Chapter VIII: Part 8

The golden age of literature, developed in the next century, has been justly ascribed to the impetus given by Isabella to liberal education, classical and scientific. Under her patronage schools were established in every city, presided over by learned men. The printing press, lately invented, was introduced; foreign books were imported free of duty, while such precedence was given to native literature as led on to the brilliant achievements of the sixteenth century. In social reform precept was enforced by example. In all that was pure, in all that was true, in all that was noble and magnanimous, Isabella, in private life, was a witness unto her people. No calumny of any kind, even in a depraved age, was ever cast upon Isabella of Castile or upon any one of her royal children. But the strongest characteristic of Isabella, that which colored her whole life and gave force to every public action, was her fervent piety and her unfaltering [perhaps blind] faith in the divine authority of the Roman Catholic Church. For all the evils that grew out of the latter she is still branded, even among the liberal-minded of to-day, regardless of her illiberal age, with that worst of all brands, "a religious bigot." This side of her character we will not discuss, but refer our readers to the history of Christianity during the fifteenth century, when the great flood-tide of religious intolerance reached its height.

It was in the fulness of this tide that the great historic events of her reign occurred, viz., the conquest of Granada, the expulsion of the Jews, the Inquisition, and the discovery of America. After each of these, for honor or dishonor, we interline the name of Isabella. Yet the conquest of Granada, or the reconquest of every foot of land which the Moors had taken from the Goths, was foreordained in Castilian councils centuries before Isabella was born. The expulsion of the Jews, the so-called "enemies of Christ," was but a part of the same effort "to rid the land of unbelieving invaders." The Inquisition, with all its horrors, was re-established by the Church during that age of intolerance to which the reign of Isabella belongs. Yet these are still named to the dishonor of Isabella.

But the discovery of America, with all its lasting benefits to mankind, is the immortal crown which the world has woven out of her proffered "Jewels;" and with this crown it has crowned Isabella of Castile.

In the marriage contract of the youthful prince and princess it was agreed that Ferdinand should lead the armies of Castile against the Moors as soon as the affairs of the kingdom would permit. The opportunity and the provocation came after twelve years, when the sovereigns sent to demand of the Moors the long unpaid tribute, and received only the defiant answer, "Tell your masters that the Moors who paid tribute to Castile are dead. Our mints no longer coin gold, but steel!" And to prove the efficacy of their steel they sallied forth and took Zahara, one of the strongholds which the father of Ferdinand had taken from the Moors. The chivalry of Spain sprang quickly into well-girt saddles, and the ten years' siege of Granada, "the last stronghold of the Moors in Spain," began in 1481. The Iliad of the reconquest of Spain from the Arab-Moors has yet to be written; the Homer of its Iliad has yet to appear. But the closing year of the struggle between Christian knight and turbaned Moor would furnish as stirring incidents, and immortalize the names of its heroes as successfully, as has the Greek Homer the Trojan war.

Those of us who have read the story of the Arab-Moors in Spain, the quick-witted, light-footed, brave-hearted Moors, who coveted the land "flowing with milk and honey" that lay across a narrow strait; who conquered it, redeemed its barren wastes, and made them to blossom as the rose; who, in their quick flight from the Arabian deserts through civilized lands, gathered seeds of knowledge and planted them so freely in the land of their adoption that their planting overspread the earth; who, like the Goths, became enervated when they became stationary, and were no longer able to resist the powerful foe who had from their entrance into Spain sworn their expulsion or their extermination, will be ready to weep when the final retribution comes. Yet come it did, when Ferdinand and Isabella pitched their tents and planted their banners of Castile and Aragon upon the verdant vega, or plain, around Granada.

And yet we as readily accept the inevitable. We have known that it was impossible for Isabella to allow any portion of her dominions to be possessed by a people alien in race, language, customs, and religion; to see the Crescent triumphant over any site that had been hallowed by the Cross. To the Spanish Christian the fall of Granada was only the final victory of a righteous war. It was the triumph of his race, his nation, and his creed. And, looking back over the long march from Asturias to Granada, he claimed to have invaded no man's right; every victory but won back what was his own: every step retraced by the Moors but left him in possession of another portion of his inheritance from his forefathers.

The Arab-Moors claimed also hereditary rights. For nearly eight hundred years the Moors had held possession of that strip of land between the "Snow Mountains" and the blue sea, in Southern Spain. One cannot but feel respect for the brave Moorish king of Granada, who said, when threatened with invasion, "Our mint no longer coins gold, but steel!" In this last great chivalrous war, a war for race and creed and country, all honor is due to the vanquished, who poured out their blood like water for their homes and their religion. The details of this heroic death-struggle belong to history rather than to biography. Yet Isabella was the great animating spirit of the war. Her tent was side by side with that of Ferdinand, and her counsel was ever wise and practical.

And near the royal tents were others which she erected, where the wounded in the fray might have medical aid and tender nursing. Thus our "Warrior Queen," with a woman's heart, provided the first Army Hospital on record. The tents were burned down, but a substantial city arose, as if by magic, to take their place. The knights would have called it "Isabella," but she named it "Santa Fe," the city of Holy Faith. And this city helped to bring the war to a close. The Moors knew by it that Isabella had come to stay until she had added Granada to the crown of Castile.

Another form rises before us as we look back four hundred years across the vega of Granada to the city of Sante Fe. We forget for a time the Christians and the Moors, we see only the great queen and the great discoverer. The man of science, Christoforo Colombo, had been lately dismissed from the court at Sante Fe. The sovereigns had no time for adventurers seeking aid to discover unknown lands when the reconquest of their own was just within their grasp. Cast down, but not discouraged, Columbus, all alone, was retracing his steps across the vega, en route for a port from whence to sail for England, when the queen sent a royal summons for him to return, and he reached Sante Fe just in time to be present at the surrender of Granada. Let me add that while the Moors as a nation fell with Granada, they were not as individuals banished from Spain until the reign of Philip II., the great-grandson of Isabella.

We all know the story of Columbus. At this time he was but a penniless mendicant travelling on foot from court to court, seeking patronage to enable him to prove the truth which his great mind had grasped, the rotundity of the earth. The subject had given him no rest for eighteen years. He had discussed it before wise men in council assembled; he had pleaded with royalty in vain; at the court of Isabella, for the first time, he laid his plans and discussed his projects before a woman. The world to-day pays its tribute of four hundred years to Columbus, the World-finder. All honor to the brave man who, firm of faith and fearless of fate, unfurled his sails upon an unknown sea, and planted the cross and the banner of Castile upon an unknown land. All honor, too, to Queen Isabella of Spain, who, with "faith in things unseen," had the courage to say, "I will undertake the enterprise for mine own crown of Castile," and from whose presence Columbus went forth to discover a land he never dreamed of, and to open a gate for the exodus of nations across the pathless sea. The same pen that signed the capitulation of the Moors and the contract with Columbus, signed also an edict for the expulsion of all unbaptized Jews from Spain between March and July of 1492. This edict condemned to perpetual exile from one to eight hundred thousand of Spain's most wealthy subjects. The coast was lined with vessels of every kind, and size, busy with the transportation of these unhappy victims, when Columbus was seeking for vessels and men to cross the "Sea of Darkness." And now we are beginning to understand the momentous events that culminated in the reign of Isabella. We find that religious enthusiasm, inspired during the long wars with the "Infidel Moors," developed into religious bigotry. In the Jews, Spain expelled the most wealthy portion of her subjects; in the Moors, the most industrious; the wealth and industry of the nation were sacrificed for race and creed. And then within its own race and creed arose a new foe to combat; with equal energy and blind zeal Spain crushed Protestantism within her borders through the terrors of the Inquisition.

But let us not lay the whole blame of such intolerant Christianity upon the unfortunate woman who fell heir to the crown of Castile during the period when the Church of Rome had the power to bind the consciences of men. Let us remember that as a woman Isabella was an honor to her sex; as a Christian she lived devoutly; as a queen she ruled wisely for the uplifting of her nation, and that the only censure the world casts upon her is the fortitude with which she said "Infidelity must be banished from the land."

"Bury me in Granada, the brightest jewel in my crown," she said, when dying, in far-off Castile, November 26, 1504. The way was long and the December winds were cold as the royal cortege, with knightly escort, wended its way across the barren heights of Central Spain into the beautiful valley of Andalusia, across the lovely vega, past Santa Fe, up the rugged slope of the acropolis of Granada into the Chapel Isabella, near the unrivalled Alhambra. Here in the very heart of the last Moorish capital, while the whole nation mourned, they laid all that was mortal of the great queen, whom Lord Bacon has named "the corner-stone of the greatness of Spain."

Twelve years later, January 23, 1516, they laid King Ferdinand beside her, "the wisest king that ever ruled in Spain." (Prescott.) Their grandson, Charles V., now summoned the finest artists in the world to prepare royal mausoleums for Ferdinand and Isabella and for his parents, Joanna of Castile and Philip of Burgundy. The cathedral of Granada is the Spanish temple of victory. It covers the site of an ancient Moorish mosque. Within its royal chapel one may read, in bas-relief, the whole story of the reconquest of Spain. On either side of its high altar kneel the life-size statues of the final conquerors; while in solemn, stately magnificence, the royal mausoleums of purest Carrara marble, with their reclining portrait figures of Ferdinand and Isabella in soft, time-tinted alabaster, tell us that here the nation, "redeemed from bondage," laid their deliverers to rest. And here, at the close of nearly four hundred years, a hand from across the sea lays this tribute, with a garland of white roses and a wreath of olive leaves and immortelles, upon the tomb of ISABELLA OF CASTILE.

[Signature of the author.]

NICHOLAS COPERNICUS

By JOHN STOUGHTON, D.D.

(1473-1543)

]

The life of Nicholas Copernicus furnishes a signal example of the accordance between profound religious sentiment and the utmost inquisitiveness respecting the secrets of nature and the laws of the universe.

The birthplace of genius is sometimes found nestled amid the fairest scenes, and the opening years of life are favored with appeals to curiosity and imagination, such as stimulate the exercise of the intellect; but the lot of Copernicus, as a boy, was cast in one of the flattest, tamest, and most uninteresting parts of Germany. Not far from the banks of the Vistula, on the way to the free city of Dantzic, lies a fortified town named Thorn, where the river is crossed by a wooden bridge, and the place is adorned by a bronze statue of our philosopher--for there he was born. His father was a merchant, and in the municipal records his father's name appears as a freeman admitted to the franchise in 1462. In 1472 or 1473 a son was added to the family, and the parents had a horoscope taken of the child, who appeared at thirty-eight minutes past four on January 19, 1472, according to some; at forty-eight minutes past four in the afternoon of February 19, 1473, according to others; the exact instant of the nativity being an important point in astrological calculations, which, in those days, inspired in fathers and mothers the deepest concern. At all events, Copernicus was deemed to have entered the world under a lucky planet, and it was augured that he would turn out a man of distinguished talent. About ten years before Martin Luther studied at Mansfield, and then at Eisenach, and rambled about the quaint streets, singing Christmas carols in the town where he was born, Nicholas Copernicus passed through a similar course of education. He did so under some old-fashioned pedagogue, who no more dreamed of the scientific fame of his pupil than did Trebonius of the approaching celebrity of young Master Martin. Copernicus would there learn to read, to write, to construe Latin, and to commit to memory hymns, prayers, and catechisms. Whether as a lad he studied Greek is uncertain; but, as his parents seem to have been wealthy, he would enjoy greater advantages than his still more illustrious contemporary; hence at an early period he was sent to Cracow, where he studied philosophy, mathematics, and medicine. Mathematics formed his favorite pursuit, and by the thorough acquisition of its principles and modes of reasoning he laid the basis of his subsequent eminence. But he took a degree as doctor of medicine; and according to the comprehensive methods of culture which obtained in those days, he paid attention to painting, and made some proficiency as an artist. Scholars were at that period accustomed to travel, and Copernicus proceeded from Cracow to Bologna; and in that city of feudal palaces and towers he would find a school of painting to cultivate his artistic taste, as well as a university where he could study astronomy. There he entered upon divers calculations connected with the position of the earth and the plan of the heavenly bodies. Then proceeding to Rome, he became there a mathematical professor, and won vast renown. Soon after the commencement of the sixteenth century he returned to the banks of the Vistula, and having been ordained to the priesthood, had a canonry at Frauenburg, on the Frische-Haeff, bestowed upon him by his uncle. The cathedral is described as a handsome building of brick, erected in 1342, in an elevated part of the town, overlooking the flat sandbanks of the Elbing, as it flows on its way to the Baltic. In connection with his canonry, Copernicus had some contention about his official rights, the nature of which does not appear. All we know is that he settled down in that quiet, out-of-the-way corner of the world, heedless of worldly ambition and indifferent to ecclesiastical honors and emoluments. He was no sceptic, no free-thinker, nor do we find him taking a part in the theological controversies of his age. No mention is made of what he thought and did in relation to the grand quarrel between Luther and Leo, or the Diet of Worms, or the burning of the bull at the gates of Wittenberg, or the other stirring events of the Reformation; only we know he remained a Catholic, a quiet, self-contained, thoughtful, devout man, childlike in his religion, trustful in his piety, and exemplary in the discharge of clerical duties. We can picture him going through the usual routine of canonical services in Frauenburg Cathedral, full of faith and prayer. With this vocation he coupled medical practice. He turned to good charitable account that proficiency in the healing art which he had acquired at Cracow, and visited the sick and the poor, bringing upon himself the blessing of those who were ready to perish. But the nature of his intellect, sharpened by studies at Bologna and Rome, gave him special advantages in the pursuit of astronomical knowledge; and as he had a decided taste in that direction, what time he could spare from the cathedral and the treatment of the sick he devoted to the study of the heavens. "He went very little into the world; he considered all conversation as fruitless except that of a serious and learned cast, so that he formed no intimacies except with grave and learned men." Alone at midnight he would watch the stars; in his study with his books he would inquire of the ancients; and then the profound thoughts passing through his mind he would exchange with the "grave and reverend seigniors" of his acquaintance.

The Ptolemaic hypothesis of the universe was then in fashion. It was supposed that the earth was the centre of celestial motions, that the sun, the moon, and the stars revolved around the world which we inhabit. Not that the Pythagorean hypothesis was totally forgotten. There were those who believed that the sun, not the earth, is the centre of the great circle in which the heavenly bodies perform their evolutions; but the Ptolemaic hypothesis had the ascendency beyond all doubt; and with this hypothesis Copernicus could not rest satisfied. It appeared to him beset with insuperable difficulties. True enough, the rotation of the heavens around the earth seemed to be what the human eye beheld, as anyone watched sunrise and sunset. But what the senses thus presented, reason, in its ponderings, was led to contradict. For the notion of a huge mechanism like the celestial sphere, spinning round the terraqueous globe as its pivot looked unreasonable. To explain it in any way on mathematical principles needed a most complicated array of cycles and epicycles. Symmetry and simplicity were wanting in the theory. _A priori_ objections started up against it. If the senses pointed to the earth as a centre, reason pointed to a centre elsewhere. Copernicus studied the works of ancient philosophers on the question. He examined mathematical traditions and criticised the opinions of learned professors. He found accounts of those who had asserted the motion of the earth. "Though," he says, "it appeared an absurd opinion, yet, since I knew that in former times liberty had been permitted to others to figure as they pleased certain circles for the purpose of demonstrating the phenomena of the stars, I considered that to me also it might be easily allowed to try whether, by a supposition of the earth's motion, a better explanation might be found of the revolution of the celestial orbs. Having assumed," he goes on to say, "the motions of the earth, by laborious and long observation I at length found that if the motions of the other planets be compared with the revolution of the earth, not only these phenomena follow from the suppositions, but also that the several orbs and the whole system are so connected in order and magnitude, that no one part can be transposed without disturbing the rest and introducing confusion into the whole universe." What Copernicus was in search of was some simple and symmetrical theory of the appearances of the heavens which would relieve him of the complexity and confusion attendant on the Ptolemaic system so popular in the schools. He started from an _a priori_ point of reasoning--the only one thought of in his day--but he came to certain conclusions which _a posteriori_ examination in after times abundantly confirmed.

He believed that the earth is spherical; that the earth and the sea constitute a wonderful globe; that the motions of the heavenly bodies are circular and uniform, or compounded of circular and uniform motions; that the earth revolves on its own axis, and also performs a journey along its own orbit round the sun; that the sphere of the fixed stars is immensely distant, and that it is impossible to explain the motion of the planets upon the supposition of the earth being their centre. And he distinctly remarks: "It does not shame us to confess that the whole space in which the moon revolves, together with the earth, moves along a great orbit among the planets, round the sun every year; that the sun remains permanent and immovable, whatever may be its apparent motion." It must be kept in mind throughout any careful study of his theory, that it was an _hypothesis_ framed to remove difficulties connected with older systems; that he sought to bring conceptions of the universe into harmony with reason, instead of giving way to impressions made by the senses, or to the authority of world-honored teachers, either in other days or in his own; nor can we omit adding that, while he found fault with the Ptolemaic cycles and epicycles, he constructed similar devices of his own.

"As the real motions, both of the earth and the planets, are unequable, it was requisite to have some mode of representing their inequalities; and accordingly the ancient theory of excentrics and epicycles was retained so far as was requisite for this purpose." In the case of Mercury's orbit he makes suppositions which are extremely complex, although they manifest his apprehension of the difficulties attendant on the common theory of his own time; but he verified many of his views by astronomical observations; and his approximations to modern science, and the light he threw on preceding discoveries, establish the fame of Nicholas Copernicus.

On a review of the life of Copernicus, and the conclusions he reached, the mental and moral qualities of the man come out with conspicuous and extraordinary lustre.

He was a mathematician, thus walking in the footsteps of Roger Bacon. This science, since the days of Euclid, had been pursued with untiring ardor, and many who neglected to study, or who, by their own imagination, distorted the actual phenomena of nature, addicted themselves to the investigation of the abstract properties of magnitude and number. Copernicus, in his knowledge of mathematical principles, and in his skilful application of them to astronomical inquiries, probably surpassed all his contemporaries. And, at the same time, he had that inventive genius which is fruitful in suggestions, such as become pioneers in the path of scientific demonstration. His independence of mind, his real originality, and his boldness in the pursuit of truth are quite as remarkable as the qualities just noticed; indeed, they are involved in or they led to the latter of these. "I beg you," says one of his admiring disciples, "to have this opinion concerning that learned man, my preceptor, that he was an ardent admirer and follower of Ptolemy; but when he was compelled by phenomena and demonstration, he thought he did well to aim at the same mark at which Ptolemy had aimed, though with a bow and shaft very different from his." We must recollect that Ptolemy says 'He who is to follow philosophy must be a freeman in mind.' Copernicus knew very well that there were many prepared to challenge his conclusions, and perhaps to bring theological objections to the principles of science which he had been constrained to adopt. "If, perchance," it is said in the preface to his book on astronomy, "there be vain babblers who, knowing nothing of mathematics, yet assume the right of judging, on account of some place of Scripture, perversely wrested to their purpose, and who blame and attack my undertaking, I heed them not, and look upon their judgments as rash and contemptible."

Copernicus had a profound reverence for Scripture. He regarded it as the Word of God, able to make us wise unto salvation; and none of his discoveries pertaining to the laws of nature shook for one moment his confidence in the revelation of the gospel. Copernicus delayed for years the publication of his discoveries to the world. That delay had been thought to have proceeded from something like fear, or, at least, caution, lest views in some respects so novel should rouse ecclesiastical antagonism and expose him to serious persecution. But the words used in the dedication of his astronomical work seem to point in another direction. It is there said that he had kept it four times the nine years recommended by Horace, and published it at last in compliance with the entreaties of his friend, Cardinal Schomberg. "Though I know," it is added, "that the thoughts of a philosopher do not depend on the judgment of the many, his study being to seek out truth in all things as far as that is permitted by God to human reason, yet when I considered how absurd that doctrine would appear, I long hesitated whether I should publish my book, or whether it were not better to follow the example of the Pythagoreans and others, who delivered their doctrines only by tradition and to friends." From this passage we should infer that he apprehended controversy rather than persecution, that for the former he had no desire, that he was without ambition, and felt no wish to found a new school, but would rather leave truths he had learned quietly to make their way through the world.

The fame of Copernicus is now wide as the world. He painted a portrait of himself which fell into the hands of Tycho Brahe; and he wrote an epigram upon the subject, to the effect that the whole earth could not contain the whole of the man who whirled it along the ocean of ether. Less extravagant was the grateful enthusiasm of Rhiticus, a disciple of Copernicus, when he wrote, "God has given to my excellent preceptor a reign without end, which may He vouchsafe to guide, govern, and increase, to the restoration of astronomical truth. Amen!"

"The Copernican system" is the name now generally given to the almost universal scientific belief that the earth and the planets revolve around the sun, though the system carried out and perfected by Kepler, Newton, Halley, Laplace, and others is by no means perfectly identical with the theory of the German astronomer. But the inextricable interweaving of his name with opinions sanctioned by the entire scientific world, is one of the noblest conceivable tributes to the magnitude and lustre of his renown.

His death was in harmony with his life. Shortly before he expired he repeated these words:

"Non parem Paulo gratiam requiro,
Veniam Petri neque posco; sed quam
In crucis ligno dederat latroni
Sedulus oro."

He had lived a life of Christian virtue--imitating his master, who went about doing good, healing the sick and preaching the gospel to the poor--yet, so far from having anything whereof to boast before God, he said himself that he felt his need of infinite mercy, and in seeking the pardon of his sins he would not place himself on a level with Paul or Peter, but rather choose a point of self-humiliation by the side of the penitent thief.

His work on the revolution of the celestial bodies was passing through the press at the time of his fatal illness in 1543, when he had completed his seventieth year and was brought to him just before he breathed his last; and thus, as has been beautifully expressed, he was "made to touch the first printed copy of his book when the sense of touch was gone, seeing it only as a dim object through the deepening dusk."

He is buried under a flat stone in one of the side aisles of his own cathedral at Frauenburg. On his monument is painted a half-length portrait, pale, thin, aged, but with an expression of countenance intelligent and pleasant. His hair and eyes are black; he is habited as a priest; his hands are joined in prayer; before him is a crucifix, at his feet a skull, and behind him are a globe and a pair of compasses. His devotion, his deadness to the world, and his love of science are thus aptly symbolized.

MARTIN LUTHER

(1483-1546)

]

Martin Luther, the greatest of the Protestant Reformers of the sixteenth century, was born at Eisleben on November 10, 1483. His father was a miner in humble circumstances; his mother, as Melancthon records, was a woman of exemplary virtue, and particularly esteemed in her walk of life. Shortly after Martin's birth his parents removed to Mansfeld, where their circumstances ere long improved by industry and perseverance. Their son was sent to school; and both at home and in school his training was severe. His father sometimes whipped him, he says, "for a mere trifle till the blood came," and he was subjected to the scholastic rod fifteen times in one day! Luther's schooling was completed at Magdeburg and Eisenach, and at the latter place he attracted by his singing the notice of a good lady of the name of Cotta, who welcomed the lad into her family and provided him with a comfortable home during his stay there. Here under Trebonius he made good progress in Latin. In 1501, when he had reached his eighteenth year, he entered the university of Erfurt, with the view of qualifying himself for the legal profession. He went through the usual studies in the classics and the schoolmen, and took his degree of doctor of philosophy, or master of arts, in 1505, when he was twenty-one years of age.

Previous to this, however, a profound change of feeling had begun in him. The death of a friend, and the terror of a thunder-storm, deeply impressed him. Chancing one day to examine the Vulgate in the university library, he saw with astonishment that there were more gospels and epistles than in the lectionaries. He was arrested by the contents of his newly found treasure. His heart was deeply touched, and he resolved to devote himself to a spiritual life. He separated himself from his friends and fellow-students, and withdrew into the Augustinian convent at Erfurt. Here he spent the next three years of his life--years of peculiar interest and significance; for it was during this time that he laid, in the study of the Bible and of Augustine, and with the assistance of his life-long friend Staupitz, the foundation of those doctrinal convictions which were afterward to rouse and strengthen him in his life-long struggle. He describes very vividly the spiritual crisis through which he passed, the burden of sin which so long lay upon him, "too heavy to be borne," and the relief that he at length found in the clear apprehension of the doctrine of the "forgiveness of sins," through the grace of Christ.

In the year 1507 Luther was ordained a priest, and in the following year he removed to Wittenberg, destined to derive its chief celebrity from his name. He became a teacher in the new university founded there by the Elector Frederick of Saxony. At first he lectured on dialectics and physics, but his heart was already given to theology, and in 1509 he became a bachelor of theology, and commenced lecturing on the Holy Scriptures. His lectures made a great impression, and the novelty of his views already began to excite attention. "This monk," said the rector of the university, "will puzzle our doctors and bring in a new doctrine." Besides lecturing, he began to preach, and his sermons reached a wider audience, and produced a still more powerful influence. They were printed and widely circulated in Germany, France, and England, so that his doctrines were diffused throughout Europe. His words, as Melancthon says, were "born not on his lips, but in his soul," and they moved profoundly the souls of all who heard them. In 1511 he was sent on a mission to Rome, and he has described very vividly what he saw and heard there. His devout and unquestioning reverence--for he was yet in his own subsequent view "a most insane papist"--appears in strange conflict with his awakened thoughtfulness and the moral indignation at the abuses of the papacy beginning to stir him.

On Luther's return from Rome he was made a doctor of the Holy Scriptures, and his career as a reformer may be said to have commenced. The system of indulgences had reached a scandalous height. The idea that it was in the power of the Church to forgive sin had gradually grown into the notion that the Pope could issue pardons of his own free will, which, being dispensed to the faithful, exonerated them from the consequences of their transgressions. The sale of these pardons had become an organized part of the papal system. Money was largely needed at Rome, and its numerous emissaries sought everywhere to raise funds by the sale of "indulgences;" the principal of these was John Tetzel, a Dominican friar, who had established himself at Jueterberg (1517). Luther's indignation at the shameless traffic which this man carried on, finally became irrepressible. "God willing," he exclaimed, "I will beat a hole in his drum." He drew out ninety-five theses on the doctrine of indulgences, which on October 31st he nailed up on the door of the church at Wittenberg, and which he offered to maintain in the university against all impugners. The general purport of these theses was to deny to the Pope all right to forgive sins. This sudden and bold step of Luther was all that was necessary to awaken a wide-spread excitement. Tetzel was forced to retreat from the borders of Saxony to Frankfort-on-the-Oder, where he drew out and published a set of counter-theses and publicly committed those of Luther to the flames. The students at Wittenberg retaliated by burning Tetzel's theses. The elector refused to interfere, and the excitement increased as new combatants--Hochstratten, Prierias, and Eck--entered the field. Eck was an able man, and an old friend of Luther's, and the argument between him and the reformer was especially vehement. In 1518 the latter was joined by Melancthon, who became one of his dearest and most trusted friends.

At first the Pope, Leo X., took little heed of the disturbance; he is reported even to have said, when he heard of it, that "Friar Martin was a man of genius, and that he did not wish to have him molested." Some of the cardinals, however, saw the real character of the movement, which gradually assumed a seriousness evident even to the Pope; and Luther received a summons to appear at Rome, and answer for his theses (1518). Once again in Rome, it is unlikely he would ever have been allowed to return. His university and the elector interfered, and a legate was sent to Germany to hear and determine the case. Cardinal Cajetan was the legate, and he was but little fitted to deal with Luther. He would enter into no argument with him, but merely called upon him to retract. Luther refused, and fled from Augsburg, whither he had gone to meet the papal representative. The task of negotiation was then undertaken by Miltitz, a German, who was envoy of the Pope to the Saxon court, and by his greater address, a temporary peace was obtained. This did not last long. The reformer was too deeply moved to keep silent. "God hurries and drives me," he said; "I am not master of myself; I wish to be quiet, and am hurried into the midst of tumults." Dr. Eck and he held a memorable disputation at Leipsic (1519), in which the subject of argument was no longer merely the question of indulgences, but the general power of the Pope. The disputation, of course, came to no practical result; each controversialist claimed the victory, and Luther in the meantime made progress in freedom of opinion, and attacked the papal system as a whole more boldly. Erasmus and Hutten joined in the conflict, which waxed more loud and threatening.

In 1520 the reformer published his famous address to the "Christian Nobles of Germany." This was followed in the same year by a treatise "On the Babylonish Captivity of the Church." In these works, both of which circulated widely and powerfully influenced many minds, Luther took firmer and broader ground; he attacked not only the abuses of the papacy and its pretensions to supremacy, but also the doctrinal system of the Church of Rome. "These works," Ranke says, "contain the kernel of the whole Reformation." The papal bull containing forty-one theses was issued against him; the dread document, with other papal books, was burned before an assembled multitude of doctors, students, and citizens, at the Elster Gate of Wittenberg. Germany was convulsed with excitement. Eck (who had been the chief agent in obtaining the bull) fled from place to place, glad to escape with his life, and Luther was everywhere the hero of the hour.

Charles V. had at this time succeeded to the empire, and he convened his first diet of the sovereigns and states at Worms. The diet met in the beginning of 1521; an order was issued for the destruction of Luther's books, and he himself was summoned to appear before the diet. This was above all what he desired--to confess the truth before the assembled powers of Germany. He resolved--having received a safe-conduct--to obey the summons, come what would. All Germany was moved by his heroism; his journey resembled a triumph; the threats of enemies and the anxieties of friends alike failed to move him. "I am resolved to enter Worms," he said, "although as many devils should set at me as there are tiles on the housetops." His appearance and demeanor before the diet, and the firmness with which he held his ground and refused to retract, all make a striking picture. He was not allowed to defend his opinions. "Unless I be convinced," he said, "by Scripture and reason, I neither can nor dare retract anything, for my conscience is a captive to God's word, and it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience. There I take my stand. I can do no otherwise. So help me God. Amen."

On his return from Worms he was seized, at the instigation of his friend, the Elector of Saxony, and safely lodged in the old castle of the Wartburg. The affair was made to assume an aspect of violence, but in reality it was designed to secure him from the destruction which his conduct at Worms would certainly have provoked, he having been placed under the ban of the empire. He remained in this shelter for about a year, concealed in the guise of a knight. His chief employment was his translation of the Scriptures into his native language. He composed various treatises besides, and injured his health by sedentary habits and hard study. His imagination became morbidly excited, and he thought he saw and heard the Evil One mocking him while engaged in his literary tasks; the blot from the inkstand that he hurled at him is still shown on the wall of his chamber. The subject of the personality and presence of Satan was a familiar one with Luther, and he has many things about it in his Table-talk.

The disorders which sprang up in the progress of the Reformation recalled Luther to Wittenberg. He felt that his presence was necessary to restrain Carlstadt and others, and, defying any danger to which he might still be exposed, he returned in 1522 to the old scene of his labors, rebuked the unruly spirits who had acquired power in his absence, and resumed with renewed energy his interrupted work. He strove to arrest the excesses of the Zwickau fanatics, and counselled peace and order to the inflamed peasants; while he warned the princes and nobles of the unchristian cruelty of many of their doings, which had driven the people to exasperation and frenzy. At no period of his life is he greater than now, in the stand which he made against lawlessness on the one hand and tyranny on the other. He vindicated his claim to be a reformer in the highest sense by the wise and manly part which he acted in this great social crisis in the history of Germany. In this year also he published his acrimonious reply to Henry VIII. on the seven sacraments. Although he had been at first united in a common cause with Erasmus, estrangement had gradually sprung up between the scholar of Rotterdam and the enthusiastic reformer of Wittenberg. This estrangement came to an open breach in the year 1525, when Erasmus published his treatise "De Libero Arbitrio." Luther immediately followed with his counter-treatise "De Servo Arbitrio." The controversy raged loudly between them; and in the vehemence of his hostility to the doctrine of Erasmus, Luther was led into various assertions of a very questionable kind, besides indulging in the wild abuse of his opponent's character. The quarrel was an unhappy one on both sides; and it must be confessed there is especially a want of generosity in the manner in which Luther continued to cherish the dislike which sprang out of it.

In the course of the same year Luther married Katharina von Bora, one of nine nuns who, under the influence of his teaching, had emancipated themselves from their religious vows. The step rejoiced his enemies and even alarmed some of his friends, like Melancthon. But it greatly contributed to his happiness, while it served to enrich and strengthen his character. All the most interesting and touching glimpses we get of him henceforth are in connection with his wife and children.

Two years after his marriage he fell into a dangerous sickness and depression of spirits, from which he was only aroused by the dangers besetting Christendom from the advance of the Turks. Two years later, in 1529, he engaged in his famous conference at Marburg with Zwingli and other Swiss divines. The following year finds him at Coburg, while the diet sat at Augsburg. It was deemed prudent to intrust the interests of the Protestant cause to Melancthon, who attended the diet, but Luther removed to Coburg to be at hand for consultation. The drawing up of the Augsburg Confession marks the culmination of the German Reformation (1530); and the life of Luther from henceforth possesses comparatively little interest. He survived sixteen years longer, but they are years marked by few incidents of importance. He died at Eisleben on February 18, 1546, and was buried at Wittenberg.

Luther's character presents an imposing combination of great qualities. Endowed with broad human sympathies, massive energy, manly and affectionate simplicity, and rich, if sometimes coarse humor, he is at the same time a spiritual genius. His intuitions of divine truth were bold, vivid, and penetrating, if not comprehensive; and he possessed the art which God alone gives to the finer and abler spirits that He calls to do special work in this world, of kindling other souls with the fire of his own convictions, and awakening them to a higher consciousness of religion and duty. He was a leader of men, therefore, and a Reformer in the highest sense. His powers were fitted to his appointed task; it was a task of Titanic magnitude, and he was a Titan in intellectual robustness and moral strength and courage. It was only the divine energy which swayed him, and of which he recognized himself the organ, that could have accomplished what he did.

View him as a mere theologian, and there are others who take higher rank. There is a lack of patient thoughtfulness and philosophical temper in his doctrinal discussions; but the absence of these very qualities gave vigor to his bold, if sometimes crude, conceptions, and enabled him to triumph in the struggle for life and death in which he was engaged. To initiate the religious movement which was destined to renew the face of Europe, required a gigantic will, which, instead of being crushed by opposition, or frightened by hatred, should only gather strength from the fierceness of the conflict before it. To clear the air thoroughly, as he himself said, thunder and lightning are necessary. Upon the whole, it may be said that history presents few greater characters--few that excite at once more love and admiration, and in which we see tenderness, humor, and a certain picturesque grace and poetic sensibility more happily combined with a lofty and magnanimous, if sometimes rugged, sublimity.

Luther's works are very voluminous, partly in Latin, and partly in German. Among those of more general interest are his Table-Talk, his letters, and sermons. His Commentaries on Galatians and the Psalms are still read; and he was one of the great leaders of sacred song, his hymns, rugged but intense and expressive, having an enduring power.

As an example of his more tender writing, take his letter to his little son Hans:

"Grace and peace in Christ. My dear little son, I am glad to hear that thou learnest well and prayest diligently. Do this, my son, and continue it; when I return home I will bring thee a fine fairing.

"I know a beautiful, cheerful garden, in which many children walk about. They have golden coats on, and gather beautiful apples under the trees, and pears, and cherries, and plums; they sing and jump about, and are merry; they have also fine little horses with golden bridles and silver saddles. And I asked the man, 'Whose children are they?' He replied, 'These are the children who like to pray and learn and are pious.' Then I said, 'My good man, I have a son; his name is Hans Luther; may he not also come to this garden to eat such nice apples and pears, and ride such fine little horses, and play with these children?' And the man said, 'If he likes to pray and learn, and is pious, he shall come to this garden with Lippus and Just; and when they all come together, they shall have pipes and cymbals, lutes, and other musical instruments; and dance and shoot with little cross-bows.'

"And he showed me a fine meadow in the garden, prepared for dancing: there being nothing but golden pipes, cymbals, and beautiful silver cross-bows. But it was yet early, and the children had not dined. Therefore I could not wait for the dancing, and said to the man, 'My good master, I will go quickly and write all this to my dear little son Hans, that he may pray diligently, learn well, and be pious, that he also may be admitted into this garden; but he hath an aunt Lena whom he must bring with him.' The man answered, 'So be it; go and write this to him.'

"Therefore, my dear little son Hans, learn and pray with all confidence; and tell this to Lippus and Just, that they also may learn and pray; and ye will all meet in this beautiful garden. Herewith I commend thee to Almighty God. Give greetings to Aunt Lena, and also a kiss from me,

"Thy loving father,

"MARTIN LUTHER."

CHARLES V. OF GERMANY

(1500-1558)

]

Charles V., who ruled over more kingdoms than any other European monarch before or since, who was the most powerful ruler of his century, and who, on the whole, used his great power wisely and well, was born at Ghent, February 24, 1500. His parents were the Archduke Philip, son of the Emperor Maximilian, and Joanna, daughter of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile. To those united kingdoms Charles succeeded on the death of his grandfather Ferdinand, in 1516. The early part of his reign was stormy; a Flemish regency and Flemish ministers became hateful to the Spaniards, and their discontent broke out into civil war. The Castilian rebels assumed the name of The Holy League, and seemed animated by a spirit not unlike that of the English Commons under the Stuarts. Spain was harassed by these internal contests until 1522, when they were calmed by the presence of Charles, whose prudence and, we may hope, his humanity, put an end to the rebellion. He made some examples, but soon held his hand, with the declaration, that "too much blood had been spilt." An amnesty was more effectual than severities, and the royal authority was strengthened, as it will seldom fail to be, by clemency. Some of his courtiers informed him of the place where one of the ring leaders was concealed. His answer is worthy of everlasting remembrance: "You ought to warn him that I am here, rather than acquaint me where he is."

Spain, the Two Sicilies, the Low Countries, and Franche Comte, belonged to Charles V. by inheritance; and by his grandfather Maximilian's intervention he was elected king of the Romans; nor had he to wait long before that prince's death, in 1519, cleared his path to the empire. But Francis I. of France was also a candidate for the imperial crown, with the advantage of being six years senior to Charles, and of having already given proof of military talent. The Germans, however, were jealous of their liberties; and not unreasonably dreading the power of each competitor, rejected both. Their choice fell on Frederic, Elector of Saxony, surnamed the Wise, celebrated as the protector of Luther; but that prince declined the splendid boon, and recommended Charles, on the plea that a powerful emperor was required to stop the rapid progress of the Turkish arms.

The political jealousy, embittered by personal emulation, which existed between the Emperor and the King of France, broke out into war in 1521. France, Navarre, and the Low Countries were at times the seat of the long contest which ensued; but chiefly Italy. The duchy of Milan had been conquered by Francis in 1515. It was again wrested from the French by the emperor in 1522. In 1523, a strong confederacy was formed against France, by the Pope, the Emperor, the King of England, the Archduke Ferdinand, to whom his brother Charles had ceded the German dominions of the House of Austria, the states of Milan, Venice, and Genoa; all united against a single power. And in addition, the celebrated Constable of Bourbon became a traitor to France to gratify his revenge; brought his brilliant military talents to the emperor's service, and was invested with the command of the Imperial troops in Italy. To this formidable enemy Francis opposed his weak and presumptuous favorite, the Admiral Bonnivet, who was driven out of Italy in 1524, the year in which the gallant Bayard lost his life in striving to redeem his commander's errors.

The confidence of Francis seemed to increase with his dangers, and his faults with his confidence. He again entered the Milanese in 1525, and retook the capital. But Bonnivet was his only counsellor; and under such guidance the siege of Pavia was prosecuted with inconceivable rashness, and the battle of Pavia fought without a chance of gaining it. Francis was taken prisoner, and wrote thus to his mother, the Duchess of Angouleme: "Everything is lost, except our honor." This Spartan spirit has been much admired; but whether justly, may be a question. From a Bayard, nothing could have been better; but the honor of a king is not confined to fighting a battle; and this specimen, like the conduct of Francis in general, proves him to have been the mirror of knighthood, rather than of royalty.

Charles, notwithstanding his victory at Pavia, did not invade France, but, as the price of freedom, he prescribed the harshest conditions to the captive king. At first they were rejected, but his haughty spirit and conscience were at length both reconciled to the casuistry that the fulfilment of forced promises may be eluded. Francis, therefore, consented to the treaty of Madrid, made in 1526, by which it was stipulated that he should give up his claims in Italy and the Low Countries; surrender the Duchy of Burgundy to Spain; and return into captivity if these conditions were not fulfilled in six weeks. When once at large, instead of executing the treaty, he formed a league with the Pope, the King of England, and the Venetians, to maintain the liberty of Italy. The Pope absolved him from his oaths, and he refused to return into Spain. The passions of the rival monarchs were now much excited, and challenges and the lie were exchanged between them. No duel was fought, nor probably intended; but the notoriety of the challenge went far to establish a false point of punctilio, we will not call it honor, among gentlemen, and single combats became more frequent than in the ages of barbarism.