian, 
 " was the chai-ity of these holy fathers." 
 
 On Tuesday, the 6th of February, Garret was quietly 
 selling his books at Oxford, and carefully noting down 
 his sales in his register, when two of his friends ran to 
 him exclaiming, " Fly! or else you will be taken before 
 the c;irdin;il, and thence ... to the Tower." Tlio 
 poor curate was greatly agitated. " From whom did 
 you learn that?" — "From Master Cole, the clerk of 
 the assembly, who is deep in the cardinal's favour." 
 Garret, who saw at once that the affair was serious, 
 hastened to Anthony Dalaber, who held the stock of 
 the Holy Scriptures at Oxford ; others followed him ; 
 the news had spread rapidly, and those who had bouglit 
 the book were seized with alarm, for they knew by 
 the history of the Lollards what the Romish clergy 
 could do. They took counsel together. The brethren, 
 "for so did we not only call one another, but were 
 indeed one to another," says Dalaber, decided that 
 
 Garret should change his name ; that Dalaber should 
 give him a letter for his brother, the rector of Stal- 
 bridge, in Dorsetshire, who was in want of a curate ; 
 and that, once in this parish, he should seek the lirst 
 opportunity of crossing the sea. The rector was, in 
 truth, a " mad papist," (it is Dalaber's expression,) but 
 that did not alter their resolution. Tlioy knew of no 
 othei- resource. Anthony wrote to him hurriedly ; and, 
 on the morning of the 7th of February, Garret left 
 Oxford without being observed. 
 
 Having provided for Garret's safety, Dalaber next 
 thought of his own. He carefully concealed in a secret 
 recess of his chamber, at St. Alban's Hall, Tyndale's 
 Testament, and the works of Luther, CEcolampadius, 
 and others, on the Word of God. Then, disgusted 
 with the scholastic sophisms which he heard in that 
 college, he took with him the New Testament and the 
 Commentary on the Gospel of St. Luke, by Lambert 
 of Avignon, the second edition of which had just been 
 published at Strasburg, and went to Gloucester College, 
 where he intended to study the civil law, not caring to 
 have anything more to do with the church. 
 
 During this time poor Garret was making his way 
 into Dorsetshire. His conscience could uot bear the 
 idea of being, although for a short time ouly, the curate 
 of a bigoted priest, — of concealing his faith, his desires, 
 and even his name. He felt more wretched, although 
 at liberty, than he could have been iu Wolsey's prisons. 
 It is bettei-, he said within himself, to confess Clmst 
 before the judgment-seat, than to seem to approve of 
 the superstitious practices I detest. He went forward 
 a little, then stopped — and then resinned his course. 
 There was a fierce struggle between his fears and his 
 conscience. At length, after a day and a half spent in 
 doubt, his conscience prevailed ; unable to endure any 
 longer the anguish that he felt, he retraced his steps, 
 returned to Oxford, which he entered on Friday 
 evening, and lay down calmly iu his bed. It was 
 barely past midnight when Wolsey's agents, who had 
 received information of his return, arrived, and dragged 
 him from his bed, and delivered him up to Dr. Cottis- 
 ford, the commissary of the university. The latter 
 locked him up iu one of his rooms, while London and 
 Higdon, dean of Frideswide, " two arch papists," (as 
 the chronicler terms them,) announced this important 
 capture to the cardinal. They thought Popery was 
 saved, because a poor curate had been taken. 
 
 Dalaber, engaged in preparing his new room at 
 Gloucester College, had not perceived all this commo- 
 tion. On Satin-ilay, at noon, having finished his 
 arrnn-viii.Mit>. lie donMr-locked his door, and began to 
 read llir C. prl lu-rui-.ling to St. Luke. All of _a 
 suilihn he lic.n> a Kiinck. Dalaber made no reply; it 
 is no doubt the connnissary's officers. A louder knock 
 was given; but he still remained silent. ImmcdiaKily 
 after, there was a third knock, as if the door would be 
 beaten in. "Pei-haps somebody wants me," thought 
 Dalaber. He laid his book aside, opened the door, and 
 to his great surprise, saw Garret, who, with alarm iu 
 every feature, exclaimed, "I am a lost man! They 
 have caught me!" Dalaber, who thought his friejid 
 was with his brother at Stalbridge, could not coueotil 
 his astonishment, and, at the same time, he cast au 
 uneasy glauee on a stranger who accompanied Garret. 
 
FLIGHT OF GARRET. 
 
 G47 
 
 of the college .sei-viiiits who had led the 
 tc to Dalaber's new room. As soon as 
 
 He wa: 
 fii.;;iliv( 
 
 this man had gone away, Garret told Anthony every- 
 thing : " Observing that Dr. Cottisford and his house- 
 hold liad gone to prayer.s, I put back the bolt of the 
 lock with my finger . . . and here I am." . . . 
 '•Alas! Master Garret," replied Dalaber, "the impni- 
 dciicc you committed in speaking to mc before that 
 young man has ruined us both!" At these words 
 Garret, who had resumed his fear of the priests, now 
 that his conscience was satisfied, exclaimed with a 
 voice interrupted by sighs and tears : " For mercy's 
 sake, lielp me ! Save me ! " AVithout waiting for an 
 answer, he threw off his frock and liood, begged 
 Anthony to give him a sleeved coat, and thus disguised, 
 he said : "I will escape into Wales, and from there, if 
 possible, to Germany and Luther." 
 
 Garret checked himself ; there was something to be 
 done before he left. The two friends fell on their 
 knees and prayed together; they called upon God to 
 Icail His servant to a secure retreat. That done, they 
 embraced each other, their faces bathed with tears, 
 and unable to utter a word. 
 
 Silent on the threshold of his door, Dalaber follo-\ved 
 both with eyes and ears his friend's retreating footsteps. 
 Having heard him vc-nrh the bottom of the stairs, he 
 returned to his romn. l.irk.Ml ihc door, took out his New 
 Testament, and plnriii'j it liri'dre him, read on his knees 
 the tenth chapter of tlic Gu.-pel of St. Matthew, breath- 
 ing many a heavy sigh : . . . Ye shall he hrowjht 
 before governors and kings forniy sake; , . , but fear 
 them not ; the veri/ hairs of i/our head are all numbered. 
 This reading having revived his courage, Anthony, still 
 on his knees, prayed fervently for the fugitive and for 
 all his brethren : " O God, by thy Holy Spirit endue 
 with heavenly strength this tender and new-born little 
 flock in Oxford. Christ's heavy cross is about to be 
 laid on the weak shoulders of thy poor sheep. Grant 
 that they may bear it with godly patience and un- 
 tiinching zeal ! " 
 
 Rising from his knees, Dalaber put away his book, 
 folded up (!:irrilt"s luxid and frock, placed them among 
 his own rl(i|lh<. li>ik,J his room door, and proceeded 
 to the Cai.liiDir- Ct.llege, (now Christ's Church,) to 
 tell Clark and the other brethren what had happened. 
 They were in chapel: the evening service had 
 begun; the dean and canons, in full costume, were 
 chanting in the choir. Dalaber stopped at the door, 
 listening to the majestic sounds of the organ, at which 
 Tavcrucr presided, and to the harmonious strains of the 
 choristers. lliey were singing the Marjnificat : My 
 sold doth mwjnifi/ the Lord. . . , He hath holpeii His 
 servant Israel. It seemed to Dalaber that they were 
 singing Garret's deliverance. But his voice could not 
 join in their song of praise. " Alas ! " he exclaimed ; 
 " all my singing and music is turned into sighing and 
 musing." 
 
 As he listened, leaning again.st the entrance into the 
 choir. Dr. Cottisford, the university commissaiy, arrived 
 ^\ith hasty step, "' bare headed and as pale as ashes." 
 He passed Anthony without noticing him; and going 
 straight to the dean, appeared to announce some im- 
 portant and unpleasant news. " I know well the cause 
 of his sorrow," thought Dalaber, ai he watched eveiy 
 
 gesture. The commissary had scarcely finished his 
 rejiort when the dean arose, and both left the choir 
 with imdisguiscd confusion. They had only reached 
 the middle of the anti-chapel when Dr. London ran in, 
 pufilng, and chafing, and stamping, " like a hungry and 
 greedy lion seeking liis prey." All three stopped, 
 (inestioucd each other, and deplored their misfortune. 
 Their rapid and eager movements indicated the liveliest 
 emotion ; London, above all, could not restrain himself. 
 He attacked the commissary, and blamed him for his 
 negligence, so that at last Cottisford burst into tears. 
 " Deeds, not tears," said the fanatical London ; and 
 forthwith they despatched ollicers and spies along every 
 road. 
 
 Anthony, having left the chapel, hurried to Clark's 
 to tell him of the escape of liis friend. " We are walk- 
 ing in the midst of wolves and tigers," replied Clark ; 
 " prepare for persecution. Frudeiitia serpentina et sim- 
 plicitas columbina (the wisdom of serpents and the 
 hannlessncss of doves) must be our motto. O God, 
 give us the courage these evil times require." All in 
 the little flock were delighted at Garret's deliverance. 
 Sumner and Bettj<, who had come in, ran off to tell it 
 to the other brethren in the college, and Dalaber has- 
 tened to Corpus Christi. All these pious young men 
 felt themselves to be soldiers in the same army, travel- 
 lers in the same company, brothers in the same family. 
 Fraternal love nowhere shone so brightly, in the days 
 of the Reformation, as among the Christians of Great 
 Britain. This is a feature worthy of notice. 
 
 Fitzjames, Udal, and Diet, were met together in the 
 rooms of the latter, at Corpus Christi College, when 
 Dalaber arrived. They ate their frugal meal with 
 downcast eyes and broken voices, conversing of Oxford, 
 of England, and of the perils hanging over them. 
 Then rising from table, they fell on their knees, called 
 upon God for aid, and separated; Fitzjames taking 
 Dalaber with him to St. Alban's Hall. They were 
 afraid that the servant of Gloucester College had be- 
 trayed him. 
 
 The disciples of the Gospel at Oxford passed the 
 night in great anxiety. GaiTct's flight, the rage of the 
 priests, the dangers of the rising church, the roaring of 
 a storm that filled the air and re-echoed through the 
 long cloisters — all impressed them with terror. On 
 Sunday, the 11th of February, Dalaber, who was 
 stirring at five in the morning, set out for his room in j 
 Gloucester College. Finding the gates shut, he walked ! 
 up and down beneath the walls in the mud, for it had | 
 rained all night. As he paced to and fro along the j 
 solitary street in the obscure dawn, a thousand thoughts I 
 alarnied his mind. It was known, he said to himself, : 
 that he had tsiken part in Garret's flight; he would be | 
 arrested, and his friend's escape would be revenged on I 
 him. He was weighed down by sorrow and alann ; ; 
 he sighed heavily ; he imagined he saw AVolsey's com- j 
 missioners demanding the names of his accomplices, ] 
 and pretending to draw up a proscription list at his i 
 dictation ; he recollected that on more than one occasion 
 cruel priests had extorted from the Lollards the names I 
 of their brethren, and, terrified at the possibility of j 
 such a crime, he exclaimed : " O God, I swear to thee ; 
 that I will accuse no man, ... I will tell nothing 
 but what is perfectly well known." j 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 At last, after an hour of anguish, lie was able to 
 
 enter the college. He hastened in, but when he tried 
 
 to open his door, he found that the lock had been 
 
 picked. The door gave way to a strong push, and what 
 
 a sight met his eyes ! his bedstead overturned, the 
 
 blankets scattered on the floor, his clothes all confusion 
 
 in his wardrobe, his study broken into and left open. 
 
 He doubted not that Garret's dress had betrayed him ; 
 
 , and he was gazing at this sad spectacle in alarm, when 
 
 a monk who occupied the adjoining rooms came and 
 
 I told him what had taken place : " The commissary and 
 
 j two proctors, armed with swords and bills, broke open 
 
 I your door in the middle of the night. They pierced 
 
 I your bed-straw through and through to make sure 
 
 j Garret was not hidden there ; they carefully searched 
 
 eveiy nook and corner, but were not able to discover 
 
 any traces of the fugitive." At these words Dalaber 
 
 breathed again, . . . but the monk had not ended. 
 
 " I have orders," he added, " to send you to the prior." 
 
 I Anthony Dunstan, the prior, was a fanatical and 
 
 avaricious monk ; and the confusion into which this 
 
 I message threw Dalaber was so great, that he went just 
 
 as he was, all besjiattered with mnd, to the rooms of 
 
 his superior. 
 
 The prior, who was standing with his face towards 
 the door, looked at Dalaber from head to foot as he 
 came in. " Where did you pass the night?" he asked. — 
 " At St. Albau's Hall with Fitzjames." The prior with 
 a gesture of incredulity continued : " Was not Master 
 Garret with you yesterday ? " — " Yes." " Where is he 
 now ? " — "I do not know." During this examination, the 
 prior had remarked a large double gilt silver ring on 
 Anthony's finger, with the initials A. D. " Show me 
 that," said the prior. Dalaber gave him the ring, and 
 the prior believing it to be of solid gold, put it on his 
 own finger, adding with a cunning leer : " This ring is 
 mine : it bears my name. A is for Antfion;/, and D for 
 Dimstan." " Would to God," thought Dalaber, " that I 
 were as well delivered from his companj', as I am sure 
 of being delivered of my ring." 
 
 At this moment the chief beadle, with two or three 
 of the commissary's men, entered and conducted Dalaber 
 to the chapel of Lincoln college, where three ill-omened 
 figures were standing beside the altar : they were Cottis- 
 ford, London, and Higdon. " Where is Garret ? " asked 
 London ; and pointing to his disordered dress, he con- 
 tinued : "Y'our shoes and garments covered with mud 
 prove that you have been out all night with him. If 
 you do not say where you have taken him, you will be 
 sent to tlie Tower." — " Yes," added Higdon, " to Little- 
 ease, [one of the most horrible dungeons in the prison,] 
 and you will be put to the torture — do you hear?" 
 Then the three doctors spent two hours attempting to 
 I shake the young man by flattering promises and fright- 
 ful threats ; but all was useless. The commissary then 
 gave a sign, the officers stepped forward, and the 
 j judges ascended a narrow staircase leading to a large 
 roor.i situated above the commissary's chamber. Here 
 Dalaber was deprived of his purse and girdle, and his 
 legs were placed in the stocks, so that his feet were al- 
 1 most as high as his head. When that was done, the 
 
 three doctors devoutly went to mass. 
 I Poor Anthony, left alone in this frightful position, 
 recollected the warning Clark had given him two years 
 
 before. He groaned heavily, and cried to God : " O 
 Father ! that my suffering may be for thy glory, and 
 for the consolation of my brethren ! Happen what 
 may, I will never accuse one of them." After this 
 noble protest, Anthony felt an increase of peace in his 
 heart ; but a new sorrow was reserved for him. 
 
 Garret, who had directed his course westwards, with 
 the intention of going to Wales, had been caught at 
 Hinksey, a short distance from Oxford. He was 
 brought back, and thrown into the dungeon in which 
 Dalaber had been placed after the torture. Their 
 gloomy presentiments were to be more than fulfilled. 
 
 In fact, Wolsey was deeply irritated at seeing the 
 college [Christ Church] which he had intended should 
 be " the most glorious in the world," made the haunt 
 of heresy; and the young men, whom he had so care- 
 fully chosen, become distributers of the New Testa- 
 ment. By favouring literatm-e, he had had in view 
 the triumph of the clergy; and literatm-e had, on the 
 contrary, served to the triumph of the Gospel. He 
 issued his orders without delay, and the university was 
 filled with terror. John Clark, John Fryth, Heniy 
 Sumner, William Betts, Kichard Taveruer, Richard 
 Cox, Michael Drumm, Godfrey Harman, Thomas Law- 
 ney, Radley, and others besides of Cardinal's College ; 
 Udal, Diet, and others of Corpus Christi ; Eden, and 
 several of his friends of Magdalene ; Goodman, William 
 Bayley, Robert Ferrar, John Salisbury of Gloucester, 
 Barnard, and St. Mary's colleges, were seized and 
 thrown into prison. Wolsey had promised them glory; 
 he gave them a dungeon, hoping in this manner to save 
 the power of the priests, and to repress that awakening 
 of truth and liberty which was spreading from the 
 Continent to England. 
 
 Under Cardinal's College there was a deep cellar 
 sunk in the earth, in which the butler kept his salt 
 fish. Into this hole these young men, the choice of 
 England, were thrust. The dampness of this cave, 
 the corrupted air they breathed, the horrible smell 
 given out by the fish, seriously affected the prisoners, 
 already weakened by study. Their hearts were burst- 
 ing with groans, their faith was shaken, and the most 
 mournful scenes followed each other in this foid dun- 
 geon. The wretched captives gazed on one another, 
 wept, and prayed. This trial was destined to be a 
 salutary one to them : " Alas ! " said Fiyth on a sub- 
 sequent occasion ; " I see that besides the Word of God, 
 there is indeed a second purgatory, . . . but it is 
 not that invented by Rome ; it is the cross of tribula- 
 tion to which God has nailed us." 
 
 At last the prisoners were taken out one by one and 
 brought before their judges ; two only were released. 
 The first was Betts, afterwards chaplain to Anne 
 Boleyn : they had not been able to find any prohibited 
 books in his room, and he pleaded his cause with great 
 talent. The other was Taverner ; he had hidden 
 Clark's books under his school-room floor, where they 
 had been discovered ; but his love for the arts saved 
 him: "Pshaw! he is only a musician," said the car- 
 dinal. 
 
 All the rest were condemned. A great fire was 
 kindled at the top of the market-place ; a long pro- 
 cession was marshalled, and these unfortunate men 
 were led out, each bearing a fagot. When they came 
 
SEARCH FOR THE HERETICAL BOOKS. 
 
 near the fire, they were compelled to throw iato it the 
 lierctical books that had been found in their rooms. 
 After which they were taken back to their noisome 
 prison. Th. r.- m-.hu.I l.i lu- :i luirbai-ous pleasure in 
 trcatinj^ llic~c ymiii.j aii.l Lirii.inii, m.'n so vilely. In 
 j other eoiintii.-> nl-o. l;,,ii,c h:i, |.r,|iariiig to stiHc in 
 the flames (lio imlilc.-l ^■iiiuscs of France, Spain, and 
 Italy. Such was tlio reception letters and the Gospel 
 met with from Popery in the sixteenth century. Every 
 plant of God's must be beaten by the wind, even at 
 the risk of its being uprooted ; if it receives only the 
 gentle rays of the sun, there is reason to fear that it 
 will dry up and witiier before it produces fruit. Except 
 a corn of wheat full into the ground and die, it abideth 
 alone. There was to arise one day a real Church in 
 England, for the persecution had begun. 
 We have to contemplate still further trials. 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
 Poi-sccution at Cambridge — Barnes Arrested— -V grand Search— Barnes at 
 Wo scj'a Palace— Interrogated by the Cardinal— Conversation between 
 Wolsey and Barnes— Barnes threatened with the Stake— His Fall and 
 lublic Penance — Richard Bayfield — His Faith and Imprisonment — 
 Visits Cambridge— Joins Tyndalc— Tlie Confessors in the Cellar at Ox- 
 ford- Four of them Die— Tlie rest Liberated. 
 
 Cambridge, which had produced Latimer, Bilney, 
 Stafford, and Barnes, had at first appeared to occupy 
 the front rank in the English Reformation. Oxford, 
 by receiving the crown of persecution, seemed now to 
 have outstripped the sister university. And yet Cam- 
 bridge was to have its sliare of suffering. The investi- 
 gation had begun at Oxford on Monday, the 5th of 
 February, and on the very same day two of AVolsey's 
 creatures, Dr. Capon, one of his chaplains, and Gibson, 
 a sergeant-at-arms notorious for his arrogance, left 
 London for Cambridge. Submission was the pass- 
 word of Popeiy. " Yes, submission," was responded 
 from eveiy part of Christendom by men of sincere 
 piety and profound understanding ; " submission to the 
 legitimate authority against which Roman Catholicism 
 has rebelled." According to their views, the tradition- 
 alism and Pelagianism of the Romish Church had set 
 up the supremacy of fallen reason in opposition to the 
 Divine supremacy of tlie Word and of grace. The 
 external and apparent sacrifice of self which Roman 
 Catholicism imposes, — obedience to a confessor or to 
 the pope, arbitrary penance, ascetic practices, and 
 celibacy, — only served to create, and so to strengthen 
 and perpetuate, a delusion as to the egotistic preserva- 
 tion of a sinful personality. When the Reformation 
 proclaimed liberty, so far as regarded ordinances of 
 human invention, it was with the view of bringing 
 man's heart and life into subjection to their real 
 Sovereign. The reign of God was commencing ; that 
 of the priests must needs come to an end. No man 
 can serve two masters. Such were the important 
 truths which gradually dawned upon the world, and 
 which it became necessary to extinguish without delay. 
 On the day after theii- arrival in Cambridge, on 
 
 Tuesday, the 6th of February, Capon and Gibson v/ent 
 to the convocation house, wliere several of the doctors 
 were talking together. Tiicir aiipearancc caused some 
 anxiety among the spectators, wlio Incil^.d upon the 
 strangci-s with distrust. On :i -imM. n ( lili-on moved 
 forward, put his hand on l!aiiir-. ami arnsicd him in 
 the presence of his friends. Thr latter \m ii' f lightened, 
 and this was what tin; sergeant wanted. "Wiiat!" 
 said they; " the prior of the Augustines, the restorer of 
 letters in Cambridge, arrested by a sergeant!" This 
 was not all. Wolsey's agents were to seize the books 
 come from Germany, and their owners ; Bilney, 
 Latimer, Stafford, Arthur, and tlieir friends, were all 
 to be imprisoned, for they possessed tlie New Testa- 
 ment. Thirty members of the university were pointed 
 out as suspected ; and some miserable wretches, who 
 had been bribed by the inquisitors, offered to shew the 
 |)lace in eveiy room where the prohibited books were 
 hidden. But while the necessary preparations were 
 making for this search, Bilney, Latimer, and their col- 
 leagues, being warned in time, got the books removed ; 
 they were taken away not only by the doors, but by 
 the windows, even by the roofs ; and anxious inquiiy 
 was made for sure places in which they could bo 
 concealed. 
 
 This work was hardly ended when the vice-chan- 
 cellor of the university, the sergeant-at-arras, Wolsey's 
 chaplain, the proctors, and the informers, began their 
 rounds. They opened the first room, entered, searched, 
 and found nothing. They passed on to the second, 
 there was nothing. The sergeant was astonished, and 
 grew angry. On reaching the third room, he ran 
 directly to the place that had been pointed out, — still 
 there was nothing. The same thing occurred every- 
 where ; never was inquisitor more mortified. He dared 
 not lay hands on the persons of the evangelical doctors ; 
 his orders bore that he was to seize the books and 
 their owners. But as no books were found, there could 
 be no prisoners. Luckily there Wiis one man (the prior 
 of the Augustines) against whom there were particular 
 charges. The sergeant promised to compensate himself 
 at Barnes's expense for his useless labours. 
 
 The next day Gibson and Capon set out for London 
 with Barnes. During this mournful journey, the prior, 
 in great agitation, at one time determined to brave all 
 England, and at another trembled like a leaf. At last 
 their journey was ended ; the chaplain left his prisoner 
 at Parnell's house, close by the stocks. Three students 
 (Coverdale, Goodwin, and Field) had followed their 
 master to cheer him with their tender affection. 
 
 On Thursday (8th Februaiy) the sergeant conducted 
 Barnes to the cardinal's palace at Westminster; the 
 wretched prior, whose enthusiasm had given way to 
 dejection, waited all day before he could be admitted. 
 What a day ! Will no one come to his assistance ? 
 Dr. Gardiner, Wolsey's secretary, and Fox, his steward, 
 both old friends of Barnes, passed thi'ongh the gallery 
 in the evening, and went up to the prisoner, who 
 begged them to procure him an audience with tho 
 cardinal. AVhen night had come, these officers intro- 
 duced the prior into the room where their master was 
 sitting, and Barnes, as was customaiy, fell on his knees 
 before him. " Is this the Dr. Barnes who is accused 
 of heresy?" asked Wolsey, in a haughty tone, of Fox 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 aud Gardiner. They replied in tlie affirmative. The 
 cardinal then turning to Barnes, who was still kneeling, 
 said to hira ironically, and not without reason: "What, 
 ma.ster doctor, had you not sufficient scope in the 
 Scriptures to teach the people, but ray golden shoes, 
 my poleaxes, my pillars, my golden cushions, my 
 crosses, did so sore offend you, that you must make us 
 a laughing-stock, ridiculum cajnit, amongst the people 1 
 We were jollily that day laughed to scorn. Verily it 
 was a sermon more fit to be preached on a stage than 
 in a pulpit; for at the last you said I wore a paii" of red 
 gloves — I should say blood;/ gloves (quoth you) . . . 
 Eh! what think you, master doctor?" Barnes, wish- 
 ing to elude these embarrassing questions, answered 
 vaguely: "I spoke nothing but the truth out of the 
 Scriptures, according to my conscience and according 
 to the old doctors." He then presented to the cardinal 
 a statement of his teaching. 
 
 Wolsey received the papers with a smile : " Oh, ho !" 
 said he, as lie counted the six sheets, " I perceive you 
 intend to stand to your articles aud to shew your 
 learning." — "With the grace of God," said Barnes. 
 Wolsey then began to read them, and stopped at the 
 sixth article, which ran thus : " I will never believe 
 that one man may, by the law of God, be bishop of two 
 or three cities, yea, of a whole country, for it is contrai-y 
 to St. Paul, who saith : I have left thee behind, to set in 
 even/ citi/ a bishop." Barnes did not quote correctly, 
 for the apostle says : " to ordain eiders in even/ cit;/." 
 Wolsey was displeased at this thesis : "Ah! this touches 
 me," he said : " do you think it wrong (seeing the 
 ordinance of the church) that one bishop should have 
 so many cities underneath him 1 " — " I know of no or- 
 dinance of the church," Barnes replied, " as concerning 
 tliis thing, but Paul's saying only." 
 
 Although this controversy interested the cardinal, 
 the personal attack of which he had to complain 
 touched him more keenly. " Good," said Wolsey; and 
 then with a condescension hardly to be expected from 
 so proud a man, he deigned almost to justify himself. 
 " You charge me with displaying a royal pomp ; but 
 do you not understand that, being called to represent 
 his majesty, I must strive by these means to strike 
 terror into the wicked ? " — " It is not your pomp or 
 your poleaxes," Barnes courageously answered, " tliat 
 will save the king's person. . . . God will save 
 him, who said : Per me rerjes regnant." Barnes, instead 
 of profiting by tlie cai'dinal's kindness to present an 
 humble justification, as Dean Colet had formerly done 
 to Henry VIII., dared preach him a second sermon to 
 his face. Wolsey felt the colour mount to his cheeks. 
 "AVell, gentlemen," said he, turning to Fox and 
 Gardiner, "you hear him! Is this the wise aud learned 
 man of whom you spoke to me?" 
 
 At these words both steward and secretary fell on 
 their knees, saying : " My lord, pardon him for mercy's 
 sake." " Can you find ten, or even six doctors of 
 divinity willing to swear that you are free from 
 heresy?" asked Wolsey. Barnes offered twenty honest 
 men, quite as Icurn.-l n. l.ruisolf, or even more so. "I 
 must have (!,»■, .,, - in .ll\ Inlt)-, men as old as yourself." 
 — " That is ini 1 ,1 i ■ I UU. ,-> I it I tlic prior. " In that case you 
 must be burnt, ' continued the cardinal. "Let him be 
 taken to the Tower." Gardiner and Fox offering to 
 
 become his sureties, Wolsey permitted him to pass the 
 night at Parnell's. 
 
 " It is no time to think of sleeping," said Barnes as 
 he entered the house; "we must write." Those harsh 
 and terrible words, yon must be burnt, resounded con- 
 tinually in his ears. He dictated all night to his three 
 young friends a defence of his articles. 
 
 The next day he was taken before the chapter, at 
 which Clarke, bishop of Bath, Standish, and other 
 doctors, were present. His judges laid before him a 
 long statement, and said to him : " Promise to read 
 this paper in public, without omitting or adding a 
 single word." It was then read to him. " I would 
 die first," was his reply. " Will you abjure or be burnt 
 alive?" said his judges; "take yoin- choice." The 
 alternative was dreadful. Poor Barnes, a prey to the 
 deepest agony, shrank at the thought of the stake ; 
 then, suddenly his courage revived, and he exclaimed : 
 " I would rather be burnt than abjure." Gardiner and 
 Fox did all they could to persuade him. " Listen to 
 reason," said they craftily : " your articles are true ; 
 that is not the question. We want to know whether 
 by your death you will let error triumph, or whether 
 you would rather remain to defend the truth when 
 better days may come." 
 
 Tliey entreated him ; they put forward the most 
 plausible motives ; from time to time they uttered the 
 terrible words, — burnt alive ! His blood froze in his 
 veins ; he kuew not what he said or did ; . . , they 
 l^laced a paper before him — they put a pen in his hand 
 — his head was bewildered, he signed his name with a 
 deep sigh. This unhappy man was destined at a later 
 period to be a faithful martyr of Jesus Christ ; but he 
 had not yet leaint to resist even unto Mood. Barnes 
 had fallen. 
 
 On the following morning (vSunday, 11th Februaiy) 
 a solemn spectacle was preparing at St. Paul's. Before 
 daybreak all were astir iu the prison of the poor 
 prior; and at eight o'clock, the knight-marshal with 
 his tipstaves, and the warden of the Fleet prison with 
 his billmen, conducted Barnes to St. Paul's, along with 
 four of the Hanse merchants who had first brouglit to j 
 Loudon the New Testament of Jesus Christ in English. | 
 The fifth of these pious merchants held an immeusc j 
 taper iu his hands. A persevering search had dis- 
 covered that it was these men to whom England was I 
 indebted for the so much dreaded book ; their ware- j 
 houses were surrounded, and their persons arrested. [ 
 On the top of St. Paul's steps was a platform, and on 1 
 the platform a throne, and on the throne the cardinal, ' 
 dressed in scarlet — like a " bloody antichrist," says the 
 chronicler. On his head glittered the hat of which 
 Barnes had spoken so ill ; around him were thirty-six 
 lpislio|is, ablinis:, priors, aud all his doctors, dressed iu 
 diiiii:i>lc ;iini satin; the vast cathedral was full. The 
 Bishop of KiH-Uester having gone into a pulpit placed 
 at tlie top of the steps, Barnes and the merchants, each ; 
 bearing a faggot, were compelled to kneel and listen to j 
 a sermon intended to cure these poor creatures of that i 
 taste for insurrection against Popery which was begin- [ 
 uiug to spread in every quarter. The sermon ended, 
 the cardinal mounted his mule, took his station luider 
 a magnificent canopy, and rode off. After this, Barnes 
 aud his five companions wtilked three times round a 
 
THE CONFESSORS IN THE CELLAR AT OXFORD. 
 
 C51 
 
 iiro, lighted before the cross tit the north gate of the 
 cathedral. Tlie dejected prior, with downcast head, 
 dragged himself along, rather than walked. After the 
 third turn, the prisoners threw their faggots into the 
 flames ; some " heretical " books also were flung in ; 
 and the Bishop of Koehcsfer having given absolution 
 to the six peuitoiits, they v., it 1, d 1i:u-k li> pi-i-un, to be 
 kept there during the lonl r.n MiiLiI'^ |iliM~ur.'. Barnes 
 could not weep now; the UhmiuIiI I'l' lii> n lap.-i', and of 
 the effects so guilty an ixaniiilo might pruduee, had 
 deprived him of all moral energy. In the month of 
 August, he was led out of prison and confined in the 
 Augustine convent. 
 
 Barnes was not the only niau at Cambridge upon 
 whom the blow had fallen. Since the year 1520, a 
 monk named Kiehard Bayfield, had been an inmate 
 of the abbey of Bury St. Edmunds. His affability 
 delighted every traveller. One day, when engaged as 
 chamberlain in receiving Barnes, who had come to 
 visit Dr. Ruffam, his fellow-student at Louvain, two 
 men entered the convent. They were pious per- 
 sons, and of great consideration in London, where they 
 carried on the occupation of brick-making, and had 
 risen to be wardens of their guild. Their names were 
 Maxwell and Stacy, men " well gi'af ted in the doctrine 
 of Christ," says the historian, who had led many to 
 the Saviour by their conversation and exemplary life. 
 Being accustomed to travel once a-year through the 
 counties, to visit their brethren and extend a know- 
 ledge of the Gospel, they vised to lodge, according to 
 the usages of the time, in the convents and abbeys. 
 A conversation soon arose between Barnes, Stacy, and 
 Maxwell, which struck the lay-brother. Barnes, who 
 Lad observed his attention, gave him, as he was leaving 
 the convent, a New Testament in Latin ; and the two 
 brick-makers added a New Testament in English, with 
 "The "Wicked Mammon" and "The Obedience of a 
 Christian Man." The lay-brother ran and hid the books 
 in his cell, and for two years read them constantly. At 
 last he was discovered, and reprimanded ; but he boldly 
 confessed his faith. Upon this the monks threw him 
 into prison, set him iu the stocks, put a gag in his 
 mouth, and cruelly whipped him, to prevent his speak- 
 ing of grace. The unhappy Bayfield remained nine 
 months in this condition. 
 
 When Barnes repeated his visit to Buiy at a later 
 period, he did not find the amiable chamberlain at the 
 gates of the abbey. Upon inquiiy, he learnt his 
 condition, and immediately took steps to procure his 
 deliverance. Dr. Ruffam came to his aid : " Give him 
 to me," said Barnes, " I will take him to Cambridge." 
 The pi-ior of the Augustiues was at that time held in 
 high esteem ; his request was granted, in the hope that 
 he would lead back Bayfield to the doctrines of the 
 chiu-ch. But the very reverse took place : irrtercourse 
 with the Cambridge brethren strengthened the young 
 monk's faith. On a sudden his happiness vanished. 
 Barnes, his friend and benefactor, was carried to 
 London ; and the monks of Bury St. Edmunds, alarmed 
 at the noise this affair created, summoned him to re- 
 turn to the abbey. But Bayfield, resolving to submit 
 to their yoke no longer, went to London, and lay 
 concealed at Maxwell and Stacy's. One day, having 
 left his hiding-place, he was crossing Lombai-d Street, 
 
 when he met a priest namoil Picrson and two other 
 religious of his order, with whom he entered into a 
 conversation which greatly scandalized them. " You 
 must dejjart forthwith," said Maxwell and Stacy to 
 him on his return. Bayfield received a small sum 
 of money from them, went on board a ship, and as 
 soon as ho reached the Continent, hastened to find 
 Tyndale. During this time scenes of a very different 
 nature from those which had taken place at Cam- 
 bridge, but not less heart-rending, were passing at 
 Oxford. 
 
 The storm of persecution was raging there with 
 more violence than at Cambrige. Clark and the other 
 confessors of the name of Christ were still confined 
 in their under-ground prison. The air they breathed, 
 the food they took, (and they ate nothing but salt fish.) 
 the burning thirst this created, the thouglits by which 
 they were agitated, all together combined to crush 
 these noble-hearted men. Their bodies wasted day 
 by day; they wandered like spectres up and down 
 their gloomy cellar. Those animated discussions, iu 
 which the deep questions then convulsing Christendom 
 were so eloquently debated, were at an end ; they were 
 like shadow meeting shadow. Their hollow eyes cast 
 a vague and haggard glance on one another, and, after 
 gazing for a moment, they passed on without speaking. 
 Clark, Sumner, Bayley, and Goodman, consumed by 
 fever, feebly crawled along, leaning against their dun- 
 geon walls. The tiist, who was also the eldest, could 
 not walk without the support of one of his fellow- 
 prisoners. Soon he was quite unable to move, and lay 
 stretched ujion the damp floor. The brethren gathered 
 ronnd him, sought to discover iu his featuics whether 
 death was not about to cut short the days of him who 
 had brought many of them to the knowledge of Christ. 
 They repeated to him slowly the words of Scripture, 
 and then knelt down by his side aad uttered a fervent 
 prayer. 
 
 Clark, feeling his end draw near, asked for the com- 
 munion. The jailors conveyed his request to their 
 master; the noise of the bolts was soon heard, and a 
 tnrnkey, stepping into the midst of the disconsolate 
 band, pronounced a cruel no ! On hearing this, Clark 
 looked towards heaven, and exclaimed with a father 
 of the church : Crede et manducasti — Believe and thou 
 hast eaten. He was lost in thought : he contemplated 
 the crucified Son of God ; by faith he ate and drank 
 the flesh and blood of Christ, and experienced in his 
 inner life the strengthening action of the Redeemer. 
 Men might refuse him the host, but Jesus had given 
 him His body ; and from that hour he felt strengthened 
 by a living union with the King of heaven. 
 
 Not filone did Clark descend into the shado\\'y valley: 
 Sumner, Bayley, and Goodman, were sinking rapidly. 
 Death, the gloomy inhabitant of this foul prison, had 
 taken possession of these four friends. Their brethren 
 addressed fresh solicitations to the cardinal, at that 
 time closely occupied in negotii' lions with France, 
 Rome, and Venice. He found means however, to 
 give a moment to the Oxford mariyrs ; and, just as 
 these Christians were praying over their four dying 
 companions, the commissioner came and informed 
 them, that " his lordship, of his great goodness, per- 
 mitted the sick persons to be removed to their own 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 chambers." Litters were brought, on wliicli the dying 
 men ivere phicerl, and carried to their rooms ; the doors 
 were closed again upon those whose lives this frightful 
 dungeon had not yet attacked. 
 
 It was the middle of August. The wretched men 
 who had passed six months in the cellar were trans- 
 ported in vain to their chambers and their beds ; 
 several members of the university ineffectually tried, 
 by their cares and their tender charity, to recall them 
 to life. It was too late. The severities of Popery 
 had killed these noble witnesses. The approach of 
 death soon betrayed itself ; their blood grew cold, their 
 limbs stiif, and their bedimmed eyes sought only Jesus 
 Clirist, their everlasting hope. Clark, Sumner, and 
 Bayley, died in the same week. Goodman followed 
 close upon them. 
 
 This unexpected catastrophe softened "Wolsey. He 
 was cruel only as far as his interest and the safety 
 of the church required. He feared that the death of 
 so many young men would raise public opinion against 
 him, or that these catastrophes would damage his 
 college ; perhaps even some sentiment of humanity 
 may have touched his heart. " Set the rest at liberty," 
 he wrote to his agents ; " but upon condition that they 
 do not go above ten miles from Oxford." The uni- 
 versity beheld these young men issue from their living 
 tomb, pale, wasted, weak, and with faltering steps. 
 At that time they were not men of mark ; it was their 
 youth that touched the spectators' hearts ; but in after- 
 years they all occupied an important place in the 
 church. They were, — Cox, who became bishop of Ely, 
 and tutor to Edward the Prince Royal ; Drumm, who 
 under Cranmer became one of the six preachers at 
 Canterbmy ; Udal, afterwards master of Westminster 
 and Eton schools ; Salisbury, dean of Norwich, and 
 then bishop of Sodor and Man, who in all his wealth 
 and greatness often recalled his frightful prison at Ox- 
 ford as a title to glory; Ferrar, afterwards Cranmer's 
 chaplain, bishop of St. David's, and a martyr even 
 unto death, after an interval of thirty years ; Fryth, 
 Tyndale's friend, to whom this deliverance proved only 
 a delay ; and several others. When they came forth 
 from their terrible dungeon, their friends ran up to 
 them, supported their faltering steps, and embraced 
 them amidst floods of tears. Fryth quitted the uni- 
 versity not long after, and went to Flanders. Thus 
 was the tempest stayed which had so fearfully ravaged 
 Oxford. But the calm was of no long duration; an 
 unexpected circumstance became perilous to the cause 
 of the Reformation. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Luther's Letter to the King— Heni-y's Anger— His Reply— Luther's Eesolu- 
 tiou— Persecutions— Bames Escapes — Proclamations against the New 
 Testament— W. Roy to Caiaphas— Third Edition of the New Testa- 
 ment -The Triumph of Law and Liberty— Haclict attaclcs the Printer— 
 natlict's Complaints— A Seizure— The Year 1526 in England 
 
 Henry was still under the impression of the famous 
 " Supplication of the Beggars," when Luther's interfer- 
 ence increased his anger. The letter which, at the 
 
 advice of Christiern, king of Denmark, this reformer 
 had written to him in September, 1525, had miscarried. 
 The Wittemberg doctor hearing nothing of it, had boldly 
 printed it, and sent a copy to the king. "I am in- 
 formed," said Luther, " that your Majesty is beginning 
 to favour the Gospel, and to be disgusted with the per- 
 verse race that fights against it in your noble kingdom. 
 . . . . It is true that, according to Scripture, the 
 kinfjs of the earth lake counsel together against the Lord, 
 and we cannot, consequently, expect to see them 
 favourable to the truth. How fervently do I wish 
 that this miracle may be accomplished in the person of 
 your Majesty." 
 
 Wc may imagine Honi-y's wrath as he read this 
 letter. "What!" said he, "does this apostate monk 
 dare print a letter addressed to us, without having even 
 sent it, or at the least without iinowing if we have ever 
 received it ? . . . And as if that were not enough, 
 he insinuates that we are among his partisans. . . . 
 He wins over also one or two wretches, born in our 
 kingdom, and engages them to translate the New Testa- 
 ment into English, adding thereto certain prefaces and 
 poisonous glosses." Thus spoke Henry. The idea that 
 his name should be associated with that of the Wittem- 
 berg monk, called all the blood into his face. He will 
 reply right royally to such unblushing impudence. He 
 summoned Wolsey forthwith. " Here ! " said he, point- 
 ing to a passage concerning the prelate ; " here ! read 
 what is said of you !" And then he read aloud : '■'■Illud 
 monstnnn et imhlkum odium Dei et homimim, cardinalis 
 Eboracensis, pestis ilia regiii tui. You see, my Lord, 
 you are a monster, an object of hatred both to God and 
 man, the scourge of my kingdom ! " The king had 
 hitherto allowed the bishops to do as they pleased, 
 and observed a sort of neutrality. He now determined 
 to lay it aside, and begin a crusade against the Gospel 
 of Jesus Christ; but he must first answer this im- 
 pertinent letter. He consulted Sir Thomas More, shut 
 himself in his closet, and dictated to his secretary a 
 reply to the reformer. " You are ashamed of the book 
 you have written against me," he said; "I would counsel 
 you to be ashamed of all that you have written. They 
 are full of disgusting en-ors and frantic heresies, and 
 are supported by the most audacious obstinacy. Your 
 venomous pen mocks the church, insults the fathers, 
 abuses the saints, despises the apostles, dishonours the 
 holy virgin, and blasphemes God, by making Him the 
 autlior of evil. . . . And after all that, you claim 
 to 1)0 au author whose like does not exist in tlje 
 world ! " 
 
 " You offer to publish a book in my praise. . . . 
 I thank you! . . . You will praise mo most by 
 abusing me ; you will dishonour me beyond measure if 
 you ]iraise me. I say with Seneca : 2'am turpe tibi sit 
 lau'hiri a turpibvs, quam si lauderis oh turpia." 
 
 This letter, written by the king of the English to the 
 king of the heretics, was immediately cu'culated through- 
 out England, bound up with Luther's epistle. Henry, 
 by publishing it, put his subjects on their guard against 
 the mfaithful translations of the New Testament, 
 which were, besides, about to be burnt everywhere. 
 " The grapes seem beautiful," he said, " but beware 
 how you wet your lips with the wine made from them, 
 for the adversary hath mingled poison with it." 
 
LUTHER'S FIRMNESS- BAENES ESCAPES. 
 
 653 
 
 Luther, agitated by tliis rude lesson, tried to excuse 
 himself. " 1 said to myself, 7'hei-e are tweh-e fioiirs in 
 the (1(11/. Wiio knows .' porimps I m;vy find one lucky 
 hour to gain the King of England. I therefore laid 
 my humble epistle at his feet ; but, alas ! the swine 
 have torn it. I am willing to be silent ; . . . but 
 as regards my doctrine, I cannot impose silence on it. 
 It must ciy aloud, it must bite. If any king imagines 
 he can make me refract my faith, he is a dreamer. So 
 long as one drop of blood remains in my body, I shall 
 say NO. Emperors, kings, the devil, and even the 
 wliole universe, cannot frighten me when faith is con- 
 cerned. I claim to be proud, very proud, exceedingly 
 proud. If my doctrine had no other enemies than the 
 King of England, Duke George, the pope, and their 
 allies, all these soap-bubbles, . . . one little prayer 
 would long ago have worsted them all. Wliere are 
 Pihite, Herod, and Caiaphas, now? Where are Nero, 
 Domitian, and Maximilian? Where are Arius, Pela- 
 gius, and Manes? — Where are they? . . . AVhere 
 all our scribes and all our tyrants will soon be. — But 
 Ciirist? Christ is the same always. 
 
 " For a thousand years the Holy Scriptures have not 
 shone in the world with so much brightness as now. I 
 wait in jieaee for my last hour ; I have done wliat I 
 could. O princes, my hands are clean from your 
 blood ; it will fall on your own heads." 
 
 Bowing before the supreme royalty of Jesus Christ, 
 Luther spoke tluis boldly to King Henry, who con- 
 tested the rights of the Word of God. 
 
 A letter written against the reformer was not enough 
 for the bishops. Profiting by the wound Luther had 
 inflicted on Henry's self-esteem, they urged hun to put 
 down this revolt of the human understanding, which 
 threatened (as they averred) both the popedom and 
 the monarcliy. Tliey commenced the persecution. 
 Latimer was summoned before AVolsey, but his learning 
 and presence of mind procured his dismissal. Bilney 
 also, who had been ordered to London, received an 
 injunction not to preach Ltdhers doctrines. " I will 
 not preach Luther's doctrines, if there are any peculiar 
 to him," he said ; " but I can and I must preach the 
 doctrine of Jesus Christ, although Luther should preach 
 it too." And finally, Garret, led into the presence of 
 his judges, was seized with terror, and fell before tlie 
 cruel threats of the bishop. When restored to liberty, 
 he fled from place to place, endeavouring to hide his 
 sorrow, and to escape from the despotism of the priests, 
 awaiting the moment when he should give his life for 
 Jesus Clirist. 
 
 The adversaries of the Refonnatioa were not yet 
 satisfied. The New Testament continued to circulate, 
 and depots were formed in several convents. Barnes, 
 a prisoner in the Augustine monasteiy in London, had 
 regained his courage, and loved his Bible more and 
 more. One day about the end of September, as three 
 or four friends were reading in his chamber, two simple 
 peasants, John Tyball and Thomas Hilles, natives of 
 Bumpstead in Essex, came in. " How did you come 
 to a knowledge of the truth ? " asked Barnes. They 
 drew from their pockets some old volumes containing 
 tlie Gospels and a few of the Epistles, in English. 
 Barnes returned them with a smile. "They are 
 nothing," he told them, " in comparison with the new 
 
 edition of the New Testament," a copy of which the 
 two peasants bought for three shillings and two-pence. 
 "Hide it carefully," said Barnes. When this came to 
 the ears of the clergj', Barnes was removed to North- 
 ampton to be burnt at the stake ; but he managed to 
 escape; his friends reported that he was drowned; 
 and while strict search was making for him during a 
 whole week along the sea-coast, he secretly went ou 
 board a ship, and was carried to Germany. " The 
 cardinal will catch him even now," said the Bishop of 
 London, " whatever amount of money it may cost him." 
 When Barnes was told of this, he remarked : " I am a 
 poor simple wretch, not worth the tenth penny they 
 will give for me. Besides, if they burn me, what will 
 they gain by it ? . . . . Tiie sun and the moon, 
 fire and water, the stars and the elements — ^yea, and 
 also stones, shall defend this cause against them, rather 
 than the truth should perish." Faith had returned to 
 Barnes's feeble heart. 
 
 His escape added fuel to the wrath of the clei-gy. 
 They proclaimed, throughout the length and breadth of 
 England, that the Holy Scriptures contained an infec- 
 tious poison, and ordered a general search after the 
 Word of God. On the 24111 of October, 1526, the 
 Bishop of Loudon enjoined on his archdeacons to seize 
 all translations of the Now Testament in English with 
 or without glosses ; and, a few days later, the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury issued a mandate against all the 
 books which should contain " any particle of the New 
 Testament." The primate remembered that a spark 
 was sufficient to kindle a large fire. 
 
 On hearing of this order, AVilliam Roy, a sarcastic 
 writer, published a violent satire, in which figured 
 Judas, (Standish,) Pilate, (Wolsey,) and Caiaphas, (Ton- 
 stall.) The author exclaimed with energy: 
 
 God, of His goodness, grudged not to die, 
 
 Man to deliver from deadly damnation ; 
 
 Whose wiU is, tliat we should know perfectly 
 
 Wliat He li.ir !..!!> ^; :, 1, 1 Mi: solvation. 
 cruelCaiq I, nispu-ation, 
 
 ToburnGod's \V. il -:!,. IJ 1;, 1 .lament? 
 
 The efforts of Caiaphas and his colleagues were 
 indeed useless: the priests were undertaking a work 
 beyond their strength. If, by some terrible revolution, 
 all social forms should be destroyed in the world, the 
 living Church of the elect, a Divine institution in the 
 midst of human institutions, would still exist by the 
 power of God, like a rock in the midst of the tempest, 
 and would transmit to future generations the seeds of 
 Christian life and civilization. It is the same with the 
 Word, the creative principle of the Church. It cannot 
 perish here below. The priests of England had some- 
 thing to learn on this matter. 
 
 While the agents of the clergy were carrying out 
 the archiepiscopal mandate, and a merciless search was 
 making everywhere for the New Testameots from 
 Worms, a new edition was discovered, fresh from the 
 press, of a smaller and more portable, and consequently 
 more dangerous size. It was printed by Chi-istopher 
 Eyudhoveu of Antwerp, who had consigned it to bis 
 correspondents in London. The annoyance of the 
 priests was extreme, and Hackett, the agent of Hem-y 
 Vin. in the Low Countries, immediately received 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 orilers to get t)iis mau puDished. "We cannot deliver 
 judgment witliout iuquiiy into the matter," said the 
 lords of Antwerp ; " we will therefore have the book 
 translated into Flemish." " God forbid," said Hackett 
 in alarm ; " What ! would you also, on your side of the 
 ocean, translate this book into the language of the 
 people ? " " Well, then," said one of the judges, less 
 conscientious than his colleagues, " let the King of 
 England send us a copy of each of the books he has 
 burnt, and we will bum them likewise." Hackett 
 wrote to Wolsey for them, and as soon as they arrived 
 the court met again. Eyudhoven's counsel called upon 
 the prosecutor to point out the heresies contained in the 
 volume. The margrave (an officer of the imperial 
 government) shrank from the task, and said to Hackett, 
 " I give up the business ! " The charge against Eynd- 
 hoven was dismissed. 
 
 Thus did tlie Reformation awaken in Europe the 
 slumbering spirit of law and liberty. By enfranchis- 
 ing thought from the yoke of Popery, it prepared the 
 way for other enfranchisements ; and by restoring the 
 authority of the AVord of God, it brought back the 
 reign of the law among nations long the prey of tur- 
 bulent passions and arbitrary power. Then, as at all 
 times, religious society forestalled civil society, and 
 gave it those two great principles of order and liberty 
 ■which Popery compromises or annuls. It was not in 
 vain that the magistrates of a Flemish city, enlightened 
 by the first dawn of the Reformation, set so noble an 
 example ; the English, who were very numerous in 
 the Hanse Towns, thus learnt once moi-e the value 
 of that civil and i-eligious liberty which is the time- 
 honoured right of England, and of which they were 
 in after-years to give other nations the so much needed 
 lessons. 
 
 " Well, then," said Hackett, who was annoyed at their 
 setting the law above his master's will, " I will go and 
 buy all these books, and send them to the cardinal, 
 that he may burn them." With these words he left 
 the court. But his anger evaporating, he set off for 
 Maliues, to complain to the regent and her council of 
 the Antwerp decision. " What ! " said he, " you pun- 
 ish those who circulate false money, and you will not 
 punish still more severely the mau who coins it ? — in 
 this case, he is the printer." — " But that is just the 
 poiiit \\\ disjjute," they replied ; " we are not sure the 
 money is false." " How can it be otherwise," answered 
 Henry's agent, " since the bishops of England have 
 declared it so ? " The imperial government, which was 
 not very favourably disposed towards England, ratified 
 Eyudhoven's acquittal, but permitted Hackett to bnru 
 all the copies of the New Testament he could seize. 
 He hastened to j)rotit by this concession, and began 
 hunting after the Holy Scriptures, while the priests 
 eagerly came to his assistance. In their view, as well 
 as in tliat of their English colleagues, the supreme deci- 
 sion in matter of faith rested not with the Word of 
 God, but witli the pope ; and the best means of securing 
 this privilege to the pontiff was to reduce the Bible 
 to ashes. 
 
 Notwithstanding these trials, the year 1526 was a 
 memorable one for England. The English New Testa- 
 ment had been circulated from the shores of the Chan- 
 nel to the borders of Scotland : and the Reformation 
 
 had begun in that island by the Word of God. The 
 revival of the sixteenth century was in no country less 
 than in England the emanation of a royal mandate. 
 But God, who had disseminated the Scriptures over 
 Britain, in defiance of the rulers of the nation, was 
 about to make use of their passions to remove the 
 difficulties which opposed the final triumph of His plans. 
 We here enter upon a new phasis in the histoi-y of the 
 Reformation ; and having studied the work of God in 
 the faith of the little ones, we proceed to contemplate 
 the work of man in the intrigues of the great ones of 
 the earth. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Wolsey desires to be i-evengeil— The Divorce suggested— Henry's sentiments 
 towards the Queen -Wolsey's first Steps— Longland's Proceedings- 
 Refusal of Margaret of Valois- Objection of the Bishop of T.irbes— 
 Henry's Unessiness— Catherine's Alarm— Mission to Spain. 
 
 WoLSKY, mortified at not being able to obtain the 
 pontifical throne, to which he had so ardently aspired, 
 and being especially irritated by the ill-will of Charles 
 v., meditated a plan which, entirely unsuspected by 
 him, was to lead to the enfranchisement of Eugland 
 from the papal yoke. " They laugh at me, and thrust 
 me into the second rank," lie had exclaimed. " So be 
 it ! I will create such a confusion in the world as has 
 not been seen for ages. ... I will do it, even 
 should England be swallowed up in the tempest ! " 
 Desirous of exciting imperishable hatred between 
 Henry VIH. and Charles V., he had undertaken to 
 break the marria-e which Henry Yll. u-id Ferdiuand 
 the Catholic had J ihii I u.-d to unit." im- v\ ui- thrii- families 
 and their crowns. His haiix'il of Charles was not his 
 only motive. Catherine had repi-uaelied him for his 
 dissolute life, and he had sworn to be revenged. There 
 can be no doubt about Wolsey's share in the matter. 
 ^^ The first terms of the divorce were put forward by 
 me," he told the French ambassador. " I did it," 
 he added, " to cause a lasting separation between the 
 houses of Enghmd aud Burgundy." Tiie best informed 
 writeis of the >lxfoenth century, men of the most oppo- 
 site ]iarli. -. I'olf, Polydore, Virgil, Tyudale, Meteren, 
 Pallavieiiii, .Samlers, and Roper, More's son-in-law, all 
 agree in pointing to AYolsey as the instigator of that 
 divorce, which has become so famous. He desired to 
 go still farther, aud after inducing the king to put 
 away his queen, he hoped to prevail on the pope to 
 depose the emperor. It was not his passion for Anne 
 Boleyu, as so many of tlie Romish faljulists have 
 repeated ; but the passion of a cardinal for the triple 
 crown, which gave the signal of England's emancipation. 
 Offended pride is one of the most active principles of 
 human nature. 
 
 AVolsey's design was a strange one, and difficult of 
 execution, but not impossible. Henry was living 
 apparently on the best terms with Catherine ; on more 
 than one occasion Erasmus had spoken of the royal 
 family of England as the pattern of the domestic virtues. 
 But the most ardent of Henry's desires was not satisfied ; 
 he had no son ; those whom the queen had borne him 
 
THE DIVORCE SUGGESTED. 
 
 G55 
 
 ha'd died in tlieir iufaucy, and Maiy nlone survived. 
 The deaths of tliese little children, at all times so heart- 
 rending, were particularly so in the Palace of Green- 
 wich. It appeared to Catherine that the shade of the 
 last Plantageuet, immolated on her marriage altar, 
 came forth to seize one after another the heirs she gave 
 to the throne of England, and to carry them away to 
 his tomb. The queen shed tears almost imceasingly, 
 and implored the Divine mercy, while the king cursed 
 his imhappy fate. The people seemed to share in the 
 royal sorrow; and men of learning and piety (Longland 
 was among their number) declared against the validity 
 of the marriage. They said that " the papal dispensa- 
 tions had no foroe when in opposition to the law of 
 God." Yet, hitherto, Hem-y had rejected every idea 
 of a divorce. 
 
 The times had changed since 1509. The king had 
 loved Catherine : her reserve, mildness, and dignity, 
 had charmed him. Greedy of pleasure and applause, 
 he was delighted to see his wife content to be the quiet 
 witness of his joys and of his triumphs. But gradually 
 the queen had grown older, her Spanish gravity had 
 increased, her devout practices were multi])licd, and 
 her intirniities, become more frequent, had left the king 
 no liope of having a son. From that hour, even while 
 continuing to praise her virtues, Henry grew cold 
 towards her person, and his love by degrees changed 
 into repugnauce. And then he thought that the death 
 of his children might be a sign of God's anger. This 
 idea had taken hold of him, and induced him to occupy 
 apartments separate from the queen's. 
 
 Wolsey judged the moment favoiu-able for beginning 
 the attack. It was in the latter months of 1526, when 
 calling Longland, the king's confessor, to him, and 
 concealing his principal motive, he said: "You know 
 his majesty's angiush. The stability of his crown and 
 his everlasting salvation seem to be compromised alike. 
 To whom cau I unbosom myself, Lf not to you, who 
 must know the inmost secrets of his soul ? " The two 
 bishops resolved to awaken Henry to the perils incurred 
 by his >mion with Catherine ; but Longland insisted 
 that AVolsey shoidd take the first steps. 
 
 The cardinal waited upon the king, and reminded 
 him of his scruples before the betrothal; he exaggerated 
 those entertained by the nation; and speaking with 
 unusual warmth, he entreated the king to remain no 
 longer in such danger : " The holiness of youi- life and 
 the legitimacy of your succession are at stake." — " My 
 good father," said Henry, " you would do well to con- 
 sider the weight of the stone that you have undertaken 
 to move. The queen is a woman of such exemplary 
 life that I have no motive for separating from her." 
 
 The cardinal did not consider himself beaten ; three 
 days later he appeared before the king, accompanied by 
 the Bishop of Lincoln. " Most mighty prince," said 
 the confessor, who felt bold enough to speak after the 
 cardinal, " you cannot, like Herod, have your brother's 
 wife. I exhort and conjure you, as having the care of 
 your soul, to submit the matter to competent judges." 
 Henry consented, and perhaps not unwillingly. 
 
 It was not enough for AVolsey to separate Henry 
 from the emperor ; he must, for greater security, unite 
 him to Francis I. The King of England shall repudiate 
 the aunt of Charles V., and then marry the sister of 
 
 the French king. Proud of the success he had obtained 
 in the first part of his plan, Wolsey entered upon the 
 second. "There is a princess," he told the king, 
 " whose birth, graces, and talents, charm all Europe. 
 Margaret of A'alois, sister of Ku)g Francis, is superior 
 to all of her sex, and no one is worthier of your alliauce." 
 Henry made answer, that it was a serious matter, 
 requiring deliberate examination. AVolsey, however, 
 placed in the king's hands a jiortrait of Margtiret, and 
 it has been imagined that he even privily caused her 
 sentiments to be sounded. Be that as it may, the sister 
 of Francis I., having learnt that she was pointed at as 
 the futm-e Queen of England, rebelled at the idea of 
 taking from an innocent woman a crown she had worn 
 so nobly. " The Frencli king's sister knows too much 
 of Christ to consent unto such wickedness," said 
 Tyndalc. Margaret of Valois replied : " Let me hear 
 no more of a marriage that can be effected only at the 
 expense of Cathermc of Arragon's happiness and life." 
 The woman who was destined in future years to fill the 
 throne of England was tlien residing at Margaret's 
 court. Shortly after this, on the 2-lth of January, 
 1527, the sister of Francis I. married Henry d'Albret, 
 king of Navarre. 
 
 Henry VIU., desirous of information with regard 
 to his favourite's suggestion, commissioned Fox, his 
 almoner. Pace, dean of St. Paul's, and AA^akefleld, 
 professor of Hebrew at Oxford, to study the passages 
 of Leviticus and Deuteronomy which related to mar- 
 riage with a brother's wife. AVakefield, who had no 
 wish to commit himself, asked whether Henry was for 
 or against the divorce. Pace replied to this servUe 
 Hebraist, that the king wanted uotliing but the truth. 
 
 But who would take the first public step in an under- 
 taking so haziivtlous ? Every one shrank back ; the 
 terrible emperor alarmed them all. It was a French 
 bishop that hazarded the step ; bishops meet us at every 
 turn in this affair of the divorce, with which bishops 
 have so violently reproached the Reformation. Henry, 
 desu-ous of excusing AVolsey, pretended afterwards that 
 the objections of the French prelate had preceded those 
 of Longland and the cardinal. In February, 1527, 
 Francis I. had sent an embassy to London, at the head 
 of which was Gabriel de Grammont, bishop of Tarbes, 
 with the intention to i)rocure the hand of Mary of 
 England. Henry's ministers having iuquii-ed whether 
 the engagements of Francis with the queen-dowager 
 of Portugal did not oppose the commission with which 
 the French bishop was charged, the latter answered : 
 '' I wdll ask you in turn, what has been done to remove 
 the impedunents which opposed the marriage of which 
 the Princess Mary is issue?" They laid before the 
 ambassador the dispensation of Julius IL, which he 
 returned, sayiug, that the bull was not snjicient, seeing 
 that such a marriage was forbidden ^w re Dicino; and he 
 added: "Have you English a different Gospel from 
 ours ? " 
 
 The king, when he heard these words, (as he informs 
 us himself,) was filled with fear and horror. Three 
 of the most respected bishops of Christendom united 
 to accuse htm of incest ! Ho began to speak of it to 
 certain individuals: "The scruples of my conscience 
 have been terribly increased (he said) since the bishop 
 spoke of this matter before my council in exceedingly 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 plain words." Tliere is no reason to believe that these 
 terrible troubles of wliich the king speaks were a mere 
 invention on his part. A disputed succession might 
 again plunge England into civil war. Even if no pre- 
 tenders should spring up, might they not see a rival 
 house, a French |irinco. for instance, wedded to Henry's 
 
 daughter, reigning over England? The king, in his 
 anxiety, had recourse to his favourite author, Thomas 
 Aquinas, and tliis angel of the schools declared his mar- 
 riage unlawful. Henry next opened the Bible, and 
 found this threat against the man who took his 
 brother's wife: He shall be childless.' The denun- 
 ciation increased his trouble, for he had no heir. In 
 the midst of this darkness a new perspective opened 
 before him. His conscience might be unbound ; his 
 desire to have a younger wife might be gratified ; he 
 might have a son ! . . . The king resolved to lay 
 the matter before a commission of lawyers ; and this 
 commission soon wrote volumes. 
 
 During all this time Catherine, suspecting no evil, 
 was occupied in her devotions. Her heart, bruised 
 by the death of her children and by the king's coldness, 
 sought consolation in prayer, both privately and in the 
 royal chapel. She would rise at midnight and kneel 
 do\vn upon the cold stones, and never missed any of the 
 canonical services. But one day (probably iu May or 
 June, 1527) some officious person informed her of the 
 rumours circulating in the city and at court. Bursting 
 with auger and alarm, and all in tears, she hastened to 
 the king, and addressed him with the bitterest com- 
 plaints. Henry was content to calm her by vague 
 assurances ; but the unfeeling Wolsey, troubling himself 
 still less than his master about Catherine's emotion, 
 called if, with a smile, " a short tragedy." 
 
 The offended wife lost no time ; it was necessary that 
 the emperor should be informed promptly, surely, and 
 accurately, of this unprecedented insult. A letter would 
 be insufficient, even were it not intercepted. Catherine 
 therefore determined to send her sei-vant, Francis Philip, 
 a Spaniard, to her nephew; and to conceal the object of 
 his journey, they proceeded, after the tragedy, to play a 
 comedy in the Spanish style. " My mother is sick, and 
 
 desires to see me," said Philip. Catherine begged the 
 king to refuse her servant's prayer ; and Henry, divining 
 the stratagem, resolved to employ trick against trick. 
 "Philip's request is very proper," he made answer; 
 and Catherine, from regard to her husband, consented 
 to his departure. Henry, meantime, had given orders 
 that, " notwithstanding any safe conduct, the said 
 Philip should be arrested and detained at Calais, iu 
 such a manner, however, that no one should know 
 whence the stoppage proceeded." 
 
 It was to no purpose that the queen indulged in a 
 culpable dissimulation. A poisoned arrow had pierced 
 lior heart; and her words, her manners, her complaints, 
 li( 1 teais, the numerous messages she sent, now to one 
 md now to another, betrayed the secret which the king 
 will 1 ^(ill to conceal. Her friends blamed her for 
 til I mMk uy. Men wondered what Charles would say 
 wli II li heaid of his aunt's distress; they feared that 
 I UL \suuld be broken; but Catherine, whose heart 
 w IS " rent in twain," was not to be moved by diplomatic 
 ( imsideiatious. Her sorrow did not check Henry; 
 with the two motives which made him eager for a 
 divoice — the scruples of his conscience and the desire 
 of an heir — -nas now combined a third, still more 
 foicible. A TV Oman was about to play an important 
 pait in the destinies of England. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Anne BolejTi appointed Maid of Honour to Cailieriuc— Lord Percy becomes 
 attaclied to lier— Woisey Separates tiiem — Anne enters Margaret's 
 Houseliold— Siege of Rome ; Cromwell— Wolaey's Intercession for tlie 
 Topedom — He demands tlie Hand of Renee of France for Henry — 
 Failure— Anne re-appears at Court— Repels the King's Advances- 
 Henry's Letter— He resolves to accelerate the Divorce— Two Motives 
 which induce Anno to I{efuse the Crown— Wolsey's Opposition. 
 
 Anne Boleyn, who had been placed by her father at 
 the court of France, had returned to England with 
 Sir Thomas, then ambassador at Paris, at the time that 
 an English army made an incursion into Normandy, 
 (1522.) It would appear that she was presented to the 
 queen about this period, and appointed one of Cathe- 
 rine's maids of honour. The following year was a 
 memorable one to her from her first sorrow. 
 
 Among the young noblemen in the cardinal's house- 
 hold was Lord Percy, eldest son of the Earl of North- 
 umberland. While Wolsey was closeted with the king, 
 Percy was accustomed to resort to the queen's apart- 
 ments, where he passed the time among her ladies. 
 He soon felt a sincere passion for Anne, and the young 
 maid of honour, who had been cold to the addresses 
 of the gentlemen at the court of Francis, replied to the 
 affections of the heir of Northumberland. The two 
 young people already indulged in day-dreams of a 
 quiet, elegant, and happy life, in their noble castles 
 of the north ; but such dreams wei'e fated to be of 
 short duration. 
 
 AYolsey hated the Norfolks, and consequently the 
 Boleyns. It was to counterbalance their influence that 
 ho had been first introduced at court. He became 
 
WOLSEY SEPARATES THE YOUNG LOVERS. 
 
 657 
 
 angry, therefore, wlicn he saw one of his household 
 suing for the hand of the daughter and niece of his 
 enemies. Besides, certain partisans of tlic clergy 
 accused Anne of being friendly to the Reformation. 
 . . . It is generally believed that, oven at this 
 period, Wolscy had discovered Ileniy's eyes turned 
 complacently on the young maid of honour, and that 
 this induced him to thwart Percy's love ; but this seems 
 improbable. Of all the women in England, Anne was 
 the one whose influence AVolsey would have had most 
 cause to fear, and he really did fear it ; and he would 
 have been but too happy to see her married to Percy. 
 It has been asserted that Henry prevailed on the cardinal 
 to thwart the affection of the two young people ; but 
 in that case did he confide to AVolsey the real motive 
 of his opposition? Did the latter entertain criminal 
 intentions .' Did he nudertakc to yield up to dishonour 
 the daughter and niece of his political adversaries I 
 This would be horrible, but it is possible, and may even 
 be deduced from Cavendish's narrative ; yet we will 
 hope that it was not so. If it were, Anne's virtue 
 successfully baflled the infamous plot. 
 
 But be that as it may, one day when Pivcy was in 
 attendance upon the cardinal, the latter iiid. ly aiMn--. .1 
 him: "I marvel at your folly, that you .-hcniM :itlriii|it 
 to contract yotnself with that girl without your falliei's 
 or the king's consent. I command you to break with 
 licr." Percy burst into tears, and besought the cardinal 
 to plead his cause. " I charge you to resort no more 
 into her company," was A\'olsey's cold reply; after 
 wliieli he rose up, and left the room. Anne received 
 an order at the same time to leave the court. Proud 
 and bold, and ascribing her misfortune to Wolsey's 
 hatred, she exclaimed, as she quitted the palace, "I will 
 be revenged for this insult." But she had scarcely 
 taken up lier abode in the Gothic halls of Hever Castle, 
 when news still more distressing overwhelmed her. 
 Percy was married to Lady Mary Talbot. She wept 
 'ong and bitterly, and vowed against the young noble- 
 man who had deserted h^r a contempt equal to her 
 iiatred of the cardinal. Anne was reserved for a more 
 illustrious, but more unhappy fate. 
 
 This event necessarily rendered her residence in this 
 country far fi-om attractive to Anne Boleyn. " She 
 did not stay long in England," says Burnet, following 
 (am. Ill ; ■■ -lie srrved Queen Claude of France till her 
 lUaili, an.l all. i- that shc Avas taken into service by 
 King Fraiiii^' >i-ti.r." Anne Boleyn, lady-in-waiting 
 to Mai'L'aivi ,.|' \"a1.ii<, was consoled at last. She 
 iudulgnl ill ^ai. li.'^ \\ith all the vivacity of her age, 
 anil glittiT.ii am. inn' the youngest and the fairest at 
 all the court festivities. 
 
 In Margaret's house she met the most enlightened 
 men of the age, and her understanding and heart were 
 developed simultaneously with the graces. She began 
 to read, without thoroughly understanding it, the holy 
 book in which her mistress (as Brantome informs us) 
 found consolation and repose, and to direct a few light 
 and passing thoughts to that " mild Emmanuel," to 
 whom Margaret addressed such beautiful verses. 
 
 At last Aune returned definitively to England. It 
 has been asserted that the queen-regent, fearing that 
 Henry, after the battle of Pa\ia, would invade France, 
 had sent Anne to Loudoa to dissuade him from it. 
 
 But it was a stronger voice than hers which stopped 
 the King of England. " Remain quiet," wrote Charles 
 V. to him ; " I have the stag in my net, and we have 
 only to think of sharing tiio spoils." Margaret of 
 Valois having married tlie King of Navarre at the end 
 of .laniuuy, l.")27, and ((iiilted Paris and her brother's 
 court, it is supiin-.d ilial Sir Thomas Boleyn, who was 
 unwilling thai lii- .Jiii'lii. r should take up her abode 
 in the Pyrem . ~, li . all. .1 li. r to England, probably in 
 the winter or spriiiL; ..f tli.' same year. "There is not 
 the least evidence that slic came to it earlier," says a 
 modern author. She appeared once more at court, and 
 the niece of the Duke of Norfolk soon eclipsed her 
 companions, "by her excellent gesture and behaviour," 
 as we learn from a contemporary unfriendly to the 
 Boleyns. All the court was struck by the regularity 
 of her features, the expression of her eyes, the gentle- 
 ness of her manners, and the majesty of her carriage. 
 " Siie was a beautiful creature," says an old historian, 
 " well proportioned, coiu-teous, amiable, very agreeable, 
 and a skilful musician." | 
 
 "While entertainments were following close upon each i 
 other at the court of Heniy VIH., a strange rumour 
 filled all England with surprise. It was reported that 
 the imperialist soldiers had taken Rome by assault, and 
 that some Englishmen were among those who had 
 mounted the breach. One Thomas Cromwell was speci- 
 ally named — the man who, nearly twenty years before, 
 had obtained certain indulgences from Julius 11., by 
 offering him some jars of English confectionery. This 
 soldier carried with him the New Testament of Erasmus, 
 and he is said to have learnt it by heart during the cam- 
 paign. Being gay, brave, and intelligent, he enter- 
 tained, from reading the Gospel and seeing Rome, a 
 great aversion for the policy, superstitions, and dis- 
 orders, of the popedom. The day of the 7th May, 
 1527, decided the tenor of his life. To destroy the 
 papal power became his dominant idea. On returning 
 to England he entered the cardinal's household. 
 
 However, the captive pope and cardinals wrote 
 letters "filled with tears and groans." Full of zeal for 
 the papacy, Wolsey ordered a public fast. "The 
 emperor will never release the pope, unless he be com- 
 pelled," he told tlic king. " Sir, God has made you 
 defender of the' faith ; save the church and its head!" 
 — "My lord," answered the king with a smile, "I 
 assure you that this war between the emperor and the 
 pope is not for the faith, but for temporal possessions 
 and dominions." 
 
 But Wolsey would not be discouraged ; and, on the 
 .3rd of July, he passed through the streets of London, 
 riding a richly caparisoned mule, and resting his feet 
 on gilt stirrups, while twelve hundred gentlemen accom- 
 panied him on horseback. He was going to entreat 
 Francis to aid his master in saving Clement VII. He 
 had found no difficulty in prevailing upon Heniy. 
 Charles talked of canying the pope to Spain, aud of per- 
 manently establishing the apostolic see in that country. 
 Now, how could they obtain the divorce from a Spanish 
 pope? During the procession AVolsey seemed oppressed 
 with grief, and even shed tears ; but he soon raised his 
 head and exclaimed : "My heart is inflamed, and I wish 
 that it may be said of the pope, i^er secula sempitsma, 
 
 " Rediit Henrici octavi vittute sercna." i 
 
 2u I 
 
 1! 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Desirous of forming a close tinion between France 
 and England for the accomplishment of his designs, ho 
 had cast his eyes on the Princess Renee, daughter of 
 Louis XII., and sister-in-law to Francis I., as the 
 future wife of Henry VIII. Accordingly, the treaty 
 of alliance between the two crowns having been signed 
 at Amicus, on the 18th of August, (1527,) Francis, 
 ^vitli his mother and the cardinal, proceeded to Com- 
 piegne ; and there Wolsey, styling Charles the most 
 obstinate defender of Lutheranism, promising "per- 
 petual conjunction on the one hand, [between France 
 and England,] and perpetual diy'tniction on the other," 
 [between England and Germany,] demanded Renee's 
 hand for King Henry. StafHleo, dean of Rota, affirmed 
 that the pope had been able to permit the marriage 
 between Henry and Catherine only by an error of the 
 keys of St. Peter. This avowal, so remarkable on the 
 part of the dean of one of the first jurisdictions of 
 Rome, induced Francis' mother to listen favourably to 
 the cardinal's demand. But whether this proposal was 
 displeasing to Renee, who was designed, on a future 
 day, to profess the pure faith of the Gospel with greater 
 earnestness than Margaret of Valois, or whether Francis 
 was not over-anxious for a union that would have 
 given Henry rights over the duchy of Brittauy, she 
 was promised to the son of the Duke of Ferrara. It 
 was a check to the cardinal ; but it was his ill fortune 
 to receive one still more severe on his return to 
 England. 
 
 The daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, (who had been 
 created Viscount Rochford in 1525.) was constantly at 
 court, " where she flourished in great estimation and 
 favour," says Cavendish, " having always a private 
 indignation against the cardinal for breaking off the 
 pre-contract made between Lord Percy and her," little 
 suspecting that Heniy had had any share in it. Her 
 beauty, her graceful carriage, her black hair, oval face, 
 and bright eyes, her sweet voice in singing, her skill 
 and dignity iu the dance, her desire to please, which 
 was not entii'ely devoid of coquetry, her sprightliness, 
 the readiness of her repartees, and above all, the amia- 
 bility of her character, won every heart. She brought 
 to Greenwich and to London the polished manners of 
 the court of Francis I. Every day (it was reported) 
 she invented a new style of dress, and set the fashion 
 in England. But to all these qualities she added mo- 
 desty, and even imposed it on others by her example. 
 The ladies of the court, who had hitherto adopted a 
 different fashion, (says her greatest enemy,) covered 
 the neck and bosom as she did; and the malicious, 
 unable to appreciate Anne's motives, ascribed this mo- 
 desty on the young lady's part to a desire to hide a 
 secret deformity. Numerous admirers once more 
 crowded round Anne Boleyn ; and among others, one 
 of the most illustrious noblemen and poets of England, 
 Sir Thomas ATyatt, a follower of AVickliffe. He, how- 
 over, was not the man destined to replace the son of 
 the Percies. 
 
 Henry, absorbed in anxiety .about his divorce from 
 Catherine, had become low-spirited and melancholy. 
 The laughter, songs, repartees, and beauty of Anne 
 Boleyn, struck and captivated him ; and his eyes were 
 soon fixed complacently on tlie young m.aid of honour. 
 Catherine was more than forty years old, and it was 
 
 hardly to be expected that so susceptible a man as 
 Henry would have made, as Job says, a covenant with 
 his e>/es not to think upon a maid. Desirous of shewing 
 his admiration, he presented Anne, according to usage, 
 with a costly jewel ; she accepted and wore it, and 
 continued to dance, laugh, and chatter, as before, with- 
 out attaching particular importance to the royal present. 
 Henry's attentions became more continuous; and ho 
 took advantage of a moment when he found Auue 
 alone to declare his sentiments. With mingled emotion 
 and alarm, the young lady fell trembling at the king's 
 feet, and exclaimed, bursting into tears: "I think, most 
 noble and worthy king, your majesty speaks these 
 woi'ds in mirth to prove me. ... I will rather 
 lose my life than my virtue." Henry gracefully replied, 
 that he should at least continue to hope. But Anne, 
 rising up, jjroudly made answer : " I understand not, 
 most mighty king, how yon should retain any such 
 hope ; your wife I cannot be, both in respect of mine 
 own unworthiness, and also because you have a queen 
 .already. Your mistress I will not be." Anne kept her 
 word. She continued to shew the king, even after 
 this interview, all the respect that was due to him; 
 but ou several occasions she proudly, violently even, 
 repelled his advances. In this age of gallantry, we 
 find her resisting for nearly six years all the seductions 
 Henry scattered round her. Such an example is not 
 often met with in the history of courts. The books 
 she had read in Margaret's palace gave her a secret 
 strength. All looked upon her with respect ; and 
 even the queen treated her with politeness. Catherine 
 shewed, however, that she had remarked the king's 
 preference. One day, as she was playing at cards 
 with her maid of honour, while Heiny was in the 
 room, Anne frequently holding the /iinff, she said : 
 "My Lady Anne, you have good hap to stop ever 
 at a kinr/; but you arc not like others, you will have 
 all or none." Anne blushed : from that moment 
 Henry's attentions acquired more importance ; she 
 resolved to withdraw from them, and quitted the court 
 with Lady Rochford. 
 
 The king, who was not accustomed to resistance, 
 was extremely grieved ; and having learnt that Anne 
 would not return to the court, either with or without 
 her mother, sent a courier to Hever, with a message 
 and a letter for her. If we recollect the manners of 
 the age of Hemy VIII., and how far the men, in their 
 relatious with the gentler sex, were strangers to that 
 reserve which society now imposes upon them, we can- 
 not but be struck by the king's respectful tone. He 
 writes thus in French : — 
 
 " As the time seems to me very long since I heard 
 from you, or concerning your health, the great love I 
 have for you has constrained mo to send this bearer to 
 be better informed both of your health and pleasure ; 
 p.arficularly boeansie, since my bT^t parting with you, I 
 have lirrii'l..!.! IIiMl yon Iia\.' ciillrrly rlianged the mind 
 in wliirli 1 l.'I'i \'.iii. :iiiil Ihat vcHi iiriihcr mean to come 
 to couit uilh your mother nor any other w.ay; which 
 report, if true, I cannot enough marvel at, being per- 
 suaded in my own mind that I have never committed 
 any offence against you ; and it seems hard, iu return 
 for the great love I bear you, to be kept at a distance 
 
HENRY'S LETTER TO ANNE. 
 
 from llie ])orson niul presence of the woinim in the 
 Avoi-Id that 1 vahie tlie most. And if you love me witli 
 ns much nffection as I hope you do, 1 iim sure the 
 I distance of our two pci-sons would be ciiually irksome 
 to you, though this does not belong so imieli to the 
 i mistress as to the servant. 
 
 ! "Consider well, my mistress, how greatly your 
 I absence afflicts me. I hope it is not your will that it 
 should be so ; but if 1 heard for certain that you your- 
 I self desired it, I could but mourn my ill-fortune, and 
 j strive by degrees to abate of my great folly. 
 
 "And so, for lack of time, I make an end of this 
 rude letter, beseeching you to gi\e the bearer credence 
 in all he will fell you from me. 'Writlen by the hand 
 of your entire servaut, II. K.'" 
 
 The word scn-ant (servitcur) employed in this letter 
 explains the sense iu which Henry used the word 
 7iiistress. In the language of chivalry, the laiter term 
 expressed a person to whom the lover had surrendered 
 his heart. 
 
 It would seem that Anne's reply to this letter was 
 tlie same she had made to the king from the very first ; 
 and Cardinal Pole mentions more than once her obsti- 
 nate refusal of an adulterous love. At last Henry 
 understood Anne's virtue ; but he was far from abatiiu/ 
 of/ih i/nat J'"/li/, as he had promised. That tyrannical 
 sellishness, wliicli the prince often displayed in his life, 
 was shewn particularly in his amours. Seeing that he 
 could not attain his end by illegitimate means, he 
 determined to break, as quickly as possible, the bonds 
 which united him to the queen. Anne's vii-tue was the 
 third cause of Henry's divorce. 
 
 His resolution being once taken, it must needs be 
 carried out. Heniy having succeeded in bringing Anne 
 back to court, procured a private interview with her, 
 offered her his crown, and seizing her hand, took off 
 one of her rings. But Aiuio, who would not be the 
 king's mistress, refused al>i, (,i 1„. 1,1,, A\itV. "The glory 
 of a crown could not daz/li' 1,. r." -ai'l W'yatt, aud two 
 motives iu particular couutLibuluuced all "the prospects 
 of greatness which were set before her eyes. The first 
 wa-s her respect for the queen : " How could I injure a 
 princess of such great virtue?" she exclaimed. The 
 second was the fear that a union -with " one that was 
 her lord and her king," would not give her that freedom 
 of lieart aud that liberty which she would enjoy by 
 marrying a man of the same rank with herself. 
 
 Yet the noblemen aud ladies of Heniy's court whis- 
 pered to one another that Anne would certainly become 
 queen of England. Some were tormented by jealousy; 
 others, her friends, were delighted at the prospect of a 
 rapid advancement. Wolsey's enemies, in particular, 
 were charmed at the thought of ruining the favourite. 
 It was at the veiy moment when all these emotions 
 were so variously agitating the court, that the cardinal, 
 returnmg from his embassy to Francis, re-appeared in 
 Loudon, where an unexpected blow struck him. 
 
 11(1 elironology of Henrj^'s lettcre to Aime 
 
 ' Vatican Collection, but it appears to us 
 
 i as written in May, 152S ; we are inclined 
 
 llie originals of these letters, chiefly in 
 
 Vatican, having been stolen from the 
 
 1 It is (liHiiult tu lix t 
 
 BolejTi. This i.. Mil 
 
 to be of older . 1 i 
 
 to place it iuth ,, 
 
 old French, av. • i,; ^ ir 
 
 rojal cabinet aud conveyed thither. 
 
 "Wolsey was expressing his grief to Heniy at having 
 failed in obtaining either Margaret or Renee for him, 
 when the king interrupted him : " Console yourself, I 
 shall marry Anne Boleyn." The cardinal remained 
 speechless for a moment. "What woidd become of him, 
 if the king placed the crown of England on the head of 
 the daughter aud niece of his greatest enemies? What 
 would become of the church, if a second Anne of 
 Bohemia should ascend the throne ? "Wolsey threw 
 himself at the feet of his master, and entreated him to 
 renounce so fatal a project. It was then, no doubt, that 
 he remained (as he afterwards said) an hottr or two on 
 his kncis In I'nn' (he king in his privy chamber, but 
 withoul ]ii'r\;nllii_r (jn Henry to give up his design. 
 AVolsi y. |K i>ii:iiliil tliat if he coutiuucd openly to oppose 
 Henry's will, he would for ever lose his confidence, 
 dissembled his vexation, waiting an opportunity to get 
 rid of this unfortunate rival by some intrigue. He 
 began by writiug to the pope, informing him that a 
 young lady, brought up by the (iueen of Navarre, and 
 consequently tainted by the Lutheran heresy, had cap- 
 tivated the king's heart ; and from that hour Anne 
 Boleyn became the object of the hatred and calumnies 
 of Rome. But at the same time, to conceal his inten- 
 tions, AVolsey received Henry at a series of splendid 
 entertainmenis, at which Anne outshone all the ladies 
 of the court. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Bilney's Preaching— His Arrest— Ai-tbur's Preaching and Imprisonment— 
 Bilncy's Examination — Contest between the Judge and the Prisoner — 
 Bilney's weakness and Fall— His Terrors— Two Wants— Arrival of tlia 
 Fourth Edition of the New Testament— Joy among the Believers. 
 
 "WuiLE these passions were agitating Henry's palace, 
 the most moving scenes, produced by Christian faith, 
 were stirring the nation. Bilney, animated by that 
 courage which God sometimes gives to the weakest 
 men, seemed to have lost his natural timidity, and 
 preached for a time with an energy quite apostolic. 
 He taught that all men should first acknowledge their 
 sins aud condenm them, aud then hunger and thirst 
 after that righteousness which Jesus Christ gives. To 
 this testimony borne to the truth, he added his testi- 
 mony against error. " These five himdred years," he 
 added, " there hath been no good pope ; and in all the 
 times past we can find but fifty: for they have neither 
 preached nor lived well, nor conformably to their 
 dignity; wherefore, unto this day, they have borne the 
 keys of simony." 
 
 As soon as he descended from the pulpit, this pious 
 scholar, with his friend Arthur, visited the neighbouring 
 towns aud villages. " The Jews and Saracens would 
 long ago have become believers," he once said at "Wils- 
 dou, " had it not been for the idolatry of Christian 
 men in offering candles, wax, and money, to stocks and 
 stones." One day when he visited Ipswich, where 
 there was a Franciscan convent, he exclaimed : " The 
 cowl of St. Francis T\Tapped round a dead body hath 
 no power to take away sms. . . . Ecce agnus Dei 
 qui tollit peccata mundi," (John i. 29.) The poor monks, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ■wlio were little versed iu Scripture, had recourse to the 
 Almanac to couvict the Bihie of error. "St. Paul did 
 rightly aflirm," said Friar John Brusierd, " that there 
 is but one mediator of God and man, because as yet 
 there was no saint canonized or put into the calendar." 
 — " Let us ask of the Father iu the name of the Son," 
 rejoined Bilucy, " and He mil give imto us." " You 
 are always sjioakiug of the Father, and never of the 
 saints" replied the friar; "you are like a man who 
 has been looking so long upon the sun that he can sec 
 nothing else." As he uttered these words the monk 
 seemed bursting with anger. " If I did not know that 
 the saints would take everlasting vengeance upon you, 
 I would surely, with these nails of mine, be your death." 
 Twice, in fact, did two monks pull him out of his 
 pulpit. He was arrested and taken to London. 
 
 Arthur, instead of fleemg, began to visit the flocks 
 which his friend had converted. " Good people," said 
 he, " if I should suffer persecution for the pi'eaching' 
 of the Gospel, there are seven thousand more that 
 would preach it as I do now. Therefore, good people ! 
 good people!" (and he repeated these words several 
 times in a sorrowful voice,) " think not that if these 
 tyrants and persecutors put a man to death, the jireach- 
 ing of the Gospel, therefore, is to be forsaken. Every 
 Christian man, yea, every layman, is a priest. Let our 
 ad\'ersarios preach by the authority of the cardinal ; 
 others by the authority of the university; others by the 
 pope's; we will preach by the authority of God. It 
 is not the man who brings the Word that saves the 
 soul ; but the Word which the man brings. Neither 
 bishojjs nor popes have the right to forbid any man 
 to preach the Gospel ; and if they kill him he is not 
 a heretic, but a martyr." The jiriests were horrified 
 at such doctrines. In their opinion there was no God 
 out of their church ; no salvation out of their sacrifices. 
 Arthur was thrown into the same prison as Bilney. 
 
 On the 27th of November, 1527, the cardinal and 
 the Archbisliop of Canterbury, with a great number 
 of bishops, di\'ines, and lawyers, met in the chapter- 
 house of Westminster, when Bilney and Ai-thur were 
 brought before them. But the king's prime minister 
 thought it beneath his dignity to occupy his time with 
 miserable heretics. Wolsey had hardly commenced the 
 examination, when he rose, saying : " The affairs of 
 the realm call me away; all such as are found guilty, 
 you will compel them to abjure, and those who rebel 
 you will deliver over to the secular power." After 
 a few questions proposed by the Bishop of London, 
 the two accused men were led back to prison. 
 
 Abjuration or death — that was Wolsey's order. But 
 the conduct of the trial was confided to Tonstall ; Bil- 
 ney conceived some hope. " Is it possible," he said to 
 himself, " that the Bishop of Loudon, the friend of 
 Erasmus, will gratify the monks ? . . . I must tell 
 him that it was the Greek Testament of his learned 
 master that led me to the faith." Upon which the 
 humble evangelist, having obtained paper and ink, set 
 about -wi-iting to the bishop from his gloomy prison 
 those admu-able letters which have been transmitted to 
 posterity. Tonstall, who was not a cruel man, was 
 deeply moved, and then a strange struggle took place : 
 a judge wishing to save the prisoner, the prisoner de- 
 siring to give up his life. Tonstall, by acquitting Bil- 
 
 ney, had no desii-e to compromise himself. " Submit 
 to the church," said the bishop, " for God speaks only 
 through it." But Bilney, who knew that God speaks 
 in the Scriptures, remained inflexible. " Veiy well, 
 then," said Tonstall, taking up the prisoner's eloquent 
 letters, "in di>cliarL'o of my conscience I shall lay these 
 letters befuiv ihr ((Miit." He hoped, perhaps, that they 
 would touch lil> coU.nniios; but he was deceived. He 
 determined, llur. fdc. i.i make a ivoAx atlempt. On 
 the 4th of DrrnnlHT. liiliirv «:,< brmrjhl :rj:,i,i before 
 the court. '■ Al.juiv y..in- riVoiv,- -li.l lon.iiill. Bilney 
 refusing by a shake of the head, the bishop cuutiiiued : 
 " Retire into the next room and consider." Bilney 
 withdi-ew, and returning shortly after with joy beaming 
 in his eyes, Tonstall thought he had gained the victory. 
 " You will return to the church, then ? " said he. 
 . . . The doctor answered calmly: '■'• Fiat judicitwi 
 in nomine Domini." " Be quick," continued the bishop, 
 
 "this is the li-i iii-iil, and you will be condemned." 
 
 "//(PC est (I ': I Dominus," answered Bilney, 
 
 '■'■ exultenin^ ■(.'" (Psalm cxviii. 24.) Upon 
 
 this Ton>t:ill i 1. < :; lii^ cap, and said: "/« nomine 
 Piitris et J'r ' ^ " '■ Sancti. . . . Exsm-gat 
 
 Deus et di. , - / y'ws .'" (Ps. Ixviii. 1.) Then 
 
 making thu m,:;h uf ihe iross on his forehead and on his 
 breast, he gave judgment : " Thomas Bilney, I pro- 
 nouuce thee convicted of heresy." He was about to 
 name the penalty ... a last hope restrained him ; 
 he stopped : " For the rest of the sentence we take de- 
 liberation until to-morrow." Thus was the struggle 
 prolonged between two men, one of whom desu'cd to 
 walk to the stake, the other to bar the way as it were 
 with his own body. 
 
 " Will you return to the unity of the church '? " asked 
 Tonstall the next day. — " I hope I was never separated 
 from the Church," answered Bilney. " Go and co;i- 
 sult with some of your friends," said the bishop, who 
 was resolved to save his life ; " I mil give you till one 
 o'clock in the afternoon." In the afternoon Bilney 
 made the same answer. " I will give you two nights ' 
 respite to deliberate," said the bishop ; " on Saturday 
 at nine o'clock in the forenoon, the court will expect a 
 plain definitive answer." Tonstall reckoned on the 
 night with its dreams, its anguish, and its terrors, to 
 bring about Bilney's recantation. 
 
 This extraordinary struggle occupied many minds 
 both in court and city. Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII. 
 watched with interest the various phases of this tragic 
 history. AYhat will happen "? was the general question. 
 Will he give way ? Shall we see him live or die ? One 
 day and two nights still remained; everything was tried 
 to shake the Cambridge doctor. His friends crowded 
 to his prison ; he was overwhelmed with arguments and 
 examples ; but an inward struggle, far more terrible 
 than those without, agitated the pious BUney. Who- 
 ever will save his soul shall lose it, Christ had said. 
 That selfish love of his soid, which is found even in the 
 advanced Christian, — that self, which after his conver- 
 sion had been not absorbed, but overruled by the Spirit 
 of God, gradually recovered strength in his heart, in 
 the presence of disgrace and death. His friends, who 
 wished to save him, not understanding that the fallen 
 Bilney would be Bilney no longer, conjured him with 
 tears to have pity on himself; and by these means his 
 
BILNEY'S FALL— BAYFIELD ARRESTED. 
 
 661 
 
 firmness was overcome. The bishop pressed him, and 
 Bilney asked himself : " Can a young sohlier like me 
 know the rules of war better than an old soldier like 
 Tonstall? Or can a poor silly sheep know his way 
 to the fold better thau the chief pastor of Loudon .' " 
 His friends quitted him neither niglit nor day; and en- 
 tangled by their fatal affection, he believed at last that 
 ho liad found a compromise which would set his con- 
 science at rest. "I will preserve my life," he said, 
 " to dedicate it to the Lord." This delusion had scarcely 
 laid hold of his mind before his views were confused, 
 his faith was veiled, the Holy Ghost departed from 
 him, God gave him over to his carnal thoughts, and 
 under the pretext of being useful to Jesus Christ for 
 many years, Bilney disobeyed Ilim at the present 
 moment. Being led before the bishops on the morning 
 of Saturday, the 7th of December, at nine o'clock, he 
 foil, . . . (Arthur had fallen before him;) aud 
 whilst the false fricuds who had misled him hardly 
 dared raise their eyes, the living Church of Christ in 
 England uttered a ciy of anguish. " If ever you come 
 in danger," said Latimer, " for God's quarrel, I woidd 
 advise you, above all things, to abjure all your friend- 
 ships ; leave not one unabjured. It i^ they that shall 
 undo you, and not your enemies. It was his very 
 friends that brought Bilney to it." 
 
 On the following day (Sunday, 8th December) Bilney 
 was placed at the head of a procession; and the fallen 
 disciple, bareheaded, with a fagot on his shoulders, 
 stood in front of St. Paid's cross, while a priest from 
 the pulpit exhorted him to repentance ; after which he 
 was led back to prison. 
 
 What a solitude for the wretched man! At one 
 time the cold darkness of his cell appeared to him as a 
 burning fire ; at another, he fancied he heard accusing 
 voices crying to him in the silence of the night. Death, 
 the very enemy he had wished to avoid, lixed his icy 
 glance upon him and filled him with fear. He strove 
 to escape from the horrible spectre, but in vain. Then 
 the friends who had dragged him into this abyss, crowded 
 round and endeavoured to console him; but if they 
 gave utterance to any of Christ's gentle promises, 
 Bilney started back with affright, and shrank to the 
 farthest part of the dungeon, with a ciy " as though a 
 man had run him through the heart with a sword." 
 Having denied the Word of God, he could no longer 
 endure to hear it. The curse of the Apocalypse: Ye 
 moiiittaiiis, likle me from the trrath of the Lamb ! was the 
 only passage of Scripture in harmony with his soul. 
 His mind wandered, the blood froze in his veins, ho 
 sank imder his terrors ; he lost all sense, aud almost 
 his life, and lay motionless iu the arms of his astonished 
 friends. " God," exclaimed those vmhappy individuals 
 who had caused his fall, — " God, by a just judgment, 
 delivers up to the tempests of their conscience all who 
 deny His truth." 
 
 This was not the only sorrow of the Church. As 
 soon as Richard Bayfield, the late chamberlain of Bury, 
 had joined Tyndale and Fryth, he said to them: "I am 
 at your disposal ; you shall bo my head, and I will be 
 yom- hand; I will sell your books and those of the 
 German reformers, in the Low Coimtries, France, and 
 England." It was not long, indeed, before he returned 
 to London. But Piersou, he tpriest whom he had 
 
 formerly met in Lombard Street, found him again, and 
 accused him to the bishop. The unhappy man was 
 brought before Tonstall. " You are charged," said the 
 prelate, " with having asserted that praise is due to 
 God alone, and not to saints or creatures." Bayfield 
 acknowledged the charge to be true. " You are accused 
 of maintaining that evciy priest may preach the AYord 
 of God by the authority of the Gospel, without the 
 license of the pope or cardinals." This also Bayfield 
 acknowledged. A penance was imposed on him ; and 
 then he was sent back to his monasteiy with orders to 
 shew himself there on the 25th of April. But he crossed 
 the sea once more, and hastened to join Tyndale. 
 
 The New Testaments, however, sold by him and 
 others remained iu England. At th.at time the bishops 
 subscribed to suppress the Scriptures, as so many persons 
 have since done to circulate them ; and, accordingly, a 
 great number of the copies brought over by Bayfield 
 and his friends wore bought up. A scarcity of food 
 was erelong added to the scarcity of the Word of God; 
 for, as the cardinal was endeavouring to foment a war 
 between Henry and the emperor, the Flemish ships 
 ceased to enter the English ports. It was in consequence 
 of this that the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London 
 hastened to express their apprehensions to Wolsey 
 almost before he had recovered from the fatigues of his 
 return from France. " Fear nothuig," he told them ; 
 " the King of France assured me, that if he had three 
 bushels of wheat, England should have two of them." 
 But none an'ived, and the people were on the point of 
 breaking out into violence, when a fleet of ships 
 suddenly appeared off the mouth of the Thames. They 
 were German and Flemish vessels laden with corn, in 
 which the worthy people of the Low Countries had 
 also concealed the New Testament. An Antwerp 
 bookseller, named John Raimond or Ruremond, from 
 his birthplace, had printed a fourth edition, more beau- 
 tiful than the previous ones. It was enriched with 
 references and engravings on wood, and each page 
 bordered with red lines. Raimond himself had em- 
 barked on board one of the ships with five hundred 
 copies of his New Testament. About Christmas, 1527, 
 
 MPTON COURT. 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the Book of God was circulated iu England along with 
 the bread that noiu-ishes the body. But certain priests 
 and monks having discovered the Scriptures among the 
 sacks of corn, they carried several copies to the Bishop 
 of London, who threw Eaimond into prison. The 
 greater jjart, however, of the new edition escaped him. 
 The New Testament was read everywhere, and even 
 the court did not escape the contagion. Anne Boleyn, 
 notwithstanding her smiling face, often withdrew to 
 her closet at Greenwich or at Hampton Court, to study 
 the Gospel. Frank, courageous, and proud, she did 
 not conceal the pleasure she found in such reading ; her 
 boldness astonished the courtiers, and exasperated the 
 clergy. In the city things went still farther : the New 
 Testament was explained in frequent conventicles, par- 
 ticularly in the house of one Russell; and great was the 
 joy among the faithful. " It is sufficient only to enter 
 London," said the priests, '■ to become a heretic !" The 
 Eefonnation was taking root among the people before 
 it arrived at the upper classes. 
 
 CIIAPTEIl VIIL 
 
 The Papacy ;nteiceiit.s Uic (iospel— The Kins consults Sir TLomas More— 
 E clesiastical Conferences about the Divorce— The Universities— Clark 
 —The Nun of Kent— Wolsey Decides to do the King's Will— Mission to 
 t)ie Pope— Four Documents— Embarrassment of Charles V.— Francis 
 Philip at JIadril— Distress and Resolution of Charles — He turns away 
 from the Reformation— Conference at the Castle of St. Angelo-Kuight 
 Arrives in Italy— His Flight-Treaty between the Pope and the Eni- 
 pii or— Escape of the Pope— Confusion of Henry VIII.— Wolsey's Orders 
 -His Entreaties. 
 
 The sun of the "Word of God, which daily gi-ew brighter 
 in the sky of the sixteenth centuiy, was sufficient to 
 scatter all the darkness in England ; but Popery, like 
 au immeuse wall, intercepted its rays. Britain had 
 hardly received the Scriptures in Greek and Latin, 
 and then in English, before the priests began to make 
 war upon thein with indefatigable zeal. It was ne- 
 cessary that the wall should be thrown down in order 
 that the sun miglit penetrate freely among the Anglo- 
 Saxon people. And now events were ripening iu 
 England, destined to make a great breach in Popery. 
 The negotiations of Heni-y VIIL with Clement VIL, 
 play an important part in the Reformation. By shew- 
 ing up the court of Rome, they destroyed the respect 
 ivhich the people felt for it ; they took away that iwwer 
 and strength, as Scripture says, which the monarchy 
 had given it ; and the throne of the pope once fallen 
 iu_ England, Jesus Christ uplifted and strengthened 
 His own. 
 
 Henry, ardently desu-ing an heir, and thinking that 
 he had found the woman that would ensure his own 
 and England's happiness, conceived the design of sever- 
 ing the ties that united him to the queen; and with 
 this view he consulted his most favourite councillors 
 about the divorce. There was one in particular whose 
 approval he coveted: this was Sir Thomas More. 
 One day, as Erasmus's friend was walking with his 
 master in the beautiful gallery at Hampton Court, 
 
 giving him au account of a mission he had just exe- 
 cuted on the Continent, the king suddenly interrupted 
 him : "My marriage with the queen," he said, "is con- 
 trary to the laws of God, of the church, and of nature." 
 He then took up the Bible, and pointed out the passages 
 iu his favour. " I am not a theologian," said More, 
 somewhat embarrassed ; " your majesty shoidd consult 
 a council of doctors." 
 
 Accordingly, by Henry's order, AVarham assembled 
 the most learned canonists at Hampton Court ; but 
 weeks passed away before they could agree. Most of 
 them quoted in the king's favour those paisages in 
 Leviticus (xviii. 16; xx. 21) which forbid a man to 
 take Ids brother's wife. But Fisher, bishop of Roches- 
 ter, and the other opponents of the divorce, replied, 
 that according to Deutoronmy, (xxv. 5,) when a 
 woman is left a widow without children, her brother- 
 iu-law ought to take her to wife, to perpetuate his 
 brother's name in Israel. "This law concerned the 
 Jews only," replied the partisans of the divorce ; they 
 added, that its object was "to maintain the inheritances 
 distinct, and the genealogies intact, imtU the coming 
 of Christ. The Judaical dispensation has passed away ; 
 but the law of Leviticus, which is a moral law, is bind- 
 ing upon all men in all ages." 
 
 To free themselves from their embarrassment, the 
 bishops demanded that the most eminent universities 
 should be consulted ; and commissioners were forthwith 
 despatched to Oxford, Cambridge, Paris, Orleans, Tou- 
 louse, Louvain, Padua, and Bologna, furnished with 
 money to reward the foreign doctors for tlie time and 
 trouble this question would cost them. This caused 
 some little delay, and eveiy means was now to be tried 
 to divert the king from his pui-pose. 
 
 Wolsey, who was the first to suggest the idea of a 
 divorce, was now thoroughly alarmed. It appeared to 
 him that a nod from the dauglitcr of the Boleyns would 
 hurl him from the post he had so laboriously won, and 
 this made him vent his ill-humour on all about him, at 
 one time tlireatening Warham, and at another perse- 
 cuting Pace. But fearing to oppose Henry openly, he 
 summoned from Paris, Clarke, bishop of Bath and 
 Wells, at that time ambassador to the French court. 
 The latter entered into his views, and after cautiously 
 preparing the way, he ventured to say to the king : 
 " The progress of the inquiry will be so slow, your 
 majesty, that it will take more than seven years to 
 briiig it to an end ! " — " Since my patience has already 
 held out for eighteen years," the king replied coldly, "I 
 am willing to vnxitfour or Jive more." 
 
 As the political party had failed, the clerical party 
 set iu motion a scheme of another kind. A young 
 woman, Elizabeth Bai-ton, known as the holy maid of 
 Kent, had been subject from childhood to epUeptic fits. 
 The priest of her parish, named Masters, had persuaded 
 her that she was inspired of God, and confederating 
 with one Bocking, a monk of Canterbury, he turned 
 the weakness of the prophetess to account. Elizabeth 
 wandered over the country, passing from house to 
 house, and from convent to convent ; on a sudden her 
 limbs would become rigid, her features distorted; 
 violent convulsions shook her body, and strange unin- 
 telligible sounds fell from her lips, which the amazed 
 by-standers received as revelations from the Virgin and 
 
FOUR DOCUMENTS REQUIRED OF THE POPE. 
 
 6G3 
 
 tlic saints. Fislior, bishop of Roclicster, Abel, the 
 queen's ecclesiastical agent, and even Sir Thomas More, 
 were among the number of Elizabeth's partisans. 
 Kumours of the divorce having reached the saint's ears, 
 an angel commanded her to ai)pcar before the cardinal. 
 As soou as she stood iu his presence the colour fled 
 from her checks, her limbs trembled, and falling into 
 aa ecstaey, she exclaimed: "Cardinal of York, God 
 has placed three swords iu your hand : the spiritual 
 sword, to range the church luider the authority of the 
 pope ; the civil sword, to govern the realm ; and the 
 sword of justice, to prevent the divorce of the king. 
 . . . . If you do not wield these three swords 
 faithfully, God will lay it sore to your charge." After 
 these words tlie ])ri)photi>ss witlidrew. 
 
 But other inllueni'os wore then dividing "Wolsey's 
 breast : hatred, which induced him to oppose the 
 divorce ; and ambition, which forobodeil liis ruin in this 
 opposition. At last ambition prevailfd, and he resolved 
 to make his objections forgutteu by the energy of his 
 zeal. 
 
 Henry hastened to profit by this change. " Declare 
 the divorce yourself," said he to AVolsey ; " has not the 
 pope named you his vicar-general ? " ' The cardinal 
 \vas not anxious to raise himself so high. " If I were 
 to decide the affair," said he, " the queen would appeal 
 to the pope; we must therefore either apply to the 
 holy father for special powers, or persuade the queen 
 to retire to a uuimery. And if we fail in either of 
 tiicse expedients, we will obey the voice of conscience, 
 even in despite of the pope." It was arranged to begin 
 with the more regular attempt, and Gregory Da Casale, 
 secretary Knight, and tlie prothonotary Gambara, were 
 appointed to au extraordinaiy mission at the pontifical 
 court. Casale was Wolsey's man, and Knight was 
 Henry's. AVolsey told the envoys : " You will demand 
 of the pope, Istli/, a commission authorizing me to inquire 
 intt) this matter; 2ridli/, his promise to pronounce the 
 nullity of Catherine's marriage with Henry, if we 
 shoidd find that her marriage with Ai-thur was con- 
 summated ; and SnUi/, a dispensation permitting the 
 king to marry again." In this manner AVolsey hoped 
 to make sure of the divorce without damaging the 
 papal authority. It was insinuated that false repre- 
 sentations, with regard to the consummation of the 
 first marriage, had been sent from England to Julius 
 1 1., which had induced the pontiff to permit the second. 
 The pope being deceived as to the fact, his infallibility 
 was untouched. Wolsey desired something more ; 
 knowing that no confidence could be put in the good 
 faith of the pontiff, he demanded a fourth instrument, 
 by which the pope should bind himself necer to recall 
 the other thret ; he only forgot to take precautions in 
 case Clement should withdraw the fourth. " With 
 these four snares, skilfully combined," said the cardinal, 
 " I shall catch the hare ; if he escapes from one, he 
 will fall into the other." The courtiers anticipated a 
 speedy termination of the affair. Was not the emperor 
 the declared enemy of the pontiff ? Had not Heniy, 
 on the contraiy, made himself protector of the Clemen- 
 
 1 When Napoleon, from similar motives, desired to separate from Jose- 
 pliiuc, fearing the unwillingness of the pope, (as Henry did,) he entertained, 
 lilic him, the design of doing without the pontiff, and of getting his marriage 
 annulled by the French bishops. As he was more powerAU, he sueeeeded. 
 
 tine leafjiie ? Coidd Clement hesitate, when called 
 upon, to choose between his jailor and his benefactor? 
 Indeed, Charles V., at this moment, was in a very em- 
 barrassing position. It is true, his guards were posted 
 at the gates of the castle of St. Angelo, where Clement 
 was a prisoner, and people in Komo said to one another 
 with a smile: "Now indeed it is true. Papa non potest 
 errare." ' But it was not possible to keep the pope 
 a prisoner in Rome ; and then, what was to be done 
 with him? The viceroy of Naples proposed to Alercon, 
 the governor of St. Angelo, to remove Clement to 
 Gaeta ; but the affrighted colonel exclaimed : " Heaven 
 forbid that I should drag after me the very body of 
 God ! " Charles thought one time of transporting the 
 pontiff to Si)ain ; but might not an enemy's fleet carry 
 him off on the road? The ])ope iu prison was far more 
 embarrassing to Charles than the pope at liberty. 
 
 It was at this critical time that Francis Philip, Queen 
 Catherine's servant, having escaped the snares laid by 
 Ileniy VUI. and AVolsey, arrived at Jladrid, where he 
 passed a whole day iu conference with Charles V. 
 This prince was at first astonished, shocked even, by 
 the designs of the King of England. The curse of 
 God seemed to hang over his house. His mother was 
 a lunatic ; his sister of Denmark expelled from her 
 dominions ; his sister of Hungary made a widow by 
 the battle of Mohacz ; the Turks were encroaching 
 upon his territories ; Lautrec was victorious in Italy ; 
 and the catholics, ii-ritated by the pope's captivity, 
 detested his ambition. This was not enough. Henry 
 VHI. was striving to divorce his aunt, and the pope 
 would natui-ally give his aid to this criminal design. 
 Charles must choose between the pontiff and the king. 
 The friendship of the King of England might aid him 
 in breaking the league formed to expel him from Italy, 
 and by sacrificing Catherine he would be sure to obtain 
 his support ; but placed between reasons of state and 
 his aunt's honour, the emperor did not hesitate ; he 
 even renounced certain projects of reform that he had 
 at heart. He suddenly decided for the pope, and from 
 that very hour followed a new course. 
 
 Charles, who possessed gi-eat discernment, had under- 
 stood his age ; he had seen that concessions were called 
 for by the movement of the human mind, and would 
 have desii-ed to carry out the change from the Sliddle 
 Ages to modern times by a carefully managed transition. 
 He had consequently demanded a council to reform the 
 church and weaken the Komish dominion in Europe. 
 But very different was the result. If Charles turned 
 away from Henry, he was obliged to tm-u towards 
 Clement ; and after having compelled the head of the 
 church to enter a prison, it was necessaiy to place him 
 once more upon the throne. Charles V. sacrificed the 
 interests of Christian society to the interests of his own 
 family. This divorce, which iu England has been 
 looked upon as the ruiu of the popedom, was what 
 saved it in continental Europe. 
 
 But how could the cmi)eror win the heart of the 
 pontiff, filled as it was with bitterness and anger? He 
 selected for this difficult mission a friar of great ability, 
 De Angelis, general of the Spanish Observance, and 
 ordered liiui to j)roceed to the castle of St. Angelo 
 under the pretext of negotiating the liberation of the 
 
 ! The pope cannot eiT,— a play upon the double meaning of the word ermrf. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 holy father. The cordelier was conducted to the 
 strongest part of the fortress, called the Rock, where 
 Clemcut was lodged ; and the two priests brought all 
 their craft to bear on each other. The monk, assisted 
 by the artful Moncade, adroitly mingled together the 
 pope's deliverance and Catherine's marriage. He 
 affirmed that the emperor wished to open the gates of 
 tlic pontiff's prison, and had already given tlie order ; 
 and then he added immediately: "The emperor is 
 determined to maintain the rights of his aunt, and will 
 never consent to the divorce." — "If you are a good 
 shepherd to me," wrote Charles to the pope with his 
 own hand on the 22nd of November, " I will be a good 
 sheep to you." Clement smiled as he read these words; 
 he understood his position ; the emperor had need of 
 the priest ; Charles was at his captive's feet ; Clement 
 was saved ! The divorce was a rope fallen from the 
 skies which could not fail to drag him out of the pit ; 
 he had only to cling to it quietly in order to reascend 
 his throne. Accordingly, from that hour Clement 
 appeared less eager to quit the castle than Charles to 
 liberate him. " So long as tlie divorce is in suspense," 
 thought the crafty De' Medici, "I have two great 
 friends ; but as soon as I declare for one, I shall have 
 a mortal enemy in the other." He promised the monk 
 to come to no decision in the matter without informing 
 the emperor. 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 Meantime Knight, the envoy of the impatient mon- 
 arch, having heard, as he crossed the Alps, that the 
 pope was at liberty, hastened on to Parma, where he 
 met Gambara : " He is not free yet," replied the pro- 
 thonotary; "but the general of the Franciscans hopes 
 to terminate his captivity in a few days. Continue 
 your journey," he added. Knight could not do so 
 without great danger. He was told at Foligno, sixty 
 miles from the metropolis, that if he had not a safe- 
 conduct he could not reach Rome without exposing his 
 
 life; Knight halted. Just then a messenger from 
 Ileniy brought him despatches more pressing than 
 ever ; Knight started again with one servant and a 
 guide. At Monte Rotondo he was nearly murdered 
 by the inhabitants ; but on the next day, (25th Novem- 
 ber,) protected by a violent storm of wind and rain, 
 Heniy's envoy entered Rome at ten o'clock witliout 
 being observed, and kept himself concealed. 
 
 It was impossible to speak with Clement, for the 
 emperor's orders were positive. Knight, therefore, 
 began to j'^'O-Ctise upon the cardinals ; he gained over 
 the Cardinal of Pisa, by whose means his despatches 
 were laid before the pontiff. Clement, after reading 
 them, laid them down with a smile of satisfaction. 
 " Good ! " said he, " here is the other coming to me 
 now!" But night had hardly closed in before the 
 Cardinal of Pisa's secretary hastened to Knight and 
 told him : " Don Alercon is informed of your arrival ; 
 and the pope entreats you to dejjart immediately." 
 This ofllccr had scai-oely left him, when the protho- 
 notary Gambara arrived in great agitation: "His holi- 
 ness presses you to leave ; as soon as he is at liberty, 
 he will attend to your master's request." Two hours 
 after this, two hundred Spanish soldiers an-ived, sur- 
 rounded the house in wliich Knight had concealed 
 himself, and searched it from top to bottom, but to 
 no purpose ; the English agent had escaped. 
 
 Knight's safety was not the true motive which in- 
 duced Clement to urge his departure. The ycry day 
 on which the pope received the message from the King 
 of England, he signed a treaty with Charles V., restor- 
 ing him, under certain conditions, to both his powers. 
 At the same time the pontiff, for greater security, 
 pressed the French general Lautrec, to hasten his 
 march to Rome, in order to save him from the hands 
 of the emperor. Clement, a disciple of Machiavelli, 
 tluis gave the right hand to Charles, and the left to 
 Francis ; and as he had ilot another for Henry,' he 
 made liim the most positive promises. Each of the 
 tlu'ce princes could reckon on the pope's friendship, 
 and on the same grounds. 
 
 Tlie 10th of December (1527) was the day on whicli 
 Clement's imprisonment would terminate ; but he pre- 
 ferred owing his freedom to intrigue rather than to 
 the emperor's generosity. He therefore procured the 
 dress of a tradesman, and, on the evening before the 
 day fixed for his deliverance, his ward being already 
 much relaxed, he escaped from the castle, and, accom- 
 panied only by Louis of Gonzago in his flight, he made 
 his way to Orvioto. 
 
 AVhile Clement was expsrieucing all the joy of a 
 man just escaped from prison, Henry was a prey to 
 the most violent agitation. Having ceased to love 
 Catherine, he persuaded himself that he was the victim 
 of his father's ambition, a martyr to duty, and the 
 champion of conjugal sanctity. His very gait betrayed 
 his vexation ; and even among the gay conversation 
 of the court, deep sighs would escape from his bosom. 
 Ho had frequent interviews with Wolsoy. " I regard 
 the safety of my soul above aU things," he said ; " but 
 I am concerned also for the peace of my kingdom. 
 For a long while an unceasing remorse has been gnaw- 
 ing at my conscience, and my thoughts dwell upon my 
 marriage with unutterable sorrow. God, in His wrath, 
 
WOLSEY'S OKDERS AND ENTREATIES. 
 
 has taken away my sons ; nnil if I persevere in this 
 unlaivt'iil uiiidii, lie will visit mo with still more ter- 
 ril)lr cliastiscnionts. JMy only liopo is in the holy 
 fatliir." '\\'oLs('y replied with a low bow: "Please 
 yonr majesty, I am occupied with this business as if 
 it were my only means of winning heaven." 
 
 And indeed he redoubled his exertions. He wrote 
 to Sir Grejiory Da Casale on the 5th of December 
 (1527): "You will procure an audience of the pope 
 at any price. Disguise yourself, appear before him 
 as the servant of some nobleman, or as a messenger 
 from the Duke of Ferrara. Scatter money plentifully; 
 sacrifice everything, provided you procure a secret 
 interview with his holiness : ten thousand ducats arc 
 at your disposal. Y'ou will explain to Clement the 
 king's scrujiles, and the necessity of providing for the 
 continuance of his house and the peace of his kingdom. 
 Y^ou will tell him, that in order to restore him to liberty, 
 the king is ready to declare war against the emperor, 
 and thus shew himself to all the world to be a true 
 son of Ihc cliurch." 
 
 Wdlsey saw clearly that it was essential to represent 
 tlic divorce to Clement VII. as a means likely to secure 
 the safety of the poi)cdom. The cardinal, therefore, wrote 
 again to Da Casale on the 6th of December : " Night 
 and day I revolve in my mind the actual condition of 
 the church, and seek the means best calculated to ex- 
 tricate the pope from the gulf into which he has fallen. 
 AVhilc I was tvn-ning these thoughts over in my mind 
 during a sleepless night, . . . one way suddenly 
 occurred to me. I said to myself, the king must be 
 prevailed upon to undertake the defence of the holy 
 father. This was no easy matter, for his majesty is 
 strongly attached to the emperor; however, I set about 
 my task. I told the king that his holiness was ready 
 to satisfy him; I staked my honour; I succeedetl. 
 . . • To save the pope, my master will sacrifice his 
 treasures, subjects, kingdom, and even his life. . . . 
 I therefore conjure his hoUness to entertain our just 
 demand." 
 
 Never before had such pressing entreaties been made 
 to a pope. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The English Envoys at Orvicto— Tlieir Oration to the Pope— Clement gains 
 Time— Tlie Envoys and Cardinal Sanetorum Quatuor— Stratagem of the 
 Pope— Knight discovers it and Returns-The Transformations of Anti- 
 christ—The English obtain a new Document— Fresh Stratagoni— De- 
 mand of a second Cardinal-legate— The Pope's new Expedient— End of 
 the Campaign. 
 
 The envoys of the king of England appeared in the 
 character of the saviours of Rome. This was doubt- 
 less no stratagem ; and "Wolscy probably regarded that 
 thought as coming from heaven, which had "visited him 
 during the weaiy sleepless night. The zeal of his 
 agents increased. The pope was hardly set at liberty 
 before Knight and Da Casale appeared at the foot of 
 the precipitous rock on which Orvieto is built, and de- 
 manded to be introduced to Clement VII. Nothing 
 could be more compromising to the pontiff than such a 
 
 visit. How coidd he appear on good terras with Eng- 
 land, when Rome and all his states were still in the 
 hands of Catherine's nephew ? The pope's mind was 
 utterly bewildered by the demand of the two envoys. 
 He recovered, however ; to reject the powerful hand 
 extended to him by England, was not without its 
 danger ; and as he knew well how to bring a dilficult 
 negotiation to a successful conclusion, Clement regained 
 confidence in his skill, and gave orders to introduce 
 Henry's ambassadors. 
 
 Their discourse was not without eloquence. " Never 
 was the church in a more critical position," said they. 
 " The unmeasured ambition of the kings who claim to 
 dispose of spiritual affairs at their own pleasure (this 
 was aimed at Charles V.) holds the apostolical bark 
 suspended over an abyss. The only port o|ien to it in 
 the tempest is the favour of llir :ni;_Mi-i |)iiiiii' \vli()m 
 we represent, and who has alway- limi ih,- -hicM nf the 
 faith. But, alas! this monarrh, ih.' iiuiniuiKiliK- bul- 
 wark of your holiness, is himself liic \>i\y nf trilniliitions 
 almost equal to your own. His conscience torn by re- 
 morse, his crown without an heir, his kiiii;iloui without 
 security, his people exposed once more to peri)etual 
 disorders. . . . Nay, the whole Christian world 
 given up to the most cruel discord. . . . Such are 
 the consequences of a fatal union, which God has marked 
 with His displeasure. . . . There are also," they 
 added in a lower tone, " certain things of which his 
 majesty cannot speak in his letter, . . . certain 
 incurable disorders under which the queen suffers, which 
 will never permit the king to look upon her again as 
 his wife. If your holiness puts an end to such wretch- 
 edness, by annuling his unlawful marriage, you will 
 attach his majesty by an indissoluble bond. Assist- 
 ance, riches, armies, crown, and even life — the king our 
 master is ready to employ all in the service of Rome. 
 He stretches out his hand to you, most holy father, 
 . . . stretch out yours to him ; by your union the 
 church will be saved, and Europe will be saved with 
 it." 
 
 Clement was cruelly embarrassed. His policy con- 
 sisted in holding the balance between the two princes, 
 and he was now called upon to decide in favour of one 
 of them. He began to regret that he had ever received 
 Ileni-y's ambassadors. " Consider my position," he 
 said to them, " and entreat the king to wait until more 
 favourable events leave me at liberty to act." — 
 " What ! " replied Knight, proudly, " has not your 
 holiness promised to consider his majesty's prayer / If 
 you fail in your promise now, how can I persuade the 
 king that you will keep it some future day? " Da 
 Casale thought the time had come to strike a decisive 
 blow. " What evils," he exclaimed, " what inevitable 
 misfortunes your refusal will create ! . . . The 
 emperor thinks only of depriving the church of its 
 power, and the King of England alone has sworn to 
 maintain it." Then speaking lower, more slowly, and 
 dwelling upon every word, he continued : " We fear 
 that his majesty, reduced to such extremities, . . . 
 of the two evils will choose the least, and supported by 
 the piu'ity of his intentions, will do of his own axtthoritij 
 . . . what he now so respectfully demands. . 
 What should we see then ? . . . I shudder at the 
 thought. . • . Let not your holiness indulge in a 
 
HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 false security, wliicli will inevitably drag you into the 
 abyss. . . . Read all; . . . remark all; . . 
 divine all; . . . take note of all. . . . Most 
 holy father, this is a question of life and death." And 
 Da Casale's tone said more than his words. 
 
 Clement understood that a positive refusal would 
 expose him to lose England. Placed between Henry 
 and Charles, as between the hammer and the forge, he 
 resolved to gain time. " Well, then," he said to Knight 
 and Da Casale, " I will do what you ask ; but I am 
 not familiar witli the forms these dispensations require. 
 . . . I will consult the Cardinal SaucUjrum Qnatuor 
 on the subject, . . . and then will inform you." 
 
 Knight and Da Casale, wishing to anticipate Clement 
 VII., hastened to Lorenzo Pucei, Cardinal Sanctorum 
 Quatuor, and intimated to him that their master would 
 know how to be grateful. The cardinal assured the 
 deputies of his affection for Henry VIH. ; and they, iu 
 the fulness of their gratitude, laid before him the four 
 documents which they were anxious to get executed. 
 But the cardinal had hardly looked at the first — the 
 proposal that AVolsey should decide the matter of the 
 divorce in England — when he exclaimed : " Impos- 
 sible ! . . . a bull in such terms would cover with 
 eternal disgrace not only his holiness and the king, but 
 even the Cardinal of York himself." The deputies 
 were confounded, for Wolsey had ordered them to ask 
 the pope for nothing but his signatm-e. Recovering 
 themselves, they rejoined: "All that we require is a 
 competent commission." On his part, the pope wrote 
 Henry a letter, in which he managed to say nothing. 
 
 Of the four required documents there were two on 
 whose immediate despatch Knight and Da Casale 
 insisted : these were the commission to pronounce the 
 divorce, and the dispensation to contract a second 
 marriage. The dispensation without the commission 
 was of no value ; this the pope knew well; accordingly, 
 he resolved to give the dispensation only. It was as if 
 Charles had granted Clement, when in prison, permission 
 to visit his cardinals, but denied him liberty to leave 
 the castle of St. Augelo. It is iu such a manner as 
 this that a religious system, transformed into a political 
 system, has recourse, when it is without power, to 
 stratagem. " The commission" said the artful Medici 
 to Kuight, " must be corrected according to the style of 
 our court ; but here is the dispensation." Knight took 
 the document : it was addressed to Heniy VIIL, and 
 ran thus : " We accord to j^ou, in case your marriage 
 -wilh Catherine shall be declared null, free liberty to 
 take another wife, provided she have not been the wife 
 of your brother." . . , The Englishman was duped 
 by the Italian. " To my poor judgment," he said, 
 "this document will be of use to us." After this 
 Clement appeared to concern himself solely about 
 Knight's health, and suddenly manifested the greatest 
 interest for him. " It is proper that you should hasten 
 your departure," said he, " for it is necessaiy that you 
 should travel at your ease. Gambara will follow you 
 post, and bring the commission." Knight, thus mysti- 
 fied, took leave of the pope, who got rid of Da Casale 
 and Gambara in a similar manner. He then began to 
 breathe once more. There was no diplomacy iu Europe 
 which Rome, even iu its greatest weakness, could not 
 easily dupe. 
 
 It had now become necessary to elude the commission. 
 While the king's envoys were departing in good spii-its, 
 reckoning on the document that was to follow them, 
 the general of the Spanish Observance reiterated to 
 the pontiff in every tone : " Be careful to give no docu- 
 ment authorizing the divorce, and above all, do not 
 permit this affair to be judged in Henry's states." The 
 cardinals drew up the document under the influence of 
 De Angelis, and made it a masterpiece of insignificance. 
 If good theology ennobles the heart, bad theology, so 
 fertile in subtleties, imparts to the mind a skill by no 
 means common ; and heuce the most celebrated diplo- 
 matists have often been churchmen. The act being 
 thus drawn up, the pope despatched three copies to 
 Knight, to Da Casale, aud to Gambara. Kuight was 
 near Bologna when the courier overtook him. He was 
 stupefied, and taking post-horses returned with all haste 
 to Orvieto. Gambara proceeded through France to 
 England with the useless dispensation which the pope 
 had granted. 
 
 Knight had thought to meet with more good faith at 
 the court of the pope thau with kings, and he had been 
 outwitted. What would Wolsey and Henry say of his 
 folly? His wounded self-esteem began to make him 
 believe all that Tyndale and Luther said of the pope- 
 dom. The former had just published the " Obedience 
 of a Christian Man," and the " Parable of the Wicked 
 Mammon," iu which he represented Rome as one of 
 the transformations of Antichrist. "Antichrist," said 
 he in the latter treatise, " is not a man that should 
 suddenly appear with wonders ; he is a spiritual thing, 
 who was iu the Old Testament, and also iu the time of 
 Christ and the apostles, and is uow, and shall (I doubt 
 not) endure till the world's end. His nature is (when 
 he is overcome with the Word of God) to go out of the 
 play for a season, and to disguise himself, and then to 
 come in again with a new name and new raiment. The 
 Scribes and Pharisees in the Gospel were very Anti- 
 christs ; popes, cardinals, and bishops, have gotten their 
 new names, but the thing is all one. Even so now, 
 when we have uttered [detected] him, lie will change 
 himself once more, and tiu-n himself into an angel of 
 light. Already the least, seeing himself uow to be 
 sought for, roareth aud seeketh uew holes to hide him- 
 self in, and changeth himself into a thousand fashions." 
 This idea, paradoxical at first, gradually made its way 
 into men's minds. The Romans, by their practices, 
 familiarized the English to the somewhat coarse de- 
 scrijJtions of the reformers. England was to have 
 many such lessons, and thus, by degrees, leam to set 
 Rome aside for the sake of her own glory aud 
 prosperity. 
 
 Knight and Da Casale reached Orvieto about the 
 same time. Clement replied with sighs : '•'Alas ! I am 
 the emperor's prisoner. The imperialists are every 
 day pillaging towns aud castles in our neighbourhood. 
 . . . . Wretch that I am ! I have not a friend 
 except the king your master, and he is far away. . . 
 If I should do anything uow to displease Charles, I am 
 a lost man. ... To sigu the commission woidd 
 be to sign an eternal rupture with him." But Kuight 
 and Da Casale pleaded' so effectually with Cardinal 
 Sanctorum Quatuor, aud so pressed Clement, that the 
 pontiff, without the knowledge of the Spaniard De 
 
THE POPE'S NEW EXPEDIENT. 
 
 CG7 
 
 Angclis, gave them a more satisfactoiy document, but 
 not such as Wolscy required, "lu giving you this 
 commission," said the pope, "I am giving away my 
 liberty, and perhaps my life. 1 listen not to the voice 
 of prudence, but to that of affection only. I confide 
 iu the generosity of the King of England; he is the 
 master of my destiny." lie then began to weep, and 
 seemed i-eady to faint. Knight, forgetting his vexation, 
 promised Clement that the king would do everything 
 to save him. "Ah !" said the pope, " there is one effect- 
 ual means." — "What is that?" inciuired Ileniy's agents. 
 " JI. Lautrec, who says daily that he will come, but 
 never does," replied Clement, " has oidy to bring the 
 French army |ironi|iily liot'orc the gates of Orvieto; then 
 I could excii-'' my» ir \>y saying that lie constrained me 
 to .sign th.' rniunii-Mnii." — "Nothing is easier," replied 
 the envoys ; " we will go and hasten his arrival." 
 
 Clement was not oven now at ease. The safely of 
 the Roman Church troubled liim not less than his own. 
 . . . . Charles might discover the trick and make 
 tlie popedom suffer for it. There was danger on all 
 sides. If tlic English spoke of independence, did not 
 the emperor threaten a vform? . . . The catholic 
 princes, said the papal councillors, arc capable, without 
 perhaps a single exception, of supporting the cause of 
 Luther to gratify a criminal ambition. The pope 
 reflected, and withdrawing his word, promised to give 
 the commission when Lautrec was under the walls of 
 Orvieto ; but the English agents insisted on having it 
 immediately. To conciliate all, it was agi-eed that the 
 pope should give the re(juired document at once, but 
 as soon as the French army arrived, he should send 
 another copy, bearing the date of the day on which he 
 saw Lautrec. " Beseech the king to keep secret the 
 commission I give you," said Clement VII. to Knight ; 
 " if he begins the process immediately he receives it, 
 I am undone for ever." The pope thus gave permission 
 to act, on condition of not acting at all. Knight took 
 leave ou the 1st of January, 1528; he promised all the 
 pontiff desired, and then, as if fearing some fresh 
 ditficulfy, he departed the same day. Da Casale, on 
 his side, after having offered the Cardinal Sanctorum 
 Quatuor a gift of 4(lt)() crowns, which he refused, re- 
 paired to Lautrec, to beg him to constrain the pope to 
 sign a document which was already on its way to 
 England. 
 
 But -while the business seemed to be clearing at 
 Rome, it was becoming more complicated at London. 
 The king's project got wind, and Cathcnne gave way 
 to the liveliest sorrow. "I shall protest," said she, 
 " against the commission given to the Cardinal of 
 York. Is he not the king's subject, the vile flatterer 
 of his pleasures ? " Catherine did not resist alone ; the 
 people, who hated the cardinal, could not with pleasm-e 
 see him invested with such authority. To obviate 
 this inconvenience, Henry resolved to ask the pope 
 for another cardinal, who should be empowered to 
 terminate the affair in London, with or without Wolsey. 
 
 The latter agreed to the measure : it is even possible 
 that he was the first to suggest it, for he feared to 
 bear alone the res])onsibility of so hateful an inquiry. 
 Accordingly, on the 27th of December, he wrote to 
 the king's agents at Rome: "Procure the envoy of a 
 legate, and particularly of au able, easy, manageable 
 
 legate, . . . desirous of meriting the king's favour; 
 Campeggio, for instance. You will earnestly request 
 the cardinal who may be selected to travel with all 
 diligence, and you will assure him that the king wUl 
 behave liberally towards him." 
 
 Knight reached Asti on the 10th of January, where 
 he found letters with fresh orders. This was another 
 check : at one time it is the pope who compels him to 
 retrograde, at another it is the king. Henry's unlucky 
 valetudinarian secretar}', a man very susceptible of 
 fatigue, and already wearied and exhausted by ten 
 jiainful journeys, was iu a very bad humour. He 
 determined to permit Gambara to carry the two docu- 
 ments to England; to commission Da Casale, who had 
 not left the pope's neighbourhood, to solicit the de- 
 spatch of the legate ; and as regarded himself, to go 
 and wait for further orders at Turin : — " If it be 
 thought good unto the king's highness that I do return 
 unto Orvieto, I shall do as much as my poor carcass 
 may endure." 
 
 When Da Casale reached Bologna, he pressed Lau- 
 trec to go and constrain the ))ontiff to sign the act 
 wliich Gambara was already bearing to England. On 
 receiving the new despatches he returned in all haste 
 to Orvieto ; and the pope was very much alarmed 
 when he heard of his arrival. He had feared to grant 
 a simple papei", destined to remain secret ; and now he 
 is required to send a prince of the church! Will 
 Henry never be satisfied? "The mission you desire 
 would be full of dangers," he replied ; " but we have 
 discovered another means, alone calculated to finish 
 this business. Mind you do not say that I pointed it 
 out to you," added the pope in a mysterious tone ; 
 " but that it was suggested by Cardinal Sanctoriun 
 Quatuor and Simonetta." Da Casale was all atten- 
 tion. " There is not a doctor iu the world who can 
 better decide on this matter, and on its most private 
 circumstances, than the king himself. If, therefore, he 
 sincerely believes that Catherine had really become his 
 brother's wife, let him empower the Cardinal of York 
 to pronounce the divorce, and let him take another 
 wife without any further ceremony; he can then after- 
 wards demand the confirmation of the consistory. The 
 affair being concluded in this way, I will take the rest 
 upon myself." — " But," said Da Casale, somewhat 
 dissatisfied with this new intrigue, " I must fulfil my 
 mission, and the king demands a legate." " And whom 
 shall I send ? " asked Clement. " Da Monte '? he can- 
 not move. De Ca;sis? he is at Naples. Ai-a CoeU? 
 he has the gout. Piccolomiui ? he is of the imperial 
 party. . . . Campeggio would be the best, but 
 he is at Rome, where he supplies my place, and cannot 
 leave without peril to the church." . . . And 
 then, with some emotion, he added, " I throw myself 
 into his majesty's arms. The emperor will never 
 forgive what I am doing. If he hears of it he will 
 summon me before his council; I shall have no rest 
 until he has deprived me of my throne and my life !" 
 
 Da Casale hastened to fom'ard to London the result 
 of the conference. Clement being unable to untie the 
 knot, requested Henry to cut it. Will this prince 
 hesitate to employ so easy a means, the pope (Clement 
 declared it himself) being willing to ratify every- 
 thing ? 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Here closes Hemy's first campaign iu the territories 
 of the popedom. We shall now see the results of so 
 many efforts. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Disappointment in England— War dedared against Charles V.— Wolscy 
 desires to get him Deposed by the Pope— A new Scheme— Embassy 
 of Fox and Gardiner— Their Arrival at Orvieto— Their first interview 
 with Clement— The Pope reads a Treatise by Hemy- Gardiner's Threats 
 and Clement's Promise— The Modem Fabius— Fresh Interview and 
 Menaces— The Pope has not the A'cy— Gardiner's Proposition— Diffi- 
 culties and Delays of the Cardinals— Gardiner's last Blows— Reverses 
 of Charles V. in Italy— The Pope's Terror and Concession— 'Die Com- 
 mission granted— Wolsey demands the Engageytuiit—A Loophole— The 
 Pope's Distress. 
 
 Never was disappointment more complete than that 
 felt by Henry and Wolsey aftei- the arrival of Gambara 
 with the commission ; the king was angi'y, the cardinal 
 vexed. AVhat Clement called the sacrifice of his life, 
 was in reality but a sheet of paper fit only to be thrown 
 into the fire. " Tliis commission is of no value," said 
 AVolscy. — " And even to put it into execution," added 
 Henry, "we must wait until the imperialists have 
 quitted Italy! The pope is putting us off to the Greek 
 calends." " His holiness," observed the cardinal, " docs 
 not bind himseK to pronounce the divorce ; the queen 
 •will therefore appeal from our judgment." — "And even 
 if the pope had bound himself," added the king, " it 
 would be sufficient for the emperor to smile upon him, 
 to make him retract what he had promised." " It is 
 aU a cheat and a mockery," concluded both king and 
 minister. 
 
 What was to be done next ? The only way to make 
 Clement ours, thought Wolsey, is to get rid of Charles ; 
 it is time his pride was brought down. Accordingly, 
 on the 21st of January, 1528, France and England de- 
 clared hostilities against the emperor. When Charlcis 
 heard of this proceeding, he exclaimed : " I know the 
 hand that has flung the torch of war into the midst of 
 Europe. My crime is not having placed the Cardinal 
 of York on St. Peter's throne." 
 
 A mere declaration of war waa not enough for 
 Wolsey; the Bishoj) of Bayonne, ambassador from 
 France, seeing him one day somewhat excited, whis- 
 pered in his ear ; " In former times popes have deposed 
 emperors for smaller offences." Charles's deposition 
 would have delivered the king of France from a trouble- 
 some rival; but Du Bellay, fearing to tiike the initiative 
 in so bold an enterprise, suggested the idea to the car- 
 dinal. Wolsey reflected : such a thought had never 
 before occurred to him. Taking the ambassador aside 
 to a window, he there swore stout/?/, said Du BoUay, 
 that he should be delighted to use all his influence to 
 get Charles deposed by the pope. " No one is more 
 likely than yourself," replied the bishop, " to induce 
 Clement to do it." — " I will use all my credit," re- 
 joined Wolsey; and the two priests separated. This 
 bright idea the cardinal never forgot. Charles had 
 robbed him of the tiara ; he will retaliate by depriving 
 Charles of his crown. An eye for an eye, and a tooth 
 
 for a tooth. Staffilco, dean of the Eota, was then in 
 London, and still burning with resentment against the 
 author of the Sack of Rome, he favourably received 
 the suggestions Wolsey made to him ; and, finally, the 
 envoy from John Zapolya, king-elect of Hungary, sup- 
 ported the project. But the kings of France and Eng- 
 land were not so easily induced to put the thrones of 
 kings at the disposal of the priests. It appears, how- 
 ever, that the pope was sounded on the subject ; and 
 if the emperor had been beaten iu Italy, it is probable 
 that the bull would have been fulminated against him. 
 His sword preserved his crown, and the plot of the two 
 bishops failed. 
 
 The king's councillors began to seek for less heroic 
 means. "We must prosecute the affair at Rome," said 
 some. — " No," said others, " in England. The pope is 
 too much afraid of the emperor to pronounce the divorce 
 in person." — " If the pope fears the emperor more than 
 the King of England," exclaimed the proud Tudor, 
 "we shall find some other way to set him at ease." 
 Thus, at the first contradiction, Hemy placed his hand 
 on his sword, and threatened to sever the ties which 
 bound his kingdom to the throne of the Itahan pontiff. 
 " I have hit" it ! " said Wolsey, at length ; " we must 
 combine the two plans — judge the affair in London, 
 and at the same time bind the pontiff at Rome." And 
 then the able cardinal proposed the draft of a bull, by 
 which the pope, delegating his authority to two legates, 
 should declare that the acts of that delegation should 
 have a perpetual effect, notwithstanding any contraiy 
 decrees that might subsequently emanate from his in- 
 fallible authority. A new mission was decided upon 
 for the accomplishment of this bold design. 
 
 Wolsey, annoyed by the folly of Knight and his col- 
 leagues, desu-ed men of another stamp. He therefore 
 cast his eyes on his own secretary, Stephen Gardiner, 
 an active man, intelligent, supple, and crafty, a learned 
 canonist, desirous of the king's favour, and, above all, 
 a good Romanist, which at Rome was not without its 
 advantage. Gardiner was in small the living image of 
 his master; and hence the cardinal sometimes styled him 
 the half of himself . Edward Fox, the chief almoner, was 
 joined with him— a moderate, influential man, a parti- 
 cular friend of Henry's, and a zealous advocate of the 
 divorce. Fox was named first in the commission ; but 
 it was agreed that Gardiner should be the real head of 
 the embassy. " Repeat without ceasing," Wolsey told 
 them, "that his majesty caunot do otherwise than 
 separate from the queen. Attack each one on his 
 weak side. Declare to the pope that the king promises 
 to defend him against the emperor; and to the car- 
 dinals, that their services will be nobly rewarded. If 
 that docs not sufRce, let the energy of your words be 
 such as to excite a wholesome fear iu the pontiff." 
 
 Fox and Gardiner, after a gracious reception at Paris 
 (23rd February) by Francis I., arrived at Orvieto ou 
 the 20th of IVIarch, after many perils, and with their 
 dress in such chsorder, that no one coidd have taken 
 them for the ambassadors of Hemy VIII. " What a 
 city!" they exclaimed, as they passed through its 
 streets; "what ruins, what misery! It is indeed 
 truly called Orvieto {lu-hs vetiis)l" The state of the 
 town gave them no very grand idea of the state of 
 the popedom, and they imagined that with a pontiff so 
 
HENRY'S AMBASSADORS WITH THE POPE. 
 
 poorly lodgod, their ncfjotiation could not be othcnvise 
 tli;i!i easy. " I give you my house," said Da Casale, to 
 •whom they went, " my room, and my own bed ;" and as 
 tliey made some objections, he added: "It is not pos- 
 sible to lodjjje yon elsewhere ; I have even been forced 
 to borrow what was necessary to receive yon." Da 
 Casale, jircssiu^ thorn to change their clothes, which 
 were still <lri|iiiiiig, (they had jnst crossed a river on 
 lluir luulcs.) tliry replied, that being obliged to travel 
 post, tiny had not been able to bring a change of rai- 
 ment. "Alas!" said Casale, "what is to bo done? 
 there are few persons in Orvicto who have more gar- 
 ments than one ; even the shopkeepers have no cloth 
 for sale ; this town is quite a prison. People say the 
 l)oi)e is at liberty here. A pretty liberty indeed ! 
 AN'ant, impure air, wret(Jied lodging, and a thousand 
 other inconveniences, keep the holy father closer than 
 when he was in the Castle of St. Angelo. Accord- 
 ingly, he told me the other day, it was better to be 
 in captivity at Rome than at liberty hero." 
 
 In two days, however, they managed to procure some 
 new clothing; and being now in a condition to shew 
 thenisclves, Henry's agents were admitted to an aftcr- 
 diuntr audienre on Monday, the 22d of March, (1528.) 
 
 Da Casale conducted them to an old building in 
 ruins. '• This is where his holiness lives," he said. 
 They looked at one another with astonishmeut, and, 
 crossing the rubbish lying about, passed through three 
 chambers whose ceiluigs had fallen in, whose windows 
 were curtainless, and in which thirty persons, " riff-raff 
 were standing against the bare walls for a garnish- 
 ment." This was the pope's court. 
 
 At length the ambassadoi-s reached the pontiff's 
 room, and placed Henry's letters in his hands. " Your 
 holiness," said Gardiner, " when sending the king a 
 dispensation, was pleased to add, that if this document 
 were not sufficient, you would willingly give a better. 
 It is that favour the kuig now desires." The pope 
 with embarrassment strove to soften his refusal. " I 
 am informed," he said, " that the king is led on in this 
 affair by a secret inclination, and that the lady he loves 
 is far from being worthy of him." Gardiner replied 
 with firmness : " The king truly desires to marry 
 again after the divorce, that he may have an heir to 
 the crown ; bnt the woman he proposes to take is ani- 
 mated by the noblest sentiments ; the Cardinal of Y'ork 
 and all England do homage to her virtues." The pope 
 appeared convuiced. "Besides," continued Gardiner, 
 '• the kiug has written a book on the motives of his 
 divorce." — "Good! come and read it to me to-morrow," 
 rejoined Clement. 
 
 The next day the English envoys had hardly ap- 
 peared, before Clement took Henry's book, ran over 
 it as he walked up and down the room, and then seat- 
 ing himself on a long bench covered with an old carpet, 
 " not worth twenty pence," says an annalist, he read 
 the book aloud. He counted the number of arguments, 
 nuide objections as if Henry were present, and piled 
 them one upon another without waiting for an answer. 
 " The marriages forbidden in Leviticus," said he, in a 
 short and quick tone of voice, "are permitted in 
 Deuteronomy; now Deuteronomy coming after Levi- 
 ticus, we are bound by the latter. The honour of 
 Catherine and the emperor is at stake, and the divorce 
 
 would give rise to a terrible war." The pope continued 
 speaking, and whenever the Englishmen attempted to 
 rcjjly, he bade them be silent, and kept on reading. 
 " it is an excellent book," said he, liowever, in a 
 courteous tone, when he had ended ; " I shall keep it 
 to read over again at my leisure." Gardiner then 
 presenting a draft of the commis.-iou which Henry rc- 
 qtiired, Clement made answer : " It is too late to look 
 at it now; leave it with me." — "But we are in haste," 
 added Gardiner. " Y'es, yes, I know it," said the pope. 
 All his efforts tended to ])rotract the business. 
 
 On the 28th of March, the ambassadors were con- 
 ducted to the room in which the pope slept; the car- 
 dinals Sanctorum Quatuor and De Monte, as well as 
 the councillor of the Rota, Simouetta, were then with 
 him. Chairs were arranged in a semicircle. " Bo 
 seated," said Clement, who stood in the middle. 
 "Master Gardiner, now tell me what you want." — 
 " There is no question between us but one of iinie. 
 Y'ou promised to ratify the divorce as soon as it was 
 pronounced ; and we require you to do before, what 
 you engage to do after. What is right on one d.ay, 
 must be right on another." Then, raising his voice, 
 the Englishman added: "If his majesty perceives that 
 no more respect is paid to him than to a common man, 
 he will have recourse to a remedi/ which I will not 
 name, but which will not fail in its effect." 
 
 The pope and his councillors looked at one another 
 in silence ; they had understood him. The imperious 
 Gardiner, remarking the effect which he had produced, 
 then added in an absolute tone : " We have onr in- 
 structions, and are determined to keep to them." — " I 
 am ready to do everything compatible with my honour," 
 exclaimed Clement, in alami. " What your honour 
 would not permit you to gi'ant," said the proud ambas- 
 sador, " the honour of the king, my master, would not 
 permit him to ask." Gai-diner's language became more 
 iraperati\ e every minute. " Well, then," said Clement, 
 driven to extremity, "I will do what the king demands; 
 and if the emperor is angiy, I cannot help it." The 
 interview, which had commenced with a storm, finished 
 with a gleam of sunshine. 
 
 That bright gleam soon disappeared : Clement, who 
 imagined he saw in Henry a Hannibal at war with 
 Rome, wished to play the temporizer, the Fabiiis 
 Cunclator. '■'■Bis dat qui cito dat,"^ said Gardiner 
 sharply, who observed this manojuvre. — " It is a ques- 
 tion of law," replied the pope; "and as I am veiy 
 ignorant in these matters, I must give the doctors 
 of the canon law the necessary time to make it all 
 clear." " By his delays Fabins 5laximus saved Rome," 
 rejoined Gardiner ; " you will destroy it by yours."-— 
 "Alas!" exclaimed the pope, "if I say the king is 
 right, I shall have to go back to prison." "When 
 truth is concerned," said the ambassador, "of what 
 consequence are the opinions of men ? " Gardiner was 
 speaking at his ease; but Clement found that the 
 castle of St. Angelo was not without weight in the 
 balance. " Y'ou may be sure that I shall do everything 
 for the best," replied the modern Fabins. AVith these 
 words the conference terminated. 
 
 Such were the struggles of England with the pope- 
 dom — struggles which were to end in a definitive 
 
 1 He gives twice wlio gives quickly. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 rupture. Gardiner knew that he had a skilful adver- 
 sary to deal with ; too cunniug to allow himself to be 
 ii-ritated, he coolly resolved to frighten the pontiff: 
 that was in his uistructions. On the Friday before 
 Palm Sunday, he was ushered into the pope's closet ; 
 tliore he found Clement attended by Dc Monte, Sanc- 
 torum Quatuor, Simonetta, Staffileo, Paul, auditor of 
 the Rota, and Gambara. " It is impossible," said the 
 cardinals, " to grant a decretal commission in whieli 
 the pope pronounces de jure in favour of the divorce, 
 with a promise of confirmation de facto." Gardiner 
 insisted ; but no persuasion, " neither dulce nor poy- 
 nante," could move the pontiff. The envoy judged the 
 moment had come to discharge his strongest battery. 
 " perverse race," said he to the pontiff's ministers, 
 " instead of being as harmless as doves, you are as full 
 of dissimulation and malice as serpents; promising 
 everything, but ]iei'forming nothing. England will be 
 driven to belief' tliiit f^il h:is taken from you the key 
 of knowledge ; and tlial (lie laws of the popes, ambi- 
 guous to the p()|n.s ihrmsclvos, are only fit to be cast 
 into the fire. The king has hitherto restrained his 
 people, impatient of the Romish yoke, but he will 
 now give them the rein." A long and gloomy silence 
 followed. Tlien the Englishman, suddenly changing 
 his tone, softly approached Clement, who had left his 
 seat, and conjured him, in a low voice, to consider care- 
 fully what justice required of him. "Alas!" replied 
 Clement, "I tell you again, I am ignorant in these 
 matters. According to the maxims of the canon law, 
 the jwpe carries all laws in the tablets of his heart; but, 
 unfortunately, God has never given me l-ie key that 
 opens them." As he covdd not escape by silence, Cle- 
 ment retreated under cover of a jest, and heedlessly 
 pronounced the condemnation of the popedom. If he 
 had never received the famous Jcei/, there was no reason 
 why other pontiffs should have possessed it. The next 
 day he found another loophole ; for when the ambas- 
 sadors told him that the king would carry on the 
 matter without him, ho sighed, drew out his handker- 
 chief, and said as he wiped his eyes : " Would to God 
 that I were dead!" Clement employed tears as a 
 political engine. 
 
 "We shall not got tlie dm-rtnl commission," (that 
 which prono\iiici'd iln' ill\..rcc. ) aid Fox and Gardiner 
 after this; "and it i-- la.t really necessary. Let us 
 demand the (/eiicral cuninii.ssiou, (authorizing the legates 
 to pi-onounce it,) and exact a promise that shall supply 
 the place of the act which is denied us." Clement, 
 who was ready to make all the promises in the world, 
 swore to ratify the sentence of the legates without 
 delay. Fox and Gardiner then presented to Simonetta 
 a draft of the act required. The dean, after reading it, 
 returned it to the envoys, saying, " It is very well, I 
 think, except the end; shew it to Sanctorum Quatuor." 
 The next morning they carried the draft to that car- 
 dinal : " How long has it been the rule for the patient 
 to write the prescription? I alwjys thought it was the 
 physician's business." — " No one knows the disease so 
 well as the patient," replied Gardiner ; " and this 
 disease may be of such a nature that the doctor can- 
 not prescribe the remedy without taking the patient's 
 advice." Sanctorum Quatuor read the prescription, 
 and then retm-ned it, saying : " It is not bad, with the 
 
 exception of the beginning. Take the draft to De ISIonte 
 and the other councillors." TJie latter liked neither 
 beginning, middle, nor end. " We will send for you 
 this evening," said De Monte. 
 
 Three or four days having elapsed, Henry's envoys 
 again waited on the pope, who shewed them the draft 
 prepared by his councillors. Gardiner remarking in 
 it additions, retrenchments, and corrections, threw it 
 disdainfully from him, and said coldly: " Your holiness 
 is deceiving us ; you have selected these men to be the 
 instruments of your duplicity." Clement, in alarm, 
 sent for Simonetta ; and after a warm discussion, tlie 
 envoys, more discontented than ever, quitted the pope 
 at one in the morning. 
 
 The night brings wisdom. " I only desire two little 
 words more in the commission," said Gardiner next 
 day to Clement and Simonetta. The pope requested 
 Simonetta to wait upon the cardinals immediately; the 
 latter sent word that they were at dinner, and ad- 
 journed the business until the morrow. 
 
 When Gardiner heard of this epicurean message, 
 he thought the time had come for striking a decisive 
 blow. A new tragedy began. " We are deceived," 
 exclaimed he ; " you are laughing at us. This is not 
 the way to gain tlie favour of princes. Water mixed 
 with wine spoils it ; your corrections nullify our docu- 
 ment. These ignorant and suspicious priests have 
 spelled over our draft as if a scorpion was hidden 
 under every word." — " You made us come to Italy," 
 said he to Staffileo and Gambara, "like hawks which 
 the fowler lures by holding out to them a piece of 
 meat ; and now that we are here, the bait has disap- 
 peared, and, instead of giving us what wo sought, you 
 pretend to lidl us to sleep by the sweet voice of the 
 sirens." Then, turning to Clement, the English envoy 
 added : " Your holiness will have to answer for this." 
 The pope sighed, and wiped away his tears. " It was 
 God's pleasure," continued Gardiner, whose tone be- 
 came more threatening eveiy minute, " that we should 
 see with our own eyes the disposition of the people 
 here. It is time to have done. Henry is not an or- 
 dinary prince, — bear in mind that you are insulting the 
 defender of the faith. . , . Y'ou are going to lose 
 the favour of the only monarch who protects you ; and 
 the apostolical chair, already tottering, will fall into 
 dust, and disappear entirely amidst the applause of all 
 Christendom." 
 
 Gardiner paused. The pope was moved. The state 
 of Italy seemed to confirm but too strongly the sinister 
 predictions of the envoy of Henry VHI. The imperial 
 troops, terrified and pursued by Lautrec, had aban- 
 doned Rome and retired on Naples. 'I'he French 
 general was following up this wretched army of 
 Charles V., decimated by pestilence and debauchery; 
 Doria, at the head of his galleys, had destroyed the 
 Spanish fleet ; Gaeta and Naples only were left to 
 the imperialists ; and Lautrec, who "was besieging the 
 latter place, wrote to Henry on the 26th of August, 
 that all would soon be over. The timid Clement 
 VU. had attentively watched all these catastrophes. 
 Accordingly, Gardiner had hardly denounced the dan- 
 ger which threatened tlie popedom, before he turned 
 pale with affright, rose from his seat, stretched out his 
 arms in terror, as if he had desii-ed to repel some mon- 
 
THE COMMISSION GRANTED. 
 
 stcr ready to devour him, and exclaimed, " 'Write, 
 write! Insert whatever words you please." As he 
 said this, ho paced up and down the room, raising his 
 hands to heaven and sij^liiiig deeply, while Fox and 
 Gardiner, standing motionless, looked on in silence. 
 A tempestuous wind sci'inod to be stirring the depths 
 of the abyss ; the ambassadors waited until the storm 
 was abated. At last Clement recovered himself, made 
 a few trivial excuses, and dismissed Henry's ministers. 
 It was an hour past midnight. 
 
 It was neither morality, nor religion, nor even the 
 laws of the church, which led Clement to refuse the 
 divorce; ambition and fear were his only motives. 
 He would have desired that Henry should first con- 
 strain the emperor to restore him his territories. But 
 the King of England, who felt himself unable to pro- 
 tect the pope against Charles, required, however, this 
 luihappy pontiff to provoke the emperor's anger. Cle- 
 ment reaped the fruits of that fatal system which had 
 transformed the Clnirch of Jesus Christ into a pitiful 
 combination of policy and cunning. 
 
 On the next day, the tempest having thoroughly 
 abated, Sanctorum Quatiior corrected the commission. 
 It was signed, completed by a leaden seal attached to 
 a piece of string, and then handed to Gardiner, who 
 read it. The bull was addressed to Wolsey, and 
 "authorized him, in case he should acknowledge the 
 nullity of Henry's marriage, to pronounce judicially 
 the sentence of divorce, but without noise or display 
 of judgment ; for that purpose he might take any 
 English bishop for his colleague." — "All that we can 
 do, you can do," said the pope. " We are very doubt- 
 ful," said the importunate Gardiner, after reading the 
 bull, " whether this commission, without the clauses 
 of confirmation and revocation, will satisfy his majesty; 
 but we will do all in our power to get him to accept 
 it." — "Above all, do not speak of our altercations," 
 said the pope. Gardiner, like a discreet diplomatist, did 
 not scruple to note down eveiy particular in cipher, 
 in the letters whence these details are procm-ed. "Tell 
 the king," continued the pontiff, "that this commission 
 is on my part a declaration of war against the em- 
 peror, and that I now place myself under his majesty's 
 protection." The chief-almoner of England departed 
 for Loudon with the precious document. 
 
 But one storm followed close upon another. Fox 
 had not long quitted Orvicto when new letters arrived 
 from Wolsey, demanding the fourth of the acts 
 previously requested, namely, the engagement to ratify 
 at Rome whatever the commissioners might decide in 
 England. Gardiner was to set about it in season and 
 out of season; the verbal promise of the pope counted 
 for nothing ; this document must be had, whether the 
 pope was ill, dying, or dead. "J^Ji/o et Hex mens — his 
 majesty and I command you," said Wolsey; "this 
 divorce is of more consequence to us than twenty 
 popedoms." The English envoy renewed their de- 
 mand. " Since you refuse the decretal," he said, 
 " there is the greater reason why you should not 
 refuse the engagement." This application led to fi-esh 
 discussion and fresh tears. Clement gave way once 
 more; but the Italians, more crafty than Gardiner, 
 reserved a loophole in the document through which 
 the pontiff might escape. The messenger Thaddeus 
 
 carried it to London ; and Gardiner left Orvieto for 
 Rome, to confer with Campeggio. 
 
 Clement was a man of penetrating mind ; and al- 
 though he knew as well as any how to deliver a 
 clever speech, he was irresolute and timid; and, 
 accordingly, the commission had not long been des- 
 patched before he repented. Full of distress, he paced 
 the ruined chambers of his old palace, and inuigined 
 he saw hanging over his head that terrible sword of 
 Charles the Fifth, whose edge he had already felt. 
 " Wretch that I am," said ho ; " cruel wolves surround 
 me ; thoy open their jaws to swallow me up. . . . 
 I see none but encniios around me. At theii- head is 
 the emperor. . . . AVhat will he do? Alas! I 
 have yielded that fatal commission which the general 
 of the Spanish observance had enjoined me to refuse. 
 Behind Charles come the Venetians, the Florentines, 
 the Duke of Ferrara. . . . They have cast lots 
 upon my vesture. . . . Next comes the King of 
 France, who promises nothing, but looks on with folded 
 arms; or rather, what perfidy! calls upon me at this 
 critical moment to deprive Charles V. of his crown. 
 . . . And last, but not least, Henry VIIL, t/te 
 defender of the faith, indulges in frightful menaces 
 against me. . . . The emperor desires to main- 
 tain the queen on the throne of England ; the latter, 
 to put her away. . . . AVould to God that Cathe- 
 rine wore in her grave! But, alas! she lives . . 
 to be the apple of discord — dividing the two greatest 
 monarchies — and the inevitable cause of the ruin of 
 the popedom. . . . Wretched man that I am ! 
 how cruel is my perplexity; and around me, I can see 
 nothing but horrible confusion." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 an— He deraaiias the 
 s— He sets his Con- 
 's new perfidy— The 
 •ts Religious Liberty 
 IS invited— Wo]sey*3 
 grants all— Wolsey 
 
 Fox's Report to Henry and Anno— 
 Decretal— One of the CardiiKiI'- 
 sdence at Best— Gardiner in: 
 King's Anger against the r ■; 
 — Immorality of Ultramontan. 
 last Flight— Energetic Ell'orts a 
 trinmrlis— Union of Rome and 1 
 
 ■DuRiKG this time Fox was making his way to Eng- 
 land. On the 27th of April he reached Paris ; on the 
 2nd of May he landed at Sandwich, and hastened to 
 Greenwich, where he arrived the next day at five in 
 the evening, just as Wolsey had left for London. 
 Fox's arrival was an event of great importance. " Let 
 him go to Lady Anne's apartments," said the king, 
 "and wait for me there." Fox told Anne Boleyn of 
 his and Gardiner's exertions, and the success of their 
 mission, at which she expressed her veiy great satis- 
 faction. Indeed, more than a year had elapsed since 
 her return to England, and she no longer resisted 
 Henry's project. " Slistress Anne always called me 
 Master Stephen," wrote Fox to Gardiner, "her thoughts 
 were so full of you." The king appeared, and Anne 
 withdrew. 
 
 " Tell me as briefly as possible what you have done," 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 said Henry. Fox placed in the king's hands the pope's 
 iusignifieant letter, which he bade his almoner read ; 
 then that from Staflileo, which was put on one side ; 
 and, lastly, Gardiner's letter, which Hcniy took hastily 
 and read himself. " The pope has promised us," said 
 Fox, as he terminated his report, " to confirm the 
 sentence of the divorce, as soon as it has been pro- 
 nounced by the commissioners." — " Excellent ! " ex- 
 claimed Henry; and then ho ordered Anne to be 
 called in. " Kepeat before this lady," he said to Fox, 
 " what you have just told me." The almoner did so. 
 " The pope is convinced of the justice of your cause," 
 he said in conclusion ; " and tlie cardinal's letter has 
 convinced him that my lady is worthy of the throne of 
 England." " Make your report to Wolsey this very 
 night," said the king. 
 
 It was ten o'clock when the chief almoner reached 
 the cardinal's palace ; he had gone to bed, but imme- 
 diate orders were given that Fox should be conducted 
 to his room. Being a churchman, Wolsey could un- 
 derstand the pope's artifices better than Henry; ac- 
 cordingly, as soon as he learnt that Fox had brought 
 the commission only, he became alarmed at the task 
 iiiiposed upon him. "What a misfortune!" he ex- 
 chumcd; "your commission is no better than Gam- 
 bara's. . . . However, go and rest yourself; I 
 will examine these papers to-morrow." Fox withdrew 
 in confusion. "It is not bad," said Wolsey the next 
 day; "but the whole business still falls on me alone! 
 
 Never mind, I must wear a contented look, or else 
 . . ." In the afternoon he summoned into his closet 
 Fox, Dr. Bell, and Viscount Rochford : " Master 
 Gardiner has surpassed himself," said the crafty, 
 supple cardinal ; " What a man I what an inestimable 
 treasure ! what a jewel in our kingdom ! " 
 
 He did not mean a word he was saying. Wolsey 
 was dissatisfied with everything, — with the refusal of 
 the ih'cretal, and with the drawing up of the commission, 
 as well as of the engagement, (which arrived soon after, 
 in good condition, so far as the outside was concerned.) 
 But the king's ill humour would infallibly recoil on 
 Wolsey; so putting a good face on a bad matter, he 
 ruminated in secret on the means of obtaining what 
 had been refused him. " Write to Gardiner," said he 
 to Fox, " that everything makes me desire the pope's 
 decretal — the need of unburdening my conscience, of 
 being able to reply to the calumniators who will attack 
 my judgment, and the thought of the accidents to 
 ^vliich the life of man is exposed. Let his holiness, 
 then, pronounce the divorce himself; we engage on 
 I'lir part to kec|"> his resolution secret. But order 
 Masti'i' Stciilicii to ciHiiliiy every kind of persuasion 
 iliai liis /■/(. /.-/vr can iiiKi'jiiii'." In case the pope 
 -liduld ij(.>ili\cly rrtii-~c tlir decretal, Wolsey required 
 at at least Campeggio should share the responsibility 
 1 if the divorce with liim. 
 
 This was not all : while reading the engagement, 
 
 W'cilscy discovered the loophole which had escaped 
 
 ( iiLi-ilinei-. iiihI tills is what he contrived: — "Tliecn- 
 
 i/ih/< limit which the pope has sent us," he wrote to 
 
 Gardiner, '"is drawn up in such tci-nis that he can 
 
 I'ctract it at pleasure; we must tlier( ime ilnd some 
 
 good urii/ to obtain another. Yuu inay do il under this 
 
 ■etence. You will appear before his holiness with a 
 
 'jected air, and tell him that the courier, to whom 
 
 lie conveyance of the said engagement was intrusted, 
 
 fell into the water with his despatches, so that the 
 
 e-cri|its were totally defaced and illegible; that I 
 
 ia\e not dared deliver it into the king's hands; and 
 
 mil - his holiness will grant yon a duplicate, some 
 
 loialile lilame will be imputed unto you for not taking 
 
 Hit, I caie in its transmission. And further, you will 
 
 ■oiiiinue: I remember the expressions of the former 
 
 loeinient, and to save your holiness trouble, I will 
 
 etalc them to your secretary. Then," added Wolsey, 
 
 u hile the secretary is writing, you will find means to 
 
 li-odiicc, without its lieliiu; |ici-celved, as many fat, 
 
 njiiitiil. and a\ailal.le wonl- as po-Mlde, to bind the 
 
 |io|ie and ciilarue niy powiis; llic [lolitic handling of 
 
 whii-h the Isiuu's highness and 1 couunit unto your 
 
 Snch was the expedient invented by Wolsey. Tlio 
 pa|ial .-eeieiai\-, imagining ho was making a fresh coj)y 
 of the ori-inal (l.Humeiit. (which was, by the way, in 
 ixaleil comlilion.) was, at the dictation of tlie ambas- 
 sador, to draw up another of a different tenor. The 
 " politic handling " of the cardinal-legate, wdiieh was 
 not very unlike forgery, throws a disgraceful light on 
 the policy of the sixteenth century. 
 
 Wolsey read this letter to the chief-almoner; and 
 then, to set his conscience at rest, he added piously: 
 " In an affair of such high importance, on which de- 
 pends the glory or the ruin of the realm, — my honour 
 
WOLSEY'S FRAUD AND HYPOCRISY. 
 
 or my ilisfjracc — the comlomiiation of my soul, or 
 my evorlii-stinr; merit — 1 will listen sololy to the voice 
 of my conscience; and 1 shall ait in snch a manner as 
 to be able to render au accoiuit to God without fear." 
 
 ■\Yolsey did more : it seems (hat the boldness of his 
 dechirations reassured liini witli rcjiard to (he baseness 
 of his works. Being at Greenwich on (ho following 
 Sunday, he said to the lung in (ho i)resencc of Fox, 
 IJ.ll, Wolman, and Tuke : "I am bound (o yoin- roj-al 
 pi'rson more (han any subject ^Yas ever bound (o his 
 ]irincc. I am ready to sacrilice my gcioiN, my IiI.kkI, 
 my life, for you. . . . But my obli,L:iiii"ii- low ai.ls 
 God are grea(er s(ill. For (hat cause, rallii r tlian a<t 
 against His will, I would endure the cxtremest evils. 
 iWould suffer your royal indiguation, and, if necessary, 
 deliver my body to the executioners, (hat they may 
 cut it in pieces." What couhl be the spirit then im- 
 ))elliug Wolsey? Was it blindness or impudence? 
 lie may have been sincere in tlie words he addressed 
 to Henry; at the bottom of his heart he may have 
 desired to set the pope above the king, and the Church 
 of Rome above (he kingdom of England; and this 
 desire may have appeared to him a sublime virtue, 
 snch as would hide a multitude of sins. What the 
 public conscience would have called treason, was 
 heroism to the Romish priest. This zeal for the 
 papacy is some(imes met with in conjunc(ion wi(h the 
 most flagrant immorality. If Wolsey deceived the 
 ]>ope, it was to save popi^ry in the realm of England. 
 Fox, Bell, Wolman, and ■ruke, li-teiied to him -with 
 astonishment. Henry, wli" lli'iuulil he knew his man, 
 received these holy declarations witli.iut alarm; and the 
 cardinal having thus eased his conscience, proceeded 
 boldly in his iniquities. It seems, however, that the 
 inward reproaches which he silenced in public, had 
 theii- revenge in secret. One of his officers entering 
 his closet shortly afterwards, presented a letter ad- 
 dressed to Campeggio for his signatiu-e. It ended 
 thus : " I hope all things shall be done according (o 
 the will of God, the desire of the king, the quiet of 
 the kingdom, and to om" honour, ivith a rjood conscience." 
 The cardinal having read the letter, dashed out the 
 four last words. Conscience has a sting from which 
 none can escape — not even a Wolsey. 
 
 However, Gardiner lost no time in Italy. When he 
 met Campeggio, (to whom Ileiuy VIU. had given a 
 palace at Rome and a bishopric in England.) he en- 
 treated him (0 CO to London and |irononnre tlio divorce. 
 This prelate, who w:i- i,. I,.' iiii|,ou^i-, ,1, in l.'i.'il), with 
 authorhy to cni-li rioi,-t;iiiii-iii i;i ( oiinany, seemed 
 bound to undertake a iiiissioa tiiat would sa\ e Roman- 
 ism in Britain. But proud of his position at Rome, 
 where he acted as the pope's represen(a(ivc, he cared 
 not for a charge that would undoubtedly draw upon 
 hira either Henry's hatred or the emperoi-'s anger. He 
 begged to be excused. The pope spoke in a similar 
 tone. When he was informed of this, the terrible 
 Tudor, beginning to believe that Clement desired to 
 entangle liim, as (he hunter entangles the lion in his 
 toils, gave vent to his anger on Tuke, Fox, and Gardi- 
 ner, but par(icularly on AVolsey. Nor were reasons 
 wanting for (his explosion. The cardinal, perceiving 
 that his hatred against Charles had carried him too 
 far, pretended that it was without his orders that 
 
 Clarencieux, bribed by France, had combined with 
 the French ambassador to declare war against the 
 emperor ; and added, that he would have the English 
 king -at -arms j)ut to death as he passed through 
 Calais. This was an infallible means of preventing 
 disagreeable revelations. But (he herald, who had 
 been forewarned, crossed by way of lloMloL'iie, and, 
 without the cardinal's knowledge, oblaine 1 an inter- 
 view with Heniy before whom he plai< d llie "/vA /•< he 
 had received from AVolsey in three conseeiui\<> K-ltiTs. 
 The king, astonished at his minister's impudence, ex- 
 claimed i)rofanely : " O Lord Jesu, the man in whom I 
 had most confidence told me quite the contrary." He 
 flieu summoned Wolsey before him, and reproached 
 him severely for his falsehoods. The wretched man 
 shook like a leaf. Henry appeared to pardon him, but 
 the season of his favour had passed away. Hencefor- 
 ward he kept the cardinal as one of those instruments 
 we make use of for a time, and then throw away when 
 we have no further need of them. 
 
 The king's anger against the pope far exceeded that 
 against Wolsey ; he trembled from head to foot, rose 
 from his seat, then sat down again, and vented his 
 wrath in the most violent language : " What ! " he ex- 
 claimed, " I shall exhaust my political combinations, 
 empty my treasury, make war upon my friends, con- 
 siune my forces, . . . and for whom "I . . . for a 
 heartless priest who, considering neither the exigencies 
 of my honour, nor the peace of my conscience, nor 
 the prosperity of my kingdom, nor the numerous 
 benefits which I have lavished on him, refuses me a 
 favour, which he ought, as the common father of the 
 faithful, to grant even to an enemy. . . Hypocrite ! 
 . . . You cover yourself wilh the cloak of friend- 
 ship ; you flatter us by crafty pracdces ; but you give 
 us only a bastard document, and you say like Pilate, 
 It matters little to me if this king perishes, and all his 
 kingdom with him ; take him and judge him accord- 
 ing to your law ! . . . I understand you ; . . . 
 you wish to entangle us in the briers, to catch us in a 
 trap, to liu-e us into a pitfall. . . . But we have 
 discovered the snare ; we shall escape from your am- 
 buscade, and brave your power." 
 
 Such was the language then heard at the court of 
 England, says an historian. The monks and priests 
 began to grow alarmed ; while the most eidighteued 
 minds already saw in the distance (he first gleams of 
 religious liberty. One day, at a time when Henry 
 was proving himself a zealous follower of the Romish 
 doctrines. Sir Thomas More was sit(ing in the midst of 
 his family, when his son-in-law. Roper, now become a 
 warm papist, exclaimed: "Happy kingdom of England, 
 where no heretic dare shew Ids face!" — "That is true, 
 son Roper," said More ; " we seem to sit now upon the 
 mountains, treading the heretics under our feet like 
 ants ; but I pray God that some of us do not live to 
 see tlie day when we gladly would wish to be at league 
 with (hem, to suffer them to have theu- churches quietly 
 (o (hemselvcs, so that they would be content to let us 
 have ours peaceably to ourselves." Roper angrily re- 
 plied : " By my word, sir, that is very desperately 
 spoken ! " More, however, was in the right ; genius ij 
 sometimes a great diviner. The Reformation was on 
 the point of inaugm-ating religious liberty, and by that 
 2x 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 pla 
 
 fivil lilserty on an immoveable fouuda- 
 
 Heuiy himself grew wiser by degrees. He began to 
 have doubts about the Roman hierarchy, and to ask 
 himself, whether a priest-king, embarrassed in all the 
 politicoal complications of Europe, could be the head 
 of the Chui-ch of Jesus Christ. Pious individuals in 
 his kingdom recognised in Scripture and in conscience 
 a laAV superior to the law of Rome, and refused to 
 sacrifice at the command of the church their moral 
 convictions, sanctioned by the revelation of God. The 
 hieru/chical system, which claims to absorb man in the 
 papacy, had oppressed the consciences of Christians for 
 centuries. When the Romish Church had required 
 from such as Berengarius, John Huss, Savonarola, 
 John "Wesel, and Luther, the denial of their con- 
 sciences enlightened by the "Word, that is to say, by 
 the voice of God, it had shewn most clearly how gi-eat 
 is the immorality of ultramontane socialism. " If the 
 Christian consents to this enormous demand of the 
 hierarchy," said the most enlightened men ; " if he 
 renounces his own notions of good and evil in favour 
 of the clergy; if he reserves not his right to obey God, 
 who speaks to him in the Bible, rather than men, even 
 if their agreement were universal ; if Heniy VIII., for 
 instance, should sUence his conscience, which condemns 
 his union with his brother's widow, to obey the clerical 
 voice which approves of it ; by that veiy act he re- 
 nounces truth, duty, aud even God himself." But we 
 must add, that if the rights of conscience were begin- 
 ning to be understood in England, it was not about 
 such holy matters as these that the pope and Henry 
 were contending. They were both intriguers ; both 
 dissatisfied; the one desirous of love, the other of power. 
 
 Be that as it may, a feeling of disgust for Rome 
 then took root in the king's heart, and nothing could 
 afterwards eradicate it. He immediately made eveiy 
 exertion to attract Erasmus to London. Indeed, if 
 Henry separated from the pope, his old friends, the 
 Humanists, must be his auxiliaries, and not the hereti- 
 cal doctors. But Erasmus, in a letter dated 1st June, 
 alleged the weak state of his health, the robbers who 
 infested the roads, the wars and rumours of wars then 
 afloat. " Our destiny leads us," he said ; " let us yield 
 to it." It is a fortunate thing for England that Eras- 
 mus was not its reformer. 
 
 "Wolsey noted this movement of his master's, and 
 resolved to make a strenuous effort to reconcile Cle- 
 ment and Heniy; his own safety was at stake. He 
 wrote to the pope, to Campoggio, to Da Casale, to aU 
 Italy. He declared, that if he was ruined the popedom 
 would be ruined too, so far at least as England was 
 concerned : " I would obtain the decretal bull with my 
 own blood, if possible," he added. " Assure the holy 
 father on my life that no mortal eye shall see it." 
 Finally, he ordered the chief-almoner to write to Gar- 
 diner: "If Campeggio does not come, you shall never 
 return to England;" an infallible means of stimulating 
 the secretary's zeal. 
 
 This was the last effort of Heniy VIH. Bom-bon 
 and the Prince of Orange had not employed more zeal 
 a year before in scaling the walls of Rome. Wolsey's 
 fire had inflamed his agents; they argued, entreated, 
 stormed, and threatened. The alarmed cardinals and 
 
 theologians, assembling at the pope's call, discussed the 
 matter, mixing political interests with the affairs of 
 the Church. At last they understood what Wolsey now 
 communicated to them. " Henry is the most energetic 
 defender of the faith," they said. "It is only by 
 acceding to his demand that we can preserve the 
 kingdom of England to the popedom. The army of 
 Charles is in full flight, and that of Francis triumphs." 
 The last of these arguments decided the question ; the 
 pope suddenly felt a great sympathy for Wolsey and 
 for t-he English Chiu'ch ; the emperor was beaten ; there- 
 fore he was wrong. Clement granted everything. 
 
 First, Campeggio was desired to go to London. The 
 pontiff knew that he might reckon on his intelligence 
 and inflexible adhesion to the interests of the hierarchy ; 
 even the cardinal's gout was of use, for it might help 
 to innumerable delays. Next, on the 8th of June, the 
 pope, then at Viterbo, gave a new commission, by 
 which he conferred on Wolsey and Campeggio the 
 power to declare null and void the marriage between 
 Henry and Catherine, with lilierty fi_>r the king and 
 queen to form new matrimonial ties. A few days later 
 he signed the famous decretal by which he himself 
 annulled the marriage between Heniy and Catherine ; 
 but instead of intrusting it to Gardiner, he gave it to 
 Campeggio, with orders not to let it go out of his 
 hands. Clement was not sure of the course of events : 
 if Charles should decidedly lose his power, the bull 
 would be published in the face of Clmsteudom ; if he 
 should recover it, the buU would be burnt. In fact, tlie 
 flames did actually consume, some time afterwards, this 
 decree which Clement had wetted with his tears as he 
 put his name to it. Finally, on the 23rd of July, the 
 pope signed a valid engagement, by which he declared 
 beforehand, that all retractation of these acts should 
 be null and void. Campeggio and Gardiner departed. 
 Charles's defeat was as complete at Rome as at Naide,, ; 
 the justice of his cause had vanished with his army. 
 
 Nothing, therefore, was wanting to Henry's desires. 
 He had Campeggio, the commission, the decretal bull 
 of divorce signed by the pope, and the engagement, 
 giving an irrevocable value to aU those acts. AVolsey 
 was conqueror, — the conqueror of Clement ! . . . 
 He had often wished to mount the restive courser of 
 the popedom, and to guide it at his will, but each time 
 the unruly steed had thrown him from the saddle. 
 Now he was firm in his seat, aud held the horse in 
 hand. Thanks to Charles's reverses, he was master at 
 Rome. The popedom, whether it was pleased or not, 
 must take the road he had chosen, and before which it 
 had so long recoUed. The king's joy was unbounded, 
 and equalled only by Wolsey's. The cardinal, in the 
 fulness of his heart, wishing to shew his gratitude to 
 the oflicers of the Roman court, made them presents 
 of carpets, horses, and vessels of gold. All near Henry 
 felt the effects of his good humour. Anne smiled ; the 
 court indulged in amusements; the great affair wan 
 about to be accomplished ; the New 'Testament to be 
 delivered to the flames. The union between England 
 and the popedom appeared confirmed for ever; and the 
 victory which Rome seemed about to gain in the British 
 isles, might secure her triumph in the west. \mi\ 
 omens! far different were the events in the womb 
 of the future. 
 
TWO SOUT!^ OF TKACIIIXG. 
 
 BOOK XX, 
 
 THE TWO DIVOKCES 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Progifss of the Reformation— Tlie two Divorces— Entreaties to Anne Boleyn 
 —The Letters in the Vatican— Henry to Anne— Henry's Second Letter 
 -Third — Fourth— Wolscy's Ahirm — His ftuitless Proceedings— lie 
 tiirus-Tlie Sweating Sickness— Henry's Fears— New Letters to Anne— 
 Anno falls Sick ; her Peace— Henry writes to lier— Wolsej's Terror— 
 Canipeggio docs not Arrive— All dissemble at Coiu't. 
 
 "While England seemed binding herself to the court of 
 Rome, the general course of the Cliurch and of the 
 world gave stronger presage every day of the ap- 
 proaching emancipation of Cliristendom. The respect 
 which for so many centuries had hedged in tlic Roman 
 pontiff was everywhere shaken ; tlic reform, already 
 firmly established in several states of Germany and 
 Switzerland, was extending in France, the Low Coun- 
 tries, and Hungaiy; and beginning in Sweden, Den- 
 mark, and Scotland. The south of Europe appeared, 
 indeed, submissive to the Romish Church ; but Spain, 
 at lieart, cared little for the pontifical infallibility; 
 and even Italy began to inquire whether the papal 
 dominion was not an obstacle to her prosperity. Eng- 
 land, notwithstanding appearances, was also going to 
 throw off tlie j'oke of the bishops of the Tiber ; and 
 many faithful voices might already be heard, demand- 
 ing that the "Word of God should be acknowledged the 
 supreme authority in the Church. 
 
 The conquest of Christian Britain by the papacy 
 occupied all the seventh centuiy, as we have seen. 
 The sixteenth was the counterpart of the seventh. 
 The struggle which England then had to sustain, in 
 order to free herself from the power that had enslaved 
 her during nine hundred years, was full of sudden 
 changes — like those of the times of Augustine and 
 Oswy. This struggle, indeed, took place in each of 
 the countries where the Church was reformed; but 
 nowhere can it be traced, in all its diverse phases, so 
 distinctly as in Great Britain. The positive work of 
 the Reformation — that which consisted in recovering 
 the truth and life so long lost — was nearly the same 
 eveiywhere; but as regards the negative work — the 
 struggle with the popedom — we might almost say that 
 other nations committed to England the task by which 
 they were all to profit. An imenlightened piety may 
 perhaps look vipon the relations of the court of London 
 with the com-t of Rome, at the period of the Reforma- 
 tion, as void of interest to the faitli ; but history will 
 not think the same. It has been too often forgotten, 
 that the main point in this contest was not the divorce, 
 (which was only the occasion,) but the contest itself 
 and its important consequences. The divorce of Henry 
 Tudor and Catherine of Arragon is a secondary event ; 
 but the divorce of England and the popedom is a pri- 
 mary event, one of the gi-eatest evolutions of histoiy. 
 
 — a creative act (so to speak) which still exercises a 
 normal influence over the destinies of mankind. And, 
 accordingly, everything connected with it is full of in- 
 struction for lis. Already a great number of pious men 
 had attached themselves to the authority of God ; but 
 the king, and with him that part of the nation strangers 
 to the evangelical faith, clung to Rome, which Henry 
 had so valiantly defended. The "Word of God had 
 spiritually separated England from the papacy; the 
 (jreat matter separated it materially. Tiiere is a close 
 relationship between these two divorces, which gives 
 extreme importance to the process between Henry and 
 Catherine. "When a great revolution is to be effected 
 in the bosom of a people, (we have the Reformation 
 particularly in view,) God instructs the minority by 
 the Holy Scriptures, and the majority by the dispen- 
 sations of the Divine government. Facts undertake 
 to j)ush forward those whom the more spiritual voice 
 of the Word leaves behind. England, profiting by 
 this great teaching of facts, has thought it her duty, 
 ever since, to avoid all contact with a power that 
 had deceived Iier ; she has thought that Popery could 
 not have the dominion over a people without infringing 
 on its vitality; and that it was only by emancipating 
 themselves from this priestly dictatorship that modern 
 nations could advance safely in the paths of liberty, 
 order, and greatness. 
 
 For more than a year, as Hemy's complaints testify, 
 Anne continued deaf to his homage. The despairing 
 king saw that he must set other springs to work, and 
 taking Lord Rochford aside, he unfolded his plans to 
 him. The ambitious father promised to do aU in his 
 power to influence his daughter. " The divorce is a 
 settled thing," he said to her ; " you have no control 
 over it. The only question is, whether it shall be you 
 or another who shall give an heir to the crown. Bear 
 in mind, that terrible revolutions threaten England if 
 the king htis no son." Thus did evciything combine 
 to weaken Anue's resolution. The voice of her father, 
 the interests of her country, the king's love, and, doubt- 
 less, some secret ambition, influenced her to grasp the 
 proffered sceptre. These thoughts haunted her in 
 society, in solitude, and even iu her dreams. At one 
 time she imagined herself on the throne, distributing 
 to the people her charities and the "Word of God ; at 
 another, in some obscure exile, leading a useless life, 
 in tears and ignominy. "Ulien, in the sports of her 
 imaguiation, the crown of England appeared all glit- 
 tering before her, she at first rejected it ; but afterwards, 
 that regal ornament seemed so beautiful, and the power 
 it conferred so enviable, that she repelled it less ener- 
 getically. Anne still refused, however, to give the so 
 ardently solicited assent. 
 
 Henry, vexed by her hesitation, wrote to her frc- 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 qncntly, and almost always in Frcucli. As the court 
 of Rome makes use of these letters, which are kept in 
 the Vatican, to abuse the Reformation, we think it our 
 duty to quote them. The theft committed by a cardi- 
 nal has preserved them for us ; and we shall see that, 
 far from supporting the calumnies that have been 
 spread abroad, they tend, on the contrary, to refute 
 tliem. We are far from approving their contents as a 
 whole ; but we cannot deny to the young lady to whom 
 they are addressed, the possession of noble and generous 
 sentiments. 
 
 Henry, unable to support the anguish caused by 
 Anne's refusal, wrote to her, as it is generally sup- 
 posed, in May, 1528: — 
 
 " By revolving in my mind the contents of your last 
 letters, I have put myself into great agony, not know- 
 ing how to interpret them, whether to my disadvantage, 
 as I understand some passages, or not, as I conclude 
 from others. I beseech you earnestly to let me know 
 your real mind as to the love between us two. It is 
 needful for me to obtain this answer of you, having 
 been for a whole year wounded with the dart of love, 
 and not yet assured whether I shall succeed in finding 
 a place in your heart and affection. This imcertainty 
 has hindered me of late from declaring you my mis- 
 tress, lest it should prove that you only entertain for 
 me an ordinaiy regard. But if you please to do the 
 duty of a true and loyal mistress, I promise you, that 
 not only the name shall be given to you, but also that 
 I will take you for my mistress, casting off all others 
 that are in competition with you out of my thoughts 
 and affection, and serving you only. I beg you to 
 give an entire answer to this, my rude letter, that I 
 may know on what and how far I may depend. But 
 if it does not please you to answer me in writing, let 
 me know some place where I may have it by word of 
 
 mouth, and I will go thither with all my heart. No 
 more for fear of tiring you. Written by the hand of 
 him who would willingly remain yours, 
 
 " H. Rex." 
 
 Such wore the affectionate, and we may add (if wo 
 think of the time and the man) the respectful terms 
 employed by Henry in writing to Anne Boleyn. The 
 latter, without making any promises, betrayed some 
 little affection for the king, and added to her reply an 
 emblematical jewel, representing " a solitary damsel in 
 a boat tossed by the tempest," wishing thus to make 
 the prince understand the dangers to which his love 
 exposed her. Henry was ravished, and inunediately 
 replied : — 
 
 " For a present so valuable, that nothing could bo 
 more, (considering the whole of it,) I return you my 
 most hearty thanks, not only on account of the costly 
 diamond, and the ship in which the solitaiy damsel is 
 tossed about, but chiefly for the fine interpretation, 
 and the too humble submission which your goodness 
 hath made to me. Your favour I will always seek to 
 preserve, and this is my Arm intention and hope, 
 according to the matter, cmt illic aut nullibi. 
 
 " The demonstrations of your affections are such, the 
 fine thoughts of your letter so cordially expressed, that 
 they oblige me for ever to honour, love, and serve you 
 sincerely. I beseech you to continue in the same firm 
 and constant purpose, and assuring you that, on my 
 part, I will not only make you a suitable return, but 
 outdo you, so great is the loyalty of the heart that 
 desires to please you. I desire, also, that if, at any 
 time before this, I have in any way offended you, that 
 you would give me the same absolutiou that you ask, 
 assuring you, that hereafter my heart shall be dedicated 
 to you alone. I wish my person were so too. God 
 can do it, if He pleases, to wJiom I prai/ once a-dwj for 
 that end, hoping, that at length mti prai/ers will be heard. 
 I wish the time may be short, but I shall think it long 
 till we see one another. AYritten by the hand of that 
 secretary, who in heart, body, and will, is 
 
 " Your loyal and most faithful Servant, 
 
 "H. T. Rex." 
 
 ,JA— - m 
 
ANNE CONSENTS TO MAEEY HENRY. 
 
 Heuiy was a passionate lover, ami history is not 
 called upon to vindicate that cruel prince ; but in the 
 preceding letter wc cannot discover the language of a 
 seducer. It is impossible to imagine the king praying 
 to God once a-day for anything but a lawful iniiou. 
 These daily prayers seem to ])roscnt the matter iu a 
 different light from that which Komanist writers have 
 imagined. 
 
 llcury thought himself more advanced than he really 
 was. Anno then shrank back; embarrassed by the 
 jmsition she licld at court, she begged for one less 
 elevated. The king submitted, although very vexed at 
 lirst : 
 
 '• Nevertheless that it bclongeth not to a gentleman," 
 he wrote to her, " to put his mistress in the situation of 
 a servant, yet, by following your wishes, I would 
 willingly concede it, if by that means you are less 
 uncomfortable in the place you shall choose than in 
 tluit where you have been placed by me. I thank you 
 most cordially that you arc ijlcascd still to bear me iu 
 your remembrance. 
 
 "H. T." 
 
 Aune, liavhig retired in May to Ilevcr Castle, her 
 father's residence, the king wrote to her as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 " My ]\Iistress and my Friend, 
 " My heart and I surrender ourselves into your 
 hands, and we supplicate to be commended to your 
 good graces, and that by absence your affections may 
 not be diminished to us. For that would bo to aug- 
 ment our pain, which would be a gi-eat pity, since 
 absence gives enough, and more than I ever thought 
 could be felt. This brings to my mind a fact in as- 
 tronomy, which is, that the longer the days are, the 
 farther off is the sun, and yet the more scorcliing is his 
 heat. Thus is it with our love ; absence has placed 
 distance between ns, nevertheless fervour increases, at 
 least on my part. I hope the same from you, assuring 
 yon, that in my case the anguish of absence is so groat 
 that it would be intolerable were it not for the firm 
 hope I luxve of your indissoluble affection towards me. 
 In order to remind you of it, and because I cannot in 
 person be in your presence, I send you the thing which 
 comes nearest that is possible, that is to say, my 
 picture, and the whole device, which you already know 
 of, set in bracelets ; wishing myself in their place when 
 it pleases you. This is from the hand of 
 " Your Servant and Friend, 
 
 ^'11. T. Rex." 
 
 Pressed by her father, her uncles, and by Henry, 
 Aime's firmness was shaken. That crown, rejected by 
 Itenee and by Margaret, dazzled the young English- 
 woman ; every day she found some new charm in it ; 
 and gradually familiarizing herself with her new future, 
 she said at last : " If the king becomes free, I shall be 
 willing to marry him." This was a great faidt; but 
 Ileniy was at the height of joy. 
 
 The courtiers watched with observant eyes these 
 developments of the king's affection, and were already 
 preparing the homage which they proposed to lay at 
 
 Anne Boleyn's feet. But there was one man at court 
 whom Henry's resolution filled with sorrow; this was 
 AVolsey. He had been the first to suggest to the king 
 the idea of separating from Catherine ; but if Anne is 
 to succeed her, there must be no divorce. He had first 
 alienated Catherine's party; he was now going to 
 irritate that of the Boleyns ; accordingly, he began to 
 fear, that whatever might be the issue of this affair, it 
 would cause his ruin. He took frequent walks in his 
 park at Hampton Court, accompanied by the French 
 ambassador, the confidant of his sori'ows : " I would 
 willingly lose one of my fingers," he said, " if I could 
 only have two hours' conversation with the King of 
 France." At another time, fancying all England was 
 pursuing him, he said with alarm, " Tlie king my master 
 and all his subjects will cry murder against me ; they 
 will fall ui)on me more fiercely than on a Turk, and 
 all Christendom will rise against mo !" The next day, 
 Wolsey, to gain the French ambassador, gave him a 
 long history of what he had done for France against the 
 wis/ies of all England. " I need much dexterity in my 
 affairs," he added, " and must use a terrible alchemij." 
 But alchemy could not save him. Karcly has so much 
 anguish been vailed beneath such grandeur. Du Bellay 
 was moved with pity at the sight of the unhappy man's 
 sufferings. "When he gives way," he wrote to Mont- 
 morency, " it lasts a day together ; — he is continually 
 sighing. — ^You have never seen a man in such anguish 
 of mind." 
 
 Ill truth, Wolsey 's reason was tottering. That fatal 
 idea of the divorce was the cause of all liis woes; and, 
 to be able to recall it, he would have given, not a, finger 
 only, but an arm, and perhaps more. It was too late ! 
 lleniy had started his car down the steep, and whoever 
 attempted to stop it would have been crushed beneath 
 its wheels. However, the cardinal tried to obtain 
 something. Francis I. had intercepted a letter from 
 Charles V., in which the emperor spoke of the divorce 
 as likely to raise the English nation in revolt. Wolsey 
 caused this letter to be read to the king, iu the hope 
 that it would excite his serious apprehensions; but 
 Henry only frowned, and Du Bellay, to whom the 
 monarch ascribed the report on these troubles fore- 
 boded by Charles, received " a gentle lash." This was 
 the sole result of the manoeuvre. 
 
 Wolsey now resolved to broach this important sub- 
 ject in a straightforward manner. Tlie step might 
 prove his ruin; but if he succeeded, he was saved, 
 and the popedom with him. Accordingly, one day, 
 (shortly before the sweating sickness broke out, says 
 Du Bellay, probably in June, 1528,) Wolsey openly 
 prayed the king to renounce his design ; his own repu- 
 tation, he told bun, the ])ro.sperity of England, the 
 peace of Europe, the safely of the church, — all re- 
 quired it; besides, the pope would never grant the 
 divorce. While the cardinal was speaking, Henry's 
 face grew black ; and before he concluded, the king's 
 auger broke out. "The king used terrible words," 
 said Du Bellay. He would have giveu a thousand 
 AVolseys for one Anne Boleyn. " No other than God 
 shall take her from me," was his most decided resolu- 
 tion. 
 
 Wolsey, now no longer doubting of his disgrace, 
 began to take his measui-es accordingly. He com- 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 mencod building in several places, in order to wlu tlae 
 affections of the common people ; he took great care 
 of liis bishoprics, in order that they might ensure him 
 an easy retreat ; he -was affable to the courtiers ; and 
 thus covered the earth Tvith flowers to deaden his fall. 
 Then he would sigh as if he were disgusted with 
 honours, and would celebrate the charms of solitude. 
 He did more than this. Seeing plainly that the best 
 ■way of recovering the king's favour Avould be to con- 
 ciliate Anne Boleyn, he made her the most handsome 
 presents, and assured her that all his efforts would now 
 be directed to raise her to the throne of England. 
 Anne, believing these declarations, rcjilied, that she 
 would help him iu her turn, " as long as any breath 
 was in her body." Even Henry had no doubt that the 
 cardinal had profited by his lesson. 
 
 Thus were all parties restless and uneasy,— Henry 
 desiring to marry Lady Anne, the courtiers to get rid 
 of Wolsey, and the latter to remain iu power, — when 
 a serious event appeared to put eveiy one in harmony 
 with his neighbour. About the middle of June, the 
 terrible sweating sickness {sudor cingliciis) broke out in 
 England. The citizens of London, " thick as flies," 
 said Du Bellay, suddenly feeling pains in the head and 
 heart, rushed from the streets or shops to their cham- 
 bers, began to sweat, and took to their beds. The 
 disease made frightful and rapid progress, a burning 
 heat preyed on their limbs ; if they chanced to uncover 
 thomsolvcs the perspiration ceased, delirium came on, 
 and in four liours the victim was dead, and " stiff as a 
 wall," says the French ambassador. Every family was 
 in mourning. Sir Thomas More, kneeling by his 
 daughter's bedside, burst into tears, and called upon 
 God to save his beloved Margaret. Wolsey, who was 
 at Hampton Court, suspecting nothing amiss, arrived 
 iu London, as usual, to preside in the court of Chancery; 
 but he ordered his horses to be saddled again imme- 
 diately, and rode back. In four days 2000 persons 
 died in London. 
 
 The court was at first safe from the contagion ; but 
 on the fourth day one of Anne Boleyu's ladies was 
 attacked : it was as if a thunderbolt had fallen on the 
 palace. The king removed with all haste, and stayed 
 at a jilace twelve miles off, for he was not prepared to 
 die. He ordered Anne to return to her father, invited 
 the queen to join him, and took up his residence at 
 "Waltham. Ilis real conscience awoke only in the 
 presence of death. Four of his attendants and a friar, 
 Anne's confessor, as it would appear, falling ill, the 
 king departed for Ilunsdon. He had been there two 
 days only, when Powis, Carew, Carton, and others of 
 his court, were carried off iu two or three hours. 
 Henry liad mot an enemy whom he could not van- 
 quish. He quitted the place attacked by the disease ; 
 he removed to another quarter ; and when the sickness 
 laid hold of any of his attendants in his new retreat, 
 he again left that for a new asylum. Terror froze his 
 blood; he wandered about pursued by that terrible 
 scythe whose sweep might perhaps reach him ; he cut 
 off all communication, even with his servants ; shut 
 himself up in a room at the top of an isolated tower ; 
 ate all alone, and would sec no one but his physician ; 
 he prayed, fasted, confessed, became reconciled with 
 the queen; took the sacrament every Sunday and feast 
 
 day; received his Maker, to use the words of a gentle- 
 man of his chamber ; and the queen and "Wolsey did 
 the same. Nor was that all : his councillor. Sir Brian 
 Tuke, was sick in Essex ; but that mattered not ; the 
 king ordered him to come to liira, even in his litter ; 
 and on the 20th of June, Honrj', after hearing three 
 masses, (he had never done so much before in one day,) 
 said to Tuke : "I want you to write mi/ ivill." He was 
 not the only one who took that precaution. " There 
 were a Imndred ihonsanU made," says Du Bellay. 
 
 During this time Anne, iu her retirement at Hever, 
 was calm and collected ; she prayed much, particularly 
 for the king and for Wolsey. But Henry, far less 
 submissive, was very anxious. "The uneasiness my 
 doubts about yoin* health gave me," he wrote to her, 
 "disturbed and frightened me exceedingly; but now, 
 since you have as yet felt nothing, I hope it is ■with 
 you as it is with us. . . I beg you, my entirely be- 
 loved, not to frighten yourself, or be too uneasy at our 
 absence, for wherever I am, 1 am yours. And yet we 
 must sometimes submit to our misfortunes, for whoever 
 will struggle against fate, is generally but so much the 
 farther from gaining his end. "Wherefore, comfort 
 yom-self and take courage, and make this misfortune 
 as easy to you as you can." 
 
 As he received no news, Hemy's uneasiness in- 
 creased ; he sent to Anne a messenger and a letter : 
 " To acquit myself of the duty of a tnie servant, I send 
 you this letter, beseeching you to apprise me of your 
 welfare, which I pray may continue as long as I desire 
 mine own." 
 
 Henry's fears were well founded ; the malady be- 
 came more severe ; in four liours eighteen persons died 
 at the Archbishop of Canterbury's ; Anne Boleyn her- 
 self, and her brother, also caught the infection. The 
 king was exceedingly agitated ; Anne alone appeared 
 calm ; the strength of her cbaracter raised her above 
 exaggerated fears, but her enemies ascribed her calm- 
 ness to other motives. " Her ambition is stronger than 
 death," they said. "The king, queen, and cardinal 
 tremble for their lives, but she , . . she would 
 die content if she died a queen." Henry once more 
 changed his residence. All the gentlemen of his privy- 
 chamber were attacked with one exception : " he re- 
 mained alone, keeping himself apart," says Du Bellay, 
 and confessed eveiy day. He wrote again to Anne, 
 sending her his physician. Dr. Butts : "The most dLs- 
 pleasing news that could occur came to me suddenly at 
 night. On three accounts I must lament it. One, to 
 hear of the illness of my mistress, whom I esteem more 
 than all the world, and whose health I desire as I do 
 my own. I woidd willingly bear half of what you 
 suffer to cure you. The second, from the fear that 
 I sliall have to endure my wearisome absence much 
 longer, which has hitherto given mo all the vexation 
 that was possible ; and when gloomy thoughts fill my 
 mind, then I pray God to remove far from me such 
 troublesome and rebellious ideas. The third, because 
 my physician, in whom I have most confidence, is 
 absent. Yet, from the want of him, I send you my 
 second, and hope that he Avill soon make you well. I 
 shall then love him more than ever. I beseech you to 
 bo guided by his advice iu your illness. By your doing 
 this I hope soon to see you again, which will be to mo 
 
THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 
 
 a greater comfort than all the precious jewels in the 
 world." 
 
 The jiostilence soon broke out with more violonce 
 around Henry; he lied in alarm to Hatfield, taking 
 with him only the gentlemen of his chamber; he next 
 quitted this place for Tittenhanger, a house belonging 
 to "Wolsey, witence lie commanded general processions 
 throughout the kingdom, in order to avert this scourge 
 of God. At the same time he wrote to Wolsey: "As 
 soon as any one falls ill in the place where you arc, 
 fly to another ; and go thus from place to place." The 
 poor cardinal was still more alarmed than Henry. As 
 soon as he felt the slightest perspiration, he fancied 
 himself a dead man. " I entreat your highness," he 
 wrote trembling to the king, on the 5th of Jidy, " to 
 shew yourself full of pity for my soul ; these are, per- 
 haps, the last words I shall address to you ; . . . 
 the whole world will see by my last testament that you 
 have not bestowed your favour upon an ungi-ateful 
 man." The king, perceiving that Wolsey's mind was 
 affected, bade him " put apart fear and fantasies," and 
 wear a cheerful humour in the midst of death. 
 
 At last the sickness began to diminish, and imme- 
 diately the desire to see Anne revived in Henry's 
 bosom. On the 18th of August she re-appeared at 
 court, and all the king's thoughts were now bent on 
 the divorce. 
 
 But this business seemed to proceed in inverse ratio 
 to his desires. There was no news of Campeggio ; was 
 he lost in the Alps or at sea? Did his gout detain 
 him in some village, or was the announcement of his 
 departure only a feint? Anne Boleyn herself was 
 uneasy, for she attached great importance to Cam- 
 peggio's coming. If the Church annulled the king's 
 first marriage, Anne, seeing the principal obstacle re- 
 moved, thought she might accept Heniy's hand. She 
 therefore wrote to Wolsey: '-J long to hear from you 
 news of the legate, for I do hope (an' they come from 
 you) they shall be very good." The king added in a 
 postscript : " The not hearing of the legate's arrival in 
 France causeth us somewhat to muse. Notwithstand- 
 ing, we trust, by your diligence and vigilancy, (with 
 the assistance of Almighty God,) shortly to be eased 
 out of that trouble. 
 
 But still there was no news. While waiting for the 
 long-dosired ambassador, every one at the English 
 court played his part as well as he could. Anne, 
 whether from conscience, prudence, or modesty, re- 
 fused the honours which the king would have showered 
 upon her, and never approached Catherine but with 
 marks of profound respect. Wolsey had the look of 
 dcsiiiug the divorce, while in reality he dreaded it, as 
 fated to cause his ruin and that of the popedom. 
 Henry strove to conceal the motives which impelled 
 him to separate from the queen; to the bishops he 
 spoke of his conscience, to the nobility of an heir, and 
 to all of the sad obligation which compelled him to put 
 away so justly beloved a princess. In the meanwhile, 
 he seemed to live on the best tci-ms with her, from 
 what Du Bellay says. But Catherine was the one who 
 best dissembled her sentiments ; she lived with the 
 kuig as during their happiest days, treated Aoine with 
 every kindness, adopted an elegant costume, encour- 
 aged music and dancing in her apartments, often ap- 
 
 peared in public, and seemed desirous of captivating 
 by her gracious smiles the good-will of England. This 
 was a mournful comedy, destined to end in tragedy 
 full of tears and agony. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Covci-dale and lusiiiration— lie undertakes to Translate the Scriptnrea— 
 His Joy and Spiritual Songs— Tyball and tlie Laymen— Covcrdalo 
 preaclies at Bumpstead — Revival at Colchester — Incomplete Societies 
 and the New Testament — Persecution — Monmouth arrested and re- 
 
 WniLE these scenes were acting in the roj-al palaces, 
 far different discussions were going on among tho 
 people. After having dwelt for some time on the agi- 
 tations of the court, we gladly return to the lowly dis- 
 ciples of the Divine Word. The Reformation of Eng- 
 land (and this is its characteristic) brings before us by 
 turns the king upon his throne, and the laborious arti- 
 san in his humble cottage ; and between these two 
 extremes we meet with the doctor in his college, and 
 the priest in his pulpit. 
 
 Among the young men trained at Cambridge under 
 Barnes's instruction, and who had aided him at the 
 time of his trial, was Miles Coverdale, afterwards 
 bishop of Exeter, a man distinguished by his zeal for 
 the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Some time after the 
 prior's fall, on Easter Eve, 1527, Coverdale and Crom- 
 well met at the house of Sir Thomas More, when the 
 former exhorted the Cambridge student to apply him- 
 self to the study of sacred learning. The lapse of his 
 unhappy master had alarmed Coverdale, and he felt 
 the necessity of withdrawing from that outward acti- 
 vity which had proved so fatal to Barnes. He, there- 
 fore, turned to the Scriptures — read them again and 
 again — and perceived, like Tyndale, that the reforma- 
 tion of the Church must be effected by the Word of 
 God. The inspiration of that Word — the only founda- 
 tion of its sovereign authority — had struck Coverdale. | 
 " WHierever the Scripture is known, it reformeth all 
 things. And why? Because it is given bi/ the inspi- 
 ration of God." This fundamental principle of tlie 
 Reformation in England must, in every age, be that 
 of the Church. 
 
 Coverdale found happiness in his studies : " Now," 
 he said, " I begin to taste of Holy Scriptures ! Now, 
 honour be to God ! I am set to the most sweet smell 
 of holy letters. He did not stop there, but thought it 
 his duty to attempt in England the work which Tyn- 
 dale was prosecuting in Germany. Tiie Bible was so 
 important in the eyes of these Christians, that two 
 translations were undertaken simultaneously. " Wliy 
 should other nations," said Coverdale, " be more plen- 
 teously provided for with the Scriptures in their 
 mother-tongue than we?" — "Beware of translating 
 the Bible ! " exclaimed the partisans of the schoolmen ; 
 " your labour will only make divisions in the faith and 
 in the people of God." — " God has now given His 
 Church," replied Coverdale, "the gifts of translating and 
 of printing ; we must improve them." And if any friends 
 
660 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 spoke of Tyndale's translation, he answered : " Do not 
 you know, that when many are starting together, eveiy 
 one doth his best to be nighest the mark?" "But 
 Scripture ought to exist in Latin only," objected the 
 priests. — " No," replied Coverdale again, " the Holy 
 Ghost is as much the author of it in tlie Hebrew, 
 Greek, French, Dutch, and English, as in Latin. 
 .... The Word of God is of like authority, in 
 what language soever the Holy Ghost speaketh it." 
 This does not mean that translations of Holy Scripture 
 are inspired, but that the Word of God, faithfully 
 translated, always possesses a Divine authority. 
 
 Coverdale determined, therefore, to translate the 
 Bible; and, to procure the necessary books, he wrote 
 to Cromwell, who, during his travels, had made a col- 
 lection of these precious writings. " Nothing in the 
 world I desire but books," he wrote; "like Jacob, you 
 have drunk of the dew of heaven. ... I ask 
 to drink of your waters." Cromwell did not refuse 
 Coverdale his treasures. "Since the Holy Ghost 
 moves you to bear the cost of this work," exclaimed 
 the latter, " God gives me boldness to labour in 
 tlie same." He commenced without delay, saying: 
 " Whosoever believeth not the Scripture, bclieveth not 
 Clirist; and whoso refuseth it, refuseth God also." 
 Such were the foundations of the Eeformed Church 
 in England. 
 
 Coverdale did not undertake to translate the Scrip- 
 tures as a mere literary task : the Spirit which had 
 inspired him spoke to his heart; and tasting their 
 life-giving promises, he expressed his happiness in 
 pious songs : — 
 
 Ee glnd now, .ill ye Christen men. 
 
 And let lis rejoyce unfaynedly. 
 The kindnesse cannot be written with penne,' 
 
 That we have receaved of God's mercy ; 
 AVhose love toward us hath never ende • 
 He hath done for us as a frcnde ; 
 
 Kow let us thanke him hartely. 
 
 These lovynge words he spake to me ; 
 
 I wyll delj'vcr thy soule from payne ; 
 I am dcsposed to do for thee, 
 
 And to myne owne selfe thee to rctaync. 
 Thou Shalt be with nie, for thou art mync ; 
 And I with thee, for I am thyne ; 
 
 Such is ray love, I cannot layne. 
 
 Tlicy wyll shed out my precyons bloudJ, 
 
 And take away my lyfe also ; 
 Which I wyll sutTre all for thy good : 
 
 Beleve this sure, where ever thou go. 
 For I wyll yet ryse up agayne ; 
 Thy synnes I beare, though it be payno. 
 
 To make thee safe and free from wo. 
 
 Coverdale did not remain long in the 
 solitude he desired. The study of the 
 Bible, which had attracted him to it, 
 soon drew him out of it. A revival 
 was going on in Essex ; John Tyball, 
 an inhabitant of Bumpstead, having 
 learnt to find in Jesus Christ the true 
 bread from heaven, did not stop there. 
 One day as he was reading the First 
 Epistle to the Corinthians, these words : 
 " Eat of this bread" and " drink of this 
 Clip" repeated four times within a few 
 verses, convinced him that there was 
 uo transubstantiation. "A priest has 
 no power to create the body of the 
 Lord," said he ; " Christ truly is present 
 in the Eucharist, but He is there only 
 for him that believet/i, and by a spiritual 
 presence and action only." Tyball, 
 disgusted with the Koniish clergy and 
 worship, and convinced that Christians 
 are called to a universal priesthood, 
 soon thought that men could do with- 
 out a special ministry ; and without 
 denying the offices mentioned in Scripture, as some 
 Christians have done since, he attached no impor- 
 tance to them. "Priesthood is not necessary," ho 
 said ; " every layman may administer the sacraments 
 as well as a priest." The minister of Bumpstead, one 
 Richard Foxe, and next a greyfriar of Colchester, 
 named Meadow, were successively converted by Tyball's 
 energetic preaching. 
 
 Coverdale, who was living not far from these parts, 
 having heard speak of this religious revival, came to 
 Bumpstead, and went into the pulpit in the spring of 
 1528, to proclaim the treasures contained in Scripture. 
 Among his hearers was an Augustine monk, named 
 Topley, who was supplying Foxe's place during his 
 absence. This monk, while staying at the parsonage, 
 had found a copy of Wickliffe's " Wicket," vi'hich he read 
 eagerly. His conscience was wounded by it, and all 
 seemed to totter about him. He had gone to church 
 full of doubt ; and after divine service he waited upon 
 the preacher, exclaiming: "O my sins, my sins!" 
 " Confess yourself to God," said Coverdale, " and not 
 to a priest. God accepteth the confession which 
 Cometh from the heart, and blotteth out all your sins." 
 The monk believed in the forgiveness of God, and be- 
 came a zealous evangelist for the surrounding country. 
 The divine Word had hardly lighted one torch, be- 
 fore that kindled another. At Colchester, in the same 
 
REVIVAL AT COLCHESTER. 
 
 GSl 
 
 i^Wc 
 
 county, a -worthy man, named Pykas, had received a 
 copy of the Epistles of St. Paul from his mother, 
 with this advice : " Jly son, live accordinj^ to these 
 •writings, and not according to the teaching of the 
 clcrgj-." Some time after, Pykas having bought a 
 New Testament, and '-read it thoroughly many times," 
 ft total change took place in him. "We must be 
 baptized by the Holy Ghost," he said ; and these words 
 passed like a breath of life over his simple-minded 
 hearers. One day, Pykas having learnt that Bilney, 
 the first of the Cambridge doctors who had known the 
 power of God's Word, was preaching at Ipswich, he 
 proceeded thither, for he never refused to listen to a 
 priest, when that priest proclaimed the truth. "Oh! 
 what a sermon! how full of the Holy Ghost!" ex- 
 claimed Pykas. 
 
 From that period meetings 
 of the brothers in Christ (for 
 thus they were called) i ncreased 
 in number. They read ''■cXew 
 Testament, and each impiittd 
 to the others what be h id il 
 ceived for the instiuction of 
 all. Oneday when the t«ent} 
 fourth chapter of Matthei\ had 
 been read, Pykas, ^^ho w i 
 sometimes wrong in the | u 
 itual interpretation of ^51.111 
 tiire, remarked: "AMien tu 
 Lord declares that not one 
 <if the temple shall be left 1 1 
 another, He speaks ot th 
 haughty priests who pei t- u 
 those -whom they call htii-ti 
 and who pretend I0 be tl 
 temple of God. God 
 destroy them all." AftLi pio- 
 testing .against the pue^t, he 
 protested against the host 
 "The real body of Je u^ 
 Christ is in the "\^old, ' he 
 said ; " God is in the "W ord , 
 the Word is in God God 
 and the Word cannot be sepa- 
 rated. Christ is the Iimiis 
 Word that nourishes the ^oul 
 These humble preachei^ in- 
 creased. Even women knew 
 
 the Epistles and Gospels by heart; Marion Matthew, 
 Dorothy Long, Catherine Swain, Alice Gardiner, and 
 above all, Gyrling's wife, who had been in service 
 with a priest lately burnt for heresy, took part in these 
 Gospel meetings. Aud it was not in cottages only 
 that the glad tidings were then proclaimed ; Bower 
 Hall, the residence of the squires of Bumpstead, was 
 open to Foxe, Topley, and Tyball, who often read 
 the Holy Scriptures in the great hall of the mansion, 
 in the presence of the master and all their household : 
 a humble Reformation more real than that effected by 
 HeniyVIII. 
 
 There was, however, some diversity of opinion 
 among these brethren. "All who have begun to be- 
 lieve," said Tyball, Pykas, and others, " ought to meet 
 together to hear the Word, and increase in faith. We 
 
 pray in common . . . and that constitutes a 
 church." Coverdale, Bilney, and Latimer, willingly 
 recognised these incomplete societies, in which tho 
 members met simply as difciples ; they believed them 
 necessary at a period when the Church was forming. 
 These societies (in the reformers' views) proved that 
 organization has not the priority in the Christian 
 Church, as Rome maintains, and that this priority 
 belongs to the faith and the life. But this imperfect 
 form they also regarded as provisional. To prevent 
 numerous dangers, it was necessary that this society 
 should be succeeded by another, the Church of the New 
 Testament, with its elders or bishops, and deacons. 
 The AVord, they thought, rendered a ministry of the 
 Word necessary; and for its proper exercise, not only 
 piety was required, but a knowledge of the sacred 
 
 languages, the gift of eloquence, its exercise and per- 
 fecUon. However, there was no division among these 
 Christians upon secondaiy matters. 
 
 For some time the Bishop of London watched this 
 movement with imeasiuess. He caused Hacker to be 
 arrested, who, for six years past, had gone from house 
 to house reading the Bible in London and Essex ; ex- 
 amined and threatened him, inquired carefully after 
 the names of those who had shewn him hospitality; 
 and the poor man, in alarm, had given up about forty 
 of his brethren. Sebastian Harris, priest of Kensing- 
 ton, Forman, rector of All Hallows, John and William 
 Pykas. and many others, were summoned before the 
 bishop. They were taken to prison ; they were led 
 before the judges ; they were put in the stocks ; they 
 were tormented in a thousand ways. Their minds 
 
es2 
 
 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Lccamc confused; their thoughts wanclercd; and many 
 made the confessions required by their persecutors. 
 
 The adversaries of the Gospel, proud of this success, 
 now desired a more glorious victory. If they could 
 not reach Tyndale, had they not in London the patron 
 of his work, Monmouth, the most influential of tlie 
 merchants, and a follower of the true faith? The 
 clergy had made religion their business, and the 
 Eeformation restored it to the people. Nothing offend- 
 ed the priests so much, as that laymen should claim 
 the right to believe without their intervention, and 
 even to propagate the faith. Sir Thomas More, one 
 of the most amiable men of the sixteenth century, 
 participated in their hatred. lie wrote to Cochloeus : 
 "Germany now daily bringeth forth monsters more 
 deadly than what Africa was wont to do ; but, alas ! 
 she is not alone. Numbers of Englishmen, who would 
 not a few years ago even hear Luther's name mentioned, 
 are now publishing his praises ! England is now like 
 the sea, which swells and heaves before a great storm, 
 without any wind stirring it." More felt particularly 
 irritated, because the boldness of the Gospellers had 
 succeeded to the timidity of the Lollards. "The 
 heretics," he said, " have put off hypocrisy, and put 
 on impudence." He therefore resolved to set his hand 
 to the work. 
 
 On the 14th of May, 1529, Monmouth was in his 
 shop, when an usher came and summoned him to 
 appear before Sir J. Dauucies, one of the privy council. 
 The pious merchant obeyed, striving to persuade him- 
 self that he was wanted on some matter of business ; 
 but in this he was deceived, as he soon found out. 
 "What letters and books have you lately received 
 from abroad ? " asked, with some severity. Sir Thomas 
 More, who, with Sir William Kingston, was Sir John's 
 colleague. — "None," replied Monmouth. "What aid 
 have you given to any persons living on the Conti- 
 nent?" — " None, for these last throe years. William 
 Tyndale abode with me six months," he continued, 
 " and his life was what a good priest's ought to be. I 
 gave him ten pounds at the period of his departure, 
 but nothing since. Besides, he is not the only one I 
 have helped ; the Bishop of London's chaplain, for 
 instance, has received of me more than £50." "What 
 books have you in your possession ? " — The merchant 
 named the New Testament and some other works. 
 "All these books have lain more than two years on my 
 table, and I never heard that either priests, friars, or 
 laymen, learnt any great errors from them." More 
 tossed his head. "It is a hard matter," he used to say, 
 " to put a diy stick in the fire without its burning, or 
 to nourish a snake in our bosom and not be stung by 
 it. — That is enough," he continued, "we shall go and 
 .search your house." Not a paper escaped their curios- 
 ity; but they found nothing to compromise Monmouth: 
 he was, however, sent to the Tower. 
 
 After some interval the merchant was again brought 
 before his judges. "You are accused," said More, 
 " of having bought Martin Luther's tracts ; of main- 
 taining those who are translating the Scriptures into 
 English ; of subscribing to get the New Testament 
 printed in EngHsh, with or without glosses ; of having 
 imported it into the kingdom ; and, lastly, of having 
 said that faith alone is sufficient to save a man." 
 
 There was matter enough to burn several men. 
 Monmouth, feeling convinced that Wolsey alone had 
 power to deliver him, resolved to apply to him. "What 
 will become of my poor workmen in London and in 
 the country, during my imprisonment ? " he wrote to 
 the cardinal. " They must have their money every 
 week ; who will give it them ? . . . Besides, I 
 make considerable sales in foreign countries, wliicli 
 bring large returns to his majesty's customs. If I re- 
 main in prison this commerce is stopped, and of course 
 all the proceeds for the exchequer." Wolsey, who 
 was as much a statesman as a churchman, began to 
 melt; on the eve of a struggle with the pope and the 
 emperor, he feared, besides, to make the people dis- 
 contented. Monmouth was released from prison. As 
 alderman, and then as sheriff of London, he was faith- 
 ful until death, and ordered in his last will that thirty 
 sermons should be preached by the most evangelical 
 ministers in England, " to make known the holy Word 
 of Jesus Christ." " That is better," he thought, " than 
 founding masses." The Eeformation shewed, in the 
 sixteenth century, that great activity in commerce 
 might be allied to great piety. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 rditical Changes— Fresli Instrartiotis from tlje Pope to Campeggio— His 
 delays— He unbosoms himself to Fiaucis— A Predictiou — Arrival of 
 Campeggio — Wolsej-'s Uneasiness — Henrj-'s Satisfaction — The Car- 
 dinal's Project — Campeggio's Reception — First Interview with the 
 Queen and with the King— Useless Efforts to make Campeggio pai-t 
 with the Decretal— The Nuncio's Conscience— Public Opinion— Mea- 
 sures taken by the King— His Speech to the Lords and Aldermen— 
 Festivities— Wolsey seeks French Support— Contrariety. 
 
 While these persecutions were agitating the fields and 
 the capital of England, all had changed in the ecclesi- 
 astical world, because all had changed in the political. 
 The pope, pressed by Henry VIII., and intimidated 
 by the armies of Francis I., had granted the decretal 
 and despatched Campeggio. But, on a sadden, there 
 was a new evolution; a change of events brought a 
 change of counsels. Doria had gone over to the em- 
 peror ; his fleet had restored abundance to Naples. 
 The army of Francis I., ravaged by famine and pes- 
 tilence, had capitulated ; and Charles V., triumphant 
 in Italy, had said proudly to the pope : " We are deter- 
 mined to defend the Queen of England against King 
 Henry's injustice." 
 
 Charles having recovered hia superiority, the af- 
 frighted pope opened his eyes to the justice of Cath- 
 erine's cause. " Send four messengers after Cam- 
 peggio," said he to his officers ; " and let each take a 
 different road ; bid them travel with all speed, and 
 deliver our despatches to him." They overtook the 
 legate, who opened the pope's letters. " In the first 
 place," said Clement VH. to him, " protract your jour- 
 ney. In the second place, when you reach England, 
 use eveiy endeavour to reconcile the king and queen. 
 In the third place, if you do not succeed, persuade the 
 queen to take the veil. And, in the last place, if she 
 
ANNE'S LETTER TO WOLSEY. 
 
 refuses, do not pronounce any sentence fiivourablo to 
 tlie divorce without a new and express order from me. 
 Tliis is the esscutial : Sumimtm et maximum mandalum." 
 The ambassador of the sovereign pontiff had a mission 
 to do nothing. This instruction is sometimes as effec- 
 tive as any. 
 
 Campegs'o, the youngest of the cardinals, was the 
 most intelligent and the slowest ; and this slowness 
 caused his selection by the pope. He understood his 
 master. If AVolsey was Henry's spur to urge on Cam- 
 peggio, the latter was Clement's bridle to check "Wol- 
 sey. One of the judges of the divorce was about to 
 pull forwards, the other backwards ; thus the business 
 stood a chance of not advancing at all, which was just 
 what the pope recpiired. 
 
 The legate, vciy eager to relax his speed, spent 
 three months on his journey from Italy to England. 
 He should IiRve embarked for France on the 23rd of 
 July, but the end of August was ajiproaching, and no 
 one knew in that country what had become of him. 
 At length they learnt that he had reached Lyons on 
 the 22nd of August. The English ambassador in 
 France sent him horses, carriages, plate, and money, 
 in order to hasten his progress ; the legate complained 
 of the (lout, and Gardiner found the greatest difficulty 
 in getting him to move. Henry wrote every day to 
 Anne Boleyn, complaining of the slow progress of the 
 nuncio. " lie arrived in Paris last Sunday or Mon- 
 day," he says, at the beginning of September. " Mon- 
 day next we shall hear of his arrival in Calais, and 
 then I shall obtain what I have so longed for, to God's 
 pleas>n-o and both our comforts." 
 
 At the same time, this impatient prince sent message 
 after message, to accelerate the legate's rate of tra- 
 velling. 
 
 Anne began to desire a future which surpassed all 
 that her youthful imagination had conceived, and her 
 agitated heart expanded to the breath of hope. She 
 wrote to Wolsey : 
 
 " This shall be to give unto your gi-ace, as I am most 
 bound, my humble thanks for the great pain and tra- 
 vail that your gi-ace doth take in studying, by your 
 wisdom and great diligence, how to bring to pass hon- 
 ourably the greatest wealth [well-being] that is pos- 
 sible to como to any creature living; and in especial 
 remembering how wretched and unworthy I am in 
 comparison to his highness. . . . Now, good my 
 lord, your discretion may consider as yet how little it 
 is in my power to recompense you but alonely [only] 
 with my good -n-ill ; the which I assure you, look 
 what thing in this world I can imagine to do you 
 pleasure in, you shall find me the gladdest woman in 
 the world to do it." 
 
 But the impatience of the King of England and of 
 Anne seemed as if it would never be satisfied. Cam- 
 peggio, on his way through Paris, told Francis I. 
 that the divorce would never take place, and that he 
 should soon go to Spain to see Charles V. . . . 
 This was significative. " The King of England ought 
 to know," said the indignant Francis to the Duke of 
 Suffolk, " that Campeggio is imperialist at heart, and 
 that his mission in England will be a mere mockery." 
 
 In truth, the Spanish and Romao factions tried every 
 
 matioeuvre to prevent a union they detested. Aimc 
 Boleyn, queen of England, signified not only Catherine 
 humbled, but Charles offended; the clerical party 
 weakened, perhaps destroyed, and the evangelical 
 party put in its place, 'fhe Romish faction found 
 accomplices even in Anne's own family. Her brother 
 George's wife, a proud and passionate woman, and a 
 rigid Roman Cafliolic, had sworn an implacable hatred 
 against her young sister. By this means wounds might 
 be inflicted, even iu the domestic sanctuarv', which 
 woidd not be the less deep because they were the work 
 of her own kindred. One day we are told that Anne 
 found iu her chamber a book of pretended prophecies, 
 in which was a picture representing a king, a queeu 
 shedding tears, and at their feet a young lady headless. 
 Anne turned away her eyes with disgust. Slie desired, 
 however, to know what this emblem signified ; and 
 officious friends brought to her one of those pretended 
 wise men — so numerous at all times — who abuse the 
 credulity of the ignorant by professing to interpret 
 such mysteries. " This prophetic picture," he said, 
 "represents the history of the king and his wife." 
 Anne was not credulous, but she understood what her 
 enemies meant to insinuate, and dismissed the mock 
 interpreter without betraying any signs of fear ; then, 
 turning to her favourite attendant, Ann Saville, ''Come 
 hither, Nan," said she, " look at this book of prophe- 
 cies : this is the king, this is the queen wringing her 
 hands and mourning, and this (putting her finger on 
 the bleeding body) is mi/sclf, with my head cut off." 
 The young lady answered with a shudder : " If I 
 thought it were true, I would not myself have him 
 were he an emperor." '■ Tut, Nan," replied Anne 
 Boleyn with a sweet smile, "I think the book a bauble, 
 and am resolved to have him, that my issue may be 
 royal, whatever may become of me." This story is 
 based on good authoritj', and there were so many jn-e- 
 dictious of this kind afloat, that it is very possible 
 one of them might come true ; people afterwards recol- 
 lected only the prophecies confirmed by the events. 
 But, be that as it may, this young lady, so severely 
 chastised in after-days, found in her God an abundant 
 consolation. ' 
 
 At length Campeggio embarked at Calais on the ' 
 29tli of September, and unfortunately for him lie had 
 an excellent passage across the Channel. A storm to 
 di-ive him back to the French coast would have suited 
 him admirably. But, on the 1st of October, he was 
 at Canterbury, whence he announced his arrival to the 
 king. At this news Henry forgot all the delays which 
 had so irritated him. " His majesty can never be suf- 
 ficiently grateful to your holiness for so great a fav- 
 our," wrote Wolsey to the pope ; " but he will employ 
 his riches, his kingdom, his life even, and deserve the 
 name of Eestorev of the Church, as justly as he has ! 
 gained that of Defender of the Faith." This zeal 
 alarmed Campeggio, for the pope wrote to him, that 
 any proceeding which might irritate Charles would 
 inevitably cause the ruin of the Church. The nuncio | 
 became more dilatory than ever, and although he | 
 reached Canterbury on the 1st of October, he did not I 
 arrive at Dartford until the 5th, thus taking four days j 
 for a joiu-ney of about thirty miles. 
 
 Meanwhile preparations were making to receive him 
 
684 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 in London. Wolscy, feeling oontempt for the poverty 
 of the Roman cardinals, and very uneasy about the 
 equipage -with -which his colleague was likely to make 
 his entrance into the capital, sent a number of showy 
 chests, rich carpets, litters hung vnth di-apery, and 
 hnruessed mides. On the other hand, Campeggio, 
 whose secret mission was to keep in the background, 
 ajid, above all, to do nothing, feared these banners and 
 trappings, and all the parade of a triumphal entry. 
 Alleging, therefore, an attack of gout in order to escape 
 from the pomps his colleague had prepared for him, 
 he quietly took a boat, and thus reached the palace of 
 the Bishop of Bath, where he was to lodge. 
 
 While the nuncio was thus proceeding unnoticed up 
 the Thames, the equipages sent by Wolsey entered 
 London through the midst of a gaping crowd, who 
 looked on them with curiosity, as if they had come 
 from tlie banks of the Tiber. Some of the mules, how- 
 ever, took fright and ran away; the coffers fell off 
 and burst open, when there was a general rush to see 
 their contents ; but, to the surprise of all, they were 
 empty. This was an excellent jest for the citizens of 
 London. " Fine outside, empty inside; a just emblem 
 of the popedom, its embassy, and foolish pomps," they 
 said ; " a sham legate, a pi-ocession of masks, and the 
 whole a farce !" 
 
 Campeggio was come at last, and now what he 
 dreaded most was an audience. " I cannot move," he 
 .said, " or endure the motion of a litter." Never had 
 an attack of gout been more seasonable. "VYolsey, who 
 paid him frequent visits, soon found him to be his 
 equal in cunning. To no purpose did he treat him 
 with every mark of respect, shaking his hand and 
 making much of him; it was labour lost, the Roman 
 nuncio would say nothing, and Wolsey began to 
 despair. The king, on the contrary, was full of 
 hope, and fancied he already had the act of divorce in 
 his portfolio, because he had the nuncio in his kingdom. 
 
 The greatest effect of the nuncio's arrival was the 
 putting an end to Anne Boleyn's indecision. She had 
 several relapses ; the trials which she foresaw, and the 
 grief Catherine must necessarily feel, had agitated her 
 imagination and disturbed her mind. But when she 
 saw the church and her own enemies prepared to pro- 
 nounce the king's divorce, her doubts were removed, 
 and she regarded as legitimate the position that was 
 offered her. The king, who suffcn'd fi-om licr scruples, 
 was delighted at this chaii.L;r. " I i\r>Wr to inform 
 you," he wrote to her in En,uli>li. " \\li:ii joy it is to me 
 to imderstand of your confornuibluiiCf.s with reason, 
 and of the suppressing of your inutile and vain 
 thoughts and fantasies with the bridle of reason. I 
 assure you, all the greatness of this world could not 
 counterpoise for my satisfaction the knowledge and 
 certainty thereof. . . . The unfeigned sickness of 
 this well -willing legate doth somewhat retard his 
 access to your person." It was, therefore, the deter- 
 mination of the pope that made Anne Boleyn resolve 
 to accept Henry's hand. This is an important lesson, 
 for which we are indebted to the Vatican letters. AVc 
 should be grateful to the papacy for havuig so care- 
 fully preserved them. 
 
 But the more Henry rejoiced, the more Wolsey 
 despaired ; he would have desired to penetrate into 
 
 Clement's thoughts, but could not succeed. Imagin- 
 ing that De Angelis, the general of the Spanish 
 Observance, knew all the secrets of the pope and of 
 the emperor, he conceived the plan of kidnapping him. 
 " If he goes to Spain by sea," said he to Du Bellay, 
 " a good brigautine or two would do the business ; 
 and if by land, it will be easier still." Du Bellay 
 failed not (as he informs us himself) " to tell him 
 plainly, that by such proceedings he would entirely 
 forfeit the pope's good will." — " What matter 1 " re- 
 plied AYolsey, " I have nothing to lose." As he said 
 this, tears started to his eyes. At last he made up his 
 mind to remain ignorant of the pontiff's designs, and 
 wiped his eyes, awaiting, not without fear, the inter- 
 view between Henry and Campeggio. 
 
 On the 22nd of October, a month after his arrival, 
 the nuncio, borne in a sedan chair of red velvet, was 
 carried to court. He was placed on the right of the 
 throne, and his secretary, in his name, delivered a high- 
 sounding speech, saluting Henry with the name of 
 Saviour of Rome, Liberator urbis. " His majesty," 
 replied Fox, in the king's name, "has only performed 
 the duties incumbent on a Christian prince, and he 
 hopes that the holy see will bear them in mind." 
 '■ Well attacked, well defended," said Du Bellay. For 
 the moment, a few Latin declamations got the papal 
 nuncio out of his difficulties. 
 
 Campeggio did not deceive himself : if the divorce 
 were refused, he foresaw the refoi-mation of England. 
 Yet he hoped still, for he was assured that Cathei-ine 
 would submit to the judgment of the Church ; and, 
 being fully persuaded that the queen would refuse the 
 holy father nothing, the nuncio began " his approaches," 
 as bu Bellay calls them. On the 27th of October, 
 the two cardinals waited on Catherine, and in flatter- 
 ing terms insinuated that she might prevent the blow 
 which threatened her, by voluntary retirement into a 
 convent. And then, to end all indecision in the queen's 
 mind, Campeggio put on a severe look, and exclaimed : 
 "How is it, madam? explain the mystery to us. From 
 the moment the holj' father appointed us to examine 
 the question of yoiu- divorce, you have been seen, not 
 only at court, but in public, wearing the most magni- 
 ficent ornaments, iwrticipatiiig, with an appearance of 
 gaiety and siiti-t'ai-lioii, .il aiiinscments and festivities 
 which you h:v\ ik -ici- Inliiai,.! before. . . . The 
 Church is in the uRtot ciuul embarrassment with regard 
 to you ; the king, your husband, is in the greatest per- 
 plexity; the princess, your daughter, is taken from 
 you . . . and, instead of shedding tears, you give 
 yourself up to vanity. Renounce the world, madam ; 
 enter a nunnery. Our holy father himself recpiircs 
 this of you." 
 
 The agitated queen was almost fainting ; stifling her 
 emotion, hov.-ever, she said mildly, but firmly: "Alas! 
 my lords, is it now a question whether I am the king's 
 lawful wife or not, when I have been married to him 
 almost twenty years and no objection raised before f 
 . . . . Divers prelates and lords are yet alive who 
 then adjudged our nuirriage good and lawful, — and 
 now to SMV it is detestable! this is a great marvel to 
 nic, especially wlirn 1 consider what a wise prince the 
 king's father was, and also the natural love and affec- 
 tion my father, King Ferdinand, bare unto me. I 
 
HENRY'S INTERVIEW WITH THE NUNCIO. 
 
 think that neither of these illustnous princes would 
 have made me contract an illicit union." At these 
 words Catherine's emotion cora])elled her to stop. 
 " If I weep, my lords," she continued almost imme- 
 diately, " it is not for myself, it is for a person dearer 
 to me than my life. What ! I should consent to an 
 act which deprives my dan^hter of a crown ? No ; I 
 will not sacrifice my child. I know what dangers 
 threaten mc. I am only a weak woman, a stranger, 
 without learning, advisers, or friends; . . . and 
 my enemies are skilful, learned in the laws, and desir- 
 ous to merit their master's favour; . . . and more 
 than that, even my judges are my enemies. Can I 
 receive as such," she said, as she looked at Campeggio, 
 " a man extorted from the pope by manifest Ij-ing .' 
 . . . And as for you," added she, turning haughtily 
 to Wolsey, " having failed in attaining the tiara, you 
 have sworn to revenge yom'self on my nephew, the em- 
 peror, . . . and you have kept him true promise ; 
 for all his wars and vexations he may only thank you. 
 One victim was not enough for you. Forging abom- 
 inable suppositious, you desire to plunge his aunt into 
 a frightful ab}-ss. . . . But my cause is just, and 
 I trnst it in the Lord's hand." After this bold lan- 
 guage the unhappy Catherine Avlthdrew to her apart- 
 ments. The imminence of the danger effected a salu- 
 tary revolution in her ; she laid aside her brilliant 
 ornaments, assumed the sober garments in which she 
 is usually represented, and passed days and nights in 
 mourning and in teare. 
 
 Thus Campeggio saw his hopes deceived ; he had 
 thought to find a nun, and had met a queen and a 
 mother. , . . He now proceeded to set every 
 imaginable spring at work ; as Catherine would not 
 renounce Henry, he must try and prevail upon Henry 
 to renounce his idea of separating from the queen. 
 The Roman legate, therefore, changed his batteries, 
 and turned them against the king. 
 
 Henry, always impatient, went one day unannounced 
 to Campeggio's lodging, accompanied by Wolsey only : 
 "As we are without witnesses," he said, taking his 
 seat familiarly between the two cardinals, " let us 
 speak freely of our affairs. How shall you proceed ? " 
 But to his gi'cat astonishment and grief, the unncio 
 prayed him, with all imaginable delicacy, to renounce 
 the divorce. At these words the fieiy Tudor burst 
 out : " Is this how the pope keeps his word ? He sends 
 me an ambassador to annul my marriage, but in re- 
 ality to confirm it." He made a pause. Campeggio 
 knew not what to say. Henry and Catherine being 
 equally persuaded of the justice of their cause, the 
 nuncio was iu a dilemma. Wolsey himself suffered a 
 martyrdom. The king's anger grew fiercer; he had 
 thought the legate woidd hasten to withdraw an im- 
 prudent expression, but Campeggio was dumb. " I 
 see that you have chosen your part," said Henry to 
 the nuncio ; " mine, you may be sure, will soon be 
 taken also. Let the pope only persevere in this way 
 of acting, and the apostolical see, covered with per- 
 petual infamy, will be visited with a frightful destruc- 
 tion." The lion had thrown off the lamb's skin which 
 he had momentarily assumed. Campeggio felt that he 
 must appease the monarch. " Craft and delay," were 
 bis orders from Rome; and with that view the pope 
 
 had provided him with the necessary arms. He has- 
 tened to produce the famous decretal which pronounced 
 the divorce. " The holy father," he told the king, 
 " ardently desires that tiiis matter shoidd be termin- 
 ated by a happy reconciliation between you and the 
 queen ; but if that is impossible, you shall judge your- 
 self whetlier or not his iioliness can keep his promises." 
 He then read tlie bull, and even shewed it to Heiuy, 
 witliout permitting it, however, to leave his hands. 
 This exhibition produced the desired effect. Henry 
 grew calm. " Now I am at ease again," he said ; 
 " this mii-aculous talisman revives all my courage. 
 This decretal is the efficacious remedy that will restore 
 peace to my oppressed conscience, and joy to my 
 bruised heart. AVrite to his holiness, that this im- 
 mense benefit binds me to liim so closely, that he 
 may expect from me more than his imagination can 
 conceive." 
 
 And yet a few clouds gathered shortly after in the 
 king's mind. 
 
 Campeggio having shewn the bull had hastened to 
 lock it up again. Would he presume to keep it in his 
 own hands ? Heniy and AVolsey will leave no means 
 untried to get possession of it ; that point gained, and 
 victory is theii-s. 
 
 AVolsey having returned to the nuncio, he asked him 
 for the decretal with an air of candour, as if it was the 
 most natural thing in the world. He desired, he said, 
 to shew it to the king's privy-councillors. " The pope," 
 replied Campeggio, " has granted this bidl, not to be 
 used, but to be kept secret ; he simply desired to shew 
 the king the good feeling by which lie was animated." 
 Wolsey having failed, Henry tried his skill. "Have 
 the goodness to hand me the bull which you shewed 
 me," said he. The nuncio respectfully refused. "For 
 a single moment," he said. Campeggio still refused. 
 The haughty Tudor retired, stifling his anger. Then 
 Wolsey made another attempt, and founded his demand 
 on justice. " Like you, I am delegated by his holiness 
 to decide this aff;iir," he said, " and I wish to study the 
 important document which is to regulate our proceed- 
 ings." This was met by a new refusal. "W^hat!" 
 exclaimed the minister of Henry VIU., " am I not, 
 like you, a cardinal? . . . like you, a judge? 
 your colleague '? " It mattered not, the nuncio would 
 not, by any means, let the decretal go. Clement was 
 not deceived in the choice he had made of Campeggio; 
 the ambassador was worthy of his master. 
 
 It was evident that the pope, in granting the bull, 
 had been acting a part ; this trick revolted the king. 
 It was no longer anger that he felt, but disgust. 
 Wolsey knew that Henry's contempt was more to be 
 feared than his wrath. He grew alarmed, and paid 
 the nuncio another visit. " The general commission," 
 he said, " is insufllcient ; the ckcrelal commission alone 
 can be of service, and you do not permit us to read a 
 word of it. . . . The king and I place the gi-eat- 
 est confidence in the good intentions of his holiness, 
 and yet we find our expectations frustrated. Where 
 is that paternal affection with which we had flattered 
 ourselves I What prince has ever been trifled with as 
 the king of England is now 1 If this is the way in 
 which tlie Defender of the Faith is rewarded, Christen- 
 dom will know what those who serve Rome will have 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 to expect from lier, aud every power will witlicbaw its 
 support. Do not deceive yourselves : the foundation 
 on which the holy see is placed is so very insecure, that 
 the least movement will suffice to precipitate it into 
 everlasting ruin. What a sad futurity ! . . . what 
 inexpressible tortui-e ! . . . whether I wake or 
 sleep, gloomy thoughts continually pursue me like a 
 frightful nightmare." This time Wolsey spoke the 
 truth. 
 
 But all his eloquence was useless ; Campeggio 
 refused to give up the so much desired bull. When 
 sending him, Rome had told him: "Above all, do not 
 succeed ! " This means having failed, there remained 
 for Wolsey one other way of effecting the divorce. 
 "Well, then," he said to Campeggio, " let us pronounce 
 it ourselves." "Far be it from us," replied the nuncio; 
 " the anger of the emperor will be so great, that the 
 peace of Europe will be broken for ever." — "I know 
 how to arrange all that," replied the English cardinal ; 
 "in political matters you may trust to me." The 
 nuncio then took another tone, and proudly wrapping 
 himself up in his morality, he said : " I shall follow the 
 voice of my conscience ; if I see that the divorce is 
 possible, I shall leap the ditch ; if otherwise, I shall 
 not." "Your conscience! that may be easily satis- 
 fied," rejoined Wolsey. "Holy Scripture forbids a 
 man to marry his brother's widow ; now, no pojie can 
 grant what is forbidden by the law of God." " The 
 Lord preserve us from such a principle," exclaimed 
 the Roman prelate ; " the power of the pope is unlim- 
 ited." The nuncio had hardly put his conscience for- 
 ward before it stumbled ; it bound him to Rome and 
 not to heaven. But for that matter, neither public 
 opinion nor Campeggio's own friends had any great 
 iiiea of his morality; they thought that, to make him 
 leap the diicJi, it was only requisite to know the price 
 at which he might be bought. The Bishop of Bayonne 
 wrote to Montmorency: "Put at the close of a letter 
 which I can shew Campeggio, something promissory: 
 that he shall have benefices. . , . That will cost 
 you nothing, and may serve in this matter of the mar- 
 riage, for I know that he is longing for something of 
 thesort." "What is to be done, then?" said Wolsey at 
 last, astonished at meeting with a resistance to which 
 he was unaccustomed. " I shall inform the pope of 
 what I have seen and heard," replied Campeggio, 
 " and I shall wait for his instructions." Henry was 
 forced to consent to this new course, for the nuncio 
 hinted, that, if it were opposed, he would go in person 
 to Rome, to ask the pontiff's orders, and he never would 
 have returned. By this means several mouths were 
 gained. 
 
 During this time men's minds were troubled. The 
 prospect of a divorce between the king and queen had 
 stirred the nation ; and the majority, particularly 
 among the women, declared against the king. " What- 
 ever may be done," the people said boldly, " whoever 
 marries the princess Mary, will be king of Eng- 
 land." Wolsey's spies informed him, that Catherine 
 and Charles V. had many devoted partisans even at 
 the court. He wished to make sure of this. " It is 
 pretended," he said one day in an indifferent tone, 
 " that the emperor has boasted that he will get the 
 king di-iveu from his realm, and that by his majesty's 
 
 own subjects. . . . What do you think of it, my 
 lords?" "Tough against the spur," says Du Bollay, 
 the lords remained silent. At length, however, one of 
 them, more imprudent than the rest, exclaimed, " Such 
 a boast will make the emperor lose more than a hun- 
 dred thousand Englishmen." This was enough for 
 Wolsey. To lose them, he thought, Charles must have 
 them. If Catherine thought of levying war against 
 her husband — following the example of former queens 
 of England — she would have, then, a party ready to 
 sup]>ort her : this became dangerous. 
 
 The king and the cardinal immediately took their 
 measures. More than 15,000 of Charles's subjects 
 were ordered to leave London ; the arms of the citi- 
 zens were seized, " in order that they might have no 
 worse weapon than the tongue." The Flemish coun- 
 cillors accorded to Catherine were dismissed after they 
 had been heard by the king and Campeggio, " for they 
 had no commission to speak to the other, [Wolsey;] and 
 Hnally, they kept " a groat and constant watch " upon 
 the country'. Men feared an invasion of England, aud 
 Henry was not of a humour to subject his kingdom to 
 the pope. 
 
 Tliis was not enough ; the alarmed king thought it 
 his duty to come to an explanation with his people ; 
 and, having summoned the lords spiritual and tempo- 
 ral, the judges, the members of the privy-council, the 
 mayor and aldermen of the city, and many of the gen- 
 try, to meet him at his palace of Bridewell, on the 13th 
 of November, he said to them with a very condescend- 
 ing air: "Y'ou know, my lords and gentlemen, that for 
 these twenty years past Divine Providence has granted 
 our coimtry such prosperity as it had never known be- 
 fore. But in the midst of all the glory that surrounds 
 me, the thought of my last hour often occurs to me, 
 and I fear, that if I should die without an heir, my 
 death would cause more damage to my people than my 
 life has done them good. God forbid, that for want 
 of a legitimate king, England should be again plunged 
 into the horrors of civil war!" Then calling to mind 
 the illegalities invalidating his marriage with Cathe- 
 rine, the king continued : " These thoughts have filled 
 my mind with anxiety, and are continually pricking my 
 conscience. This is the only motive, aud God is my 
 witness, which has made me lay this matter before the 
 pontiff. As touching the queen, she is a woman in- 
 comparable in gentleness, liiunility, and buxomness, as 
 I these twenty years have had experiment of; so that, 
 if I were to marry again, if the marriage might be 
 good, I would surely choose her above all other women. 
 But if it be determined by judgment, that our marriage 
 was against God's law, and surely void, then I shall 
 not only sorrow in departing from so good a lady and 
 loving companion, but much more lament aud bewail 
 my unfortunate chance, that I have so long lived in 
 adultery, to God's great displeasure, aud have no true 
 heir of my body to inherit this realm. . . . There- 
 fore I require of you all to pray with us, that the very 
 truth may be known, for the discharging of our con- 
 science, and the saving of our soul." These words, 
 though wanting in sincerity, were well calculated to 
 soothe men's minds. Unfortunately, it appears that 
 after this sjMcch from the croion, the official copy of 
 which has been preserved, Hemy added a fcAV words 
 
DU BELLAY SOLICITS CAMPEGGIO. 
 
 of his own. " If, however," he said, according to 
 Dii Bellay, casting a threatening glance around him, 
 " there should be any man whatsoever who speaks of 
 liis prince iu other than becoming terms, I will shew 
 him that I am the master ; and there is no head so 
 high that I will not roll it from his shoulders." This 
 was a speech in Henry's style; but we cannot give 
 unlimited credit to Du Bellay's assertions, this diplo- 
 matist being very fond, like others of his class, of 
 "seasoning" liis despatches. But whatever may be 
 the fact as regards the postscript, the speech on the 
 divorce produced an effect. From that time there 
 were no more jests, not even on the part of the 
 Boleyns' enemies. Some supported the king, others 
 were content to pity the queeu in secret; the majority 
 prepared to take advantage of a court-revolution which 
 every one foi-esaw. "The king so plaiiil// gave them 
 to understand his pleasure," says the French ambas- 
 sador, " that they speak more soberly than they have 
 done hitherto." 
 
 Heniy, wishing to silence the clamours of the people, 
 and to allay the fears felt by the higher classes, gave 
 several magnificent entertainments, at one time in Lon- 
 don, at another at Greenwich, now at Hampton Court, 
 and then at Richmond. The queen accompanied him, 
 but Anne generally remained " in a very handsome 
 lodging which Henry had furnished for her," says 
 Du Bellay. The cardinal, following his master's ex- 
 ample, gave representations of French plays with great 
 magnificence. All his hope was in France. "I de- 
 sire nothing in England, neither in word nor iu deed, 
 which is not French," he said to the Bishop of Bayonne. 
 At length Anne Boleyn had accepted the brilliant posi- 
 tion she had at first refused, and every day her stately 
 mansion (Suffolk House) was filled with a numerous 
 court — "more than ever had crowded to the queen." 
 " Yes, yes," said Du Bellay, as he saw the crowd turn- 
 ing towards the risin/j sun ; " they wish by these little 
 things to accustom the people to endm-e her, that when 
 great ones are attempted, they may not be found so 
 strange." 
 
 In the midst of these festivities the gi-aud business 
 did not slumber. Vi'hen the French ambiissador solic- 
 ited the subsidy intended for the ransom of the sons 
 of Francis I., the cardinal required of him, in exchange, 
 a paper proving that the marriage had never been 
 valid. Du Bellay excused himself on the ground of 
 his age and want of learning ; but, being given to un- 
 derstand that he could not have the subsidy without 
 it, he wrote the memoir iu a single day. The enrap- 
 tured cardinal and king entreated him to speak witli 
 Campcggio. The ambassador consented, and succeeded 
 beyond all expectation. The nuncio, fully aware that 
 a bow too much bent will break, made Henry, by 
 turns, become the sport of hope and fear. " Take care 
 how you assert that the pope had not the right to grant 
 a dispensation to the king," said he to the French 
 bishop; "this would be denying his power, which is in- 
 finite. But," added he in a mysterious tone, " I will 
 point out a road that will infallibly lead you to the 
 mark. Shew that the holy father has been deceived 
 by false information. Push me hard on that," he con- 
 tinued, " so as to force me to declare that the dispen- 
 sation was granted on erroneous grounds." Thus did 
 
 the legate himself reveal the breach by wliich the 
 fortress might be surprised. "Victory!" exclaimed 
 IIeni;j, as he entered Aune's apartments all beaming 
 with joy. 
 
 But this confidence on the part of Campeggio was 
 only a new trick. " There is a great rumour at court," 
 wrote Du Bellay soon after, " that the emperor and 
 the King of France are coming together, and leaving 
 Henry alone, so that all will fall on his shoulders." 
 AVolsey, finding that the intrigues of diplomacy had 
 failed, thought it his duty to put fresh spriugs in mo- 
 tion, "and by all good and honest means to gain the 
 pope's favour." He saw, besides, to his great sorrow, 
 the new catholicity then forming iu the world, and 
 uniting, by the closest bonds, the Christians of Eng- 
 land to those of the Continent. To strike down one of 
 the leaders of this evangelical movement might incline 
 the court of Rome in Henry's favour. The cardinal 
 tmdertook, therefore, to persecute Tyndale, and this 
 resolution will now transport us to Germany 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Tnie Catholicity — Wolsey— Honnan's Matter— West sent to Colognfr— 
 Labours of Tj-ndaJe and Fryth— Rincke at Frankfort-He makes a Dis- 
 covery— Tyndale at Marburg — West returns to England— His Tortures 
 in tlie Monastery. 
 
 The residence of Tyndale and his friends in foreign 
 countries, and the connections there formed with pious 
 Christians, testify to the fraternal spirit which the 
 Reformation then restored to the Church. It is in 
 Protestantism that true catholicity is to be found. 
 The Romish Chiu-ch is not a catholic church. Separ- 
 ated from the churches of the East, which are the old- 
 est in Christendom, and from the Reformed churches, 
 which are the purest, it is nothing but a sect, and that 
 a degenerated one. A church which should profess 
 to believe in an episcopal unity, but which kept itself 
 separate from the episcopacy of Rome and of the East, 
 and from the Evangelical churches, would be no longer 
 a catholic church ; it would be a sect more sectarian 
 still than that of the Vatican — a fragment of a frag- 
 ment. The Church of the Saviour requires a truer, a 
 diviner unity than that of priests, who condemn one 
 another. It was the reformers, and particularly Tyn- 
 dale, who proclaimed throughout Chi-istendom the 
 existence of a bocli/ of Christ, of which all the childi-en 
 of God are members. The disciples of the Reforma- 
 tion are the true catholics. 
 
 It was a catholicity of another sort that 'Wolsey de- 
 sired to uphold. He did not reject certain reforms in 
 the church, particularly such as brought him any pro- 
 fit ; but, before all, he wished to preserve for the hier- 
 archy their privileges and uniformity. The Romish 
 Church in England was then personified in him, and 
 if he fell, its ruin would be near. His political talouts, 
 and multiplied relations with the Continent, caused 
 him to discern more clearly than others the dangers 
 which threatened the popedom. The publication of 
 the Scriptures of God in English appeared to some a 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 cloud witliout importance, -wliich would soon disappear 
 from the horizon ; but to the foreseeing glance of 
 Wolsey, it betokened a mighty tempest. Besides, he 
 loved not the fraternal relations then forming between 
 the evangelical Christians of Great Britain and of other 
 nations. Annoyed by this spiritual catholicity, he re- 
 solved to prociu-e the arrest of Tyndale, who was its 
 principal organ. 
 
 Already had Hackett, Henry's envoy to the Low 
 Countries, caused the imprisonment of Harman, an 
 Antwerp merchant, one of the principal supporters of 
 the English reformer. But Hackett had in vain 
 asked Wolscy for such documeuts as would convict 
 him of treason^ (for the crime of loving the Bible was 
 not sufficient to procure Harman's condemnation in 
 Brabant;) the envoy had remained without letters 
 from England, and the last term fixed by the law 
 having expired, Harman and his wife were liberated 
 after seven mouths' imprisonment. 
 
 And yet Wolscy had not been inactive. The car- 
 dinal hoped to find elsewhere tlie co-operation which 
 ]\Iargaret of Austria refused. It was Tyndale that he 
 wanted, and everything seemed to iuilicate that he was 
 then hidden at Cologne or in its neighbourhood. Wol- 
 scy, recollecting senator Eincke, and the services he 
 had already performed, determined to send to him one 
 John West, a friar of the Franciscan convent at Green- 
 wich. West, a somewhat narrow-minded but energetic 
 man, was very desirous of distinguishing himself, and 
 he had already gained some notoriety in England 
 among the adversaries of the Reformation. Flattered 
 by his mission, this vain monk immediately set off 
 for Antwerp, accompanied by anotlier friar, in order 
 to seize Tyndale, and even Boy, once his colleague at 
 Greenwich, and against whom he had there ineffectu- 
 ally contended in argument. 
 
 GREAT TOM AT OXFOPD 
 
 While these men were conspiring his ruin, Tyndale 
 composed several works, got them printed, and sent to 
 England, and prayed God, night and day, to enlighten 
 his fellow-countrymen. "Why do you give yourself 
 so much trouble ? " said some of his friends. "They 
 
 will burn your books as they have burnt the Gospel." 
 — " They will only do what I expect," replied he, " if 
 they bum me also." Already he beheld his own burn- 
 ing pile in the distance ; but it was a sight which only 
 served to increase his zeal. Hidden, like Luther at 
 the Wartburg, not however in a castle, but in a humble 
 lodging, Tyndale, like the Saxon refomier, spent his 
 days and nights translating the Bible. But not hav- 
 ing an elector of Saxony to protect him, he was forced 
 to change his residence from time to time. 
 
 At this epoch, Fryth, who had escaped from the 
 prisons of Oxford, rejoined Tyndale, and the sweets 
 of friendship softened the bitterness of their exile. 
 Tyndale having finished the New Testament, and 
 begun the translation of the Old, the learned Fryth 
 was of great use to him. The more they studied the 
 Word of God, the more they admired it. In the be- 
 ginning of 1529, they published the books of Genesis 
 and Deuteronomy, and addressing their fellow-coun- 
 trymen, they said : " As thou readest, think that every 
 syllable pertaiueth to thine own self, and suck out the 
 pith of the Scripture." Then, denying that visible 
 signs naturally impart grace, as the schoolmen had 
 pretended, Tyndale maintained that the sacraments 
 are effectual only when the Holy Ghost sheds His 
 influence upon them. " The ceremonies of the Law," 
 he wrote, " stood the Israelites in the same stead as 
 the sacraments do us. We are saved, not by the 
 power of the sacrifice, or the deed itself, but by virtue 
 of faith in the promise, whereof the sacrifice or ceremony 
 was a token or sign. The Holy Ghost is no dumb God, 
 no God that goeth a mumming. Wherever the Word 
 is proclaimed, this inward witness worketh. If bap- 
 tism preach me the washing in Clirist's blood, so doth 
 the Holy Ghost accompany it ; and that deed of 
 preaching through faith doth put away my sins. The 
 ark of Noah saved them in the water through faith." 
 
 The man who dared address England in language 
 so contrary to the teaching of the Middle Ages must 
 be imprisoned. John West, who had been sent with 
 this object, arrived at Antwerp; Hackett procured 
 for him, as interpreter, a friar of English descent, 
 made him assume a secular dress, and gave him 
 "thiee pounds" on the cardinal's account; the less 
 attention the embassy attracted, the more likely it 
 ^\ ould be to succeed. But great was West's vexation, 
 on leaching Cologne, to learn that* Rincke was at 
 Fiankfort. But tliat mattered not; the Greenwich 
 monk could search for Tyndale at Cologne, and desire 
 
 iicke to do the same at Frankfort; thus, there 
 
 uld be two searches instead of oue. West procured 
 
 s^\ if t " messenger, (he, too, was a monk,) and gave 
 1 im the letter Wolsey had addressed to Rincke. 
 
 It A\as fair-time at Frankfort, and the city was 
 tilled with merchants and their wares. As soon as 
 Rincke had finished reading Wolsey 's letter, he has- 
 t< lu (1 to the burgomasters, and required them to 
 < rinh ( ite the English translations of the Scriptures, 
 and, aliovc all, to seize "the heretic who was troubling 
 England as Luther troubled Germany." "Tyndale 
 and his friends have not appeared in our fau-s since 
 the month of March, 1528," replied the magistrates, 
 " and we know not whether they are dead or alive." 
 
 Rincke was not discouraged. John School, of 
 
TYNDALE SOUGHT AT FRANKFORT. 
 
 StrasburfT, who was said to have printed Tyndale's 
 books, and who cared loss about the works he pub- 
 lished than the money he drew from them, happened 
 to be at Frankfort. "Where is Tyndale.'" Kincke 
 asked him. — "I do not know," replied the printer; 
 but he confessed that ho had printed a thousand 
 Tolumes at the request of Tyndale and Roy. " Bring 
 them to me," continued the senator of Cologne. — "If 
 a fair price is paid me, I will give them up to you." 
 Rinckc paid all that was demanded. 
 
 AVolsey would now be gratified, for the New Testa- 
 ment annoyed him almost as much as the divorce ; 
 this book, so dangerous in his eyes, seemed on the 
 point of raising a conflagration which would infallibly 
 consume the edifice of Roman traditionalism. Rincko, 
 who participated in his patron's fears, impatiently 
 opened the volumes made over to him ; but there was 
 a sad mistake, they were not the New Testament, not 
 even a work of Tyndale's, but one written by AVilliam 
 Roy, a changeable and violent man, whom the re- 
 former had employed for some time at Hamburg, 
 and who had followed him to Cologne, but with whom 
 he had soon become disgusted. " I bade him farewell 
 for our two lives," said Tyudale, " and a day longer." 
 Roy, on quitting the reformer, had gone to Strasburg, 
 where he boasted of his relations with him, and had 
 got a satire iu that city printed against Wolsey and 
 the monastic orders, entitled, "The Burial of the Muss:" 
 this was the book delivered to Rincko. The monk's 
 sarcastic spirit had exceeded the legitimate bounds of 
 controversy, and the senator accordingly dared not 
 send the volumes to England. He did not, however, 
 discontinue his inquiries, but searched every place 
 where he thought he could discover the New Testa- 
 ment, and having seized all the suspected volumes, 
 set off for Cologne. 
 
 Yet he was not satisfied. He wanted Tyndale, and 
 went about asking every one if they knew where to 
 find him. But the reformer, whom he was seeking 
 in so many places, and especially at Frankfort and 
 Cologne, chanced to be residing at about equal dis- 
 tances from these two towns, so that Rincke, while 
 travelling from one to the other, might have met him 
 face to face, as Aliab's messenger met Elijah. Tyndale 
 was at Marburg, whither ho had been drawn by 
 several motives. Prince Philip of Hesse was the 
 great protector of the evangelical doctrines. The 
 university had attracted attention in the Reform by 
 the paradoxes of Lambert of Avignon. Here, a 
 young Scotchman named Hamilton, afterwards illus- 
 trious as a martyr, had studied shortly before; and 
 here, too, the celebrated printer, John Luft, had his 
 presses. In this city Tyndale and Fryth had taken 
 up their abode, in September, 1528, and, hidden on 
 the quiet baidvs of the Lahu, were translating the Old 
 Testament. If Rincke had searched this place, he 
 could not have failed to discover them. But either 
 he thought not of it, or was afraid of the terrible 
 landgrave. The direct road by the Rhine was that 
 which he followed, and Tyudale escaped. 
 
 AVhen he arrived at Cologne, Rincke had an im- 
 mediate interview with West. Their investigations 
 ha\ing failed, they must have recourse to more vigor- 
 ous measures. The senator, therefore, sent the monk 
 
 back to England, accompanied by his son Hermann, 
 charging them to tell AVolsoy: "To seize Tyndale we 
 re(iuire fidler powers, ratified by the emperor. The 
 traitors who conspire against the life of the King of 
 England are not tolerated in the empire, much less 
 Tyn<lale and all those who consjiire against Christen- 
 dom. He must be put to death ; nothing but some 
 striking example can (dieck the Lutheran heresy. 
 And as to ourselves," they were told to add, " by the 
 favour of God there may possibly be an opportunity 
 for his royal highness and your grace to recompense 
 us." Riucke had not forgotten the subsidy of tea 
 thousand ponmls which he had received from Heury 
 VII. f'>r till- 'rmkish war, when he had gone to 
 London ii< ,M;i\iiiiilian's envoy. 
 
 AVesl ruliiriHil Id England sorely vexed that he had 
 failed in his mission. What would they say at court 
 and in his monastery? A fresh humiliation was in 
 reserve for him. Roy, whom West had gone to look 
 for on the banks of the Rhine, had paid a visit to his 
 mother on the banks of the Thames ; and, to crown 
 all, the nevf doctrines had penetrated into his own 
 convent. The warden, father Robinson, had embraced 
 them ; and night and day the Greenwich monks read 
 that New Testament which West had gone to Cologne 
 to burn. The Antwerp friar, who had accompanied 
 him on his journey, was the oidy person to whom he 
 could confide his sorrows ; but the Franciscans sent 
 him back again to the Continent, and then amused 
 themselves at poor West's expense. If he desired to 
 tell of his adventures on the baid<s of the Rhine, he 
 was laughed at ; if he boasted of the names of Wolsey 
 and Henry VIII., they jeered him still more. He 
 desired to speak to Roy's mother, hoping to gain some 
 useful information from her ; this the monks pre- 
 vented. " It is in my commission," he said. They 
 ridiculed him more and more. Robinson, perceiving 
 that the commission made West assume unbecoming 
 airs of independence, requested AYolsey to withdraw 
 it ; and West, fancying he was about to be thrown 
 into prison, exclaimed in alarm : " I am weary of my 
 life !" and conjured a friend whom he had at court to 
 procure him, before Christmas, an obedience under his 
 lordship's hand and seal, enabling him to leave the 
 monastery. " What you pay him for it," he added, 
 "I shall see you be reimbursed." Thus did West 
 expiate the fanatical zeal which had urged him to 
 pursue the translator of the oracles of God. What 
 became of him we know not : he is never heard of 
 more. 
 
 At that time Wolsey had other matters to engage 
 him than this " obedience." While West's complaints 
 were going to London, those of the king were travel- 
 ling to Rome. The great business in the cardinal's 
 eyes was to maintain harmony between Henry and the 
 Church. There was no more thought about investi- 
 gations in Germany; and for a time Tyndale was 
 saved. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Kecc5sity of tlie Eeformation— Wolaey's Eai-nealoesa with Da Casale— An 
 Audience with Clement VII.— Cruel Position of the Pope— A Judas 
 Kiss— A new Biief— Bryan and Vannes sent to Dome- Hemy and Du 
 Bellay— Wolsey's Reasons against tlio Brief— Excitement in London— 
 Motauioriiliosis- Wolsey's Decline- His Anguish . 
 
 Tub king aud a part of bis people still adhered to the 
 popedom, and so long as these bonds were not broken, 
 the Word of God could not have free course. But to 
 induce England to renounce Rome, there must, indeed, 
 be powerful motives ; aud these were not wanting. 
 
 Wolsey had never given such pressing orders to any 
 of Henry's ambassadors. "The king," he wrote to 
 Da Casale, on the 1st of November, 1528, "commits 
 this business to your prudence, dexterity, and fidelity; 
 and I conjure you to employ all the powers of your 
 genius, and even to surpass them. Be very sure that 
 you have done nothing, and can do nothing, that will 
 bo more agreeable to the king, more desirable by me, 
 and more useful and glorious for you and your 
 family." 
 
 Da Casale possessed a tenacity which justified the 
 cardinal's confidence, and an active excitable mind : 
 trembling at the thought of seeing Rome lose England, 
 he immediately requested an audience of Clement VH. 
 "What!" said he to the pope, "just as it was pro- 
 posed to go on with the divorce your nuncio endeav- 
 ours to dissuade the king ! . . . There is no hope 
 that Catherine of Arragoa will ever give an heir to the 
 crown. Holy father! there must be au end of this. 
 Order Campeggio to place the decretal in his majesty's 
 hands." — " What say you ? " exclaimed the pope. "I 
 would gladly lose one of my fingers to recover it again, 
 and you ask me to make it public : ... it would 
 bo my I'uin." Da Casale insisted : " We have a duty 
 to perform," he said; "we remind you at this last 
 hour of the perils threatening the relations which 
 unite Rome aud England. The crisis is at baud. We 
 knock at your door, we cry, we urge, we entreat, we 
 lay before you the present aud future dangers which 
 threaten the papacy. . . . The world shall know 
 that the king at least has fulfilled the duty of a devoted 
 son of the church. If your holiness desires to keep 
 England in St. Peter's fold, I repeat, . . . now is 
 the time, . . . now is the time." At these words 
 Da Casale, unable to restrain his emotion, fell down 
 at the pope's feet, aud begged him to save the church 
 in Great Britain. The pope was moved. " Rise," 
 said he, with marks of unwonted grief; "I grant you 
 all that is in my power ; I am willing to confirm the 
 judgment which the legates may think it their duty to 
 pass ; but I acquit myself of all responsibility as to 
 the untold evils which this matter may bring with it. 
 . . . If the king, after having defended the faith 
 and the church, desires to ruia both, ou him alone 
 will rest the responsibility of so great a disaster." 
 Clement granted nothing. Da Casale withdrew dis- 
 heartened, and feeling convinced that the pontiff was 
 about to treat with Charles V. 
 
 Wolsey desired to save the popedom, but the popedom 
 resisted. Clement VII. was about to lose that island 
 
 which Gregory the Great had wou with such difficulty. 
 The pope was in the most cruel position. The English 
 envoy had hardly left the palace before the emperor's 
 ambassador entered, breathing threats. The unhappy 
 pontiff escaped the assaults of Henry only to be exposed 
 to those of Charles ; he was thrown backwards aud for- 
 wards like a ball. " I shall assemble a general coun- 
 cil," said the emperor, through his ambassador; "aud 
 if you are found to have infringed the canons of the 
 church in any point, you shall be proceeded against 
 with every rigour. Do uot forget," added his agent 
 in a low tone, " that your birth is il/t'i/itiinate, aud 
 consequently excludes you from the pontificate." The 
 timid Clemeut, imagining that ho saw the tiara falling 
 from his head, swore to refuse Henry everything. 
 " Alas ! " he said to cue of his dearest confidants, " I 
 repent in dust aud ashes that I ever granted this 
 decretal bidl. If the King of England so earnestly 
 desires it to be given him, certainly it cannot be 
 merely to know its contents. He is but too familiar 
 with them. It is only to tie my hands in this maiter 
 of the divorce ; I would rather die a thousand deaths." 
 Clement, to calm his agitation, sent one of his ablest 
 gentlemen of the bed-chamber. Frauds Campaua, 
 apparently to feed the king with fresh promises, but 
 in reality to cut the only thread on which Henry's 
 hopes still huug. " We embrace your majesty," wrote 
 the pope, iu the letter given to Campana, " with the 
 paternal love your numerous merits deserve." Now 
 Campaua was sent to England to bum clandestinely 
 the famous decretal, Clement concealed his blows by 
 an embrace. Rome had granted many divorces not 
 so well founded as that of Henry VIII.; but a very 
 different matter from a divorce was in question here : 
 the pope, desirous of upraising iu Italy his shattered 
 power, was about to sacrifice the Tudor, and to pre- 
 pare the triumph of the Reformation. Rome was 
 separating herself from Eugland. 
 
 All Clement's fear was, that Campana wovdd arrive 
 too late to burn the bull ; he was soon re-assureJ ; a 
 dead calm prevented the ffveat matter from advancing. 
 Campeggio, who took care to be iu no hurry about 
 his mission, gave himself up, like a skilful diplomatist, 
 to his worldly tastes ; and when he could uot, due 
 respect being had to the state of his legs, indulge in 
 the chase, of which he was very fond, he passed his 
 time ia gambling, to which he was much addicted. 
 Respectable historians assert that he indulged iu still 
 more illicit plcasui-es. But this could not last for 
 ever, aud the nuncio sought some new means of delay, 
 which offered itself iu the most unexpected mauuer. 
 One day an ofiicer of the queen's presented to the 
 Roman legate a brief of JiUius II., bearing the same 
 date as the bull of dispeusation, signed too, like that, 
 by the secretary Sigismond, and iu which the pope 
 expressed himself in such a manner that Henry's 
 objections fell of themselves. " The emperor," said 
 Catherine's messenger, "has discovered this brief 
 among the papers of Puebla, the Spanish ambassador 
 in England at the time of the marriage." "It is 
 impossible to go ou," said Campeggio to Wolsey; "all 
 your reasoning is uow cut from under you. We nucst 
 wait for fresh instructions." This was the cardinal's 
 couclusion at every new incident; and the ioui-ney 
 
HENKY'S CONFERENCE WITH DU BELLAY. 
 
 eoi 
 
 from Loiulon to tlio Vatican beiug veiy long, (with- 
 out rockoiiiii^ the Kouiau ililatoriucss,) tlie expedient 
 was iiifalliblf. 
 
 Thus there existed two acts of the same pope, 
 signed oa the same day — the one secret, tlie other 
 l)ublic, in coutradiotiou to each other. Henry detor- 
 miued to send ii new mission to Konie. Anuc ])ro- 
 posed for this embassy one of tlie most accomplished 
 gentlemen of the court, her cousin. Sir Francis Bryan. 
 With him was joined an Italian, Peter Vanncs, 
 Henry's Latin secretary. " You will search all the 
 registers of the time of Julius II.," said "Wolsey to 
 them ; " you will study the handwriting of secretary 
 Sigismond ; and you will attenlivrly oxamiue the ring 
 of the fisherman used by (hat i)ontitf. Moreover, you 
 will inform the pope, that it is proi)osed to a certain 
 greyfriar, named Ue Angelis, in his place, to wliom 
 Charles would give the spiritual authority, reserving 
 the temporal for himself. You will manage so that 
 Clement takes alarm at the project, and you will then 
 offer him a guard of 2000 men to protect liim. Y'ou 
 will ask whether, in case the queen should desire to 
 embrace a religious life, ou condition of the king's 
 doing the same, and Henry should yield to this wish, 
 he could have the assurance that the pope would after- 
 wards release him from his vows. And, finally, you 
 will inquire whether, in case the queen should refuse 
 to enter a convent, the pope would permit the king to 
 have tiro tvives, as we see in the Old Testament." 
 The idea which has brought so much reproach on the 
 Landgrave of Hesse was not a new one ; the honour 
 of it belongs to a cardinal and legate of Rome, what- 
 ever Bossuet may say. " Lastly," continued Wolsey, 
 " as the pope is of a timid disposition, you will not 
 fail to season your remonstrances with threats. Y'ou, 
 Peter, will take him aside and toll him, that as an 
 Italian, having more at heart than any one the glory 
 of the holy see, it is your duty to warn him, that if 
 he persists, the king, his realm, and many other 
 princes, will for ever separate from the papacy." 
 
 It was not on the mind of the pope alone that it 
 was necessary to act ; the rumour that the emperor 
 and the King of France were treating together dis- 
 turbed Henry. Wolsey had vaiidy tried to sound 
 Du Bellay; these two priests tried craft agaiust craft. 
 Besides, the Frenchman was not always seasonably 
 informed by his court, letters taking ten days to come 
 fi'oni Paris to London. Henry resolved to have a 
 conference with the ambassador. He began by speak- 
 ing to him of /lis matter, says Du Bellay; "and I pro- 
 mise yon," he added, "that he needs no advocate, he 
 iniderstauds the whole business so well." Henry next 
 touched upon the wrongs of Francis I., " recalling so 
 many things that the envoy knew not Avhat to say." 
 "I pray you, Master Ambassador," said Henry in 
 conclnsiou, " to beg the king, my brother, to give up 
 a little of his amusements during a year only, for the 
 prompt despatch of his affairs. Warn those whom it 
 concerns." Having given this spur to the King of 
 France, Henry turned his thoughts towards Rome. 
 
 In truth, the fatal brief from Spain tormented him 
 day and night, and the cardinal tortured his mind to 
 find proofs of its non-authenticity; if he could do so, 
 he would acquit the papacy of the charge of duplic- 
 
 ity, and accuse the emperor of forgery. At last he 
 thought he had succeeded. " lu the first place," he 
 said to the king, " the brief has the same date as the 
 bull. Now, if the errors in the latter had been found 
 out ou the day it was drawn up, it would have been 
 more natural to make another than to append a brief, 
 pointing out the errors. What! the same pope, the 
 same day, at the petition of the same persons, give 
 out two rescripts for one effect, one of which contra- 
 dicts the other ! Either the bull was good, and then, 
 why the brief I or the bull Wiis bad, and then, why 
 deceive princes by a worthless bull? Many names 
 are found in the brief incorrectly spelt, and these are 
 faults which the pontifical secretary, whoso accuracy 
 is so well known, could not have committed.' Lastly, 
 no one in England ever heard mention of this brief ; 
 and yet it is here that it ought to be found." Henry 
 charged Knight, his principal secretary, to join the 
 other envoys with all speed, in order to prove to the 
 pope the supposititious character of the documeni. 
 
 This important paper revived the irritation felt in 
 England against Charles V., and it was resolved to 
 come to extremities. Every one discontented with 
 Austria took refuge in London, particularly the Hun- 
 garians. The ambassador from Hungary proposed to 
 Wolsey to adjudge the imperial crown of Germany to 
 the Elector of Saxony, or the Landgrave of Hesse — 
 the two chiefs of Protestantism. Wolsey exclaimed in 
 alarm : " It will be an inconvenience to Christendom, 
 they are so Lutheran." But the Hungarian ambassador 
 so satisfied him, that in the end he did not find the 
 matter quite so inconvenient. These schemes were 
 prospering in London, when suddenly a new metamor- 
 phosis took place under the eyes of Du Bellay. The 
 king, the cardinal, and the ministers, appeared in 
 strange consternation. Vincent da Casale had just 
 arrived from Rome with a letter from his cousin, the 
 prothonotary, informing Henry that the pope, seeing 
 the triumph of Charles V., the indecision of Francis I., 
 the isolation of the King of England, and the distress 
 of his cardinal, had flung himself into the arms of the 
 emperor. At Rome they went so far as to jest about 
 AYolsey, and to say that since he could not be St. 
 Peter, they would make him St. Paul. 
 
 AVhile they were ridiculing Wolsey at Rome, at 
 St. Germain's they were joking about Henry. " I 
 will make him get rid of the notions he lias in his 
 head," said Francis ; and the Flemings, who were 
 again sent out of the country, said as they left Lon- 
 don, " that this year they would carry on the war so 
 vigorously, that it would be really a sight worth 
 seeing." 
 
 Besides these public griefs, Wolsey had his private 
 ones. Anne Boleyn, who had already begun to use 
 her influence on behalf of the despotic cardinal's 
 victims, gave herself no rest until Cheyney, a courtier 
 disgraced by Wolsey, had been restored to the king's 
 favour. Anne even gave utterance to several biting 
 sarcasms against the cardinal, and the Duke of Norfolk 
 and his party began " to speak big," says Du Bellay. 
 At the moment when the pope, scared by Charles V., 
 
 1 Queen habcUa was called Elizaheth in the lirief ; but I have seen a 
 document from the court of Madrid in which Queen Eli;;abeth of England 
 was called Isabella ; it is not, therefore, an error without a parallel. 
 
692 
 
 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 was separating fi'om England, Wolsey himself was 
 tottering. Who shall uphold the papacy? . . . 
 After "Wolsey, nobody! Rome was on the point of 
 losing the power which for nine centuries she had 
 exercised in the bosom of this illustrious nation. The 
 cardinal's anguish cannot be described ; unceasingly 
 pureued by gloomy images, he saw Anne on the throne 
 causing the triumph of the Reformation. This night- 
 mare was stifling him. " His grace, the legate, is in 
 great trouble," wrote the Bishop of Bayonne. " How- 
 ever, . . . he is more cunning than they are." 
 
 To still the tempest "Wolsey had only one resource 
 left : this was to render Clement favourable to his 
 master's designs. The crafty Campana, who had burnt 
 the decretal, conjured him not to believe all the reports 
 transmitted to him concerning Rome. "To satisfy 
 the king," said he to the cardinal, " the holy father 
 will, if necessary, descend from the pontifical throne." 
 "Wolsey, therefore, resolved to send to Rome a more 
 energetic agent than Yannes, Bryan, or Knight, and 
 east his eyes on Gardiner. His courage began to 
 revive, when an unexpected event fanned once more 
 his loftiest hopes. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 Tlie Pope's Illness— Wolsey's Desire— Conference about the Members of 
 tbe Conclave- Wolaey's Instrncaons— The Pope recovers— Speech of 
 the English Envoys to the Pope — Clement willing to abandon England 
 — Tlie English demand the Pope's Denial of the Brief— Wolsey's Alarm 
 — Intrigues- Bryan's clearsightedness — Henry's Threats — Wolsey's new 
 EtTorts- He calls for an Appeal to Eome and retracts— Wolsey and Du 
 Bellay at Richmond— The Ship of the State. 
 
 On the 6th of January, 1529, the feast of Epiphany, 
 just as the pope was performing mass, he was attacked 
 by a sudden illness ; he was taken to liis room appar- 
 ently in a dying state. 'When this news reached 
 London, the cardinal resolved to hasten to abandon 
 England, where the soil trembled under his feet, and 
 to climb boldly to the throne of the pontiffs. Bryan 
 and Yannes, then at Florence, hurried on to Rome 
 through roads infested with robbers. At Orvieto they 
 were informed the pope was better. At Yiterbo, no 
 one knew whether he was alive or dead. At Ron- 
 ciglione, they were assured that he had expired ; and, 
 finally, when they reached the metropolis of the pope- 
 dom, they learnt that Clement could not survive, and 
 that the imperialists, supported by the Colonnas, were 
 striving to have a pope devoted to Charles V. 
 
 But great as might be the agitation at Rome, it was 
 greater still at Whitehall. If God caused De' Medici 
 to descend from the pontifical throne, it could only be, 
 tliought Wolsey, to make him mount it. " It is expe- 
 dient to have such a pope as may save the realm," 
 said he to Gardiner. "And although it cannot but 
 be incommodious to me, in this mine old age, to be the 
 common father, yet, when all things be well pondered, 
 the qualities of all the cardinals well considered, I am 
 the only one — without boasting — that can, and will, 
 remedy the king's secret matter. And were it not 
 
 for the redintegration of the state of the church, and 
 especially to relieve the king and his realm from their 
 calamities, all the riches and honour of the world 
 should not cause me to accept the said dignity. 
 Nevertheless, I conform myself to the necessities of 
 the times. Wherefore, Master Stephen, that this 
 matter may succeed, I pray you to apply all your 
 ingenuity — spare neither money nor labour. I give 
 you the amplest powers, without restriction or limi- 
 tation." Gardiner departed to win for his master the 
 coveted tiara. 
 
 Henry YUI. and Wolsey, who could hardly restrain 
 their impatience, soon heard of the pontiff's death 
 from different quarters. " The emperor has taken 
 away Clement's life," said Wolsey, blinded by hatred. 
 " Charles," rejoined the king, " wiU endeavour to 
 obtain by force or fraud a pope according to his 
 desires." — "Yes, to make him his chaplain," replied 
 AYolsey, " and to put an end, by degrees, both to pope 
 and popedom." " We must fly to the defence of the 
 church," resumed Henry ; " and with that view, my 
 lord, make up your mind to be pope." — " That alone," 
 answered the cardinal, " can bring your majesty's 
 weighty matter to a happy termination ; and by saving 
 you, save the church . . . and myself also," ho 
 thought in his heart. " Lc-t us see, let us coimt the 
 voters." 
 
 Heniy and his minister then wrote down on a strip 
 of parchment the names of all the cardinals, marking 
 with the letter A, those who were on the side of the 
 kings of England and France ; and with the letter £, 
 all who favoured the emperor. " There was no C," 
 says a chronicler sarcastically, "to signify any on 
 Christ's side." The letter N designated the neutrals. 
 " The cardinals present," said Wolsey, " will not 
 exceed thirty-nine, and we must have two-thii-ds — that 
 is, twenty-six. Now, there are twenty upon whom we 
 can reckon ; we must, therefore, at any price, gain six 
 of the neutrals." 
 
 AVolsey, deeply sensible of the importance of an 
 election that would decide whether England was to be 
 reformed or not, carefully drew up the instructions, 
 which Heni-y signed, and which history must register. 
 " We desire and ordain," the ambassadors were in- 
 formed in them, " that you secure the election of the 
 Cardinal of York ; not forgetting, that next to the sal- 
 vation of his own soul, there is nothing the king desires 
 more earnestly. 
 
 " To gain over the neutral cardinals you will employ 
 two methods in particular. The first is, the cardinals 
 being present, and having God and the Holy Ghost 
 before them, you shall remind them that the Cardinal 
 of York alone can save Chi-istendom. 
 
 "The second is, because human fragility suffereth 
 not all things to be pondered and weighed in a just 
 balance, it appertaineth in matter of so high import- 
 ance to the comfort and relief of all Christendom, to 
 succour the infirmity that may chance, . . . not 
 for corruption, you will understand, . . . but rather 
 to help the lacks and defaults of human nature. And, 
 therefore, it shall be expedient that you promise 
 spiritual offices, dignities, rewards of money, or other 
 things, which shall seem meet to the purpose. 
 
 " 'Then shall you, with good dexterity, combiue and 
 
THE DIVORCE DEMANDED. 
 
 knit tliosc favourable to us in a perfect fastness and 
 indissoluble knot. And that they may be the better 
 animated to finish the election to the king's desire, 
 you shall offer them a guard of 2000 or 3000 men 
 from the kings of England and France, from the 
 viscount of Turin, and the republic of Venice. 
 
 " If, notwitlistanding all your exertions, the elec- 
 tion should fail, then the cardinals of the kings shall 
 repair to some sure place, and there proceed to such 
 an election as may be to God's pleasure. 
 
 "And to win more friends for the king, you shall 
 promise, on the one hand, to the Cardinal dc' Medici 
 and his party, our special favour ; and the Florentines, 
 on the other hand, you shall put in comfort of the 
 exclusion of the said family De' Medici. Likewise, 
 you shall put the cardinals in perfect hope of recover- 
 ing the patrimony of the church ; aud you shall con- 
 tain the Venetians in good trust of a reasonable way 
 to be taken for Ccrvia and Ravenna (which formed 
 part of the patrimony) to their contentment." 
 
 Such were the means by which the cardinal hoped 
 to win the papal throne. To the right he said i/es; to 
 the left he said no. "What would it matter that these 
 perfidies were one day discovered, provided it were 
 after the election? Christendom might be very cer- 
 tain that the choice of the future pontiff would be the 
 work of the Holy Ghost. Alexander "\'I. liad been 
 a poisoner ; Julius II. had given way to ambition, 
 anger, and vice ; the liberal Leo X. had passed his 
 life in worldly pursuits ; the unhappy Clement VII. 
 had lived on stratagems and lies ; AVolsey would be 
 their worthy successor : 
 
 ■\Volsey found his excuse in the thought, that if he 
 succeeded, the divorce was secured, and England 
 enslaved for ever to the court of Rome. 
 
 Success at first appeared probable. Many cardinals 
 spoke openly in favour of the English prelate ; one of 
 them asked for a detailed account of his life, in order 
 to present it as a model to the churcli ; another woi-- 
 shipped him (so he said) as a diviuity. . . . Among 
 the gods and popes adored at Rome, there were some 
 no better than he. But ere long alarming news reached 
 England. AVhat grief! the pope was getting better. 
 " Conceal your instructions," wrote the cardinal, "aud 
 reserve them in omnem eventum." 
 
 Wolsey not having obtained the tiara, it was neces- 
 sary at least to gaiu the divorce. " God declares," 
 said the English ambassadors to the pope, '•'■Except the 
 Lord build the house, they lahour in vain that build it. 
 Therefore, the king, taking God alone for his guide, 
 requests of you, in the first place, an engagement to 
 pronounce the divorce in the space of three months ; 
 and, in the second, the avocation to Rome." — "The 
 promise first, aud only after that the avocation," 
 Wolsey had said; "for I fear that if the pope be- 
 gins with the avocation, he will never pronounce the 
 divorce." — " Besides," added the envoys, " the king's 
 second marriage admits of no refusal, whatever bulls 
 or briefs there may be. The only issue of this matter 
 is the divorce — the divorce in one way or another 
 must be procured." 
 
 "Wolsey had instructed his envoys to pronounce these 
 
 words with a certain air of familiarity, and, at the same 
 time, with a gravity calculated to produce an effect. 
 Ilis expectations were deceived : Clement was colder 
 llian ever. He had determined to abandon England 
 in order that he might secure the States of the Chiu'ch 
 — of which Charles was then master — tluis sacrificing 
 the spiritual to the temporal. " The pope will not do 
 the least thing for your majesty," wrote Bi-yan to the 
 king; "your matter may well be in his Pater noster, 
 but it certainly is not in his Credo." — " Increase in 
 importunity," answered the king; "the Cardinal of 
 Verona should remain about the pope's person and 
 counterbalance the influence of De Angelis and the 
 Archbishop of Capua. I would rather lose my two 
 crownis than be beaten by these two friars." 
 
 Thus was the struggle about to become keener than 
 ever, when Clement's relapse once more threw doubt on 
 everything. He was always between life aiul death ; 
 and this perpetual alternation agitated the king and 
 tlie impatient cardinal in every way. The latter con- 
 sidered that the pope had need of merits to ciiter the 
 kingdom of heaven. " Procure an interview with the 
 pope," he wrote to the envoys, " even though he be in 
 the veiy agony of deatli ; and represent to him, that 
 notliiug will be more likely to save his soul than the 
 bill of divorce." Henry's commissioners were not 
 admitted; but towards the end of March, the deputies 
 appearing in a body, the pope promised to examine the 
 letter from Spain. Vanues began to fear this docu- 
 ment ; he represented that those who had fabricated 
 it would have been able to give it an appearance of 
 authenticity. " Rather declare immediately that this 
 brief is not a brief," said he to the pope. " Tlie King 
 of England, who is your holiness's son, is not so like 
 the rest of the world. "We cannot put the same shoe 
 on eveiy foot." This rather vulgar argument did not 
 touch Clement. " If to content your master in this 
 business," said he, " I cannot employ ray head, at least 
 I will my finger."—" Bo pleased to explain yoiu-self," 
 replied Vanues, who found the Jinrjer a very little 
 matter. "I mean," resumed the pontiff, " that I shall 
 employ e^eiy means, provided they are honourable." 
 Vanues withdrew disheartened. 
 
 He immediately conferred with his colleagues, and 
 all together, alarmed at the idea of Heniy's anger, 
 returned to the pontiff ; they thrust aside the lackeys, 
 who endeavoured to stop them, and made their way 
 into his bed-chamber. Clement opposed them with 
 that resistance of inertia by which the popedom has 
 gained its greatest victories : siluit, he reraaiucd silent. 
 Of what consequence to the pontiff were Tudor, his 
 island, aud his church, when Charles of Austria was 
 threatening him with his armies '? Clement, less proud 
 than Ilildebrand, submitted willingly to the emperor's 
 power, provided the emperor would protect him. " I 
 had rather," he said, "be Ca?sar's servant, not only in 
 a temple, but in a stable if necessary, than be exposed 
 to the insults of rebels aud vagabonds." At the same 
 time he wrote to Campeggio : " Do not irritate the 
 king, but spin out this matter as much as possible ; the 
 Spanish brief gives us the means." 
 
 In fact Charles V. had twice shewn Lee t'ne original 
 document ; and AVolsey, after this ambassador's report, 
 began to believe that it was not Charles who had 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 forged the brief, but that Pope Julius II. had really 
 given two contradictory documents on the same day. 
 Accordingly, the cardinal now feared to see this letter 
 iu the pontiff's hands. "Do all you can to dissuade 
 the pope from seeking the original in Spain," wrote 
 he to one of his ambassadors ; " it may exasperate the 
 emperor." We know how cautious the cardinal was 
 towards Charles. Intrigue attained its highest point 
 at this epoch, and Englishmen and Romans encoun- 
 tered craft with craft. " In such ticklish negotiations," 
 says Burnet, (who had had some little experience in 
 diplomacy,) "ministers must say and unsay as they 
 are instructed, which goes, of course, as a part of their 
 business." Henry's envoys to the pope intercepted 
 the letters sent from Rome, aud had Campeggio's 
 seized. On his part, the pope indulged in flattering 
 smiles and perfidious equivocations. Bryan wrote to 
 Henry VIII. : "Always your grace hath done for him 
 in deeds, aud he hath recompensed you with fair u-ords, 
 and fair u-ritiiiffs, of which both, I think, your grace 
 shall lack none ; but as for the deeds, I never believe 
 to see them, and especially at this time." Bryan had 
 comprehended the court of Rome better, perhaps, than 
 many politicians. Finally, Clement himself, wishing 
 to prepare the king for the blow he was about to 
 inflict, wrote to him : " We have been able to find 
 nothing that would satisfy your ambassadors." 
 
 Henry thought he knew what this message meant : 
 that he had found nothing, and would find nothing; 
 and, accordingly, this prince, who, if we may believe 
 Wolsey, had hitherto shewn incredible patience and 
 gentleness, gave way to all his violence. "Very 
 well, then," said he ; " my lords and I well know 
 how to withdraw ourselves from the authority of 
 the Roman see." Wolsey turned pale, and conjured 
 his master not to rush into that fearful abyss. 
 Campeggio, too, endeavoured to revive the king's 
 hopes ; but it was all of no use. Henry recalled his 
 ambassadors. 
 
 Henry, it is true, had not yet reached the age when 
 violent characters become inflexible from the habit 
 they have encouraged of yielding to their passions. 
 But the cardinal, who knew his master, knew also 
 that his inflexibility did not depend upon the number 
 of his years ; he thought Rome's power in England 
 was lost, and, placed between Henry and Clement, he 
 exclaimed : " How shall I avoid Scylla, and not fall 
 into Chaiybdis ? " He begged the king to make one 
 last effort, by sending Dr. Beunct to the pope, with 
 orders to support the avocation to Rome, and he gave 
 him a letter in which he displayed all the resources of 
 his eloquence. " How can it be imagined," he wrote, 
 " that the persuasions of sense urge the king to break 
 a union iu which the ardent j'ears of his youth were 
 passed with such purity? . . . The matter is 
 very different. I am on the spot, I know the state of 
 men's minds. . . . Pray, believe me. . . . 
 The divorce is the secondary question. The primary 
 one is t/ie ftdelifi/ of this realm to the papal see. The 
 nobility, gentiy, and citizens, all exclaim with indig- 
 nation : Must our fortunes — and even our lives— de- 
 pend upon the nod of a foreigner? We must abolish, 
 or, at the very least, diminish, the authority of the 
 Roman pontiff. . . . Most holy father, we can- 
 
 not mention such things without a shudder." . . . 
 This new attempt was also unavailing. The pope 
 demanded of Henry how he could doubt his goodwill, 
 seeing that the King of England had done so much for 
 the apostolic see. This appeared a cruel irony to 
 Tudor. The king requested a favour of the pope, and 
 the jjope replied by calling to mind those which the 
 papacy had received from his hands. " Is this the 
 way," men asked in England, '• in which Rome pays 
 her debts?" 
 
 Wolsey had not reached the term of liis misfortunes. 
 Gardiner and Bryan had just returned to London; 
 they declared that to demand an avocation to Rome, 
 was to lose their cause. Accordingly Wolsey, who 
 turned to every wind, ordered Da Casale, in case 
 Clement should pronounce the avocation, to appeal 
 from the pope, the false head of the church, to the true 
 vicar of Jesus Christ. This was almost in Luther's 
 style. Who was this true vicar .^ Probably a pope 
 nominated by the influence of England. 
 
 But this proceeding did not assure the cardinal : he 
 was losing his judgment. A short time before th.is, 
 Du Bella}', who had just returned from Paris, whither 
 he had gone to retain France on the side of England, 
 had been invited to Richmond by Wolsey. As the 
 two prelates were walking in the park, on that hill 
 whence the eye ranges over the fertile and undulating 
 fields through which the winding Thames pours its 
 tranquil waters, the unhappy cardinal observed to the 
 bishop : " My trouble is the greatest that ever was ! 
 . . . I have excited and carried on this matter of 
 the divorce to dissolve the union between the two 
 houses of Spain and England, by sowing misunder- 
 standing between them, as if I had no part iu it. You 
 know it was iu the interest of France; I therefore 
 entreat the king, your master, and her majesty, to do 
 everything that may forward the divorce. I shall 
 esteem such a favour more than if they made me 
 pope ; but if they refuse me, my ruin is inevitable." 
 And then giving way to despair, he exclaimed: 
 "Alas! would that I were going to be buried to- 
 morrow ! " 
 
 The wretched man was drinking the bitter cup his 
 perfidies had prepared for him. All seemed to con- 
 spire against Henry, and Bennet was recalled shortly 
 after. It was said at court and in the city : " Since 
 the pope sacrifices us to the emperor, let us sacrifice 
 the pope." Clemeut YIL, intimidated by the threats 
 of Charles V., and tottering upon his throne, madly 
 repelled with his foot the bark of England. Europe 
 was all attention, and began to think that the proud 
 vessel of Albion, cutting the cable that boimd her to 
 the pontiffs, would boldly spread her canvas to the 
 winds, and ever after sail the sea alone, wufted on- 
 wards by the breeze that conies from heaven. 
 
 The influence of Rome over Europe is in great 
 measure political. It loses a kingdom by a royal 
 quarrel, and might, iu this same way, lose teu. 
 
TEWKESBUKY BEFORE THE BISHOPS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Discussion between the Evangelicals and the Catholics— Union of Loani- 
 iiig and Life— The Ijiity— Tcwiccsburj-— His Appcnranco before the 
 Bishops' Court— He is Torturcil— Tivo Classes of Opponents— A Tlieo- 
 logical Dnel— Scripture anj the Church— Emancipation of the Mind- 
 Mission to the F-ow Countries- Tyndalc's Einbarrassincnt— Tonstall 
 wishes to buy the Books— racliiuglon's Stratagem— Tyndalo Departs 
 for Antwerp— His Shipwreck— Arrival at Hamburg— Meets Coverdale. 
 
 Otiiek eircuiiisfances from day to day rendered the 
 emancipation of the church moi-e necessary. If be- 
 hind these political debates there had not been found 
 a Ciiristiau people, resolved never to temporize with 
 error, it is probable that England— after a few years 
 of independence — would have fallen back into the 
 bosom of Rome. The affair of the divorce was not 
 the only one agitating men's minds; the religious 
 controversies, which for some years filled the Con- 
 tinent, were always more animated at Oxford and 
 Cambridge. The Evangeliccds and the Catholics (not 
 very catholic indeed) warmly discussed the great ques- 
 tions which the progress of events brought before the 
 world. The former maintained that the primitive 
 church of the apostles, and the actual church of the 
 papacy, were not identical; the latter affirmed, on 
 the contrary, the identity of Popery and Apostolic 
 Christianity. Other Romish doctors, iu later times, 
 finding this position somewhat embarrassing, have 
 asserted that Catholicism existed only in the germ in 
 the Apostolic Cluireh, and had subsequently developed 
 itself. But a thousand abuses — a thousand errors 
 may creep into a church under cover of this theory. 
 A plant springs from the seed, and grows up in accord- 
 ance with immutable laws, whilst a doctrine caurot be 
 transformed in the mind of man without falling under 
 the influence of sin. It is true that the disciples of 
 Popeiy have supposed a constant action of the Divine 
 Spirit in the Catholic Clmrch, which excludes every 
 iuHuence of error. To stamp on the development of 
 the church the character of truth, they have stamped 
 on the chm-ch itself the character of infallibility; 
 quod erat demonstrandum. Their reasoning is a mere 
 begging of the question. To know whether the Romish 
 development is identical with the Gospel, we must 
 examine it by Scripture. 
 
 It was not university men alone who occupied them- 
 selves with Christian truth. The separation which 
 has been remarked in other times between the opinions 
 of the people and of the learned, did not now exist. 
 What the doctors taught the citizens practised ; Oxford 
 and Loudon embraced each other. The theologians 
 knew that learning has need of life, and the citizens 
 believed that life has need of that learning which 
 derives the doctrine from the wells of the Scriptures of 
 God. It was the harmony between these two elements 
 • — the one theological, the other practical — which con- 
 stituted the strength of the English Reformation. 
 
 The evangelical life iu the capital alarmed the clergy 
 more than the evangelical doctrine in the colleges. 
 Since Monmouth had escaped, they must strike another. 
 Among the London merchants was John Tewkesbuiy, 
 one of the oldest friends of the Scriptures in England. 
 
 As early as 1.512, he had become possessor of a manu- 
 script copy of the Bible, and had attentively studied it 
 "When Tyndale's New Testament appeared, he read 
 it with avidity; and, finally, "The Wicked Mammon" 
 had completed tiie work of his conversion. Being a 
 man of heart and understanding, clever in all he 
 undertook, a ready and fluent speaker, and liking to 
 get to the bottom of everything, Tewkesbury, like 
 Monmouth, became very influential in the city, and 
 one of the most learned in Scripture of any of the 
 evangelicals. These generous Christians, being deter- 
 mined to consecrate to God the good things they liad 
 received from Ilim, were the first among that long 
 series of laymen who were destined to be more useful 
 to the truth than many ministers and bishops. They 
 found time to interest themselves about the most trifling 
 details of the kingdom of God ; and in the history of 
 the Reformation in Britain, their names should be 
 inscribed beside those of Latimer and Tyndale. 
 
 The activity of these laymen could not escape the 
 cardinal's notice. Clement VII. w-as abandoning Eng- 
 land : it was necessary for the English bishops, by 
 crushing the heretics, to shew that they would not 
 abandon the popedom. AVe can understand the zeal 
 of these prelates ; and, without excusing their perse- 
 cutions, we are disposed to extenuate their crime. 
 The bishops determined to ruin Tewkesbury. One day 
 in April, 1.529, as he was busy among his peltries, the 
 officers entered his warehouse, arrested him, and led 
 him away to the Bishop of London's chapel, where, 
 besides the ordinary, (Tonstall,) the bishops of Ely, 
 St. Asaph, Bath, and Lincoln, with the Abbot of 
 AVestmiuster, were on the bench. The composition 
 of this tribunal indicated the importance of his case. 
 The emancipation of the laity, thought these judges, 
 is perhaps a more dangerous heresy than justilication 
 by faith. 
 
 " John Tewkesbui-y," said the Bishop of London, 
 " I exhort you to trust less to your own wit and 
 learning, and more unto the doctrine of the holy 
 mother the church." Tewkesbury made answer, tliat 
 in his judgment he held no other doctrine than that of 
 the Church of Christ. Tonstall then broached tiie 
 principal charge, that of having read " The Wicked 
 Mammon;" and after quoting several passages, he 
 exclaimed: "Renounce these errors." — "I tind no 
 fault in the book," replied Tewkesbury. '"It has 
 enlightened my conscience and consoled my heart. 
 But it is not my Gospel. I have studied the Holy 
 Scriptures these seventeen years, and as a man sees 
 tlic spots of his face iu a glass, so, by reading them, 
 I have learnt the faults of my soul. If there is a 
 disagreement between you and the New Testament, 
 put yourselves in harmony with it, rather than desire 
 to put that in accord with you." The bishops were 
 surprised that a leather-seller should speak so well, 
 and quote Scripture so happily, that they were unable 
 to resist him. Annoyed at being catechised by a lay- 
 man, the bishops of Batli, St. Asaph, and Lincoln, 
 thought they could conquer him more easily by the rack 
 thau by their arguments. He was taken to the Tower, 
 where they ordered him to be put to the torture. His 
 limbs were crushed, -which was contrary to the laws 
 of England; and the violence of the rack tore from 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFORMATION. 
 
 him a cry of agony, to which the priests replied by a 
 shout of exultation. The inflexible merchant had pro- 
 mised at last to renounce Tyndale's "AVicked Mammon." 
 Tewkesbmy left the Tower " almost a cripple," and 
 returned to his house to lament the fatal word which 
 the question had extorted from him, and to prepare in 
 the silence of faith to confess in the burning pile the 
 precious name of Christ Jesus. 
 
 We must, however, acknowledge, that the "question" 
 was not Eome's only argument. The Gospel had two 
 classes of opponents in the sixteenth century, as in the 
 first ages of the Church. Some attacked it with the 
 torture, others with their writings. Sir Thomas More, 
 I a few years later, was to have recourse to the first 
 I of these arguments ; but for tlie moment he took up 
 I his pen. He had first studied the writings of the 
 Fathers of the Church, and of the reformers, but 
 rather as an advocate than as a theologian ; and then, 
 armed at all points, he rushed into the arena of polem- 
 ics, and in his attacks dealt those '■ technical convic- 
 tions and that malevolent subtlety," says one of his 
 greatest admirers, " from which the honestest men of 
 liis profession are not free." Jests and sarcasms had 
 i fallen from his pen in his discussion with Tyndale, as 
 in his controversy with Luther. Shortly after Tewkes- 
 I bui-y's affair, (in June, 1529,) there appeared "A 
 i Dialogue of Sir Thomas More, Knt., touching the 
 pestilent Sect of Luther and Tyndale, by the one begim 
 in Saxony, and by the other laboured to be brought 
 into England." 
 
 Tyndale soon became informed of More's publication, 
 and a remarkable combat ensued between these two 
 representatives of the two doctrines that were destined 
 to divide Christendom — Tyndale the champion of Scrip- 
 ture, and More the champion of the church. More 
 having called his book a diahtjite, Tyndale adopted 
 this form in his reply; and the two combatants valiant- 
 ly crossed their swords, though wide seas lay between 
 them. This theological duel is not without importance 
 in the history of the Eeforniation. The struggles of 
 diplomacy, of sacerdotalism, and of royalty, were not 
 enough; tliere must be struggles of doctrine. Eome 
 had set the hierarchy above the faith; the Eefor- 
 mation was to restore faith to its place above the 
 hierarchy. 
 
 More. — Christ said not, the Holy Ghost shall ivrite, 
 but shall teach. Whatsoever the church says, it is the 
 Word of God, though it be not in Scripture. 
 
 Tyndale. — What ! Christ and tlie apostles not spoken 
 oi Scriptures? . . . T/«?se ore imVtoi, says St, John, 
 that ye believe., and thrmiyh belief have life, (1 John ii. 1; 
 Eom. XV. 4 ; Matthew xxii. 29.) 
 
 More. — The apostles have taught by mouth many 
 things they did not ivrite, because they should not 
 come into the hands of the heathen for mocking. 
 
 Tyndale. — I pray you, what thing more to be mocked 
 by the heathen could they teach than the resurrection ; 
 and that Christ was God and man, and died between 
 two thieves'? And yet all these things the apostles 
 wrote. And again, purgatory, penance, and satisfaction 
 for sin, and praying to saints, arc marvellous agreeable 
 unto the superstition of the heathen people, so that 
 they need not to abstain from writing of them for fear 
 lest the heathen should have mocked them. 
 
 More. — We must not examine the teaching of the 
 church by Scripture, but understand Scripture by 
 means of what the church says. 
 
 Tyndale. — AVhat ! Does the air give light to the sun, 
 or the sun to the air ? Is the church before the Gos- 
 pel, or the Gospel before the church? Is not the father 
 older than the son? God beyat us ivith His own will, 
 with the ivord of truth, says St. James, (i. 18.) If he 
 who begetteth is before him who is begotten, the Word 
 is before tlie church, or, to speak more correctly, before 
 the congrei/atinn. 
 
 More. — Wliy do you say congregation, and not church ? 
 
 Tyndale. — IJccause by that word church, you under- 
 stand nothing but a multitude of shorn and oiled, which 
 we now call the spirituality or clergy; while the word 
 of right is common unto all the congregation of them 
 that believe in Christ. 
 
 More. — The church is the pope, and his sect or 
 followers. 
 
 Tyndale. — The pope teacheth us to trust in holy 
 works for salvation, as penance, saints' merits, and 
 friars' coats. Now, he that hath no faith to be saved 
 through Christ, is not of Christ's Church. 
 
 More. — The Eomish Church, from which "Luther- 
 ans came out, was before them, and therefore is the 
 i-ight one. 
 
 Tyndale. — In like manner you may say, tlie church 
 of the Pharisees, whence Christ and His apostles came 
 out, was before them, and was therefore the right 
 church, and consequently Christ and His disciples are 
 heretics. 
 
 More. — No : the apostles came out from the church 
 of the Pharisees because they found not Christ there ; 
 but your priests in Germany and elsewhere have come 
 out of our church because they wanted w^ves. 
 
 Tyndale. — Wrong: . . . these priests were at 
 first attached to what you call heresies, and then they 
 took wives ; but yours were first attached to the holy 
 doctrine of the pope, and then they took harlots. 
 
 More. — Luther's books be open, if you will not 
 believe us. 
 
 Tyndale. — Nay, ye have shut them up, and have 
 even burnt them. . . . 
 
 More. — I marvel that you deny purr/atoi-y. Sir William, 
 except it be a plain point with you to go straight to hell. 
 
 Tyndcde. — I know no other purging but faith in the 
 cross of Christ ; while you, for a groat or a sixjience, 
 buy some secret pills [indulgences] which you take to 
 purge yourselves of your sins. 
 
 More. — Faith, then, is your purgatory, you say; 
 there is no need, therefore, of works — a most immoral 
 doctrine ! 
 
 Tyndale. — It is faith alo7ie that saves us, but not a 
 bare faith. AVhen a horse beareth a saddle and a man 
 thereon, wo may well say that the horse only and alone 
 beareth the saddle; but we do not mean the saddle 
 empty, and no man thereon. 
 
 In this manner did the catholic and the evangelical 
 carry on tlie discussion. According to Tyndale, what 
 constitutes the true Church is the work of the Holy 
 Ghost within ; according to More, the constitution of 
 the papacy without. The spiritual character of the 
 Gospel is thus put in opposition to the formalist char- 
 acter of the Roman Church. The Eeforniation restored 
 
TYNDALE'S DANGER AND SHIPWRECK. 
 
 697 
 
 to our belief the solid foundation of the AVord of God; 
 for the sand it substituted the roek. In the discussion 
 to -wliieh we have just been listening, the advantage 
 remained not with the catholic. Erasmus, a friend of 
 Morc's, embarrassed by the course the latter was 
 taking, wrote to Tonstall : " I cannot heartily con- 
 gratulate More." 
 
 Henry interrupted the celebrated knight in these 
 contests, to send him to Canibray, where a peace was 
 negotiating between France and the empire. Wolscy 
 would have been pleased to go himself ; but his enemies 
 suggested to the king, " that it was only that he might 
 not expedite the matter of the divorce." Henry, there- 
 fore, despatched More, Knight, and Tonstall ; but 
 "Wolscy had created so many delays that he did not 
 arrive until after the conclusion of the Ladies' Pence, 
 (A\igust, 1529.) The king's vexation was extreme. 
 Du Bellay had in vain helped him to spend a ijood 
 preparatori/ Jii/i/ to make him sicallow the dose. Heuiy 
 was angiy with Wolscy, Wolsey threw the blame on 
 the ambassador, and the ambassador defended himself, 
 be tells us, "with tooth and nail." 
 
 By way of compensation, the English envoys con- 
 cluded with the emperor a treaty prohibiting on both 
 sides the printing and sale of " any Lutheran books." 
 Some of them could have wished for a good persecution, 
 for a few burning piles, it may be. A singular oppor- 
 tunity occurred. In the spring of 1529, Tyudale and 
 FiTth had left Marburg for Antwerp, and were thus 
 in the vicinity of the English envoys. "What AYest had 
 been unable to effect, it was thought the two most 
 intelligent men in Britain could not fail to accomplish. 
 " Tyndalo must be captured," said More and Tonstall. 
 "You do not know what sort of a countiy you are in," 
 replied Hackett. " Will you believe that, on the 7th 
 of April, Harmau arrested me at Antwerp for damages, 
 caused by his imprisonment ? If you can lay anything 
 to my charge as a private individual, I said to the 
 otTicer, I am ready to answer for myself ; but if you 
 arrest me as ambassador, I know no judge but the 
 emperor. Upon which the procurator had the audacity 
 to reply, that I was arrested as ambassador; and the 
 lords of Antwerp only set me at liberty on condition 
 that I should appear again at the first summons. These 
 merchants are so proud of their franchises, that they 
 woidd resist even Charles himself." This anecdote was 
 not at all calculated to encourage More ; and not caring 
 about a pursuit which promised to be of little use, he 
 returned to England. But the Bishop of Loudon, who 
 was left behind, persisted in the project, and repaired 
 to Antwerp to put it in execution. 
 
 Tyndale was at that time greatly embarrassed ; 
 considerable debts, incurred with liis printers, com- 
 pelled him to suspend his labours. Nor was this all : 
 the prelate who had spurned him so harshly in Loudon, 
 had just anived in the very city where he lay con- 
 cealed. . . . What would become of him? . . 
 A merchant, named Augustin Paekington, a clever 
 man, but somewhat inclined to dissimulation, happening 
 to be at Antwerp on business, hastened to pay his 
 respects to the bishop. The latter observed, in the 
 course of conversation : " I should like to get hold of 
 the books with which England is poisoned." — " I can 
 perhaps serve yoii in that matter," replied the mer- 
 
 chant. "I know the Flemings who have bought 
 Tyndale's books; so that if your lordship will be 
 pleased to pay for them, I will nu\kc you sure of them [ 
 all." "Oh, oh!" thought the bishop, "now, as the \ 
 proverb says, I shall have GJod by the toe. Gentle 
 Master Paekington," he added in a flattering tone, "I 
 will pay for them whatsoever they cost you. I intend 
 to burn them at St. Paul's cross." The bishop, having 
 his hand already on Tyndale's Testaments, fancied 
 himself on the point of seizing Tyndale himself. 
 
 Paekington, being one of those men who love to 
 conciliate all parties, ran off to Tyndale, with whom 
 he was intimate, and said: "William, I know you are 
 a poor man, and have a heap of New Testaments and 
 books by you, for which you have beggared yourself; 
 and I have now foimd a merchant who will buy them 
 all, and with ready money too." " Who is the mer- 
 chant?" said Tyndale. — "The Bishop of London." 
 '•Tonstall? . . . If he buys my books, it can only 
 be to burn them." — "No doubt," answered Paekington; 
 " but what will he gain by it? The whole world will 
 cry out against the priest who burns God's AVord, and 
 the eyes of many will be opened. Come, make up your 
 mind, AYilliam ; the bishop shall have the books, you 
 the money, and I the thanks." , . . Tyndale re- 
 sisted the proposal ; Paekington became more pressing. 
 "The question comes to this," he said; "shall the 
 bishop pay for the books, or shall he not? for, make 
 up your mind, . . . he will have them." — "Icon- 
 sent," said the reformer at last; "I shall jjay my debts, 
 and bring out a new and more correct edition of the 
 Testament." The bargain was made. 
 
 Ere long the danger thickened around Tyndale. 
 Placards, posted at Antwerp and throughout the pro- 
 vince, announced that the emperor, in conformity with 
 the treaty of Cambray, was about to proceed against 
 the reformers and their writings. Not an officer of 
 justice appeared in the street but Tyndale's friends 
 trembled for his liberty. Under such circumstances, 
 how could he print his translation of Genesis and 
 Deuteronomy ? He made up his mind about the end 
 of August to go to Hamburg, and took his passage in 
 a vessel loading for that port. Embarking with his 
 books, his manuscripts, and the rest of his money, he 
 glided down the Scheldt, and soon found himself afloat 
 on the German ocean. 
 
 But one danger followed close upon another. He 
 had scarcely passed the mouth of the Meuse, when a 
 tempest burst upon him, and his ship, like that of old 
 which bore St. Paul, was almost swallowed up by the 
 waves. "Satan, envying the happy course and success 
 of the Gospel," says a chronicler, " set to his might 
 how to hinder the blessed labours of this man." The 
 seamen toiled, Tyndale prayed, all hope was lost. The 
 reformer alouc was full of courage, not doubting that 
 God would preserve him for the accomplishment of 
 his work. All the exertions of the crew proved useless; 
 the vessel was dashed on the coast, and the passengers 
 escaped with their lives. Tyndale gazed with soitow 
 upon that ocean which had swallowed up his beloved 
 books and precious manuscripts, and deprived him of 
 his resources. AVhat labours, what perils ! banishment, 
 poverty, thirst, insults, watchings, persecution, impri- 
 sonment, the stake! . . . Like Paul, he was in 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEF0R:\IATI0N. 
 
 perils by his o^vn countrymen, in perils among strange 
 people, in perils in the city, in perils in the ssa. Re- 
 covering Ills spirits, however, he went on board another 
 ship, eulered the Elbe, and at last reached Hamburg. 
 
 Great joy ivas in store for him in that city. Cover- 
 dale, Fox informs us, was waiting there to confer with 
 him, and to help him in his labours. It has been 
 supposed that Coverdale went to Hamburg to invite 
 Tyndale, in Cromwell's name, to return to England ; 
 but it is merely a conjecture, and requires confirmation. 
 As early as 1527, Coverdale had made known to Crom- 
 well his desire to translate the Scriptures. It was 
 natural that, meeting with difficulties in this under- 
 taking, he should desire to converse with Tyndale. 
 The two friends lodged with a pious woman named 
 Margaret van Emmersen, and spent some time together 
 in the autumn of 1529, undisturbed by the sweating 
 sickness which was making such cruel havoc all around 
 them. Coverdale returned to England shortly after ; 
 the two reformers had, no doubt, discovered that it 
 was better for each of them to translate the Scriptures 
 separately. 
 
 Before Covcrdale's return, Tonstall had gone back 
 to London, exulting at cai-rying with him the books he 
 had bought so dearly. But when he reached the capital, 
 he thought he had better defer the meditated auto da 
 fe until some striking event should give it increased 
 i\nportance. And, besides, just at that moment very 
 different matters were engaging public attention on the 
 banks of the Thames, and the liveliest emotions agitated 
 every muid. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Royal Scsfii.n— Sitting of tlae ISth June : the Queen's Protest— Sitting 
 of tht 21st Ji.Lc — Sunjinons to the King and Queen — Catherine's Speech 
 -—hh'i Retires— imincssion on the Audience— The King's Declaration— 
 ftxlsty's Protest— Quarrel between the Bishops— New Sitting— Appari- 
 tion to Uie Maid of Kent— Wolsey chafed by Henry— The Earl of Wilt- 
 si lie at VVolsey's— Private Uooference between Catherine and the two 
 
 Affaias had changed in England during the absence 
 of Toustall and More ; and even before their departure, 
 events of a certain importance had occurred. Henry, 
 finding there was nothing more to hope from Rome, 
 had turned to Wolsey and Campeggio. The Roman 
 nuncio had succeeded in deceiving the king. " Cam- 
 peggio is very different from what he is reported," said 
 Henry to his friends ; " he is not for the emperor, as 
 I was told ; I have said somewhat to him which has 
 changed his mind." No doubt he had made some 
 brilliant pi'omise. 
 
 Henry, therefore, imagining himself sure of his two 
 legates, desired them to proceed with the matter of the 
 divorce without delay. There was no time to lose, for 
 the king was informed that the pope was on the point 
 of recalling the commission given to the two cardinals ; 
 and as early as the 19 th of March, Salviati, the pope's 
 uncle and secretary of state, wrote to Campeggio about 
 it. Henry's process once in the court of the pontifical 
 chancery, it would have been long before it got out 
 
 again. Accordingly, on the 31st of May, the king, by 
 a warrant under the great seal, gave the legates lecu-e 
 to execute their commission, " without any regard to 
 his own person, and having the fear of God only before 
 their eyes." The legates themselves had suggested this 
 formula to the king. 
 
 On the same day the commission was opened ; but 
 to begin the process was not to end it. Evei-y letter 
 which the nuncio received, forbade him to do so in the 
 most positive manner. " Advance slowly, and never 
 finish," were Clement's instructions. The trial was to 
 be a farce, played by a pope and two cardinals. 
 
 The ecclesiastical court met in the great hall of the 
 Blackfriars, commonly called the " parliament chamber." 
 The two legates having successively taken the commis- 
 sion in their hands, devoutly declared, that they were 
 resolved to execute it, (they should have said, to elude 
 it,) made the required oaths, and ordered a peremptory 
 citation of the king and queen to appear on the 18th 
 of June, at nine in the morning. Campeggio was eager 
 to proceed slow/i/; the session was adjourned for three 
 weeks. The citation caused a great stir among the 
 people. " What ! " said they, " a king and a qnoea 
 constrained to appear, in their own realm, before their 
 own subjects." The papacy set an example which was 
 to be strictly followed, in after-years, both in England 
 and in France. 
 
 On the 18th of June, Catherine appeared before the 
 commission in the parliament chamber, and, stepping 
 forward with dignity, said with a firm voice : " I pro- 
 test against the legates as incompetent judges, and 
 appeal to the pope." This proceeding of the quecu's, 
 her pride and firmness, troubled her enemies, and in 
 their vexation they grew exasperated against her. "In- 
 stead of praying God to bring this matter to a good 
 conclusion," they said, " she endeavours to turn away 
 the people's affections from the king. Instead of shew- 
 ing Henry the love of a youtliful wife, she keeps away 
 from him night and day. There is even cause to fear," 
 they added, " that she is in concert with certain indivi- 
 duals who have formed the horrible design of killing 
 the king and the cardinal." But persons of generous 
 heart, seeing only a queeu, a w&e, and a mother, 
 attacked in her dearest affections, shewed themselves 
 full of sympathy for her. 
 
 On the 21st of June, the day to which the court 
 adjourned, the two legates entered the parliament [ 
 chamber with all the pomp belonging to their station, \ 
 aud took their seats on a raised platform. Near them 
 sat the bishops of Bath and Lincoln, the Abbot of 
 Westminster, and Doctor Taylor, master of the Rolls, 
 whom they had added to their commission. Below 
 them were the secretaries, among whom the skilful 
 Stephen Gardiner held the chief rank. On the right 
 hung a cloth of estate, where the king sat surrouniled 
 by his officers ; and on the left, a little lower, was the 
 queen, attcuded by her ladies. The Ai-chbishop of 
 Canterbury and the bishops were seated between the 
 legates and Henry VIII., aud on both sides of the 
 throne were stationed the councillors of the king and 
 queen. The latter were, Fisher, bishop of Rochester, 
 Staudlsh of St. Asaph, West of Ely, and Dr. Ridley. 
 The people, when they saw this procession defile before 
 them, were far from being dazzled by the pomp. "Less 
 
THE QUEEN'S APPEAL TO THE KING. 
 
 GOO 
 
 sliow and more virtue," they said, " would better 
 bceome such judges." 
 
 The ponlilleal commissiou having been read, the 
 legates deelared that they would judge without fear or 
 favour, and would admit of neither recusation nor 
 appeal. Tlien the usher cried : " Henry, king of 
 1 England, come into court." The king, cited in his 
 1 own capital to accept as judges two priests, his subjects, 
 [ repressed the throbbing of his jirond heart, and replied, 
 in the hope that tliis strange trial would have a favour- 
 able issue : " Here I am." The usher continued : 
 j " Catherine, queen of England, come into court." The 
 queen handed the cardinals a paper, in which she pro- 
 tested against the legality of the court, as the judges 
 were the subjects of her opponent, and appealed to 
 Rome. The cardinals declared they could not admit 
 this paper, and consequently Catherine was again called 
 into court. At this second summons she rose, devoutly 
 [ crossed herself, made the circuit of the court to where 
 , the king sat, bending with dignity as she passed in 
 front of the legates, and fell on her knees before her 
 I husband. Every eye was turned upon her. Then, 
 \ sjieaking in English, but with a Spanish accent, which, 
 by recalling the distatice she was from her native home, 
 jiloaded eloquently for her, Catherine said with tears 
 in her eyes, aud in a tone at ouce dignified and im- 
 passioned : 
 
 "Sir, — I beseech you, for all tlie love that hath been 
 
 between us, and for the love of God, let me have justice 
 
 and right; take some pity on mo, for I am a poor 
 
 j woman, and a stranger, born out of yoiu" dominions. 
 
 1 I have here r.o assured friend, much less impartial couu- 
 
 ; sel, aud I flee to you as to the head of justice within 
 
 j this i-ealm. Alas ! Sir, wherein have I offended you, or 
 
 j what occasion given you of displeasure, that you should 
 
 I wish to put me from you? I take God and all tlie 
 
 world to witness, that I have been to you a true, 
 
 hiunlde, and obedient wife, ever conformaljle to your 
 
 will aud pleasure. Never have I said or done aught 
 
 contrary thereto, being always well pleased and content 
 
 with all things wherein you had delight ; neither did I 
 
 ever grudge in word or countenance, or shew a visage or 
 
 spark of discontent. I loved all lliose whom you loved, 
 
 only for your sake. This twenty years I have beeu 
 
 j-our true wife, and by me ye have had divers children, 
 
 although it hath pleased God to call them out of this 
 
 j world, which yet hath been no default in me." 
 
 The judges, and even the most servile of the courtiers, 
 were touched when they heard these simple and 
 clo(iueDt words, and the queen's soitow moved them 
 almost to tears. Catherine continued ; 
 I " Sir, — AVhen ye married me at the first, I take 
 
 I God to be my judge I was a true maid; and 
 whether it be true or not, I put it to your conscience. 
 I .... If there be any just cause that ye can 
 allege against me, I am couteutcd to depart from your 
 kingdom, albeit to my great shame and dishonour; and 
 if there be none, then let me remain in my former 
 estate until death. Who united us 1 The king, your 
 fatiier, who was called the second Solomon ; and my 
 father, Ferdinand, who was esteemed one of the wisest 
 ])rinces that, for many years before, had reigned iu 
 Spaiu. It is not, therefore, to be doubted that the 
 nuirriage between you and me is good and lawful. 
 
 AVho arc my judges? Is not one the man that has put 
 sorrow between you aud me? ... a judge whom 
 I refuse aud abhor! — Wiio are the councillors assigned 
 me? Are they not ofhccrs of the crown, who have 
 made oath to you in your own council ? . . . Sir, 
 I conjure you not to call me before a court .so formed. 
 Yet, if you refuse mc this favour . . . your will 
 be done. . , I shall be silent, I sh.all repress the 
 
 emotions of )ny soul, and remit my just cause to the 
 hands of God." 
 
 Thus spoke Catherine through her tears; humbly 
 bending, she seemed to embrace Henry's knees. She 
 rose aud made a low obeisance to the king. It was 
 expected that she would return to her seat ; but leaning 
 on the arm of Griffiths, her receiver-general, she moved 
 towards the door. The king, observing this, ordered 
 her to be recalled; and the usher, following her, thrice 
 cried aloud : " Catherine, queen of England, come 
 into court." " Madam," said Griinihs, " you are called 
 back." — " I hear it well enough," replied the queen ; 
 " but go you on, for this is no court wherein I can 
 have justice: let us proceed." Catlierlue returned to 
 the palace, and never again appeared before the court 
 either by proxy or in person. 
 
 She had gained her cause iu the minds of many. 
 The dignity of her pei'sou, the quaint simplicity of her 
 speech, the propriety with which, relying upon her 
 innocence, she had spoken of the most delicate subjects, 
 aud the tears which betrayed her emotioa, had created 
 a deep impression. But " the sting in her speech," as 
 an historian says, was her appeal to the king's con- 
 science, and to the judgment of Almighty God, on the 
 capital point in the cause. " How could a person so 
 modest, so sober in her language," said many, " dare 
 utter such a falsehood? Besides, the king did not 
 contradict her." 
 
 Henry was greatly embarrassed : Catherine's words 
 had moved liim. Catherine's defence, one of the most 
 touchiug in history, had gained over the accuser him- 
 self. He therefore felt constrained to render this 
 testimony to the accused : " Since the queen has with- 
 drawn, I will, in her absence, declare to you all present, 
 that she has been to me as true aud obedient a wife as ' 
 I could desii-e. She has all the virtues and good 
 qualities that belong to a woman. She is as noble in 
 character as in birth." 
 
 ButWolsey w;is the most embarrassed of all. "When 
 the queen had said, without naming him, that one of 
 her judges was the cause of all her misfortunes, looks 
 of indignation were turned upon him. He was un- 
 willing to remain uuder the weight of this accusation. 
 As soon as the Hng had finished speaking, he said : 
 '• Sir, I humbly beg your majesty to declare before this 
 audience whether I was the first or chief mover in this 
 business." AVolsey had formerly boasted to Du Bellay, 
 " that the first project of the divorce was set on foot 
 by himself, to create a perpetual separation between 
 the houses of Euglaud and Spain;" but now it suited 
 him to affirm the contrary. The king, who needed his 
 services, took care not to contradict him. "My lord ' 
 cardinal," he said, " I can well excuse you herein, j 
 Marry, so far from being a mover, ye have been rather 
 against me in attempting thereof. It was the Bishop 
 of Tarbes, the French ambassador, who begot the first 
 
700 
 
 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 scruples in my conscience by his doubts on the legiti- 
 macy of the Princess Mary." This was not correct. 
 The Bisliop of Tarbes was not in England before the 
 year 1527, and we have proofs that ihc king was 
 meditating a divorce in 152G. " From that hour," he 
 continued, "I was much troubled, and thought myself 
 in danger of God's heavy displeasure, who, wishing to 
 punisli my incestuous marriage, had taken away all the 
 sons my wife had borne me. I laid my grief before 
 you, my lord of Lincoln, then being my ghostly father; 
 and by your advice I asked counsel of the rest of the 
 bishops, and you all informed me, under your seals, 
 tliat you shared in my scruples." — "That is the truth," 
 said the Archbishop of Canterbury. " No, Sir, not so, 
 imder correction," quoth the Bishop of Kochester, "you 
 have not my hand and seal." — "No!" exclaimed the 
 king, shewing him a paper which ho held in his hand ; 
 "is not this your hand and seal?" — "No, forsooth," lie 
 answered. Henry's surprise increased, and turning 
 with a frown to the Archbishop of Canterbury, he asked 
 him : "What say you to that '? " — " Sir, it is his hand 
 and seal," replied Warham. " It is not," rejoined 
 Rochester: "I told you I would never consent to any 
 such act." — " You say the truth," responded the arch- 
 bishop; " but you were fully resolved at the last that I 
 should subscribe your name and put your seal." — "All 
 which is untrue," added Rochester, in a passion. The 
 bisliop was not very respectful to his primate. "Well, 
 well," said the king, wishing to end the dispute, " we 
 will not stand in argument with you; for you are but 
 one man." The court adjourned. The day had been 
 better for Catherine than for the prelates. 
 
 In proportion as the first sitting had been pathetic, 
 so the discussions in the second between the lawyers 
 and bishops were calculated to revolt a delicate mind. 
 Tlie advocates of the two parties vigorously debated 
 pro and con respecting the consummation of Arthur's 
 marriage with Catherine. "It is a very difTicult 
 question," said one of the council ; " none can know 
 the truth." — "But I know it," replied the Bishop of 
 Rochester. "What do you moaa.'" asked Wolsey. — 
 "My lord," he answered, " He was the very Truth who 
 said : What God hath joined together, let not man put 
 asunder: that is enough for me." — " So everybody 
 thinks," rejoined Wolsey; "but whether it was God 
 who united Henry of England and Catherine of Arragon, 
 hoc restat probandtim, that remains to be proved. The 
 king's council decides that the marriage is unlawful, 
 and consequently it was not God tcho joined them to- 
 gether." The two bishops then exchanged a few words 
 less edifying than those of the preceding day. Several 
 of the hearers expressed a sentiment of disgust. "It 
 is a disgrace to the court," said Dr. Ridley with no 
 little indignation, " that you dare discuss questions 
 which fill every right-minded man with horror." This 
 sharp reprimand put an end to the debate. 
 
 The agitations of the court spread to the convents ; 
 priests, monks, and nims, were everywhere in commo- 
 tion. It was not long before astonishing revelations 
 began to circulate through the cloisters. There was 
 no talk then of an old portrait of the Virgin that 
 winked its eyes ; but other miracles were invented. 
 " An angel," it was rumoured, " has appeared to Eliza- 
 beth Barton, the maid of Kent, as he did formerly to 
 
 Adam, to the patriarchs, and to Jesus Christ." At the 
 epochs of the creation and of the redemption, and in 
 the times which lead from one to tlie other, miracles 
 are natural ; God then appeared, and His coming with- 
 out any signs of power, would be as surprising as the 
 rising of the sun unattended by its rays of light. But 
 the llomish Church does not stop there ; it claims in 
 every age, for its saints, the privilege of miraculous 
 powers ; and the miracles are multiplied in proportion 
 to the ignorance of the people. And accordingly the 
 angel said to the epileptic maid of Kent : " Go to the 
 unfaithful king of England, and tell him there are three 
 things he desires, which I forbid now and for ever'. 
 The first is the power of the pope ; the second, the new 
 doctrine ; the third, Anne Boleyn. If he takes her for 
 his wife, God will visit him." The vision-seeing maid 
 delivered the message to the king, whom nothing could 
 now stop. 
 
 On the contrary, he began to find out that Wolsey 
 proceeded too slowly, and the idea sometimes crossed 
 his mind that he was betrayed by this minister. One 
 fine summer's morning, Henry, as soon as he rose, 
 summoned the cardinal to him at Bridewell. Wolsey 
 hastened thither, and remained closeted with the king 
 from eleven till twelve. The latter gave way to all 
 the fury of his passion and the violence of his despot- 
 ism. " Wc must finish this matter promptly," he said ; 
 " we must positively." Wolsey retired very uneasy, 
 and returned by the Thames to Westminster. The sun 
 darted his bright rays on the water. The Bishop of 
 Carlisle, who sat by the cardinal's side, remarked, as 
 he wiped liis forehead : " A very warm day, my lord." 
 — "Yes," replied the unhappy Wolsey; "if you had 
 been chafed for an hour as I have been, you would say 
 it was a hot day." Wlien ho reached his palace, the 
 cardinal lay down on his bed to seek repose ; he was 
 not quiet long. 
 
 Catherine had grown in Henry's eyes, as well as in 
 those of the nation. The king shrank from a judgment; 
 he even began to doubt of his success. He wished that 
 the queen would consent to a separation. This idea 
 occurred to his mind after Wolsey's departure ; and the 
 cardinal had hardly closed his eyes before the Earl of 
 
 Wiltshire (Anne Boleyn's father) was announced to 
 him with a message from the king. " It is his majesty's 
 pleasure," said Wiltshire, "that you represent to the 
 queen the shame that will accrue to her from a judicial 
 condemnation, and persuade her to confide in liis wis- 
 dom." AYolsey, commissioned to execute a task he 
 knew to be impossible, exclaimed : " Why do you put 
 such fancies in the king's head?" and then he spoke so 
 reproachfully that Wiltshire, with tears in his eyes, 
 fell on his knees beside the cardinal's bed. Boleyn, 
 desirous of seeing his daughter queen of Englaud, 
 feared, perhaps, that he had taken a wrojig course. "It 
 is ivell," said the cardinal, recollecting that the message 
 came from Henry VIII. ; " I am ready to do every- 
 thing to please his majesty." He rose, went to Bath 
 Place to fetch Campcggio, and together they waited 
 on the queen. 
 
 The two legates found Catherine quietly at work 
 with her maids of honour. Wolsey addressed the 
 queen in Latin: "Nay, my lord," she said, "speak to 
 me in English ; I wish all the woi'ld could hear you." 
 
THE LEGATES VISIT THE QUEEN. 
 
 — " We desire, madam, to coraraunicato to you alone 
 our counsel and opinion." — "My lord," said the queen, 
 "you are come to speak of things beyond my capacity;" 
 and then, with noble simplicity, shewing a skein of red 
 silk hanging about her neck, she continued : " Those 
 arc my occupations, and all that I am capable of. I 
 am a poor woman, without friends in this foreign 
 country, and lacking wit to answer persons of wisdom 
 as ye be ; and yet, my lords, to please you, let us go 
 to my withdrawing room." 
 
 At these words the queen rose, and Wolsey gave her 
 his baud. Catherine earnestly maintained her rights 
 as a woman and a queen. " We who were in the outer 
 chamber," says Cavendish, "from time to time could 
 hear the queen speaking very loud, but could not mi- 
 derstand what she said." Catherine, instead of justi- 
 fying herself, boldly accused her judge. " I know. Sir 
 Cardinal," she said with noble candour; "I know who 
 has given the king the advice ho is following : it is you. 
 I have not ministered to your pride — I have blamed 
 your conduct — I have complained of your tyranny, and 
 my nephew the emperor has not made you pope. . . 
 Ileucc all my misfortunes. To revenge yom-self you 
 have kindled a war in Europe, and have stirred up 
 ag:iinst me this most wicked matter. God will be my 
 judge, . . . and yours!" Wolsey would have 
 replied, but Catherine haughtily refused to hear him ; 
 and while treating Campeggio with great civility, de- 
 clared that she would not acknowledge cither of them 
 as her judge. The cardinals withdrew, Wolsey fall of 
 vexation, and Campeggio beaming with joy, for the 
 business was getting more complicated. Every hope 
 of accommodation was lost: nothing remaiaed now 
 but to proceed judicially. 
 
 CHArTER IX. 
 
 The Tmt Easuraed— Catherine Summoned— Twelve Articles— Tlie TVit- 
 uesses* Evidence— Arthur and Catherine really Married— Campeggio 
 opposes the Argument of Divine Right — Other Arguments— The Le- 
 gates required to Deliver Judgment — Their Tergiversations — Change in 
 Men's Minds— Final Session— General Expectation— Adjournment dur- 
 ing Har\-est— Campeggio Excuses this Impertinence— Tlie King's Indig- 
 nation—Suffolk's Violence— Wolsey's Replj-— He is Ruined— General 
 Accusations -The Cardinal turns to an Episcopal Life. 
 
 The trial was resumed. The Bishop of Bath and Wells 
 waited upon the queen at Greenwich, and peremptorily 
 summoned her to appear in the parliament-chamber. 
 On the day appointed Catherine limited herself to 
 sending an appeal to the pope. She was declared con- 
 tumacious, and the legates proceeded with the cause. 
 
 Twelve articles were prepared, which were to serve 
 for the examination of the witnesses, and the summary 
 of which was, that the marriage of Henry with Cathe- 
 rine, being forbidden both by the law of God and of 
 the church, was null and void. 
 
 The hearing of the witnesses began ; and Dr. Taylor, 
 archdeacon of Buckingham, conducted the examination. 
 Tiieir evidence, which would now be taken only with 
 closed doors, may be found in Lord Herbert, of Cher- 
 
 bury's History of Henry "VIII. The Duke of Norfolk, 
 high-treasurer of England, the Duke of Suffolk, Maurice 
 St. John, gentleman carver to Prince Arthur, the Vis- 
 count Fitzwalter and Anthony Willoughby, his cup- 
 bearers, testify to their being |)resent on the morrow 
 of the wedding at the breakfast of the prince, then in 
 sound health, and reported the conversation that took 
 place. The old Duchess of Norfolk, the Earl of 
 Shrewsbury, and the Marquis of Dorset, confirmed 
 these declarations, which proved that Arthur and 
 Catherine were really married. It was also called to 
 mind that, at the time of Arthur's death, Henry was 
 not permitted to take the title of Prince of Wales, 
 because Catherine hoped to give an heir to the crown 
 of England. 
 
 " If Arthur and Catherine were really married," said 
 the king's councillors after these extraordinary deposi- 
 tions, " the marriage of this princess with Henry, 
 Arthur's brother, was forbidden by the Divine law, by 
 a;i express command of God, contained in Leviticus, 
 and no dispensation could permit what God had for- 
 bidden." Campeggio would never concede this argu- } 
 ment, which limited the right of the popes ; it was 
 necessai'y, therefore, to abandon the Divine riijht, (which ', 
 was in reality to lose the cause,) and to seek in the bull 
 of Julius II., and in his famous brief, for flaws that , 
 would invalidate them both; and this the king's council 
 did, although they did not conceal the weakness of 
 their position. " The motive alleged in the disponsa- i 
 tion," they said, "is the necessity of preserving a 
 cordial relation between Spain and England ; now, I 
 there was nothing that tlireatened their harmony. 
 Moreover, it is said in this document that the pope 
 grants it at the prayer of Homy, prince of Wales. 
 Now, as this prince was only thirteen years old, he was 
 not of age to make such a request. As for the brief, j 
 it is found neither in England nor in Rome ; we can- j 
 not, therefore, admit its authenticity." It was not 
 dilTicult for Catherine's friends to invalidate these 
 objections. " Besides," they added, " a union that has 
 lasted twenty years suflTiciently establishes its own law- ' 
 fulness. And will you declare the Princess Mary i 
 illegitimate, to the great, injury of this realm?" ', 
 
 The king's advocates then changed their course. <, 
 Was not the Roman legate provided with a decretal 
 pronouncing the divorce, in case it should be proved 
 that Arthur's marriage had been really consummated? 
 Now, this fact had been proved by the depositions. 
 " Tills is the moment for delivering judgment," said 
 Henry and his councillors to Campeggio. " Publish 
 the pope's decretal." But the pope feared the sword 
 of Charles V., then hanging over his head ; and accord- 
 ingly, whenever the king advanced one step, the Romish 
 prelate took several in an opposite direction. " I will 
 deliver judgment in five days," said he; and when the 
 five days were expired, he bound himself to deliver it 
 in six. " Restore peace to my troubled conscience," 
 exclaimed Henry. The legate replied in courtly phrase; 
 he had gained a few days' delay, and that was all he 
 desired. 
 
 Such conduct on the part of the Roman legate pro- 
 duced an unfavourable effect in England, and a change 
 took place in the public mind. The first movement 
 had been for Catherine; the second was for Hemy. i 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Clement's endless delays and Campeggio's stratagems 
 exasperated the nation. The king's argument was 
 simple and popular : " The pope cannot dispense with 
 the laws of God;" while the queen, by appealing to 
 the authority of the Eomau pontiff, displeased both 
 high and low. "No precedent," said the lawyers, "can 
 justify the king's marriage with his brother's widow." 
 
 There were, however, some evangelical Christians 
 who tliought Henry was " troubled " more by his 
 passions than by his conscience ; and they asked how 
 it happened that a prince, who represented himself to 
 be so disturbed by the possible transgression of a law 
 of douljtful interpretation, could desire, after twenty 
 years, to violate the indisputable law which forbade 
 the divorce? . . . On the 21st of July, the day 
 fixed ad concludendum, the cause was adjourned until 
 the Friday following, and no one doubted that the 
 matter would then be terminated. 
 
 All prepared for this important day. The king 
 ordered tlie dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk to be present 
 at the sitting of the court; and being himself impatient 
 to hear the so much coveted judgment, he stole into a 
 gallery of the parliament-chamber facing the judges. 
 
 The legates of the holy see having taken their seats, 
 the attorney-general signified to them, " that everything 
 necessary for the information of their conscience having 
 been judicially laid before them, that day had been 
 fixed for the conclusion of the trial." There was a 
 pause ; every one feeling the importance of this judg- 
 ment, waited for it with impatience. " Either the 
 papacy pronounces my divorce from Catherine," the 
 king had said, "or I shall divorce myself from the 
 papacy." That was the way Henry put the question. 
 All eyes, and particularly the king's, were turned on 
 the judges; Campeggio could not retreat; he must now 
 sny i/es or no. For some time he was silent. He knew 
 for certain that the queen's appeal had been admitted 
 by Clement VII., and that the latter had concluded an 
 alliance witli the emperor. It was no longer in his 
 power to grant the king's request. Clearly foreseeing 
 that a no would perhaps forfeit the power of Rome in 
 England, while a i/es might put an end to the plans of 
 religious emancipation which alarmed him so much, he 
 could not make up his mind to say either i/es or no. 
 
 At last the nuncio rose slowly from his chair, and 
 all the as-icmbly listened with emotion to the oracular 
 decision which for so many years the powerful King 
 of England had sought from the Eomau pontiff. " The 
 general vacation of the harvest and vintage," he said, 
 "being observed every year by the court of Rome, 
 dating from to-morrow, the 24th of July, the beginning 
 of the dog-days, we adjourn, to some future period, 
 the conclusion of these pleadings." 
 
 The auditors were thunderstruck. " What ! because 
 the malaiia renders the air of Rome dangerous at the 
 end of July, and compels the Romans to close their 
 courts, must a trial be broken off on the banks of the 
 Thames, when its conclusion is looked for so impa- 
 tiently?" The people hoped for a judicial sentence, 
 and they were answered with a jest; it was thus Rome 
 made sport of Christendom. Campeggio, to disarm 
 Henry's ivrath, gave utterance to some noble senti- 
 ments ; but his whole line of conduct raises legitimate 
 doubts as to his sincerity. " The queen," he said, 
 
 " denies the competency of the court ; I must therefore 
 make my report to the pope, who is the source of life 
 and honour, and wait his sovereign orders. I have not 
 come so far to please any man, be he king or subject. 
 I am an old man, feeble and sickly, and fear none but 
 the Sui)remo Judge, before whom I must soon appear. 
 I therefore adjourn this court until the 1st of October." 
 
 It was evident that this adjournment was only a 
 formality intended to signify the definitive rejection 
 of Henry's demand. The same custom prevails in the 
 British legislature. 
 
 The king, who from his place of concealment had 
 heard Campeggio's speech, could scarcely control his 
 indignation. He wanted a regular judgment; he clung 
 to forms; he desired that his cause should pass success- 
 fully through all the windings of ecclesiastical pro- 
 cedure ; and yet here it is wrecked upon the vacations 
 of the Romish court. Heniy was silent, however, 
 either from prudence, or because surprise deprived him 
 of the power of speech, and he hastily left the gallery. 
 
 Norfolk, Suffolk, and the other courtiers, did not 
 follow him. The king and his ministers, the peers and 
 the people, and even the clergy, weve almost unanimous, 
 and yet the pope pronounced his veto. He humbled 
 the Defender of the Faith to flatter the author of the 
 sack of Rome. This was too much. The impetuous 
 Suffolk started from his seat, struck his hand violently 
 on the table in front of him, cast a threatening look 
 upon the judges, and exclaimed : " By the mass the 
 old saying is confirmed to-day, that no cardinal has 
 ever brought good to England." — " Sir, of all men 
 in this realm," replied Wolsey, "you have the least 
 cause to disparage cardinals, for if J, poor cardinal, 
 had not been, you would not have had a head on your 
 shoulders." It would seem that Wolsey pacified Henry 
 at the time of the duke's marriage with the Princess 
 Mary. "I cannot pronounce sentence," continued 
 Wolsey, " without, knowing the good pleasure of his 
 holiness. The two dukes and the other noblemen left 
 the hall in anger, and hastened to the palace. The 
 legates, remaining with their officers, looked at each 
 other for a few moments. At last Campeggio, wlio 
 alone had remained calm during this scene of violence, 
 arose, and the audience dispersed. 
 
 Henry did not allow himself to be crushed by this 
 blow. Rome, by her strange proceedings, aroused in 
 him that suspicious and despotic spirit of which he 
 gave such tragic proofs in after-years. The papacy 
 was making sport of him. Clement and Wolsey tossed 
 his divorce from one to the other like a ball which, now 
 at Rome and now at London, seemed fated to remain 
 perpetually in the air. The king thouglit he had been 
 long enough the plaything of his holiness and of the 
 crafty cardinal; his patience was exhausted, and he 
 resolved to shew his adversaries that Henry VIII. was 
 more tlian a match for these bishops. We shall find 
 him seizing this favourable opportunity, and giving an 
 unexpected solution to the matter. 
 
 Wolsey sorrowfully hung his head ; by taking part 
 with the nuncio and the pope, he had signed the 
 warrant of his own destruction. So long as Henry 
 had a single ray of hope, he thought proper still to 
 dissemble with Clement VII. ; but he might vent all 
 Lis anger on Wolsey. From the period of the Roman 
 
WOLSEY ACCUSED BY ALL. 
 
 703 
 
 Vacations, the cardinal was ruiued in liis master's 
 mind. 'NVoIsey's enemies seeing his favoiu* decline, 
 hastened to attack him. Suffolk and Norfolk in [jur- 
 ticular, impatient to tret rid of an insolent priest who 
 had so lonj;- ehaiVd tlicir pride, told Henry tliat Wolsey 
 had been conliuuiilly playing false; they went over all 
 his iK'goliations, month by month and day by day, and 
 drew the most overwhelming conclusions from them. 
 Sir "William Kingston and Lord Manners laid before 
 the king one of the cardinal's loiters which Sir Francis 
 Bryan had obtained from the papal archives. In it the 
 cardinal desired Clement to spin out the divorce ques- 
 tion, and linally to oppose it, seeing (he added) that if 
 Henry was separated from Catherine, a friend to the 
 reformers would become qneeu of England. This letter 
 clearly expressed Wolsey's inmost thoughts : Rome at 
 any jirice ; . . . and perish England and Henry 
 j rather tlian the popedom ! We can imagine the king's 
 I anger. 
 
 I Anne Boleyn's friends were not working alone. 
 There was not a person at court whom AVolsey's 
 haughtiness and tyranny had not offended ; no one in 
 the king's council in whom his continual intrigues had 
 not raised serious suspicions. He had (they said) be- 
 trayed in France the cause of England ; kept up in 
 lime of peace and war secret intelligence with Madam, 
 mother of Francis I.; received great presents from her; 
 oppressed the nation, and trodden under foot the laws 
 of the kingdom. The people called him Frenchman and 
 trailof; and all England seemed to vie in throwing 
 burning brands at the superb edifice which the pride 
 of this prelate had so laboriously erected. 
 
 AVolsey was too clear-sighted not to discern the signs 
 
 j of his approaching fall. " Both the rising and the 
 
 setting sun (for thus an historian calls Anne Boleyu 
 
 and Catherine of Arragon) frowned upon him," and the 
 
 I sky, gi'owing darker around him, gave token of the 
 
 i storm that was to overwhelm him. If the cause failed, 
 
 I AV^olsey incurred the vengeance of the king; if it 
 
 I succeeded, he would be delivered up to the vengeance 
 
 ' of the Boleyns, without speaking of Catherine's, the 
 
 emperor's, and the pope's. Happy Campcggio! thought 
 
 the cardinal, he has nothing to fear. If Henry's favour 
 
 is withdrawn from him, Charles and Clement will 
 
 make huu compensation. But Wolsey lost everything 
 
 when he lost the king's good graces. Detested by his 
 
 fellow-citizens, despised and hated by all Europe, he 
 
 saw, to whatever side he turned, nothing but the just 
 
 reward of his avarice and falseness. He strove in 
 
 vain, as on other occasions, to lean on the ambassador 
 
 of France ; Du Bellay was solicited on the other side. 
 
 " I am exposed here to such a heavy and continual lire 
 
 that I am half dead," exclauned the Bishop of Bayoune; 
 
 and the cardinal met with an unusual reserve in his 
 
 former confidant. 
 
 Yet the crisis approached. Like a skilful, but 
 affrighted pilot, AYolsey cast his eyes around him, to 
 discover a port in which he could take refuge. He 
 could find none but his see of York. He therefore 
 began once more to complain of the fatigues of power, 
 of the weariness of the diplomatic career, and to extol 
 the sweetness of an episcopal life. On a sudden he 
 felt a great interest about the iiock of whom he had 
 never thought before. Those around him shook their 
 
 heads, well knowuig that such a reti-cat would be to 
 Wolsey the bitterest of disgraces. Ojio single idea 
 su|>ported him : if he fell, it would be because he had 
 chuig more to the pO])e tluui to the king: he would be 
 the martyr of his fjiith. "What a faith ! what a 
 martyr ! 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Aline Bolt-yn at never— She Iteads the Obedience of a Christian Man— Is j 
 recalled to Court— Miss Gaiiisford and George Zouch—Tjudale's Book 
 converts Zouch— Zoueli iu Iho Chapel-Royal— The Book seized- Anno 
 applies to Ucury— The King reads tlie Book— Pretended Influence of 
 the Book on Ilenry— Tlie Court at Woodstock- The Tark and its Cioblina 
 —Henry's Esteem for Anne. 
 
 "WniLE these things were taking place Anne was living 
 at Ilever Castle in retirement and sadness. Scruples 
 from time to time still alarmed her conscience. It is 
 true, the king represented to her unceasingly, that his 
 salvation and the safety of his people demanded the 
 dissolution of a union condemned by the Divine law, 
 and that v>'liat he solicited, several popes had granted. 
 Had not Alexander VI. annulled, after ten years, the 
 marriage of Ladislaus and Beatrice of Naples/ Had 
 not Louis XU., the father of his people, been divorced 
 from Joan of France? Nothing was more common, 
 he said, than to see the divorce of a prince authorized 
 by a pope ; the secimty of the state must be provided 
 for before evei-ything else. Carried away by these 
 arguments, and dazzled by the splendour of a throne, 
 Aime Boleyn consented to usurp, at Henry's side, the 
 rank belonging to another. Yet, if she wsvs imprudent 
 and ambitious, she was feeling and generous ; and the 
 misfortunes of a cjueen whom she respected soon made 
 her reject with terror the idea of taking her place. 
 The fertile pastures of Kent and the Gothic halls of 
 Hever Castle were by turns the witnesses of the mental 
 conflicts this young lady experienced. The fear she 
 entertained of seeing the qneeu again, and the idea 
 that the two cardinals, her enemies, were plotting her 
 ruin, made her adopt the resolution of not returning to 
 court, and she shut herself up in her solitary chamber. 
 Anne had neither the deep piety of a Biluey, nor the 
 somewhat vague and mystic spirituality observable in 
 Margaret of ^'aloLs ; it was not feeling which prevailed 
 in her religion ; it was knowledge, and a horror of 
 superstition and pharisaism. Her mind requu-ed light 
 and activity, and at that time she sought in reading 
 the consolations so necessary to her position. One day 
 she opened one of the books prohibited in England, 
 which a friend of the Reformation had given her : 
 " The Obedience of a Christian Man." Its author was 
 William Tyudale, that invisible man, whom Wolsey's 
 agents were hunting for in Brabant and Germany, and 
 this was a recommendation to Anne. " If thou belie\e 
 the promises," she read, "then God's truth justitielh 
 thee ; that is, forgiveth thy sIls and sealeth thee with 
 His Holy Spirit. If thou have true faith, so seest thou 
 the exceeding and infinite love and mercy which God 
 hath shewn thee freely iu Christ : then must thou needs 
 love again : and love cannot but compel thee to work. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 If, when tyrants oppose thee, fliou have power to 
 confess, then art tliou sure tliat tlion art safe. If thou 
 be fallen from the way of truth, come thereto again, 
 and thou art safe. Yea, Christ shall save thee, and 
 the angels of heaven shall rejoice at thy coming." 
 These words did not change Anne's heart; but she 
 marked with her nail, as was her custom, other passages 
 which struck her more, and which she desired to point 
 out to the king if, as she hoped, she was ever to meet 
 him again. She believed that the truth was there, and 
 took a lively interest in those whom Wolsey, Henry, 
 and the pope, were at that time persecuting. 
 
 Anne was soon dragged from these pious lessons 
 and launched into the midst of a world full of dangers. 
 Henry, convinced that he had nothing to expect hence- 
 forward from Campeggio, neglected those proprieties 
 which he had hitherto observed, and, immediately after 
 the adjournment, ordered Anne Boleyn to return to 
 court ; he restored her to the place she had formerly 
 occupied, and even sun-ouuded her with increased 
 splendour. Every one saw that Anne, in the king's 
 mind, was queen of England ; and a powerful party 
 was formed around her, which proposed to accomplish 
 tlie definitive ruin of the cardinal. 
 
 After her return to court, Anne read much less 
 frequently " The Obedience of a Christian Man " and 
 the "Testament of Jesus Christ." Henry's homage, 
 her friends' intrigues, and the whirl of festivities, bade 
 fair to stifle the thoughts which solitude had aroused 
 ia her heart. One day, having left Tyndale's book in 
 a window. Miss Gainsford, a fair young gentlewoman 
 attached to her person, took it up and read it. A 
 gentleman, of handsome mein, cheerful temper, and 
 extreme mildness, named George Zouch, also belonging 
 to Anne's household, and betrothed to Miss Gainsford, 
 profiting by the liberty his position gave him, indulged 
 sometimes in " love tricks." On one occasion, when 
 George desired to have a little talk with her, he was 
 annoyed to find her absorbed by a book of whose 
 contents he knew nothing ; and taking advantage of a 
 moment when the young lady had turned away her 
 head, he laughingly snatched it from her. Miss 
 Gainsford ran after Zouch to recover her book ; but 
 just at that moment she heard her mistress calling her, 
 and she left George, threatening him with her finger. 
 
 As she did not return immodiatoly, George withdrew 
 to his room, and opened the volume ; it was " The 
 Obedience of a Christian Man." He glanced ovei- a 
 few lines, then a few pages, and at last read the book 
 through more than once. He seemed to hear the voice 
 of God. '• I feel the Spii-it of God," he said, " speakiug 
 in my heart, as He has spoken in the heart of him who 
 wrote the book." The words which had only made a 
 temporary impression on the preoccupied mind of Anne 
 Boleyn, penetrated to the heart of her equerry and 
 converted him. Miss Gainsford, fearing that Anne 
 would ask for her book, entreated George to restore it 
 to her; but he positively refused; and even the young 
 hidy's tears failed to make him give up a volume in 
 which he had found the life of his soul. Becoming 
 more serious, he no longer jested as before ; and when 
 Miss Gainsford peremptorily demanded the book, he 
 was, says the chronicler, " ready to weep himself." 
 
 Zouch, finding in this volume an edification which 
 
 empty forms and ceremonies coiUd not give, used to 
 carry it with him to the king's chapel. Dr. Sampson, 
 the dean, generally ofiiciated ; and while the choir 
 chanted the service, George would be absorbed iu his 
 book, where he read : " If, when thou seest the celebra- 
 tion of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, thou be- 
 lievest iu this promise of Christ : This is my hocly that is 
 broken for you, and if thou have this promise fast in 
 thine heart, thou art saved and justified thereby; thou 
 eatest His body and drinkest His blood. If not, so 
 helpeth it thee not, thougli thou hearest a thousand 
 masses in a day; no more than it should help thee in a 
 dead thirst to behold a bush at a tavern door, if thou 
 knewest not thereby that there was wine within to be 
 sold." The young man dwelt upon these words : by faith 
 he ate the body and drank the blood of the Son of God. 
 This was what was passing iu the palaces of Henry 
 VIII. ; tliere were saints in the household of Ciesar. 
 
 Wolsey, desirous of removing from the court every 
 thing that might favour the Reformation, had recom- 
 mended extreme vigilance to Dr. Sampson, so as to 
 prevent the circulation of the innovating books. Ac- 
 cordingly, one day when George was in the chapel 
 absorbed in his book, the dean, who, oven while 
 officiating, had not lost sight of the young man, called 
 him to him after the service, and rudely taking the 
 book from his hands, demanded : " What is your name, 
 and in whose service are you?" Zouch having replied, 
 the dean withdrew with a very angry look, and carried 
 his prey to the cardinal. 
 
 Wlien Miss Gainsford heard of this mishap, her 
 grief was extreme ; she trembled at the thought that 
 " The Obedience of a Christian Mau" was in Wolsey 's 
 hands. Not long after this, Anne having asked for 
 her book, the young lady fell on her knees, confessed 
 all, and begged to be forgiven. Anne uttered not a 
 word of reproach ; her quick mind saw immediately the 
 advantage she might derive from this affair. '• Well," 
 said she, " it shall be the dearest book to them that 
 ever the dean or cardinal took away." 
 
 "The noble lady," as the chronicler styles her, 
 immediately demanded an interview of the king, and, 
 on reaching his presence, she fell at his feet, and 
 bcgired his assistance. "What is the matter, Anne?" 
 said till- a>lniii>lir(l monarch. She told him what had 
 hap|iiMn<l, anil lluury promised that the book should 
 not rcnuiiii ill A\'ulsey's hands. 
 
 Anne had scarcely quitted the royal apartments 
 when the cardinal arrived with the fanious volume, 
 with the intention of complaining to Heniy of certain 
 passages which he knew could not fail to irritate him, 
 and to take advantage of it even to attack Anne, if the 
 king should be offended. Henry's icy reception closed 
 his mouth ; the king confined himself to taking the 
 book, and bowing out the cardinal. This was precisely 
 what Aune had hoped for. She begged the king to 
 read the book, which he promised to do. 
 
 And Henry accordingly shut himself up in his closet, 
 and read "The Obedience of a Christian Man." There 
 were few works better calculated to enlighten him, and 
 none, after the Bible, that has had more influence upon 
 the Reformation iu England. Tyndale treated of 
 obedience, " the essential principle," as he terms it, " of 
 every political or religious community." He declaimed 
 
THE KING READS TYNDALE'S BOOK. 
 
 against the unlawful power of the popes, who usurped 
 the lawful authority of Christ and of His "SVord. lie 
 professed political doctrines too favourable, doubtless, 
 to absolute power, but calculated to shew that the 
 reformers were not, as had been asserted, instigators 
 of rebellion. Henry read as follows : — 
 
 " Tiic king is in the room of God in this world. He 
 that resistolii the king, resistelh God ; lie that judgeth 
 the king, jmlgelh God. He is the minister of God to 
 defend thee from a thousand inconveniences; tiiough 
 he be the greatest tyrant iu tiie world, yet is he unto 
 thee a great benefit of God ; for it is belter to pay the 
 tenth than to lose all, and to suffer wrong of one man 
 than of every man." 
 
 These are indeed strange doctrines for rebels to hold, 
 thought the king; and he continued : 
 
 "Let kings, if they had lever [ratlier] be Cliristians 
 in deed than so to be called, give themselves altogether 
 to the wealth [well-being] of their realms, after the 
 ensamplc of Jesus Clirist ; remembering that the people 
 are God's, and not theirs; j-ea, are Christ's inheritance, 
 bought with His blood. The most despised person iu 
 his realm (if he is a Christian) is equal with him iu the 
 kingdom of God and of Christ. Let the king put off 
 all pride, and become a brother to the poorest of his 
 subjects." 
 
 It is probable that these words were less satisfactory 
 to the king. He kept on reading : — 
 
 " Emperors and kings are nothing now-a-days, but 
 even hangmen unto the pope and bishops, to kill whom- 
 soever they condemn, as Pilate was unto the scribes 
 and Pharisees, aud high bishops, to hang Christ." 
 
 This seemed to Heniy rather strong language. 
 
 "The pope hath received no other authority of 
 Christ than to preach God's 'W'ord. Now, this Word 
 should rule only, and not bishops' decrees or the pope's 
 pleasure. In pnrsentia majoris cessat jiotesias minoris, — 
 in the presence of the greater the less hath no power. 
 The pope, against all the doctrine of Christ, which 
 saith. Ml/ Hn/jdom is not of this icorld, hath usurped the 
 right of the emperor. Kings must make account of 
 their doings only to God. No person may be exempt 
 from this ordinance of God; neither can the profession 
 of monks aud friars, or anything that the popes or 
 bishops can lay for themselves, except them from the 
 sword of the emperor or king, if they break the laws. 
 For it is written, (Rom. xiii.,) Let every soul submit 
 himself unto the authority of the higher powers." 
 
 " What excellent reading ! " exclaimed Henry, when 
 he had finished ; " this is truly a book for all kings 
 to read, aud for me particularly." 
 
 Captivated by Tyndale's work, the king began to 
 converse with Anne about the church and the pope ; 
 and she who had seen Margaret of Valois unassumingly 
 endeavour to instruct Frauds I., strove in like manner 
 to enlighten Henry VHI. She did not possess the 
 influence over him she desired ; this unhappy prince 
 ■was, to the very end of his life, opposed to the evan- 
 gelical Keformation ; Protestants aud Catholics have 
 been equally mistaken when they have regarded him 
 as being favourable to it. " In a short time," says 
 the annalist, quoted by Strype at the end of his narra- 
 tive, " the king, by the help of this vii'tuous lady, had 
 his eyes open to the truth. He learned to seek after 
 
 that truth, to advance God's reb'gion and glory, to 
 detest the pope's doctrine, his lies, his pomp, and pride, 
 and to deliver his subjects from the Egyptian darkness 
 and Babylonian bonds that the pope had brought him 
 and his subjects under. Despising the rebellions of 
 his subjects, and the rage of so many mighty poten- 
 tates abroad, he set forward a religious reformation, 
 which, beginning with the triple-crowned head, came 
 down to all the members of the hierarchy." Histoiy 
 has rarely delivered a more erroneous judgment. 
 Henry's eyes were never opened to the truth, and it 
 was not he who made the Ueformalion. It was ac- 
 complished first of all by Scripture, and then by the 
 ministry of simple and faitliful men baptized of the 
 Holy Ghost. 
 
 Yet Tyndale's book and the conduct of the legates 
 had given rise in the king's mind to new thoughts, 
 which he sought time to mature. He desired also to 
 conceal his auger from Wolscy and Campeggio, and 
 dissipate his spleen, says the historian Collyer; he 
 therefore gave orders to remove the court to tlie palace 
 of Woodstock. The magnificent park attached to this 
 royal residence, in which was the celebrated bower 
 constructed (it is said) by Henry II. to conceal the 
 fair Rosamond, offered all the charms of the prome- 
 nade, the chase, and solitude. Hence he could easily 
 repair to Langly, Grafton, and other country seats. 
 It was not long before the entertainments, horse-races, 
 aud other rural sports began. The world with its 
 pleasures aud its grandeur were, at the bottom, the 
 idols of Anne Boleyn's heart ; but yet she felt a cer- 
 tain attraction for the new doctrine, which was con- 
 founded in her mind with the great cause of all 
 knowledge, perhaps even with her own. More en- 
 lightened than the generality of women, she -was 
 distinguished by the superiority of her understandino-, 
 not only over her own sex, but even over many of the 
 gentlemen of the court. While Catherine, a member 
 of the third order of St. Francis, indulged in trifling 
 practices, the more intelligent, if not more pious Anne, 
 cared but little for amulets which the friars had 
 blessed, for apparitions, or visions of angels. Wood- 
 stock furnished her with an opportunity of curing 
 Henry \U1. of the superstitious ideas natural to him. 
 There was a place in the forest said to be haunted 
 by evil spirits; not a priest or a courtier dared approach 
 it. A tradition ran, that if a king ventured to cross 
 the boundary, he would fall dead. Anne resolved to 
 take Henry there. Accordingly, one morning she led 
 the way in the direction of the place where these 
 mysterious powers manifested their presence (as it was 
 said) by strange apparitions ; they entered the wood; 
 they arrived at the so much dreaded spot; all hesitated; 
 but Anne's calmness reassiu-ed her companions ; they 
 advanced; they found . . . nothing but trees and 
 turf, and, laughing at their former terrors, they ex- 
 plored every corner of this mysterious resort of the 
 evil spirits. Anne returned to the palace, congratu- 
 lating herself on the triumph Henry had gained over 
 his imaginary fears. This prince, who could as yet 
 bear with superiority in others, was struck with Anne 
 Boleyn's. 
 
 Never too gay nor yet too melancholy, 
 A heavenly mind is hers, like angels holy 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 None piircv ever soared above the skj'. 
 
 O mighty marvel ! thus may every eye 
 
 See of what monster strange the humble serf am I; 
 
 Monster indeed, lor in her frame divine 
 
 A woman's form, man's heart, and angel's head comhine. 
 
 These versos of Clement Marot, written in honour 
 of Margaret of Valois, faithfully express what Henry 
 then felt for Anno, who had been with Marot in the 
 househokl of that princess. Henry's love may perhaps 
 lia\c deceived him as to Anne's excellences. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 EniljaiTass)nciit of the Pope— The Triumphs of Charles decide him— Ho 
 Traverses tlie Cause to Rome— Wolsey's Dejection — Henry's Wrath — 
 His Fears— Wolsey obtains Comfort— Arrival of the two Legates at 
 Crafton— Wolsey's reception by Henry -Wolsey and Norfolk at Dinner 
 —Henry with Anne— Conference between the King and the Cardinal — 
 Wolsey's Joy and Grief— The Supper at Euston— Campeggio's Farewell 
 Audience— Wolsey's Disgrace- Campeggio at Dover— He is Accused by 
 tlie Courtiers— Leaves England— Wolsey foresees his own Fall and that 
 of the Papacy. 
 
 While tlie court was thus taking its pleasure at Wood- 
 stock, Wolsey remained in London, a prey to the acutest 
 anguish. "This avocation to Rome," wrote he to Gre- 
 goi-y Da Casale, " will not only completely alienate the 
 king and his realm from the apostolic see, but will ruin 
 me utterly." This message had hardly reached the 
 pope, before the imperial ambassadors handed to him 
 the queen's protest, and added in a very significant 
 tone : " If your holiness does not call this cause before 
 you, the emperor, who is determined to bring it to an 
 end, will have recourse to other arguments." The same 
 perplexity always agitated Clement : Which of the two 
 must be sacrificed, Henry or Charles? Anthony do 
 Leyva, who commanded the imperial forces, having 
 routed the French army, the pope no longer doubted 
 that Charles was the elect of Heaven. It was not 
 Europe alone which acknowledged this prince's autho- 
 rity; a new world had just laid its power and its gold 
 at his feet. The formidable priest-king of the Aztecs 
 had been unable to withstand Cortez ; could the priest- 
 king of Rome withstand Charles V.'? Cortez had re- 
 turned from Mexico, bringing with him Mexican chiefs 
 in all their barbarous splendour, with thousands of 
 2iesos, with gold and silver, and emeralds of extraor- 
 dinary size, with magnificent tissues, and birds of 
 brilliant plumage. He had accompanied Charles, who 
 was then going to Italy, to the place of embarkation, 
 and had sent to Clement VII. costly gifts of the 
 precious metals, valuable jewels, and a troop of Mexi- 
 can dancers, buffoons, and jugglers, who charmed the 
 pope and tlie cardinal above all things. 
 
 Clement, even while refusing Henry's prayer, had 
 not as yet granted the emperor's. He thought he could 
 now resist no longer the star of a monarch victorious 
 over two worlds, and hastened to enter into negotiations 
 with him. Sudden terrors still assailed him from time 
 to time : My refusal (ho said to himself) may perhaps 
 cause me to lose England. But Charles, holding him 
 in his powerful grasp, compelled him to submit. Henry's 
 
 antecedents were rather encouraging to the pontiff. 
 How could he imagine that a prince, who alone of all 
 the mouarchs of Europe had once contended against 
 the great reformer, would now separate from the pope- 
 dom ? On the Gth of July, Clement declared to the 
 English envoys that he avolced to Rome the cause 
 between Henry VIH. and Catherine of Arragon. In 
 other words, this was refusing the divorce. " There 
 are twenty-three points in this case," said the courtiers, 
 " and tlie debate on the first has lasted a year ; before 
 the end of the trial the king will be not only past 
 marrying, but past living." 
 
 AVheu he learned that the fatal blow had been struck, 
 Bennett, in a tone of sadness, exclaimed: "Alas ! most 
 holy father, by this act the church iu England will be 
 utterly destroyed ; the king declared it to me with tears 
 in his eyes." — "■ Why is it my fortune to live in such 
 evil days?" replied the pope, who, iu his turu, began 
 to weep ; " but I am encircled by the emperor's force?, 
 and if I were to please the king, I should draw a 
 fearful ruin upon myself and upon the church. . . 
 God will be my judge." 
 
 On the 1.5th of July, Da Casale sent the fatal news 
 to the English minister. The king was cited before 
 the pope, and iu case of refusal, condemned in a fine 
 of 10,000 ducats. On the ISth of July, peace was 
 proclaimed at Rome between the pontiff and the 
 emperor; and on the next day (these dates are im- 
 portant) Clement, wishing still to make one more 
 attempt to ward off the blow with which the papacy 
 was tlireatened, wrote to Cardinal Wolsey : " My dear 
 son, how can I describe to you my aflliction? Shew 
 in this matter the prudence which so distinguishes you, 
 and preserve the king iu those kindly feelings which 
 he has ever manifested towards me." A useless 
 attempt! Far from saving the papacy, Wolsey was 
 to be wrecked along with it. 
 
 Wolsey was thunderstruck. At the very time he 
 was assuring Henry of the attachment of Clement and 
 Francis, both were deserting him. The "politic 
 handling " failed, which the cardinal had thought so 
 skilful, and which had been so tortuous. Henry now 
 had none but enemies on the continent of Europe, and 
 the Reformation was daily spreading over his kingdom. 
 Wolsey's anguish cannot be described. His power, 
 his pomp, his palaces, were all threatened ; who could 
 tell whether he would even preserve his liberty and his 
 life? — A just reward for so much duplicity. 
 
 But the king's wrath -was to be greater than even 
 the minister's alarm. His terrified servants wondered 
 how they should announce the iimil ill's dri-ision. 
 Gardiner, who, after his return from Kmii.', h:ul \nv\\ 
 named secretary of state, went down tn Laiigloy on the 
 3rd of August to communicate it to him. What news 
 for the proud Tudor! The decision on the divorce 
 was forbidden in England ; the cause avoked to Rome, 
 there to be buried and unjustly lost; Francis I. treating 
 with the emperor; Charles and Clement on the point 
 of exchanging at Bologna the most striking sigus of 
 their unchangeable alliance ; the services rendered by 
 the king to the popedom repaid with the blackest in- 
 gratitude; his hope of giving an heir to the crown 
 disgracef idly frustrated ; and last, but not least, Heni-y 
 VIII., the proudest monarch of Christendom, summoned 
 
HENRY'S ANGER, AND WOLSEY'S DISFAVOUR. 
 
 to Rome to appear before an ecclesiastical tribunal ! 
 . . . . It was too much for Henry. His wrath, a 
 moment restrained, buret forth like a clap of thunder, 
 and all trembled around him. "Do they presume," 
 ho exclaimed, "to try my cause elsewhere than in my 
 own dominions? I, the king of E norland, .summoned 
 before au Italian tribunal ! . . . Yes, ... I 
 will go to Rome, but it shall be with such a mighty 
 army that the pope, and his priests, and all Ital}-, shall 
 be struck with terror. I forbid the letters of citation 
 to be c.\ecuted," he continued; "1 forbid the com- 
 mission to consider its functions at an end." Henry 
 would have dr.-irid to (imi- dlT ( 'aiii|M;j;jin's purple 
 robes, and tlnviw this piince nl' ihe UMHiau Clmrcli into 
 prison, in order tu fri.^lileii ClciiieiU ; bnt tlie very 
 magnitude of the insult compelled him to restrain him- 
 self. He feared, above all things, to ajjpoar hnniljliil 
 in the eyes of England, and he hoped, by shewing 
 moderation, to hide the affront he had received. " Let 
 everything be done," he told Gardiner, "to conceal 
 from my subjects tliose letters of citation, which arc 
 60 hurtful to my glory. Write to AVolsey that I have 
 the greatest confidence in his dexterity, and that he 
 ought, by good handling, to win over Campeggio and 
 the queen's councillors, and, above all, prevail upon 
 them, at any price, not to serve these citatory letters 
 on me." But Heniy had hardly given his instructions 
 when the insult, of which he had boon the object, re- 
 curred to his imagination ; the thought of Clement 
 haunted him night and day, and he swore to exact a 
 striking vengeance from the pontiff. Rome desires to 
 have no more to do with England. . . . Engl.and, 
 in her turn, will cast off Rome. Henry will sacrifice 
 AVolsey, Clement, and the church ; nothing shall stop 
 his fury. Tlie crafty pontiff has concealed his game, 
 the king shall beat him openly; and from age to age 
 the popedom shall shed tears over the imprudent folly 
 of a medici. 
 
 Thus, after insupportable delays, which had fatigued 
 the nation, a thunderbolt fell upon England. Court, 
 clergy, and people, from whom it was impossible to 
 conceal these great events, were deeply stirred, and 
 the whole kingdom was in commotion. Wolsoy, still 
 hoping to ward off the ruin impending over both him- 
 self and the papacy, immediately put in play all that 
 dexterity which Henry had spoken of. He so far 
 prevailed that the letters citatorial were not served on 
 the king, but only the brief addressed to Wolsey by 
 Clement VII. The cardinal, all radiant with this 
 tri\ial success, and desirous of profiting by it to raise 
 his credit, resolved to accompany Campeggio, who was 
 going down to Grafton to take leave of the king. 
 A\'hen the coming of the two legates was heard of at 
 court, the .agitation was very great. The dukes of 
 N(U-folk and Suffolk regarded this proceeding as the 
 last effort of their enemy, and entreated Henry not to 
 receive him. " The king will receive him," said some. 
 " The king will not receive him," answered others. At 
 length, one Sunday morning, it was announced that 
 the prelates were at the gates of the mansion. Wolsey 
 looked round with an anxious eye for the great ollicers 
 who were accustomed to introduce him. They appeared, 
 and desired Campeggio to follow them. When the 
 legate had been taken to his apartments, Wolsey waited 
 
 his turn ; but great was his consternation on being 
 informed that there was no chamber appointed for him 
 in the palace. Sir Henry Norris, groom of the stole, 
 offered Wolsey the use of his own room ; and the 
 cardin.al followed him, almost sinking beneath the 
 humiliation he had undergone. He made ready to 
 ai)pear before the king, and summoning up his courage, 
 proceeded to the presence-chamber. 
 
 The lords of the council w( re siandiiig in a row ac- 
 cording to their rank; Wolsey, lakin.; c.tt liis hat, pjisscd 
 along saluting each of them wllli alle.ted civility. A 
 groat number of courtiers arrived, inijiatient to see how 
 Henry would receive his old favourite; and most of 
 them were already exulting in the striking disgrace of 
 which they hoped to be witnesses. At last the king 
 was announced. 
 
 Henry stood under the cloth of state; and Wolsey 
 advanced and knelt before him. Deep silence prevailed 
 throughout the chamber. . . . To the surprise of 
 all, Henry stooped down and raised him up with both 
 bauds. . . . Then, with a pleasing smile, he took 
 Wolsey to the window, desu-ed him to put on his hat, 
 and talked familiarly with him. " Then," says Caven- 
 dish, the cardinal's gentleman usher, " it would have 
 made you smile to behold the countenances of those 
 who had laid wagers that the king would not speak 
 with him." 
 
 But this was the last ray of cveniug which then 
 lighted up the darkening fortunes of AVolsey : the star 
 of his favour was about to set for ever. . . . The 
 silence continued; for every one desired to catch a few 
 words of the conversation. The king seemed to be 
 accusing Wolsey, and Wolsey to be justifying himself. 
 On a sudden Henry pulled a letter out of his bosom, 
 and, shewing it to the cardinal, said in a loud voice : 
 " How can that be 1 is not this your hand ?" It was 
 no doubt the letter which Bryan had intercepted. 
 AVolsey replied in an under-toue, and seemed to have 
 appeased his master. The dinner hour having arrived, 
 the king left the room, telling Wolsoy that he woidd 
 not fail to see him again ; the courtiers were eager to 
 make their profoundest reverences to the cardinal, but 
 he haughtily traversed the chamber, and the dukes 
 hastened to carry to Anne Boleyn the news of this 
 astonishing reception. 
 
 AVolsey, Campeggio, and the lords of the council, sat 
 down to dinner. The cardinal, well aware that the 
 terrible letter would be his utter ruin, and that Henry's 
 good graces had no other object than to prepare his 
 fall, began to hint at his retu-ement. " Truly," said 
 he with a devout air, " the king would do well to send 
 his bishops and chaphuns home to then- cures and 
 benefices." The company looked at one another with 
 astonishment. " Yea, marry," said the Duke of Nor- 
 folk, somewhat rudely ; " and so it were meet for you 
 to do also." — '• I should be very well contented there- 
 with," answered AA^olsey, "if it were the king's pleasure 
 to license me with leave to go to my cure at AA'inches- 
 ter." — "Nay, to your benefice at York, where your 
 greatest honour and charge is," replied Norfolk, who 
 was not willing that AVolsey should be living so near 
 Henry. "Even as it shall please the king," added 
 AVolsey, and changed the subject of conversation. 
 
 Henry had caused himself to be announced to Anne 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Boleyn, who (says Cavendish) " kept state at Grafton 
 more like a queen than a simple maid. Possessing 
 extreme sensibility, and an ardent imagination, Anne, 
 who felt the slightest insult with all the sensibility of 
 her woman's heart, was very dissatisfied with the king 
 after the report of the dukes. Accordingly, heedless 
 of the presence of the attendants, she said to him : 
 " Sir, is it not a marvellous thing to see into what 
 great danger the cardinal hath brought you with all 
 your subjects ?" — " How so, sweetheart ?" asked Henry. 
 Anne continued : " Are you ignorant of the hatred his 
 exactions have drawn upon you ? There is not a man 
 in your whole realm of England worth one hundred 
 pounds, but he hath made you his debtor." Auue here 
 alluded to tlie loan the king had raised among his 
 subjects. "AVell, well," said Heury, who was not 
 pleased with these remarks, "I know that matter 
 better than you." — " If my lord of Norfolk, my lord of 
 Suffolk, my luicle, or my father, had done much less 
 than the cardinal hath done," continued Anne, " they 
 would have lost their heads ere this." '■■ Then I per- 
 ceive," said Henry, " you are none of his friends." — 
 "No, sir, I have no cause, nor any that love you," 
 she replied. The dinner was ended ; the king, without 
 appearing at all touched, proceeded to the presence- 
 chamber where Wolsey expected him. 
 
 After a long conversation, carried on in a low tone, 
 the king took Wolsey by the hand and led him into his 
 private chamber. The courtiers awaited impatiently 
 the termination of an interview which might decide the 
 fate of England; they walked up and down the gallery, 
 often passing before the door of the closet, in the hope 
 of catching from Wolsey's looks, when he opened it, 
 the result of this secret conference ; but one quarter of 
 an hour followed another, these became hours, and 
 still the cardinal did not appear. Henry having 
 resolved that this conversation should be the last, was 
 no doubt collecting from his minister all the information 
 necessary to him. But the courtiers imagined he was 
 returning into his master's favour; Norfolk, Suffolk, 
 Wiltshire, and the other enemies of the prime minister, 
 began to grow alarmed, and hastened off to Anne 
 Boleyn, who was their last hope. 
 
 It was night when the king and Wolsey quitted the 
 royal closet ; the former appeared gracious, the latter 
 satisfied; it was always Henry's custom to smile on 
 those he intended to sacrifice. " I shall see you in 
 the morning," he said to the cardinal with a friendly 
 air. Wolsey made a low bow, and, turning round to 
 the courtiers, saw the king's smile reflected on tlieir 
 faces. Wiltshire, Tuke, and even Suffolk, were full 
 of civility. "Well," thought he, "the motion of such 
 weathercocks as these shews me from what quarter 
 the wind of favour is blowing." 
 
 But a moment after the wind began to change. Men 
 with torches waited for the cardinal at the gates of the 
 palace to conduct him to the place where he would 
 have to pass the night. Thus he was not to sleep 
 beneath the same roof with Henry. He was to lie at 
 Eustou, one of Empsou's houses, about three miles off. 
 Wolsey, repressing his vexation, mounted his horse; 
 the footmen preceded him with their links, and after 
 an hour's riding along very bad roads, he reached the 
 lodging assigned him. 
 
 He had sat down to supper, to which some of his 
 most intimate friends had been invited, when suddenly 
 Gardiner was announced. Gardiner owed everything 
 to the cardinal, and yet he had not appeared before 
 him since his return from Rome. He comes, no doubt, 
 to play the hypocrite and the spy, thought Wolsey. 
 But as soon as the secretary entered, AVolsey rose, 
 made him a graceful compliment, and prayed him to 
 take a seat. " Master Secretary," he asked, " where 
 have you been since your return from Rome 1 " — " I 
 have been following the court from place to place." 
 " You have been hunting, then. Have you any dogs?" 
 asked the prime minister, who knew very well what 
 Gardiner had been doing in the king's closet. — "A 
 few," replied Gardiner. Wolsey thought that even the 
 secretary was a bloodhound on his track. And yet, 
 after supper, he took Gardiner aside, and conversed 
 with him until midnight. He thought it prudent to 
 neglect nothing that might clear up his position ; and 
 Wolsey sounded Gardiner, just as he himself had been 
 sounded by Henry not long before. 
 
 The same night, at Grafton, the king gave Cam- 
 peggio a farewell audience, and treated him very 
 kindly, " by giving him presents and other matters," 
 says Du Bellay. Henry then returned to Anne Boleyn, 
 The dukes had pointed out to her the importance of 
 the present moment ; she therefore asked, and obtained 
 of Henry, without any great difficulty, his promise 
 never to speak to his minister again. The insults of 
 the papacy had exasperated the King of England, and, 
 as he could not punish Clement, he took his revenge 
 on the cardinal. 
 
 The next morning, Wolsey, impatient to have the 
 interview which Henry had promised, rode back early 
 to Grafton. But as he came near, he met a numerous 
 train of servants and sumpter-horses ; and presently 
 afterwards Henry, with Anne Boleyn and many lords 
 and ladies of the court, came riding up. " What does 
 all this mean ? " thought the cardinal in dismay. " My 
 lord," said the king, as he drew near, " I cannot stay 
 with you now. You will return to London with Car- 
 dinal Campeggio." Then, striking the spurs into his 
 horse, Henry galloped off with a friendly salutation. 
 After him came Anno Boleyn, who rode past AVolsey 
 with head erect, and casting on him a proud look. 
 The court proceeded to Ilartwell Park, where Anne 
 had determined to keep the king all day. Wolsey was 
 confounded. There was no room for doubt ; his dis- 
 grace was certain. His head swam, he remained im- 
 moveable for an instant, and then recovered himself ; 
 but the blow he had received had not been unobserved 
 by the courtiers, and the cardinal's fall became the 
 general topic of conversation. 
 
 After dinner the legates departed, and on the second 
 day reached Moor Park, a mansion built by Arch- 
 bishop Neville, one of Wolsey's predecessors, who, for 
 high treason, had been first imprisoned at Calais, and 
 afterwards at Ham. These recollections were by no 
 means agreeable to Wolsey. The next morning the 
 two cardinals separated, Campeggio proceeded to Dover, 
 and Wolsey to London. 
 
 Campeggio was impatient to get out of England ; 
 and great was his annoyance, on reaching Dover, to 
 find that the wind was contrary. But a still greater 
 
CAMPEGGIO SEARCHED AT DOVER. 
 
 709 
 
 vexation was in reserve. lie had hardly lain down to 
 rest himself, before his door was opened, and a band 
 of sergeants entered the room. The cardinal, who 
 knew what scenes of this kind meant in Italy, thonght 
 he was a dead man, and fell trembling at his chap- 
 lain's feet bogging for absolution. Meantime the 
 olFicers opened his Inggage, broke into his chests, 
 scattered his property abont the lloor, and even shook 
 ont his clothes. 
 
 Henry's tranqnility had not been of long dnration. 
 " Campeggio is tlie bearer of letters from Wolsey to 
 Rome," whispered some of the courtiers; "who knows 
 but they contain treasonable matter?" "There is, too, 
 among his papers, the famous clccrctnl pronoinicing the 
 divorce," said one ; " if we had but that document it 
 would finish the business." Another alhrmed tliat 
 Campeggio " had large treasure with him of my lord's 
 (Wolsey's) to be conveyed in great tuns to Rome," 
 whither it was surmised tlic Cardinal of York would 
 esoa])e to enjoy the fruits of his treason. " It is cer- 
 tain," added a third, '• that Campeggio, assisted by 
 Wolsey, has been able to procure your majesty's cor- 
 respondence with Anne Boleyn, and is carrying it 
 away with him." Henry, therefore, sent a messenger 
 after the nuncio, with orders that his baggage should 
 bo thoroughly searched. 
 
 Nothing was found, neither letters, nor bull, nor 
 treasures. The bull had been destroyed ; the treasures 
 Wolsey had never thought of intrusting to his colleague ; 
 and the letters of Anne and Henry, Campeggio had 
 sent on before by his son Rodolph, and the pope was 
 stretching out his hands to receive them, proud, like 
 his successors, of the robbery committed by two of 
 his legates. 
 
 Campeggio being reassured, and seeing that ho was 
 neither to bo killed nor robbed, made a great noise 
 at this act of violence, and at the insulting remarks 
 which had given rise to it. " I will not leave Eng- 
 land," he caused Henry to be informed, " until I have 
 received satisfaction." " My lord forgets that he is 
 legate no longer," replied tlie king, " since the pope 
 has withdrawn his power ; he forgets, besides, that, as 
 Bishop of Salisbur}', he is my subject ; as for the 
 remarks against him and the Cardinal of York, it is a 
 liberty the people of England arc accustomed to take, 
 and which I cannot put down." Campeggio, anxious 
 to reach France, was satisfied with these reasons, and 
 soon forgot all his sorrows at the sumptuous table of 
 Cardinal Duprat. 
 
 Wolsey was not so fortunate. Ho had seen Cam- 
 peggio go away, and remained like a wrecked seaman 
 thrown on a desert isle, who has seen depart the only 
 friends capable of giving him any help. His necro- 
 mancy had forewarned him that this would be a fatal 
 year. The angel of the maid of Kent had said : " Go 
 to the cardinal and announce his fall, because he has 
 not done what you had commanded him to do." Other 
 voices besides hers made themselves heard : the hatred 
 of the nation, the contempt of Europe, and, above all, 
 Henry's anger, told him that his hour was come. It 
 was true the pope said, that he would do all in his 
 power to save him ; but Clement's good offices would 
 only accelerate his ruin. Du Bellay, whom the people 
 believed to be the cardinal's accomplice, bore witness 
 
 to the change that had taken place in men's minds. 
 While parsing on foot through the streets of the capital, 
 followed by two valets, " his oars were so fdled with 
 coarse jests as he wont along," ho said, " that he knew 
 not which way to turn." " The cardinal is utterly 
 undone," he wrote; "and I see not how he can escape." 
 The idea occurred to Wolsey, from time to time, to 
 pronounce the divorce himself ; but it was too late. 
 " He was even told that his life was in danger. For- 
 tune, blind and bald, her foot on the wheel, tied rapidly 
 from him ; nor was it in his power to stop her. And 
 this was not all : after him (ho thought) there was no 
 one who coidd uphold tlie church of the pontiffs in 
 England. The ship of Rome was sailing on a stormy 
 sea among rocks and shoals ; Wolsey at the helm 
 looked in vain for a port of refuge ; the vessel leaked 
 on every side ; it was rapidly sinking, and the cardinal 
 uttered a cry of distress. Alas! ho had dcsii-cd to 
 save Rome, but Rome would not have it so. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A Meeting at Waltham -Toiith of Thomas Craniner— His early 1 
 
 Studies Scripture for Three Years— His functions as Examiner— The 
 Supper at Waltham— New View of the Divorce— Foxe Communicates it 
 to Henry— Cranmcr's Vexation— Conrcrcnce wiUi the King— Cranmer 
 
 As Wolsey 's star was disappearing in the West, in the 
 midst of stonny clouds, another was rising in the East, 
 to point out the way to save Britain. Men, like stars, 
 appear on the horizon at the command of God. 
 
 On his return from Woodstock to Greenwich, Henry 
 stopped, full of anxiety, at Waltham in Essex. His 
 attendants were lodged in the houses of the neighbour- 
 hood. Foxe, the almoner, and Secretary Gardiner, 
 were quartered on a gentleman named Cressy, at Wal- 
 tham Abbey. When supper was announced, Gardiner 
 and Foxe were surprised to see an old friend enter the 
 room. It was Thomas Cranmer, a Cambridge doctor. 
 " AVhat ! is it you ? " they said ; " and how came you 
 here?" — "Our host's wife is my relation," replied 
 Cranmer ; " and as the epidemic is raging at Cam- 
 bridge, I brought homo my friend's sons, who are under 
 my care." As this now personage is destined to play 
 an important part in the history of the Reformation, it 
 may be worth our while to interrupt our narrative, and 
 give a particular account of him. 
 
 Cranmer was descended from an ancient family, 
 which came into England, as is generally believed, with 
 the Conqueror. He was born at Aslacton in Notting- 
 hamshire, on the 2d of Julj', 1489, six years after 
 Luther. His early education had been very much 
 neglected ; his tutor, an ignorant and severe priest, 
 had taught him little else than patiently to endure 
 severe chastisement — a knowledge destined to be very 
 useful to him in after-life. His father was an honest 
 country gentleman, who cared for little besides hunting, 
 racing, and military sports. At this school the son 
 learnt to ride, to handle the bow and the sword, to 
 fish and to hawk; and he never entirely neglected 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 these exercises, -wiuch he thought essential to his 
 health. Thomas Cranmer was fond of walking, of the 
 charms of nature, and of solitary meditations ; and a 
 hill, near his father's mansion, used often to be shewn 
 where he was wont to sit, gazing on the fertile country 
 at his feet, fixing his eyes on the distant spires, listening 
 with melancholy pleasui-c to the chime of the bells, and 
 indulging in sweet contemplations. About 1504, he 
 was sent to Cambridge, where " barbarism still pre- 
 vailed," says an historian. His plain, noble, and mo- 
 dest air, conciliated the affections of many, and, in 
 1510, he was elected fellow of Jesus College. Possess- 
 ing a tender heart, he became attached, at the age of 
 twenty-three, to a young person of good bii-th, (says 
 Foxe,) or of inferior rank, as other writers assert. 
 Cranmer was unwilling to imitate the disorderly lives 
 of his fellow-students ; and although marriage would 
 necessarily close the career of honours, he married the 
 young lady, resigned his fellowship, (in conformity 
 with the regulations,) and took a modest lodging at the 
 Dolphin. He then began to study earnestly the most 
 remarkable writings of the times, polishing, it has been 
 said, his old asperity on the productions of Erasmus, 
 of Lefevre, of Etaples, and other great authors ; every 
 day his crude understanding received new brilliancy. 
 He then began to teach in Buckingham (afterwards 
 Magdalene) College, and thus provided for his wants. 
 
 His lessons excited the admiration of enlightened 
 men, and the anger of obscure ones, who disdainfully 
 called him (because of the inn at which he lodged) the 
 hostler. " Tliis name became him well," said Fuller, 
 " for in his lessons he roughly rubbed the backs of the 
 friars, and famously curried the hides of the lazy 
 ]iriests." His wife dying a year after his marriage, 
 ' 'ranmer was re-elected fellow of his old college ; and 
 the first writing of Luther's having appeared, he said: 
 " I must know on which side the truth lies. There is 
 only one infallible source, the Scriptures ; in them I 
 will seek for God's truth." And for three years lie 
 constantly studied the holy books, without commentary, 
 without human theology, and hence he gained the name 
 of the Scnptnrist. At last his eyes were opened ; he 
 saw the mysterious bond which unites all Biblical 
 revelations, and imderstood the completeness of God's 
 design. Then, without forsaking the Scriptures, he 
 studied all kinds of authors. He was a slow reader, 
 but a close observer ; he never opened a book without 
 having a pen in his hand. He did not take up with 
 any particular party or age ; but, possessing a free and 
 philosophic mind, he weighed all opinions in the 
 balance of his judgment, taking the Bible for his 
 standard. 
 
 Honours soon came upon him ; he was made sueces- 
 jiively doctor of divinity, professor, university preacher, 
 and examiner. He used to say to the candidates for 
 the ministry: "Christ sendeth His heai-ers to the Scrip- 
 tures, and not to the church." — " But," replied the 
 monks, " they are so difficult." — " Explain the obscure 
 passages by those which are clear," rejoined the pro- 
 fessor, " Scripture by Scripture. Seek, pray, and He 
 who has the key of David will open them to you." The 
 monks, affrighted at this task, withdrew, bursting with 
 anger ; and ere long Cranmer's name was a name of 
 dread in every convent. Some, however, submitted to 
 
 the labour ; and one of them, Doctor Barrett, blessed 
 God that the examiner had turned him back; ''for," 
 said he, " I found the knowledge of God in the holy 
 book he compelled me to study." Cranmer toiled at 
 the same work as Latimer, Stafford, and Bilney. 
 
 Foxe and Gardiner having renewed acquaintance 
 with their old friend at Waltham Abbej', they sat 
 down to table, and both the almoner and the secretary 
 asked the doctor what lie thought of the divorce. It 
 was the usual topic of conversation ; and not long 
 before, Cranmer had been named member of a com- 
 mission appointed to give their opinion on this affair. 
 " You are not in the right path," said Cranmer to his 
 friends ; " you should not cling to the decisions of the 
 church. There is a surer and a shorter way wliich 
 alone can give peace to the king's conscience." — " Wliat 
 is that?" they both asked. "The true question is this," 
 replied Cranmer: " What sa>/s the Word of God? If 
 God has declared a marriage of this nature bad, the 
 pope cannot make it good. Discontinue these inter- 
 minable Roman negotiations. When God has spoken, 
 man must obey." — "But how shall we know what God 
 has said?" — "Consult the universities ; they wll dis- 
 cern it more surely than Rome." 
 
 This was a new view. The idea of consulting the 
 universities had been acted upon before; but then their 
 own opinions only had been demanded ; now, the ques- 
 tion was simply to know what God saijs in His Word. 
 "The Word of God is above the church," was the prin- 
 ciple laid down by Cranmer, and in that principle 
 consisted the whole of the Reformation. The conver- 
 sation at the supper-table of Waltham was destined to 
 be one of those secret springs which an invisible Hand 
 sets in motion for the accomplishment of His great 
 designs. The Cambridge doctor, suddenly transported 
 from his study to the foot of the throne, was on the 
 point of becoming one of the principle instruments of 
 Divine wisdom. 
 
 The day after this conversation, Foxe and Gardiner 
 arrived at Greenwich, and the king summoned them 
 into his presence the same evening. " Well, gentlemen," 
 he said to them, "our holidays are over; what shall 
 we do now ? If we still have recourse to Rome, God 
 knows when we shall see the end of this matter." — 
 "It will not be necessary to take so long a journey," 
 said Foxe; "we know a shorter and surer way."— 
 " What is it ? " asked the king eagerly. — " Doctor 
 Cranmer, whom we met yesterday at Waltham, thinks 
 tliat the Bible should be the sole judge in your cause." 
 Gardiner, vexed at his colleague's frankness, desired to 
 claim all the honour of this luminous idea for himself; 
 but Heniy did not listen to him. "Where is Doctor 
 Cranmer?" said he, much affected. "Send, and fetch 
 him immediately. Mother of God! (this was his cus- 
 tomary oath,) this man has the right sow by the ear. 
 If this had only been suggested to me two years ago, 
 what expense and trouble I should have beeu spared !" 
 
 Cranmer had gone into Nottinghamshire ; a mes- 
 senger followed and brought him back. " Why have 
 you entangled me in this affair?" he said to Foxe and 
 Gardiner. "Pray make my excuses to the king." 
 Gardiner, who wished for nothing better, promised to 
 do all he could ; but it was of no use. " I will have 
 no excuses," said Henry. The wily courtier was 
 
CKANMER'S INTERVIEW WITH HENRY. 
 
 obliged to make up his mind to introduce tlic inj;omious 
 and upright man, to whom that station, which he him- 
 self had so coveted, was one day to belong. Cranmer 
 and Gardiner went down to Greenwich, both alike 
 dissatisfied. 
 
 Cranracr was tlicn forty years of age, with pleasing 
 features, and mild and winning eyes, in which the 
 candour of his sold seemed to be reflected. Sensible 
 to the pain.s as well as to the pleasures of the heart, he 
 was destined to be more exposed than other men to 
 anxieties and falls; a peaceful life in some remote 
 parsonage would have been more to liis taste than the 
 court of Henry VIII. Blessed with a generous mind, 
 imhappily he did not possess the firmness necessary 
 in a public man ; a little stone sufficed to make him 
 stumble. His excellent imderstanding shewed him the 
 better way; but his great timidity made him fear the 
 more dangerous. He was rather too fond of rclj'ing 
 upon the power of men, and made them unliappy con- 
 cessions with too great facility. If the king had 
 questioned him, he would never have dared advise so 
 bold a course as that he had pointed out ; the advice 
 had slipped from him at table during the intimacy of 
 familiar conversation. Yet he was sincere, and, after 
 doing everything to escape from the consequences of 
 his frankness, he was ready to maintain the opinion he 
 had given. 
 
 Henry, perceiving Cranmer's timidity, graciously 
 approached him. "VThat is your name," said the 
 king, endeavouring to put him at his ease? "Did you 
 not meet my secretary and my almoner at Waltham?" 
 And then he added : " Did you not speak to them of 
 my great affair?" — repeating the words ascribed to 
 Cranmer. The latter could not retreat: "Sir, it is 
 true, I did say so." — "I see," replied the king with 
 animation, " that you have found the breach through 
 which we must storm the fortress. Now, Sir doctor, 
 I beg you, and as you are my subject, I command you, 
 to lay aside eveiy other occupation, and to bring my 
 cause to a conclusion, in conformity with the ideas you 
 have put forth. All that I desire to know is, whether 
 my marriage is contrary to the laws of God or not. 
 Employ all yom* skill in investigating the subject, and 
 thus bring comfort to my conscience as well as to the 
 queen's." 
 
 Cranmer was confounded ; he recoiled from the idea 
 of deciding an affair on which depended, it might be, 
 the destinies of the nation, and sighed after the lonely 
 fields of Aslactou. But, grasped by the vigorous hand 
 of Henry, he was compelled to advance. " Sir," said 
 he, " pray intrust this matter to doctors more learned 
 than I am." "I am very willing," .answered the king; 
 " but I desire that you will also give me your opinion 
 in writing. And then summoning the Earl of AVilt- 
 shire to his presence, he said to him: "My lord, you will 
 receive Doctor Cranmer into your house at Durham 
 Place, and let him have all necessary quiet to compose 
 a report for which I have asked him." After this 
 precise command, which admitted of no refusal, Heniy 
 withdrew. 
 
 In this manner was Cranmer introduced by the king 
 to Anne Boleyn's father, and not, as some Romanist 
 authors have asserted, by Sir Thomas Boleyn to the 
 king. Wiltshire conducted Cranmer to Durham House, 
 
 (now the Adelphi, in the Strand,) and the pious doctor 
 on whom Henry had imposed these quarters, soon con- 
 tr.acted a close friendship with Anne and her father, 
 and took advantage of it to teach them the value of 
 the Divine Word, as the pearl of great price. Henry, 
 while profiting by the address of a Wolsey and a Gar- 
 diner, paid little regard to the men; but he respected 
 Cranmer, even when opposed to him in opinion ; and, 
 until his death, placed the learned doctor above all hia 
 courtiers and all liis clerks. The pious man often 
 succeeds better, even with the great ones of this world, 
 than the ambitious and the intriguing. 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 ■WoIscy in tho Court ot Chancery— Accused by the Dukes— Defuses tn give 
 up the Great Seal — His Despair- He gives up the Seal— Order to Depart 
 —His Inventory— Alami— The Scene of Departure— Favourable Message 
 from the King— Wolsey's Joy — His Fool — Arrival at Esher. 
 
 While Cranmer was rising notwithstanding his hu- 
 mility, Wolsey was falling in despite of his stratagems. 
 The cardinal still governed the kingdom, gave instruc- 
 tions to ambassadors, negotiated with princes, and filled 
 his sumptuous palaces with his haughtiiicss. The king 
 could not make up his mind to turn him off; the force 
 of habit, the need he had of him, the recollection of 
 the services Henry had received from him, pleaded in 
 his favour. AVolscy without the seals appeared almost 
 as inconceivable as the king without his crown. Yet 
 the fall of one of the most powerful favourites recorded 
 in history was inevitably approaching, and we must 
 now describe it. 
 
 On the 9th of October, after the Michaelmas vaca- 
 tion, AVolsey, desirous of shewing a bold face, went and 
 opened the high court of chancery with his accustomed 
 pomp ; but he noticed, with nncfisincss, that none of 
 the king's servants walked before him, as they had 
 been accustomed to do. He presided on the bench 
 with an inexpressible depression of spirits, and the 
 various members of the court sat before him with an 
 absent air; there was something gloomy and solemn in 
 this sitting, as if all were taking part in a funeral ; it 
 was destined, indeed, to be the last act of tlie cardinal's 
 power. Some days before, (Eoxe s.iys on the 1st of 
 October,) the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, with other 
 lords of the jirivy-council, had gone down to Windsor, 
 and denounced to the king Wolsey's unconstitutional 
 relations with the pope, his usurpations, "his robberies, 
 and the discords sown by his means between Christian 
 princes." Such motives would not have sufficed ; but 
 Hcniy had stronger. Wolsey had not kept any of his 
 promises in the matter of the divorce ; it would even 
 appear tliat he had advised the jiope to excommunicate 
 the king, and thus raise his peo])lc against him. This 
 enormity was not at that time known by the prince; 
 it is even probable that it did not take place until later. 
 But Henry knew enough, and he gave his attorney- 
 general, Sii- Chi-istopher Hales, orders to prosecute 
 Wolsey. 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFOEMATION. 
 
 Whilst the heart-broken cardinal was displaying his 
 authority for the last time in the conrt of chancery, the 
 attorney-general was accusing him in the King's Bench 
 for having obtained papal bulls conferring on him a 
 jurisdiction which encroached on the royal power; and 
 calling for the application of the penalties oi jircemunii-e. 
 The two dukes received orders to demand the seals 
 from "Wolsey; and the latter, informed of what had 
 tr.kcn place, did not quit his palace on the 10th, ex- 
 pecting every moment the arrival of the messengers of 
 the king's anger; but no one appeared. 
 
 The next day the two dukes arrived: "It is the 
 king's good pleasure," said they to the cardinal, who 
 remained seated in his arm-chair, " that you give up 
 the broad seal to us and retire to Esher," (a country- 
 seat near Hampton Court.) AVolsey, whose presence 
 of mind never failed him, demanded to see the com- 
 mission under which they were acting. "We have our 
 orders from his majesty's mouth," said they. — "That 
 may be sufficient for you," replied the cardinal, " but 
 not for me. The great seal of England was delivered 
 to me by the hands of my sovereign ; I may not deliver 
 it at the simple word of any lord, unless you can shew 
 me your commission." Suffolk broke out into a passion, 
 but Wolsey remained calm, and the two dukes returned 
 to Windsor. This was the cardinal's last triumph. 
 
 c R A N M E n. 
 
 The rumour of his disgrace created an immense 
 sensation at court, in the city, and among the foreign 
 ambassadors. Du Bcllay hastened to "York Place 
 (Whitehall) to contemplate this great ruin, and console 
 his unhappy friend. He found Wolsey, with dejected 
 countenance and lustreless eyes, "shrunk to half his 
 wonted size," wrote the ambassador to Montmorency; 
 " the greatest example of fortune which was ever be- 
 held."^ Wolsey desired " to set forth his case " to him ; 
 but his thoughts were confused, his language broken, 
 "for heart and tongue both failed him entirely;" he 
 
 bm-st into tears. The ambassador regarded him with 
 compassion : "Alas!" thought he, "his enemies cannot 
 but feel pity for him." At last the unhappy cardinal 
 recovered his speech, but only to give way to despair. 
 " I desire no more authority," he exclaimed, " nor the 
 pope's legation, nor the broad seal of England. . . . 
 I am ready to give up everything, even to my shirt. 
 . . . . I can live in a hermitage, provided the 
 king does not hold me in disgrace." The ambassador 
 "did all he could to comfort him," when Wolsey, 
 catching at the plank thrown out to him, exclaimed : 
 " Would that the King of France and madame might 
 pray the king to moderate his anger against me. But, 
 above all," he added in alarm, " take care the king 
 never knows that I have solicited this of you." Du 
 Bellay wrote indeed to France, that the king and 
 madame alone could " withdraw their affectionate 
 servant from the gates of hell;" and Wolsey being 
 informed of these despatches, his hopes recovered a 
 little. But this bright gleam did not last long. 
 
 On Sunday, the 17th of October, Norfolk and Suffolk 
 re-appeared at Whitehall, accompanied by Fitzwilliam, 
 Taylor, and Gardiner, Wolsey's former dependant. It 
 was six in the evening ; they found the cardinal in an 
 upper chamber, near the great gallery, and presented 
 the king's orders to liim. Having read them, he said : 
 " I am happy to obey his majesty's commands ;" then 
 having ordered the great seal to be brought him, he 
 took it out of the white leather case in which he kept 
 it, and handed it to the dukes, who placed it in a box, 
 covered with crimson velvet, and ornamented with the 
 arms of England, ordered Gardiner to seal it up with 
 red wax, and gave it to Taylor to convey to the king. 
 
 Wolsey was thunderstruck; he was to drink the 
 bitter cup even to the dregs : he was ordered to leave 
 his palace forthwith, taking with him neither clothes, 
 linen, nor plate ; the dukes had feared that he would 
 convey away his treasures. Wolsey comprehended the 
 greatness of his misery; he found strength, however, to 
 say: "Since it is the king's good pleasure to take my 
 house and all it contains, I am content to retire to 
 Esher." The dukes left him. 
 
 Wolsey remained alone. This astonishing man, who 
 had risen from a butcher's shop to the summit of 
 
WOLSEY LEAVES WHITEHALL 
 
 earthly greatness, — who, for a word that displeased 
 him, sent his master's most faithful servants (Pace, for 
 instance) to the Tower — and wlio had governed Eng- 
 land as if he had been its monarch, and even more, for 
 he had governed without a parliament, — was driven 
 out, and thrown, as it were, upon a dunghill. A sudden 
 hope flashed Hive lightning through his mind; perhaps 
 the magnificence of the spoils would appease Ilcni^ 
 AVas not Esau pacified by Jacob's present? "WoKtj 
 summoned his otlicers : "Set tables in the frcat gil- 
 lery," he said to them, "and place on them all I IniM. 
 intrusted to your care, in order to rendei me an 
 account." Tliese orders were executed immcdi itch 
 The tables were covered with an immense quantilj of 
 rich stuffs, silks and velvets of all colours, cc-tlj tui , 
 rich copes, and other ecclesiastical vestures ; the -w ills 
 were hung with cloth of gold and silver, and -(M-b^ ot 
 a valuable stuff named baudykin, from the loom-) of 
 Damascus, and with tapestry, representing i criptui il 
 subjects or stories from the ohl romances of chivalry. 
 The gilt chamber and the council chamber, adjoining 
 the gallery, were both filled with plate, in which the 
 gold and silver were set with pearls and precious stones: 
 those articles of luxury were so abundant, that basket- 
 fuls of costly plate, which had fallen out of fashion, 
 were stowed away under the tables. On every table 
 was an exact list of the treasures with which it was 
 loaded, for the most perfect order and regularity 
 prevailed in the cardinal's household. Wolsey cast a 
 glance of hope upon this wealth, and ordered his 
 officers to deliver the whole to his majesty. 
 
 He then prepared to leave his magnificent palace. 
 That moment, of itself so sad, was made sadder still by 
 an act of affectionate indiscretion. "Ah, my lord," 
 said his treasurer, Sii" William Gascoigue, moved even 
 to tears, "your grace will be sent to the Tower." This 
 was too much for AVolsey : to go and join his victims ! 
 . . . . Ho grew angry, and exclaimed : " Is this 
 the best comfort you can give your master in adversity? 
 I would have you and all such blasphemous reporters 
 know that it is untrue." 
 
 It was necessary to depart ; he put round his neck a 
 chain of gold, from which hung a pretended relic of 
 the true cross ; this was all he took. " Would to God," 
 he exclaimed, as he placed it on, " that I had never 
 had any other." This he said, alluding to the legate's 
 cross, which used to be carried before him with so much 
 pomp. He descended the back stairs, followed by his 
 servants, some silent and dejected, others weeping 
 bitterly, and proceeded to the river's brink, where a 
 barge awaited him. But, alas ! it was not alone. The 
 Thames was covered with innumerable boats full of 
 men and women. The inhabitants of Loudon, expecting 
 to see the cardinal led to the Tower, desired to be 
 present at his humiliation, and prepared to accompany 
 him. Cries of joy hailing his fall were heard from 
 every side ; nor were the crudest sarcasms wanting. 
 " Tlie butcher's dog will bite no more," said some ; 
 "look how he hangs his head." In truth, the unhappy 
 man, distressed by a sight so new to him, lowered those 
 eyes wliich were once so proud, but now were filled 
 with bitter tears. This man, who had made all 
 England tremble, was then like a withered leaf carried 
 along the stream. All his servants were moved ; even 
 
 his fool, William Patch, sobbed like the rest. "Oh! 
 wavering and newfangled multitude," exclaimed Caven- 
 dish, his gentleman usher. The liopes of the citizens 
 were disappointed ; tlio barge, instead of descending 
 the river, proceeded upwards in the direction of Hamp- 
 ton Court; gradually the shouts died away, and the 
 flotilla dispersed. 
 
 WOLSEY'S HALL, HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 The silence of the river permitted Wolscy to indulge 
 in less bitter thoughts; but it seemed as if invisible 
 furies were pursuing him, now that the people had left 
 him. He left his barge at Putney, and mounting his 
 mule, though with difficulty, proceeded slowly, with 
 downcast looks. Shortly after, upon lifting his eyes, 
 he saw a horseman riding rapidly down the hill towards 
 them. " Whom do you think h can be ? " he asked of 
 his attendants. " My lord," replied one of them, " I 
 think it is Sir Henry Norris." A flash of joy passed 
 through Wolsey's heart. "Was it not Norris, who, of 
 all the king's officers, had shewn him the most respect 
 during his visit to Grafton? Norris came up witii 
 them, saluted him respectfully, and said : " The king 
 bids me declare that he still entertains the same kindly 
 feelings towards you, and sends you this ring as a token 
 of his confidence." Wolsey received it with a trembling 
 hand : it was that which the king was in the habit of 
 sending on important occasions. The cardinal imme- 
 diately alighted from his mule, and kneeling down in 
 the road, raised his hands to heaven with an indescrib- 
 
HISTORY OF THE EEFOEMATION. 
 
 able expression of happiness. The fallen man would 
 have pulled off his velvet uuder-cap, but unable to 
 undo the strings, he broke them, and threw it on the 
 tjround. He remained on his knees bareheaded, praying 
 fervently amidst profound silence. God's forgiveness 
 liad never caused Wolsey so much pleasure as Henry's. 
 
 Having finished his prayer, the cardinal put on his 
 cap, and remounted his mnle. " Gentle Norris," said 
 he to the king's messenger, "if I were lord of a king- 
 dom, the half of it would scarcely be enough to reward 
 you for your happy tidings ; but I have nothing left 
 except 'the clothes on my back." Then taking off his 
 gold chain : " Take this," he said, " it contains a piece 
 of the true cross. In my happier days I would not 
 have parted with it for a thousand pounds." The car- 
 dinal and Norris separated ; but 'Wolsey soon stopped, 
 and the whole troop halted on the heath. The thought 
 troubled him greatly that ho had nothing to send to the 
 king ; he called Norris back, and looking round him, 
 saw, mounted on a sorry horse, poor William Patch, 
 who had lost all his gaiety since his master's misfortune. 
 " Present this poor jester to the king from me," said 
 Wolsey to Norris ; " his buffooneries are a pleasure fit 
 for a prince ; he is worth a thousand jjounds." Patch, 
 offended at being treated thus, burst into a violent 
 passion, his eyes flashed fire, he foamed at the mouth, 
 he kicked and fought, and bit all who approached 
 him ; but the inexorable Wolsey, who looked upon him 
 merely as a toy, ordered six of his tallest yeomen to 
 lay hold of him. They carried off the unfortunate 
 creature, who long continued to utter his piercing cries. 
 At the very moment when his master had had pity oa 
 him, Wolsey, like the servant in the pai-able, had no 
 pity on his poor companion in misfortune. 
 
 At last they reached Esher. What a residence com- 
 pared with Whitehall ! ... It was little more 
 than fom- bare walls. The most urgent necessaries 
 were procured from the neighbouring houses; but 
 Wolsey could not adapt himself to this cruel contrast. 
 Besides, he knew Henry VIH. ; he knew that he might 
 send Norris one day with a gold ring, and the execu- 
 tioner the next with a rope. Gloomy and dejected, 
 he remained seated in his lonely apartments. On a 
 sudden he would rise from his seat, walk hurriedly up 
 and down, speak aloud to himself, and then, falling 
 back in his chair, he would weep like a child. This 
 man, who formerly had shaken kingdoms, had been 
 overthrown in the twinkling of an eye, and was now 
 atoning for liis perfidies in humiliation and terror, — a 
 striking example of God's judgment. 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 TUnnns "More elected Clnnccllor— \ Liy Go\ eminent one of the gicat Facts 
 of the Refoim itiott— Wolbev Accused of Subordmttnig En„Hnd to the 
 P 1 -II 1 1 1 I s th k 1 „■, tl n \—U s C 11 1 1 lilt jn— Croin 
 
 II ithHemy 
 
 ( 1 I s— Ruform? 
 
 11 11 II llj till. i.ui\ iti u-llii lBIU— Iijcl hUi attacks thun 
 
 — Res btanccofthcHouseofColiimons— StruG:gles— Hemysanctionstlie I "" 
 
 Till LL Bills— Uai m of the Clcig\ , and Disfurhanoes |j^\^l 
 
 DtniNG all thi-, time eveiybody '\^as m commotion at 1 euU 
 
 court, Norfolk and Suffolk, at the head of the council, 
 had informed the Star Chamber of the cardinal's dis- 
 grace. Henry know not how to supply his place. 
 Some suggested the Archbishop of Cautcrbuiy; the 
 king would not hear of him. " Wolsey," says a French 
 writer, "had disgusted the king and all England with 
 those subjects of two masters who, almost always, sold 
 one to the other. They preferred a lay minister." " I 
 verily believe the priests will never more obtain it," 
 wrote Du Bellay, The name of Sir Thomas More was 
 pronounced. He was a layman, and that quality, 
 which a few years before would, perhaps, have ex- 
 cluded him, was now a recommendation. A breath 
 of Protestantism wafted to the summit of honours one 
 of its greatest enemies. Henry thought that More, 
 placed between the pope and his sovereign, would 
 decide in favour of the interests of the throne, and 
 of tlic independence of England. His choice was 
 made. 
 
 More knew that the cardinal had been thrown aside 
 because he was not a sufficiently docile instrument in 
 the matter of the divorce. The work required of him 
 was contrary to his convictions ; but the honour con- 
 ferred on him was almost unprecedented — very seldom 
 indeed had the seals been intrusted to a mere knight. ' 
 He followed the path of ambition, and not of duty; he 
 shewed, however, in after-days, that his ambition wag 
 of no common sort. It is even probable that, foresee- 
 ing the dangers which threatened to destroy the papal 
 power in England, More wished to make an effort to 
 save it. Norfolk installed the new chancellor in the 
 Star Chamber. " His majesty," said the duke, " has 
 not cast his eyes upon the nobility of the blood, but on 
 the worth of the person. He desires to shew by this 
 choice, that there are among the laity and gentlemen 
 of England men worthy to fill the highest offices in the 
 kingdom, to which, until this hour, bishops and noble- 
 men alone think they have a right." The Reformation, 
 which restored religion to the general body of the 
 church, took away at the same time political power 
 from the clergy. The priests had deprived the people 
 of Chi-istian activity, and the governments of power; 
 the Gospel restored to both what the priests had 
 usurped. This result could not but be favourable to 
 the interests of religion ; the less cause kings and their 
 subjects have to fear the intrusion of clerical power 
 into the affairs of the world, the more will they yield 
 themselves to the vivifying influence of faith. 
 
 More lost no time ; never liad lord-chancellor dis- 
 played such activity. He rapidly cleared off the cases 
 which were in arrear; and having been installed on 
 thi' L'Citli of October, he called on Wolsey's cause on 
 thi' I'Stli or 2yth. "The crown of England," said the 
 iitt(iiiicj-gi ULial, "has nevei ackno^vledged any supo- 
 1101 but God. Now, the said Thomas Wolsey, legato 
 a Intel e, hi^ obt lined fiom the pope cei tain bulK, by 
 \iitue of ^\l)lch he has exeicised, since the 28th of 
 August, 1523, an authoiity deiogatory to his majestj'-, 
 power, and to the lights of his couits of justice. Tlie 
 
 lltl IT! t 
 
WOLSEY'S EEAL CRIME. 
 
 ■715 
 
 crown of England cannot be put under tlie pope ; and 
 wc fliorcfore accuse the said legate of having iuciUTcd 
 the penalties oi pnTinuiu're." 
 
 There can be no doubt that Ilcmy had other reasons 
 for Wolsey's disgrace than those pointed out by the 
 attorney-general; but England had convictions of a 
 higher natm-c than her sovereign's. Wolsey was re- 
 garded as the pope's accomplice; and this was the 
 cause of the great severity of the public officer, and 
 of the people. The cardinal is generally excused by 
 alleging that both king and parliament had ratified the 
 iniconstitutionnl authority with which Konie had in- 
 vested him ; but had not the powers conferred on liim 
 by the pope produced unjustifiable results in a consti- 
 tutional monarchy .' AVolsey, as papal legate, had 
 governed England without a parliament ; and, as if the 
 nation had gone back to the reign of John, he had 
 substituted de facto, if not in theory, the monstrous 
 system of the famous bull, Unam Sanctum, for the 
 institution of j\fa;/>ia Cfmrta. The king, and even the 
 lords and commons, had connived in vain at these 
 illegalities ; the rights of the constitution of England 
 remained not the less inviolable, and the best of the 
 people had protested against their infringement. And 
 hence it was, that AVolscy, conscious of his crime, " put 
 himself wholly to the mercy and grace of the king," 
 and his council declared his ignorance of the statutes 
 he was said to have infringed. We cannot here allege, 
 as some have done, the prostration of "Wolsey's moral 
 powers ; he could, even after his fall, reply with energy 
 to ITeniy VIII. When, for instance, the king sent to 
 demand for the crown his palace of AVhitehall, which 
 belonged to the see of York, the cardinal answered : 
 " Shew his majesty from me that I must desire him to 
 call to his most gracious remembrance that there is 
 both a heaven and a hell;" and when other charges 
 besides those of complicity with the papal aggression 
 were brought against him, he defended himself cour- 
 ageously, as will be afterwards seen. If, therefore, the 
 cardinal did not attempt to justify himself for infring- 
 ing the rights of the cro'wu, it was because his con- 
 science bade him be silent. He had committed one of 
 the gravest faults of which a statesman can be guilty. 
 Those who have sought to excuse him have not sutli- 
 ciently borne in mind that, since the Great Ciiarter, 
 opposition to Romish aggression has always charac- 
 terized the constitution and government of England. 
 Wolsey perfectly recollected this ; and this explanation 
 is more houoiu-able to him than that which ascribes 
 his silence to weakness or to cunning. 
 
 The cardinal was pronounced guilty; and the court 
 passed judgment, that, by the statute oi pi-a^miinire, liis 
 property was forfeited, and that he raiglit be taken 
 before the king in council. England, by sacrificing a 
 churchman who had placed himself above kings, gave 
 a memorable example of her inflexible opposition to 
 the encroachments of the papacy. Wolsey was con- 
 founded, and his troubled imagination conjured up 
 nothing but perils on every side. 
 
 AYhile More was leiuling himself to the condemnation 
 of his predecessor, whose friend he had been, another 
 layman, of still himibler origin, was preparing to defend 
 the cardinal, and by that very act to become the ap- 
 pointed instrument to throw down the convents in 
 
 England, and to shatter the secular bonds which 
 united this country to the Roman pontiff. 
 
 On the 1st of November, two days after Wolscy's 
 condemnation, one of his officers, with a prayer-book 
 in his hand, was leaning against the window in tiic 
 great hall, ap])arently absorbed in his devotions. 
 " Good-morrow," said Cavendish, as he passed him on 
 his way to the cardinal for his usual morning duties. 
 The person thus addressed raised his head, and the 
 gentlemau-nshcr, seeing that his eyes were filled with 
 tears, asked him : " Master Cromwell, is my lord in 
 any danger?" — "I think not," replied Cromwell ; "but 
 it is hard to lose in a moment the labour of a life." 
 In his master's fall Cromwell foreboded his own. Ca- 
 vendish endeavoured to console him. "God willing, 
 this is my resolution," replied Wolsey's ambitious soli- 
 citor ; " I intend, this afternoon, as soon as my lord 
 has dined, to ride to London, and so go to court, where 
 I will either make or mar before I come back again. 
 At this moment Cavendish was summoned, and he 
 entered the cardinal's chamber. 
 
 Cromwell, devoured by ambition, had clung to 
 Wolsey's robe in order to obtain jiower ; but AVolsey 
 had fallen, and the solicitor, dragged along with him, 
 strove to reach by other means the object of his desires. 
 Cromwell was one of those earnest and vigorous men 
 whom God prepares for critical times. Blessed with 
 a solid judgment and intrepid firmness, he possessed 
 a quality rare in every age, and particularly under 
 Henry "N^III., — fidelity in misfortune. The ability by 
 which he was distinguished was not at all times with- 
 out reproach: success seems to have been Ins fii-st 
 thought. 
 
 After dinner Cromwell followed Wolsey into his 
 private room : " My lord, permit me to go to London ; 
 I will endeavour to save you." A gleam passed over 
 the cardinal's saddened features. " Leave the room," 
 he said to his attendants. He then had a long private 
 conversation with Cromwell, at the end of wliich the 
 latter mounted his horse, and set out for the capital, 
 riding to the assault of power with the same activity 
 as he had marched to the attack of Rome. He did not 
 hide from himself that it would be difficult to procure 
 access to the king ; for certain ecclesiastics, jealous of 
 Wolsey, had spoken against his solicitor at the time 
 of the secularization of the convents, and Henry could 
 not endure him. But Cromwell knew that fortune 
 favours the bold, and, carried away by his ambitious 
 dreams, he galloped on, saying to himself: "One foot 
 in the stirrup, and my fortune is made!" 
 
 Sir Christopher Ilalcs, a zealous Roman catholic, 
 entertained a sincere friendship for him ; and to this 
 friend Cromwell applied. Hales proceeded immediately 
 to the palace, (2d November,) where he found a nu- 
 merous company talking about the cardinal's ruin. 
 "There was one of his officers," said Hales, "who 
 would serve your majesty well." — "Who is he?" asked 
 Henry. — " Cromwell." — " Do not speak to me of that 
 man, I hate him," replied the king angrily; and upon 
 that all the cotu-tiers chimed in with his majesty's 
 opinion. This opening w.is not very encouraging ; but 
 Lord Russell, Earl of Bedford, advancing to the midst 
 of the group around the king, said boldly: "Permit me, 
 Sir, to defend a man to whom I am indebted for my 
 
HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 life. When yon sent nic privately into Italy, your 
 majesty's enemies, having discovered mc at Bologna, 
 would have put me to death, had not Thomas Crom- 
 well saved me. Sir, since you have now to do with 
 the pope, there is no man (I think) in all England who 
 will be fitter for your purpose." — "Indeed !" said the 
 king; and after a little reflection, he said to Hales: 
 "Very well, then, let your client meet me in Whitehall 
 gardens." The courtiers and the priests withdrew in 
 great discomfiture. 
 
 The interview took place the same day at the ap- 
 pointed spot. "Sir," said Cromwell to his majesty, 
 " the pope refuses your divorce. . . . But why do 
 you ask his consent? Every Englishman is master in 
 his own house, and why should not you be so in Eng- 
 land ? Ought a foreign prelate to share your power 
 with you? It is true, the bishops make oath to your 
 majesty, but they make another to the pope immediately 
 after, which absolves them from the former. Sir, you 
 arc but half a king, and we are but half your subjects. 
 This kingdom is a two-headed monster. Will you bear 
 with such an anomaly any longer? What! arc you 
 not living in an age when Frederick the AVise and 
 other German princes have thrown off the yoke of 
 Eomc ? Do likewise ; become once more a king ; 
 govern your kingdom in concert with your lords and 
 commons. Henceforward let Englishmen alone have 
 anything to say in England ; let not your subjects' 
 money be cast any more into the yawning gulf of the 
 Tiber; instead of imposing new taxes on the nation, 
 convert to the general good those treasures which have 
 hitherto only served to fatten proud priests and lazy 
 friars. Now is the moment for action. Kely upon 
 your parliament; proclaim yourself the head of the 
 church in England. Then shall yen see an increase 
 of glory to your name, and of prosperity to your 
 people." 
 
 Never before had such language been addressed to a 
 king of England. It was not only on account of the 
 divorce that it was necessary to break with Kome ; it 
 was, in Cromwell's view, on account of the indepen- 
 dence, glory, and prosperity of the monarchy. Those 
 considerations appeared more important to Henry than 
 those which had hitherto been laid before him ; none 
 of the kings of England had been so well placed as he 
 was to understand them. AVlien a Tudor had suc- 
 ceeded to the Saxon, Norman, and Plantagenet kings, 
 a man of the free race of the Celts had taken, on the 
 throne of England, the place of princes submissive to 
 the Roman pontiffs. The ancient British church, in- 
 dependent of the papacy, was about to rise again with 
 this new dynasty; and the Celtic race, after eleven 
 centuries of humiliation, to recover its ancient heritage. 
 Undoubtedly, Henry had no recollections of this kind ; 
 but he worked in conformity with the peculiar charac- 
 ter of his race, without being aware of the instinct 
 which compelled him to act. He felt that a sovereign 
 who submits to the pope, becomes, like King John, 
 his vassal ; and now, after having been the second in 
 his realm, he desired to be the first. 
 
 The king reflected on what Cromwell had said; 
 astonished and surprised, he sought to understand the 
 new position which his bold adviser had made for him. 
 " Your proposal pleases me much," he said ; " but can 
 
 you prove what you assert?" — "Certainly," replied 
 this able politician; "I have with me a copy of the 
 oath the bishops make to the Roman pontiff." With 
 these words he drew a paper from his pocket, and 
 placed the oath before the king's eyes. Henry, jealous 
 of his authority, even to despotism, was filled with 
 indignation, and felt the necessity of bringing down 
 that foreign authority which dared dispute the power 
 with him, even in his own kingdom. He drew off his 
 ring and gave it to Cromwell, declaring that he took 
 him into his service, and soon after made him a mem- 
 ber of his privy council. England, we may say, was 
 now virtually emancipated from the papacy. 
 
 Cromwell had laid the first foundations of his greatness. 
 He had remarked the path his master had followed, 
 and which had led to his ruin, — complicity with the 
 pope ; and he hoped to succeed by following the con- 
 trary course, namely, by opposing the papacy. He had 
 the king's support, but he wanted more. Possessing a 
 clear and easy style of eloquence, he saw what influence 
 a seat in the great council of the nation would give 
 him. It was somewhat late, for the session began on 
 the next day, (3d November,) but to CromweU nothing 
 was impossible. The son of his friend, Sir Thomas 
 Rush, had been returned to parliament ; but the young 
 member resigned his seat, and Cromwell was elected in 
 his place. 
 
 Parliament had not met for seven years, the king- 
 dom having been governed by a prince of the Roman 
 Church. The Reformation of the church, whose re- 
 generating influence began to be felt already, was about 
 to restore to the nation those ancient liberties of which 
 a cardinal had robbed it; and Henry being on the 
 point of taking very important resolutions, felt the 
 necessity of drawing nearer to his people. Everything 
 betokened that a good feeling would prevail between 
 the parliament and the crown, and that " the priests 
 would have a terrible fright." 
 
 While Henry was preparing to attack the Roman 
 Church in the papal supremacy, the commons were 
 getting ready to war against the numerous abuses with 
 which it had covered England. " Some oven thought," 
 says Tyndale, "that this assembly would reform the 
 church, and that the golden age would come again." 
 But it was not from acts of parliament that the Refor- 
 mation was destined to proceed, but solely from the 
 Word of God. And yet the commons, without touch- 
 ing upon doctrine, were going to do their duty manfully 
 in things within their province ; and the parliament of 
 1529 may be regarded (Lord Herbert of Cherbury 
 observes) as the first Protestant parliament of England. 
 " The bishops require excessive fines for the probates 
 of wills," said Tyndale's old friend. Sir Ilenry Guilford 
 " As testamentary executor to Sir William Compton, 
 I had to pay a thousand marks sterling." — " The spiri- 
 tual men," said another member, " would rather see 
 the poor orphans die of hunger than give them the lean 
 cow, the only thing their father left them." — "Priests," 
 said another, " have farms, tanneries, and warehouses, 
 all over the country. In short, the clerks take every- 
 thing from their flocks, and not only give them nothing, 
 but even deny them the Word of God." 
 
 The clergy wore in utter consternation. The power 
 of the nation seemed to awaken in this parliament for 
 
THREE BILLS OP REFORM. 
 
 7ir 
 
 the sole purpose of attacking the power of the priest. 
 It was important to ward off these blows. The Convo- 
 cation of the province of Canterbury, assembling at 
 AVL'slniinstor, on the 5tli of November, thought it their 
 (lutv, in self-ik'foucc, to reform the most crying abuses. 
 It was therefore decrceJ, on tlie 12tli of November, 
 that the priests should no longer keep shops or taverns, 
 play at dice or other forbidden games, pass the night 
 in suspected places, be present at disreputable shows, 
 go about with sporting dogs, or with hawks, falcons, 
 or other birds of prey, on their fist ; or, fiually, hold 
 suspicious intercourse with women. Penalties wore 
 denounced against these various disorders ; they were 
 doubled iu case of adultery; and still further increased 
 in the case of more abominable impurities. Such were 
 the laws rendered necessary by the manners of the clergy. 
 
 These measures did not satisfy the Commons. Three 
 bills were introduced having reference to the fees on 
 the probate of wills, mortuaries, pluralities, non-resi- 
 dence, and the exercise of secular professions. " Tiie 
 destruction of the church is aimed at," exclaimed 
 Bishop Fishei', when these bills were carried to the 
 Lords ; " and if the church falls, the glory of the king- 
 dom will perish. Lutheranism is making great pro- 
 gress amongst us, aud the savage cry that has already 
 echoed iu IJohemia, Down ivith the chirch! is now 
 
 uttered by the Commons How does that 
 
 come about? Solely from want of faith. — My lords, 
 save your countiy! save the church!" Sir Thomas 
 Audley, the speaker, with a deputation of thirty mem- 
 bers, immediately went to Whitehall. " Sir," they said 
 to the king, " we are accused of being without faith, 
 and of being almost as bad as tjic Turks. AVe demand 
 an apology for such offensive language." Fisher pre- 
 tended that he only meant to speak of the Bohemians ; 
 and the Commons, by no means satisfied, zealously went 
 on with their reforms. 
 
 These the king was resolved to concede; but he 
 determined to take advantage of them to present a bill 
 making over to him all the money borrowed of his 
 subjects. John Petit, one of the members for the city, 
 boldly opposed this demand. " I do not know other 
 persons' affairs," he said, " and I cannot give what does 
 not belong to me. But as regards myself personally, 
 I give without reserve all that I have lent the king." 
 The royal bill passed, and the satisfied Henry gave 
 his consent to the bills of the Commons. Every dispen- 
 sation coming from Kome, which might bo contrary to 
 the statutes, was strictly forbidden. The bishops ex- 
 claimed, that the Commons were becoming schismati- 
 cal ; distm-bauces were excited by certain priests ; but 
 the clerical agitators were punished, and the people, 
 when they heard of it, were delighted beyond measure. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Tlio last Hour— Morc's Fanaticism— Debates in Convocation— Eoyal Pro- 
 clamation—The Bishop of Norwich — Sentences condemned— Latimer's 
 Opposition— The New Testament burnt— The Persecution begins— 
 Hitton— Bayfield- Tonstall and Packington— BayUeld Arrested— The 
 Keetor Patmore— Lollards' Tower — Tyndale and Patmore — a Musician— 
 Freese the Painter— Placards and Slartyrdom of Beunet — Thomas More 
 and John Petit— Bilney. 
 
 The moment when Henry aimed his first blows at 
 
 Rome was also that in which he began to shed the 
 blood of the disciples of the Gospel. Although ready 
 to throw off the authority of the pope, he would not 
 recognise tlio authority of Christ: obedience to the 
 Scriptures is. however, the very soul of the Reforma- 
 tion. 
 
 Tlie king's contest with Rome had filled the friends 
 of Scripture with hope. The artisans and tradesmen, 
 particularly those who lived near the sea, were almost 
 wholly won over to the Gospel. "The king is one of 
 us," they used to boast ; " he wishes his subjects to 
 read the New Testament. Our faith, which is tlie 
 true one, will circulate through the kingdom, and by 
 Michaelmas next, those who believe as we do will be 
 more numerous than those of a contrary opinion. We 
 are ready, if needs be, to die in the struggle." This 
 was indeed to be the fate of many. 
 
 Language such as this aroused the clergy : " The 
 last hour has come," said Stokesley, who had been 
 raised to the see of London after Toustall's translation 
 to Durham ; " if we would not have Luthei''s heresy 
 pervade the whole of England, we must hasten to 
 throw it iu the sea." Henry was fully disposed to do 
 so ; but as he was not on very good terms with the 
 clergy, a man was wanted to serve as mediator between 
 him and the bishops. He was soon found. 
 
 Sir Tiiomas More's noble understanding was then 
 passing from ascetic practices to fanaticism, and the 
 humanist turning into an inquisitor. In his opinion, 
 the burning of heretics was just and necessary. He 
 has even boon reproached with binding evangelical 
 Christians to a tree in his garden, which he called 
 " the tree of truth," aud of having flogged them with 
 his own hand. More has declared, that he never gave 
 " stripe nor stroke, nor so much as a fillip on the fore- 
 head," to any of his i-eligious adversaries ; and we 
 willingly credit his denial. All must be pleased to 
 think, that if the author of the "Utopia" was a severe 
 judge, the hand which held one of the most famous 
 pens of the sixteenth century never discharged the 
 duties of an executioner. 
 
 The bishops led the attack. " We must clear the 
 Lord's field of the thorns which choke it," said the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury to Convocation, on the 29 th 
 of November, 1529 ; immediately after which the Bishop 
 of Bath road to his colleagues the list of books that he 
 desired to have condemned. There were a number of 
 works by Tyndale, Luther, Melaucthon, Zwingle, (Ecol- 
 ampadius, Pomeranus, Brentius, Bucer, Jonas, Francis 
 Lambert, Fryth, aud Fish. The Bible, iu particular, 
 was set down. "It is impossible to translate the 
 Scripture into Englisli," said one of the prelates. — "It 
 is not lawful for the laity to read it in their mother 
 tongue," said another. — "If you tolerate the Bible," 
 added a third, " you will make us all heretics." — " By 
 circulating the Scriptures," exclaimed several, "you 
 will raise up the nation against the king." Sir T. 
 More laid the bishops' petition before the king, and 
 some time after, Henry gave orders by proclamation, 
 that " no one should preach, or write any book, or 
 keep any school, without his bishop's license ; — that no 
 one should keep any heretical, book in his house ; — 
 that the bishops should detain the offenders in prison 
 at their discretion, aud then proceed to the execution 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 of the guilty; — and, finally, that the chancellor, the 
 justices of the peace, and other magistrates, should aid 
 and assist the bishops." Such was the cruel procla- 
 mation of Henry VIII., " the father of the English 
 Eeformation." 
 
 The clergy were not yet satisfied. TJie blind and 
 octogenarian Bishop of Norwich, being more ardent 
 than the youngest of his priests, recommenced his 
 complaints. " My diocese is accumhered with such as 
 read the Bible," said he to the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury; "and there is not a clerk from Cambridge but 
 savoureth of the frijinrj-vm. If this continues any time, 
 they will nndo us all. We must have greater authority 
 to punish them than we have." 
 
 Consequently, on the 24th of May, 1530, More, 
 Warham, TonstaU, and Gardiner, having been admitted 
 into St. Edward's chamber at Westminster, to make a 
 report to the king concerning heresy, they proposed 
 forbidding, in the most positive manner, the New Tes- 
 tament and certain other books in which the following 
 doctrines were taught: "That Christ has shed His blood 
 for our iniquities, as a sacrifice to the Father. — Faith 
 only doth justify us. — Faith without good works is no 
 little or weak faith, it is no faith. — Labouring in good 
 works to come to heaven, tliou dost shame Christ's 
 blood." 
 
 Wiilst nearly every one in the audience-chamber 
 supported the prayer of the petition, there were three 
 or four doctors who kept silence. At last one of them 
 — it was Latimer — opposed the proposition. Bilney's 
 friend was more decided than ever to listen to no 
 other voice than God's. " Christ's sheep hear no 
 man's voice but Christ's," he answered Dr. Redman, 
 who had called upon him to submit to the church; 
 " trouble me no more from the talking with the Lord 
 my God." The church, in Latimer's opinion, presumed 
 to set up its own voice in the place of Christ's, and 
 the Eeformation did the contrary: this was his abridg- 
 ment of the controversy. Being called upon to preach 
 during Christmas-tide, he had censured his hearers 
 because they celebrated that festival by playing at 
 cards, like mere worldlings, and then proceeded to lay 
 before their eyes Christ's cwds, that is to say, His laws. 
 Being placed on the Cambridge commission to examine 
 into the question of the king's marriage, he had con- 
 ciliated the esteem of Henry's deputy, Doctor Butts, 
 the court physician, who had presented him to his 
 master, by whose orders he preached at Windsor. 
 
 Henry felt disposed at iirst to yield something to 
 Latimer. "Many of my subjects," said he to the 
 prelates assembled in St. Edward's hall, " think that it 
 is my duty to cause the Scriptures to be translated and 
 given to the people." The discussion immediately be- 
 gan between the two parties ; and Latimer concluded 
 by asking " that the Bible should be permitted to 
 circulate freely in English." — " But the most part 
 overcame the better," he tells us. Henry declared that 
 the teaching of the priests was suiiicieut for the people, 
 and was content to add, " that he would give the Bible 
 to his subjects when they renounced the arrogant 
 pretension of interpreting it according to their own 
 fancies." — " Shun these books," cried the priests from 
 the pulpit, " detest them, keep them not in your hands, 
 deliver them up to your superiors." Or, if you do not, 
 
 your prince, who has received from God the sword of 
 justice, will use it to punish you." Rome had every 
 reason to be satisfied with Henry VHI. Tonstall, 
 who still kept under lock and key the Testaments 
 purchased at Au twerp through Packingtou's assistance, 
 liad them carried to St. Paul's Churchyard, where they 
 were publicly burnt. The spectators retired shaking 
 the head, and saying : " The teaching of the priests 
 and of Scriptures must be in contradiction to each 
 other, since the priests destroy them." Latimer did 
 more : " You have promised us the Word of God," he 
 wrote courageously to the king, " perform your promise 
 now rather than to-morrow ! The day is at hand 
 when you shall give an accoimt of your ofiice, and 
 of the blood that hath been shed with your sword." 
 Latimer well knew that by such language he hazarded 
 his life ; but that he was ready to sacrifice, as he tells 
 us himself. 
 
 Persecution soon came. Just as the sun appeared to 
 be rising on the Reformation, the storm burst forth. 
 " There was not a stone the bishops left unremoved," 
 says the chronicler, "any corner unsearched, for the 
 diligent execution of the king's proclamation : where- 
 upon ensued a grievous persecution and slaughter of 
 the faithful." 
 
 Thomas Hitton, a poor and pious minister of Kent, 
 used to go frequently to Antwerp to purchase New 
 Testaments. As he was returning from one of these 
 expeditions, in 1529, the Bishop of Rochester caused 
 him to be arrested at Gravesend, and put to the cruel- 
 est tortures, to make him deny his faith. But the 
 martyr repeated with holy enthusiasm : " Salvation 
 comcth by faith, and not by works, aud Christ giveth 
 it to whomsoever He willeth." On the 20th of Feb- 
 ruary, 1530, he was tied to the stake and there burnt 
 to death. 
 
 Scarcely were Hitton's sufferings ended for bringing 
 the Scriptures into England, when a vessel laden with 
 New Testaments arrived at Colchester. The indefati- 
 gable Bayfield, who accompanied these books, sold 
 them in London, went back to the Continent, and re- 
 turned to England in November; but this time the 
 Scriptures fell into the hands of Sir Thomas More. 
 Bayfield, undismayed, again visited the Low Countries, 
 and soon reappeared, bringing with him the New 
 Testament and the works of almost all the Reformers. 
 " How cometh it that there are so many New Testa- 
 ments from abroad?" asked Tonstall of Packinglon; 
 "you promised me that you would buy them all." — 
 " They have printed more since," rej)lied the wily 
 merchant ; " and it will never be better so long as they 
 have letters and stamps, [types and dies.] My lord, 
 you had better buy the stamps too, and so you shall be 
 sure." 
 
 Instead of the stamps, the priests sought after Bay- 
 field. The Bishop of Loudon could not endure this 
 godly man. Having one day asked Bainham (who 
 afterwards suffered martyrdom) whether he knew a 
 single individiud, who, since the days of the apostles, 
 had lived according to the true faith in Jesus Christ, 
 the latter answered : " Yes, I know Bayfield." Being 
 tracked from place to place, he fled from the house of 
 his pious hostess, and hid himself at his binder's, where 
 Le was discovered, and thrown into the Lollard's tower. 
 
BAYFIELD IMPRISONED IN THE COAL CELLAR. 
 
 As he entered the prison, Bayficlil noticeil a priest, 
 named I'atmore, pale, weakeued by suffering, and ready 
 to sink under the ill-treatment of his jailers. Patmore, 
 won over by Bayfield's piety, soon opened his heart to 
 him. "Wlien rector of Iladdam, he had found the 
 truth in AViekliffe's writings. " They have burnt his 
 bones," he said, " but from his ashes slmll burst forth 
 a well-spring of life." Delighting in good works, he 
 used to till his granaries with wlieat ; and when the 
 markets were high, he would send his corn to them in 
 such abundance as to bring down the prices. " It is 
 contrary to the law of God to burn heretics," he said ; 
 and growing bolder, he added : " I care no more for 
 the pope's curse tlum for a bundle of hay." 
 I His curate, (Simon Smith, unwilling to imitate the 
 I disorderly lives of the priests, and finding Joan Beuuore, 
 the rector's servant, to be a discreet and pious person, 
 desired to marry her. " God," said Patmore, " has 
 declared marriage lawful for all men ; and accordingly 
 it is permitted to the priests in foreign parts." The 
 rector alluded to Witteraberg, where he had visited 
 Luther. After his marriage Smith and his wife (piitted 
 England for a season, and Patmore accompanied them 
 as far as London. 
 
 The news of this marriage of a priest — a fact with- 
 out precedent in England — made Stokesley throw 
 Patmore into the Lollard's tower ; and although he was 
 ill, neither fire, light, nor any other comfort, was granted 
 him. The bishop and his vicai'-general visited him 
 alone in his prison, and endeavoured by their threats 
 to make him deny his faith. 
 
 It was during these circumstances that Bayfield was 
 thrust into the tower. By his Christian words he 
 revived Patmore's languishing faitii ; and the latter 
 complained to the king, that the Bishop of London i)re- 
 vented Iiis feeding the llock which God had committed 
 to his charge. Stokesley, comprehending whence Pat- 
 more derived his new courage, removed Bayfield from 
 the Lollard's tower, and shut him up in the coal-house, 
 where he was fastened upright to the wall by the neck, 
 middle, and legs. The imfortuuate Gospeller of Bury 
 passed his time in continual darkness, never lying 
 down, never seated, but nailed as it were to the wall, 
 and never hearing the sound of human voice. We 
 shall see him hereafter issuing from this horrible prison 
 to die on the scaffold. 
 
 Patmore was not the only one in his family who 
 suffered persecution ; he had in London a brother, 
 named Thomas, a friend of .lohn Tyndale, the younger 
 brother of the celebrated reformer. Thomas had said 
 that the truth of Scripture was at last reappearing in 
 the world, after being hidden for many ages, and .John 
 Tyndale had sent five marks to his brother "WUliam, 
 and received letters from him. Moreover, the two 
 friends (who were both tradesmen) had distributed a 
 great number of Testaments and other works. But 
 their faith was not deeply rooted, and it was more out 
 of sympathy for their brothers that they had believed ; 
 accordingly, Stokesley so completely entangled them, 
 that they confessed their " crime." More, delighted 
 at the opportunity which offered to cover the name of 
 Tyndale with shame, was not satisfied with condem- 
 ning the two friends to pay a fine of £100 each ; he 
 invented a new disgrace. He sewed on their dress 
 
 some sheets of the New Testament which they had 
 circulated, placed the two penitents on horseback, with 
 their faces towards the tail, and thus paraded them 
 through the streets of London, exposed to the jeers and 
 laughter of the populace. In fiiis. More succeeded 
 better than in his refutation of the reformer's writings. 
 
 From that time the persecution became more violent. 
 Husbandmen, artists, tradespeople, and even noblemen, 
 felt the cruel fangs of the clergy and of Sir Thomas 
 More. Tliey sent to jail a pious musician who used to 
 wander from town to town, singing to his harp a hymn 
 in commendation of Martin Luther and of the Reforma- 
 tion. A painter, named Edward Freesc, a yomig man 
 of ready wit, having been engaged to paint some hang- 
 ings in a house, wrote on the bordei-s certain sentences 
 of the Scripture. For this he was seized, and taken to 
 the Bishoj) of London's ])alace at Fnlliam, and there 
 imprisoned, where his chief nourishment was bread made 
 out of sawdust. His poor wife, who was pregnant, went 
 down to Fulham to see her husband ; but the bishop's 
 porter had orders to admit no one, and the brute gave 
 her so violent a kick, as to kill her unborn infant, and 
 cause the mother's death not long after. The unhappy 
 Freese was removed to the Lollard's tower, where he 
 was put into chains, his hands only being left free. 
 "With these he took a piece of coal, and wrote some 
 pious sentences on the wall : upon this he was man- 
 acled; but his wrists were so severely pinched, tliat 
 the flesh grew up higher than tlie irons. His intellect 
 became disturbed ; his hair in wild disorder soou 
 covered his face, through which liis eyes glared fierce 
 and haggard. The want of proper food, bad treatment, 
 his wife's death, and his lengthened imprisonment, 
 entirely undermined his reason. When brought to St. 
 Paid's, he was kept three days without meat; and 
 when he appeared before the consistory, the poor 
 prisoner, silent and scarce able to stand, looked around 
 and gazed upon the spectators " like a wihl man." 
 Tlie examination was begun, but to every question put 
 to him, Freese made the same answer : " My Lord is a 
 good man." They could get nothing from him but 
 this affecting reply. Alas ! the light shone no more 
 upon his understanding, but the love of .lesus was still 
 in his heart. He was scut back to Bearsy Abbey, 
 where he did not remain long ; but he never entirely 
 recovered his reason. Henry VIII. and his priests 
 iutlicted punishments still more cruel even than the 
 stake. 
 
 Tei-ror began to spi-ead far and wide. The most 
 active evangelists had been compelled to flee to a foreign 
 land; some of the most godly were in prison; and 
 among those in high station there were many, and 
 perliaps Latimer was one, wiio seemed willing to 
 shelter themselves under an exaggerated moderation. 
 But just as the persecution in Loudon had succeeded 
 in silencing the most timid, other voices, more cour- 
 ageous, were raised in the provinces. The city of 
 Exeter was at that time in great agitation ; placards 
 had been discovered on the gates of the cathedral, 
 containing some of the principles " of the new doc- 
 trine." While the mayor and his officers were seeking 
 after the author of these "blasphemies," the bishop and 
 all his doctors, " iis hot as coals," says the chronicler, 
 were preaching in the most fiery style. On the follow- 
 
723 
 
 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 
 
 ing Suuday, during the sermon, two men, who had been 
 the busiest of all the city in searching for the author 
 of the bills, were struck by the appearance of a person 
 seated near them. " Surely this fellow is the heretic," 
 they said. But their neighbour's devotion, for he did 
 not take his eyes off his book, quite put them out; 
 they did not perceive that he was reading the New 
 Testament in Latin. 
 
 This man, Thomas Bennet, -svas indeed the offender. 
 Being converted at Cambridge by the preaching of 
 BUney, whose friend he was, he had gone to Torring- 
 toa for fear of the persecution, and thence to Exeter ; 
 and after marrying to avoid unchastity, (as ho says,) 
 he became schoolmaster. Quiet, humble, courteous to 
 everybody, and somewhat timid, Bennet had lived six 
 years in that city without his faith being discovered. 
 At last, his conscience being awakened, he resolved to 
 fasten, by night, to the cathedral gates, certain evan- 
 gelical placards. " Everybody will read the writing," 
 he thought ; " and nobody will know the writer." He 
 did as he had proposed. 
 
 Not long after the Sunday on which be had been 
 so nearly discovered, the priests prepared a great 
 pageant, and made ready to pronounce against the 
 unknown heretic the great curse, " with book, bell, and 
 candle." The cathedral was crowded, and Bonnet 
 himself was among the spectators. In the middle 
 stood a great cross, on which lighted tapers were 
 placed, and around it were gathered all the Franciscans 
 and Dominicans of Exeter. One of the priests having 
 delivered a sermon on the words : There is an accursed 
 thiiiri in the midst of thee, O Israel, the bishop drew near 
 the cross, and pronounced the curse against the offender. 
 He took one of the tapers and said : " Let the soul of 
 the unknown heretic, if he be dead already, be quenched 
 this night in the pains of hell-iire, as this candle is now 
 quenched and put out ; " and with tliat he put out the 
 caudle. Then, taking off a second, he continued : 
 "And let us pray to God, if he be yet alive, that his 
 eyes be put out, and that all the senses of his body 
 may fail him, as now the light of this candle is gone ; " 
 extinguishing the second candle. After this, one of 
 the priests went up to the cross and struck it, when 
 the noise it made in falling, re-echoing along the roof, 
 so frightened the spectators, that they uttered a shriek 
 of terror, and held up their hands to heaven, as if to 
 pray that the Divine curse might not fall on them. 
 Beunet, a witness of this comedy, could not forbear 
 smiling. "AVhat are you laughing at?" asked his 
 neighbours ; " here is the heretic, here is the heretic, 
 hold him fast!" This created great confusion among 
 the crowd, some shouting, some clapping their hands, 
 others running to and fro ; but, owing to the tumult, 
 Bennet succeeded in making his escape. 
 
 The excommunication did but increase his desire to 
 attack the Romish superstitions ; and, accordingly, before 
 five o'clock the next morning, (it was in the month of 
 October, 1530,) his servant-boy fastened up again, by 
 his orders, on the cathedral gates, some placards similar 
 to those which had been torn down. It chanced that 
 a citizen, going to early mass, saw the boy, and, running 
 up to him, caught hold of him, and pulled down the 
 papers ; and then dragging the boy with one hand, and 
 with the placards in the other, he went to the mayor 
 
 of the city. Bennet's servant was recognised ; his master 
 was immediately arrested, and put in the stocks, " with 
 as much favour as a dog would find," says Foxe. 
 
 Exeter seemed determined to make itself the cham- 
 pion of sacerdotalism in England. For a whole week, 
 not only the bishop, but all the priests and friars of 
 the city, visited Bennet night and day. But they tried 
 in vain to prove to him that the Roman Church was 
 the true one. " God has given me grace to be of a 
 better Church," he said. " Do you not know that ours 
 is built upon St. Peter f — " The church that is built 
 upon a man," he replied, " is the devil's church, and 
 not God's." His cell was continually thronged with 
 visitors ; and, in default of arguments, the most igno- 
 rant of the friars called the prisoner a heretic, and 
 spat upon him. At length they brought to him a learned 
 doctor of theology, who, they supposed, would infallibly 
 convert him. "Our ways are God's ways," said the 
 doctor gravely. But he soon discovered that theologians 
 can do nothing against the Word of the Lord. " He 
 only is my way," replied Bennet, " who saith, / am the 
 ivay, the truth, and the life. In His u-ay will I walk ; — 
 His truth Avill I embrace; — His everlasting life will 
 I seek." 
 
 He was condemned to be burnt ; and More having 
 transmitted the order de comhurendo with the utmost 
 speed, the priests placed Beunet in the hands of the 
 sheriiT on the 15th of January, 1531, by whom he was 
 conducted to the Liverydole, a field without the city, 
 where the stake was prepared. When Bennet arrived 
 at the place of execution, ho briefly exhorted the 
 people, but with such unction, that the sheriff's clerk, 
 as he heard him, exclaimed : " Truly this is a servant 
 of God." Two persons, however, seemed unmoved : 
 they were Thomas Carew and John Barnohouse, both 
 holding the station of gentlemen. Going up to the 
 martyr, they exclaimed in a threatening voice : " Say 
 Precor sanctam Mariam et omnes sanctos Dei." — "I know 
 no other advocate but Jesus Christ," replied Bennet. 
 Barnehouse was so enraged at these words, that he 
 took a furze-bush upon a pike, and setting it on fire, 
 thrust it into the martyr's face, exclaiming: "Accursed 
 heretic, pray to our Lady, or I will make you do it." — 
 "Alas!" replied Bennet patiently, " trouble me not ; " 
 and then holding up his hands, he prayed : " Father, 
 forgive them !" The executioners immediately set fire 
 to the wood, and the most fanatical of the spectators, 
 both men and women, seized with an indescribable 
 fury, tore up stakes and bushes, and whatever they 
 could lay their hands on, and fiung them all into the 
 fiames to increase their violence. Bennet, lifting up 
 his eyes to heaven, exclaimed : " Lord, receive my 
 spirit." Thus died, in the sixteenth century, the dis- 
 ciples of the Reformation, sacrificed by Henry VIII. 
 
 The priests, thanks to the king's sword, began to 
 count on victory; yet schoolmasters, musicians, trades- 
 men, and even ecclesiastics, were not enough for them. 
 They wanted nobler victims, and these were to be 
 looked for in London. More himself, accompanied by 
 the lieutenant of the Tower, searched many of the 
 suspected houses. Few citizens were more esteemed 
 in London than John Petit, the same who, in the house 
 of Commons, had so nobly resisted the king's demand 
 about the loan. Petit was learned in history and in 
 
PETIT AND BILNEY IN THE TOWER. 
 
 •721 
 
 Latin lilci-nturc : he spoke with eloquence, and for 
 twenty years had wortliily represented the city. 'When- 
 ever any important affair was debated in parliament, 
 the king, feeling uneasy, was in the habit of inquiring 
 which side he took. This political independence, very 
 rare in Henry's parliaments, gave umbrage to the 
 prince and his ministers. Petit, tlie friend of Bilney, 
 Fiyth, and Tyndale, had been one of the first in Eng- 
 land to taste the sweetness of God's Word, and liad 
 immediately manifested that beautiful characteristic by 
 which the Gospel-faith makes itself known, namely, 
 charity. He abounded in almsgiving, supported a 
 great number of j)oor preachers of the Gospel in his 
 own country and beyonil the seas ; and whenever he 
 noted down these generous aids in his books, he wrote 
 merely the words : " Lent unto Christ." He, more-, 
 over, forbade his testamentary executors to call in 
 these debts. 
 
 Petit was tranquilly enjoying the sweets of domestic 
 life in his modest home, in the rocicty of his wife and 
 two daughters, Blanche and Audrey, when he received 
 an imexpected visit. One day, as he was praying in 
 his closet, a loud knock was heard at the street-door. 
 His wife ran to open it, but seeing Lord-chancellor 
 More, she returned hurriedly to her husband, and told 
 him that the lord-chancellor wanted him. More, who 
 followed her, entered the closet, and with inquisitive 
 eye ran over the shelves of the library, but coidd 
 find nothing suspicious. Pie entl^ In, nude as if he 
 would retire, and Petit acconi 
 paniod him. The chanccUoi 
 stopped at the door, and aid 
 to him : "You assert tli it jou 
 have none of these new took 
 — " Yon have seen my libi ii \ 
 replied Petit. — " I am i t 1 1 1 
 ed, however," replied Mii 
 " that you not only read them 
 but pay for the printing. And 
 then he added in a severe tone 
 "Follow the lieutenant In 
 spite of the tears of his ivife 
 and daughters this indep ondtnt 
 member of parliament w i con 
 ducted to the Tower, and si ut 
 up in a damp dungeon, v\ here 
 he had nothing but stii\\ to 
 lie upon. His wife went thith 
 each day in vain, askini ^Mtl 
 tears, permission to sec hnii 
 or at least to send him i bt 1 
 The jailers refused her e\ ei \ 
 thing; and it was only ^^h i 
 Petit fell dangerously ill that 
 the latter favour was j i anted 
 him. This took place in 1530, 
 sentence was passed in 1531; 
 we shall sec Petit again in his 
 prison. He left it, indeed, but 
 
 only to sink under the cruel treatment he had there 
 experienced. 
 
 Thus were the witnesses to the truth struck down by 
 the priests, by Sir Thomas More, and by Heni-y VHI. 
 A new victim was to be the cause of many tears. A 
 
 ' meek and humble man, one dear to all the friends of 
 the Gospel, and whom we may regard as the spiritual 
 father of the Reformation in England, was on the point 
 of mounting the burning pile raised by his persecutors. 
 
 I Some time prior to Petit's appearance before his judges, 
 which look place in 1531, an unusual noise was heard 
 in the cell above him ; it was Thomas Hilney, whom 
 they were conducting to the Tower. We left him at 
 the end of 1528, after his fall. Bilney had returned 
 to Cambridge tormented by remorse ; his friends in 
 vain crowded round him by niglit and by day; they 
 could not console him, and even the Scriptures seemed 
 to utter no voice but that of condemnation. Fear made 
 him tremble constantly, and he could scarcely eat or 
 drink. At length a heavenly and unexpected light 
 dawned in the heart of the fallen disciple ; a witness 
 whom he had vexed — the Holy Spirit — spoke once more 
 in his heart. Bilney fell at the foot of the cross, shed- 
 ding floods of tears, and there he found peace. But 
 the more God comforted him, the greater seemed his 
 crime. One only thought possessed him, that of giving 
 his life for the truth. He had shrunk from before 
 the burning pile ; its flames must now consume him. 
 Neither the weakness of his body, which his long 
 anguish had much increased, nor the cruelty of his 
 enemies, nor his natural timidity, nothing could stop 
 him : he strove for the martyr's crown. At ten o'clock 
 one night, when every person in Trinity Hall was 
 letuing to lest, Bilney called his friends lounl him, 
 
 reminded them of his fall, and added: "You shall see 
 me no more ... Do not stay me : my decision 
 is formed, and I shall cany it out. My face is set to 
 go to Jerusalem." Bilney repeated the words used by 
 the evangelist, when he describes Jesus going up to 
 3a 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 the city where He ivas to be put to death. Having 
 shaken hands with his brethren, this venerable man, 
 the foremost of the evangelists of England in order of 
 time, left Cambridge under cover of the night, and pro- 
 ceeded to Norfolk, to confirm in the faith those who 
 had believed, and to invite the ignorant multitude to 
 the Saviour. We shall not follow liim in this last and 
 solemn ministry ; these facts, and others of the same 
 kind, belong to a later date. Before the year 1531 
 closed in, Bilney, Bainham, Bayfield, Tewkesbury, and 
 many others, struck by Henry's sword, sealed by their 
 blood the testimony rendered by them to the perfect 
 grace of Christ. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Wolsey's Terror— Impeachment by the Peers— Cromwell saves him— The 
 Carainal's Illness— Ambition retams to him— His Practices in Tork- 
 shire— He is Arrested by Northumberland — His Departure— Arrival of 
 the Constable of the Tower— Wolsey at Leicester Abbey— Persecuting 
 Language — He Dies — Three Movements : Supremacy, Scripture, aud 
 Faith. 
 
 "While many pious Christians were languishing in the 
 prisons of England, the great antagonist of the Refor- 
 mation was disap^/tiaring from the stage of this world. 
 We must return to Wolsey, who was still detained at 
 Esher. 
 
 The cardinal, fallen from the summit of honours, 
 was seized with those panic-terrors usually felt after 
 their disgrace by those who have made a whole nation 
 tremble ; and he fancied an assassin lay hid behind 
 every door. " This very night," he wrote to Cromwell 
 on one occasion, " I was as one that should have died. 
 If I might, I would not fail to come on foot to you, 
 rather than this my speaking with you shall be put 
 over and delayed. If the displeasm-e of my Lady Anne 
 be somewhat assuaged, as I pray God the same may 
 be, then I pray you exert all possible means of attain- 
 ing her favour." 
 
 In consequence of this Cromwell hastened down to 
 Esher two or three days after taking his seat in parlia- 
 ment ; and Wolsey, all trembling, recounted his fears 
 to him. " Norfolk, Suffolk, and Lady Anne, perhaps, 
 desire my death. Did not Thomas a Becket, an arch- 
 bishop, like me, stain the altar with his blood 1" . . 
 CromweU reassured him, aud, moved by the old man's 
 fears, asked and obtained of Henry an order of pro- 
 tection. 
 
 Wolsey's enemies most certainly desired his death ; 
 but it was from the justice of the three estates, and 
 not by the assassin's dagger, tliat they sought it. The 
 house of Peers authorized Sir Thomas More, the dukes 
 of Norfolk and Suifolk, and fourteen other lords, to 
 impeach the cardinal-legate of high treason. They 
 forgot nothing : that haughty formula, Ego et rex metis, 
 I and my king, which Wolsey had often employed ; his 
 infringement of tlie laws of the kingdom ; his monopo- 
 lizing the church revenues ; the crying injustice of 
 which he had been guihy, — as, for instance, in the case 
 of Sir John Stanley, who was sent to prison until he 
 gave up a lease to the son of a woman who had borne 
 
 the cardinal two children ; many families ruined to 
 satisfy his avarice ; treaties concluded with foreign 
 powers witliout the king's order ; his exactions, which 
 had impoverished England ; and the foul diseases and 
 infectious breath with which he had polluted his ma- 
 jesty's presence. These were some of the forty-four 
 grievances presented by the peers to the king, and 
 which Henry sent down to the lower house for their 
 consideration. 
 
 It was at first thought that nobody in the Commons 
 would undertake Wolsey's defence, and it was generally 
 expected that he would be given up to the vengeance 
 of the law, (as the bill of impeachment prayed,) or, in 
 other words, to the axe of the executioner. But one 
 man stood up, and prepared, though alone, to defend 
 the cartlinal : this was Cromwell. The members asked 
 of each other who the unknown man was ; he soon 
 made himself known. His knowledge of facts, his 
 familiarity with the laws, the force of his eloquence, 
 and the moderation of his language, surprised the 
 house. Wolsey's adversaries had hardly aimed a blow 
 before the defender had already parried it. If any 
 charge was brought forward to which he could not 
 reply, he proposed an adjournment until the next day, 
 departed for Esher at the end of the sitting, conferred 
 with Wolsey, returned during the night, and next 
 morning reappeared in the Commons with fresh arms. 
 CromweU carried the house ivith him ; the impeach- 
 ment failed ; and Wolsey's defender took his station 
 among the statesmen of England. This victory, cue 
 of the greatest triumplis of parliamentary eloquence at 
 that period, satisfied both the ambition and the grati- 
 tude of Cromwell. He was now firmly fixed in the 
 king's favour, esteemed by the Commons, and admired 
 by the people : circumstances which furnished him 
 with the means of bringing to a favourable conclusion 
 the emancipation of the Church of England 
 
 The ministry, composed of Wolsey's enemies, was 
 annoyed at the decision of the lower house, and ap- 
 pointed a commission to examine into the matter. 
 Wlien the cardinal was informed of this he fell into 
 new terrors. He lost all appetite and desire of sleep, 
 and a fever attacked him at Christmas. "The cardinal 
 will be dead in four days," said his physician to Henry, 
 " if he receives no comfort shortly from you and Lady 
 Anne." — "I would not lose him for twenty thousand 
 pounds," exclaimed the king. He desired to preserve 
 Wolsey in case his old minister's consummate ability 
 should become necessary, which was by no moans 
 unlikely. Henry gave the doctor his portrait in a 
 ring ; and Anne, at the king's desire, added the tablet 
 of gold that hung at her girdle. The delighted cardmal 
 placed the presents on his bed, and as he gazed on them 
 he felt his strength return. He was removed from his 
 miserable dwelling at Esher to the royal palace at 
 Richmond ; and before long he was able to go into 
 the park, where every night he read his breviary. 
 
 Ambition and hope returned with life. If the king 
 desired to destroy the papal power in England, could 
 not the proud cardinal preserve it ? Might not Thomas 
 Wolsey do under Henry VIII. what Tiiomas a Becket 
 had done under Henry U. ? His see of York, the igno- 
 rance of the priests, the superstition of the people, the 
 discontent of the great, — all would be of service to him ; 
 
WOLSEY ARRESTED BY NORTHUMBERLAND. 
 
 723 
 
 r.iul, indeed, six years later, 40,000 men were under 
 arms in a moment, in Yorksliiro, to defend the cause of 
 Home. AVoIsey, stronp; in England by the support of 
 the nation, (such at least was liis opinion,) aided with- 
 out by the pope and the Continental powers, might 
 give the law to Henry, and crnsh the Reformation. 
 
 The king having permitted htm to go to Y'ork, 
 "Wolsey prayed for an increase to his archiepiscopal 
 revenues, which amounted, however, to four thousand 
 pounds sterling. Henry granted him a thousand marks ; 
 and the cardinal, shortly before Easter, 1530, departed 
 with a train of 100 persons. He thought it was the 
 beginning of his triumph. 
 
 AYolsey took up his abode at Cawood Castle, York- 
 shire, one of his archiepiscopal residences, and strove 
 to win the affections of the people. Tiiis prelate, once 
 "the haughtiest of men," says George Cavendish, the 
 man who knew him and served him best, became 
 quite a pattern of affability. He kept an open table, 
 distributed bounteous alms at his gate, said mass in 
 the village churches, went and dined with the neigh- 
 bouring gentry, gave splendid entertainments, and wrote 
 to several princes imploring their help. AVe are 
 assured that he even requested the pope to excommuni- 
 cate Heni7 VIII. All being thus prepared, he thought 
 he might make his solemn entry into York, preparatory 
 to his enthronization, which was fixed for Monday, 
 the 5th of November. 
 
 Every movement of his was known at court; every 
 action was canvassed, and its importance exaggerated. 
 " AYe thought we had brought him down," some said, 
 "and here he is rising up again." Henry himself was 
 alarmed. " The cardinal, by his detestable intrigues," 
 he said, " is conspiring against my crown, and plotting 
 both at home and abroad ;" the king even added ivhere 
 and how. "VYolsey's destruction was resolved upon. 
 
 The morning after All Saints' day, (Friday, 2d 
 November,) the Earl of Northumberland, attended by 
 a numerous escort, arrived at Cawood, where the car- 
 dinal was still residing. He was the same Percy whose 
 affection for Anne Boloyn had been thwarted by 
 Wolsey; and there may have been design in Henry's 
 ciioice. The cardinal eagerly moved forward to meet 
 this unexpected guest, and, impatient to know the 
 object of his riission, took him into his bed-chamber, 
 luider the pre ence of changing his travelling dress. 
 They both renaiued some time standing at a window 
 without utter .ng a word; the earl looked confused and 
 agitated, wliilst "Wolsey endeavoured to repress his 
 emotion. l3ut at last, with a strong effort, North- 
 umberland laid his hand upon the arm of his former 
 master, ar d with a low voice said : " My lord, I arrest 
 you for liigh treason." The cardinal remained speech- 
 less, as it stunned. He was kept a prisoner in his 
 room. 
 
 It is doubtful whether "Wolsey was guilty of the 
 crime >\ ith which he was charged. We may believe 
 that he entertained the idea of some day bringing about 
 the trir.mph of the popedom in England, even should it 
 cause Henry's ruin; but perhaps this was all. But 
 an ide I is not a conspiracy, although it may rapidly 
 expand into one. 
 
 More than three thousand persons (attracted, not by 
 hatred, like the Londoners, when "Wolsey departed 
 
 from Whitehall, but by entliusiasjn) collected the next 
 day before the castle to salute the cardiiuil. "God 
 save your grace ! " they shouted on every side, and a 
 numerous crowd escorted him at night ; some carried 
 torches in tlieir hands, and all made the air re-echo 
 with their cries. The unhappy pi-elatc was conducted 
 to Sheffield Park, the residence of the Earl of Shrews- 
 bury. Some days after his arrival, the faithful Caven- 
 dish ran to him, exclaiming : " Good news, my lord ! 
 Sir William Kingston and twenty-four of the guard 
 are come to escort you to his majesty." — " Kingston ! " 
 exclaimed the cardinal, turning pale, " Kingston !" and 
 then, slapping his hand on his thigh, he heaved a deep 
 sigh. This news had crushed his mind. One day a 
 fortune-teller, whom he consulted, had told him : " You 
 shall have your end at Kingston ; " and from that time 
 tiie cardinal had cai-cfully avoided tlic town of King- 
 ston-on-Thames. But now he thought he understood 
 the prophecy. . . . Kingston, constable of the 
 Tower, was about to cause his death. Tiiey left 
 Sheffield Park ; but fright had given Wolsey his deatli- 
 blow. Several times he was near falling from his 
 mule, ajid on the third day, when they reached Leicester 
 Abbey, he said as he entered : " Father abbot, I am 
 come hither to leave my bones among you;" and im 
 mediately took to his bed. This was on Saturday, the 
 26th of November. 
 
 On Monday morning, tormented by gloomy forebod- 
 ings, Wolsey asked what was the time of day. " Past 
 eight o'clock," replied Cavendish. — "That cannot be," 
 said the cardinal ; " eight o'clock. ... No' for by 
 eight o'clock you shall lose your master." At six on 
 Tuesday, Kingston having come to inquire about his 
 health, 'S\''olsey said to him : " I shall not live long."— 
 " Be of good cheer," rejoined the governor of the 
 Tower. — "Alas ! master Kingston," exclaimed the car- 
 dinal, "if I had served God as diligently as I have 
 served the king. He would not have given me over in 
 my grey hairs ! " — and then he added with downcast 
 head: "This is my just reward." What a judgment 
 upon his own life ! 
 
 On the veiy threshold of eternity (for he had but a 
 few minutes more to live) the cardinal summoned up 
 all his hatred against the Reformation, and made a la-st 
 effort. The persecution was too slow to please him. 
 "Master Kingston," he said, "attend to my last re- 
 quest : tell the king that I coujm-e liim in God's name 
 to destroy this new pernicious sect of Lutherans." And 
 then, with astonishing presence of mind in this his 
 last hour, AYolsey described the misfortunes which the 
 Hussites had, in his opinion, brought upon Bohemia ; 
 and then, coming to England, he recalled the times of 
 Wickliffe and Sir John Oldcastle. He grew ani- 
 mated; his dying eyes yet shot forth fiery glances. 
 He trembled lest Henry VIH., unfaithful to the pope, 
 should hold out his hand to the reformers. " Master 
 Kingston," said he, in conclusion, " the king should 
 know, that if he tolerates heresy God will take away 
 his power, and we shall then have mischief upon mis- 
 chief, .... barrenness, scarcity, and disorder, to 
 the utter destruction of this realm." 
 
 Wolsey was exhausted by the effort. After a 
 momentary silence, he resumed with a dying voice : 
 "Master Kingston, farewell! My time draweth on 
 
HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 fast. Forget not what I have said and charged you 
 withal; for wlien I am dead ye shall, peradventure, 
 understand my words better." It was with difficulty 
 he uttered these words ; his tongue began to falter, his 
 eyes became fixed, his sight failed him ; he breathed 
 his last. At the same minute the clock struck eight, 
 and the attendants standing round his bed looked at each 
 other iu affright. It was the 20th of November, 1530. 
 Thus died tlie man once so much feared. Power had 
 been his idol : to obtain it in the State he had sacrificed 
 the liberties of England ; and to win it, or to preserve 
 it iu the Church, he had fought against the Reforma- 
 tion. If he encouraged the nobility in the luxuries 
 and pleasures of life, it was only to render them more 
 supple and more servile ; if he supported learning, it 
 was only that ho might have a clergy fitted to keep the 
 laity iu their leadiug- strings. Ambitious, intriguing, 
 and impure of life, he had been as zealous for the 
 sacerdotal prerogative as the austere Becket ; and, by 
 a singular contrast, a shirt of hair was found on the 
 body of this voluptuous man. The aim of his life had 
 been to raise the papal power higher than it had ever 
 been before, at the very moment when the Reformation 
 was attempting to bring it down ; and to take his scat 
 on the pontifical tlirone, with more than the authority 
 of a Hildebrand. Wolsey, as pope, would have been 
 the man of his age ; and in the political world he 
 would have done for the Roman primacy what the 
 celebrated Loyola did for it soon after by his fanaticism. 
 Obliged to renounce this idea, worthy only of the Mid- 
 dle Ages, he had desired at least to save the popedom 
 in his own countiy ; but here again he liad failed. The 
 pilot who had stood in England at the helm of the 
 Romish Church was thrown overboard, and the ship, 
 left to itself, was about to founder. And yet, even in 
 death, he did not lose his courage. The last throbs 
 of his heart had called for victims ; the last words from 
 his failing lips, the last message to his master, his last 
 testament, had been .... Persecution. This 
 testament was to be only too faithfully executed. 
 
 The epoch of the fall and death of Cardinal Wolsey, 
 which is the point at which we halt, was not only 
 important, because it ended the life of a man who had 
 presided over the destinies of England, and had endea- 
 voured to grasp the sceptre of tlie world ; but it is of 
 especial consequence, because then three movements 
 were accomplished, from which the great transforma- 
 tion of the sixteenth century was to proceed. Each of 
 those movements has its characteristic result. 
 
 The first is represented by Cromwell. The supre- 
 macy of the pope in England was about to be wrested 
 from him, as it was in all the reformed churches. But 
 a step farther was taken in England. That supremacy 
 was transferred to the person of the king. Wolsey 
 had exercised, as vicar-general, a power till then un- 
 known. Unable to become pope at the Vatican, lie 
 
 liad made himself a pope at Whitehall. Heniy had 
 permitted his minister to raise this hierarchical throne 
 by the side of his own. But he had soon discovered 
 that there ought not to be two thrones in England, or 
 at least not two kings. lie had dethroned Wolsey; 
 aiul resiilnli'Iy sealiiiu' Iiiiiisclf in liis place, he was 
 about t() assume al \\liil''liall lliat tiara which the am- 
 bitious pri'lalr hail jji-cparcil fur liinisrlf. Some persons, 
 when they saw this, exclaimed, tliat if the papal supre- 
 macy were abolished, that of the Word of God ought 
 alone to be substituted. And, indeed, the true Refor- 
 mation is not to be found in this first movement. 
 
 The second, which was essential to the renewal of 
 the Church, was rej^resentcd by Cranmer, and consisted 
 particularly iu re-establishing the authority of Holy 
 Scripture. Wolsey did not fall alone, nor did Cranmer 
 rise alone : each of these two men carried with him 
 the systems he i-epresented. The fabric of Roman 
 traditions fell with the first ; the foundatious of the 
 Holy Scriptures were laid by the second ; and yet, 
 while we render all justice to the sincerity of the 
 Cambridge doctor, we must not be blind to his weak- 
 nesses, his subserviency, and even a certain degree of 
 negligence, which, by allowing parasite plants to shoot 
 up here and there, permitted tliem to spread over the 
 living rock of God's Word. Not in this movement, 
 then, was found the Reformation with all its energy 
 and all its purity. 
 
 The third movement was represented by the martyrs. 
 When the Church takes a new life, it is fertilized by the 
 blood of its confessors ; and being continually exposed 
 to corruption, it has constant need to be purified by 
 suffering. Not in the palaces of Henry VIU., nor 
 even iu the councils where the question of throwing 
 off the papal supremacy was discussed, must we look 
 for the true children of the Reformation ; we must go 
 to the Tower of London, to the Lollards' towers of St. 
 Paul's and of Lambeth, to the other prisons of England, 
 to the bishops' cellars, to the fetters, the stocks, the 
 rack, and the stake. The godly men who invoked the 
 sole intercession of Christ Jesus, the only head of His 
 people, who wandered up and down, deprived of every- 
 thing, gagged, scoffed at, scourged, and tortured, and 
 who, in the midst of all their tribulations, preserved 
 their Christian patience, and turned, like their Master, 
 the eyes of their faith towards Jerusalem : — those were 
 the disciples of the Reformation in England. Tlie 
 purest church is the church under the cross. 
 
 The father of this church in England was not Henry 
 Vlll. When the king cast into prison or gave to the 
 flames men like Hitton, Bennet, Patmore, Petit, Bay- 
 field, Biluey, and so many others, he was not "the 
 father of the Reformation of England," as some have 
 so falsely asserted : he was its executioner. 
 
 The Church of England was foredoomed to be, in its 
 renovation, a church of martyrs ; and the true father 
 of this Church is our Father which is in heaven. 
 
 William Colli.ns & Co., Pkinters, Glasgow. 
 
C( 
 
0315024865 
 
 33/8 
 
 m'a^a. 
 
 BRITTLE DO NOT 
 PHOTOCOPY