serve the Lord, as we have done this holy evening according to the law
of our fathers. We suffer for our sins, that is true, but you, godless,
cursed man, pride not yourself on your power, for you have not yet
escaped the judgment of Almighty God. I will give my life and shed my
blood for the law of my fathers, but God’s justice will punish you, as
your pride has deserved.”
The Hermit had gone out to his followers. Those within the house closed
the window-shutters and the door.
There was a cry without: “Fire the house!”
“Let us bless God, and die!” said Eleazar, and none of them hesitated.
All fell on their knees. Eleazar spoke: “I know that my Redeemer liveth,
and that He will stand at the latter day upon the earth. And when I am
free from my flesh, I shall see God. Him shall I see and not another,
and for that my soul and my heart cry out.”
The mother had taken the youngest son in her arms, as though she wished
to protect him against the fire which now seized on the wall.
Then Eleazar began the Song of the Three Children in the fire, and when
they came to the words,
“O Thank the Lord, for He is good,
And His mercy endureth for ever.”
their voices were choked, and they ended their days like the Maccabees.
On 16th July 1069, Peter the Hermit entered Jerusalem through the same
Jaffa Gate before which he had sat as a beggar. When Godfrey of Bouillon
became King of Jerusalem, Peter was appointed Governor. After he had
seen his dream fulfilled, he returned to his own country, entered the
convent Neufmoustier, near Lüttich, and remained there till his death.
The Kingdom of Jerusalem soon came to an end. The Muhammedans
re-occupied it, and remain there to this day.
The remarkable thing about these predatory expeditions--the
Crusades--was that they were led by the Normans, and were curiously like
the raids of the Vikings. The indirect results of the Crusades are still
treated of in students’ essays, which generally close with the moral,
“there is nothing evil which does not bring some good with it.” Voltaire
and Hume, on the other hand, regard the Crusades as the enterprises of
lunatics. It is a difficult matter to decide!
LAOCOON
On the Esquiline Hill in Rome, on a spring day in 1506, Signor de
Fredis was walking in his vineyard. The day before, his workmen had been
digging a pit to seek water, but found none. Signer de Fredis stood by
it, and asked himself whether it was not a pity that so much earth had
been thrown out, and whether it could not be utilised in the vineyard.
He felt about with his stick in the upper part of the pit to ascertain
how deep the soil was. The stick sank in the earth up to its handle
without meeting with any resistance.
“There must be a hollow under the ground,” he said to himself. He first
thought of calling the workmen, but since it was better to make the
discovery himself, he took a mattock and spade and set to work. By
noon he had made a hole large enough to get through, but since it was
pitch-black inside, he first went to fetch a lantern. Carrying this, he
went down into the earth, and came into a vaulted room. He went through
five rooms and found no treasures, but in the sixth he saw a sight that
startled him.
Two enormous snakes had enfolded in the coils a bearded man of heroic
stature and his two boys.
One snake had already bitten the man in the right side, and the other
had bitten one of the boys in the left. The apparition was a statue
of Pentelic marble, and might therefore possess as much value as a
treasure. Signor de Fredis went at once to the Prefect of the City, who
followed him in company with the Aedile and some learned antiquaries.
The work of art was brought to the light, and inspected. Its subject was
seen to be the Trojan priest Laocoon, against whom Apollo had sent
two snakes because he had warned his countrymen against receiving
the dangerous Greek gift of the Trojan horse, in which warriors lay
concealed.
It was not an edifying story, nor a comforting one, since it illustrated
the sad lot of a prophet in this world. The Romans, however, did not
think of that, but greeted the statue as a sign of the Renaissance, a
memorial of the classical period, and an omen of better times to come.
Pope Julius II bought the Laocoon for the Vatican, after Michael Angelo
had declared it was the greatest work of art in the world, and Signor de
Fredis received a pension for life. The excavation and cleaning of the
statue took a considerable time. But when at last it was ready, it was
decorated with flowers, and carried in procession though the streets of
Rome, while all the church-bells rang for a whole hour.
As the procession passed up the Via Flaminia, an Augustinian monk
came down it from the northern gate of the city. In front of Hadrian’s
triumphal arch, he met the crowd carrying their beloved Laocoon. The
monk did not immediately understand the matter. He thought, it is true,
that the statue was that of a martyr, but could not think of any martyr
who had died in a pit of snakes. He therefore turned to a citizen, and
asked in Latin, “Which of the holy Church martyrs is it?”
The citizen laughed as at a good jest, but did not think it necessary to
answer.
Now came the crowd singing about the Trojan horse, and jesting about
priests. The fact that it was a priest on whom the snakes had fastened
seemed to afford especial delight to the sceptical and priest-hating
rabble.
The Augustinian monk thought of his Virgil, when he heard the word Troy,
and, as the statue came nearer, he could read the name Laocoon, the
celebrated priest of Apollo. “Are the church-bells ringing for _that_?”
he asked his neighbour again.
The latter nodded.
“Are the people mad?” he asked, and this time he received an answer:
“No, they are wise; but you are somewhat stupid; probably you come from
Germany.”
At the dawn of this day, the monk had seen the Holy City at sunrise,
and had fallen on his knees in the high road to thank God for the great
favour vouchsafed to him of at last treading the soil which had been
hallowed by the footprints of Apostles and martyrs. But now he felt
depressed, for he understood nothing of this heathenish business, and,
wandering through the streets of the city, he tried to find the Scala
Santa in the southern quarter, where all pilgrims first paid their
devotions when they came to Rome.
Here, in the square by the Lateran, Constantine’s wife, Helena, had
caused the staircase of Pilate’s Palace to be erected, and it was
customary to ascend it kneeling, and not in an erect attitude.
The monk approached the holy spot with all the reverence with which his
pious spirit inspired him. He hoped to feel the same ecstasy which he
had felt before other sanctuaries and relics, for the Redeemer Himself
had trodden these marble steps heavily as he went to His doom.
The monk’s astonishment was therefore great when he saw street-urchins
playing on them with buttons and little stones, and he could hardly
contain himself when young priests came running and sprang up the eight
and twenty steps in a few bounds.
He paid his devotions in the usual way, but without feeling the ecstasy
which he had hoped for.
Then he went into the Church of the Lateran and heard a mass. He had
imagined that he would find a cathedral in the genuine Gothic style,
something like that of Cologne, but he found a Basilica or Roman hall,
where in heathen times a market had been held, and it looked very
worldly.
At the High Altar there stood two priests before the Epistle and the
Gospel. However, they neither read nor sang; they only gossiped with
each other, and pretended to turn the leaves; sometimes they laughed,
and when it was over they went their way, without giving a blessing or
making the sign of the cross.
“Is this the Holy City?” he asked himself, and went out into the streets
again.
His business in Rome was to interview the Vicar-General of the
Augustinians, about a matter which concerned his convent, but he first
wished to look about him. As he went along he came to a little church
on the outer wall. In the open space in front of it a pagan festival
was being held: Bacchus was represented sitting on a barrel, scantily
clothed nymphs rode on horses, and behind them were satyrs, fauns,
Apollo, Mercury, Venus.
The monk hastened into the church to escape the sight of the
abomination. But in the sacred place he came upon another scandal.
Before the altar stood an ass with an open book before it; below the
ass stood a priest and read mass. Instead of answering “Amen,” the
congregation hee-hawed like asses, and everyone laughed.
That was the classical “Asses’ Festival,” which had been forbidden in
the previous century, but which, during the Carnival, had been again
resumed. The monk did not understand where he was, but thought he was in
the hell of the heathen; but it was still worse when a priest disguised
as Bacchus, his face smeared with dregs of wine, entered the pulpit,
and, taking a text from Boccaccio’s _Decameron_, preached an indecent
discourse, presently, with a skilful turn, going on to narrate a legend
about St. Peter. It began in a poetical way, like other legends, but
then made Peter come to an alehouse and cheat the innkeeper about the
reckoning.
The monk rushed out of the church, and through the streets till he
reached the Convent of the Augustines which he sought. He rang, was
admitted, and led into the refectory, where the Prior sat at a covered
table surrounded by priests who were entertained in the convent in order
to make their confessions, and to take the communion during the fast.
Before them were pheasants, with truffles and hard-boiled eggs, salmon
and oysters, eels and heads of wild boar--above all, quantities of wine
in pitchers and glasses.
“Sit down, little monk!” was the Prior’s greeting. “You have a letter:
good! Put it under the table-cloth. Eat, drink, and be merry, for
tomorrow we die!”
The monk sat down, but it was Friday, and he could not bring himself
to eat flesh on that day. It pained him also to see the licence which
prevailed here; still they were his superiors, and the rule of his order
forbade him to reprove them.
The Prior, who had just been speaking with some special guest, continued
to talk volubly, although conversation was forbidden.
“Yes, worthy friend, we have come as far as this now in Rome. This
is Christ’s Kingdom as it was announced at the first Christmas, ‘One
Shepherd, One Sheepfold.’ The Holy Father rules over the whole Roman
Empire as it was under Caesar and Augustus. But mark well! this empire
is a spiritual one, and all these earthly princes lie at the feet of
Christ’s representative. This is the crown of all epochs of the world’s
history. ‘One Shepherd, One Sheepfold!’ Bibamus!”
On the little platform, where formerly a reader used to read out of holy
books while the meal was going on, some musicians now sat with flutes
and lutes. They struck up an air, and the cups were emptied.
“Now,” continued the Prior to the monk, “you have come from far; what
news have you brought?”
“Anything new under the sun? Yes,” answered a slightly inebriated
prelate, “Christopher Columbus is dead, and buried in Valladolid. He
died poor, as was to be expected.”
“Pride comes before a fall. He was not content with his honours, but
wished to be Viceroy and to levy taxes.”
“Yes, but at any rate he got to India, to East India, after he had
sailed westward. It is enough to make one crazy when one tries to
understand it. Sailing west in order to go east!”
“Yes, it is all mad, but the worst is that he has brought the cursed
sickness, lues”--(here he whispered). “It has already attacked Cardinal
John de Medici. You know he is said to be the Pope’s successor.”
“As regards the Holy Father, our great Julius II, he is a valiant
champion of the Lord, and now the world has seen what this basilisk-egg,
France, has hatched. Fancy! they want to come now and divide our Italy
among them! As if we did not have enough with the Germans.”
“The French in Naples! What the deuce have we to do with them?”
The Prior now felt obliged to attend to his guest, the monk.
“Eat, little monk,” he said. “He who is weak, eateth herbs, and all
flesh is grass, _ergo_....”
“I never eat meat on Friday, the day on which our Lord Jesus Christ
suffered and died!”
“Then you are wrong! But you must not speak so loud, you understand,
for if you sin, you must go in your room, and hold your mouth! Practise
obedience and silence, the first virtues of our Order.”
The monk turned first red, then pale, and his cheekbones could be seen
through his thin cheeks. But he kept silence, after he had taken a
spoonful of salt in his mouth to help him to control his tongue.
“He is a Maccabee,” whispered the prelate.
“Conventual disciple is decaying,” continued the Prior, jocosely; “the
young monks do not obey their superiors any more, but we must have a
reformation! Drink, monk, and give me an answer!”
“We must obey God rather than man,” answered the monk. There was an
embarrassed pause, and the prelate who had to communicate in the evening
declined to drink any more. But this vexed the Prior, who felt the
implied reproof.
“You are from the country, my friend,” he said to the monk, “and know
not the time, nor the spirit of the time. You must have a licence for
me--it must be paid for of course--and then the day is not dishonoured.
Besides--_panis es et esto_. Here you have wine and bread--with butter
on it. More wine, boy!”
The monk rose to go; the Prior seemed to wake to recollection.
“What is your name, monk?”
“My name is Martin, Master of Philosophy, from Wittenberg.”
“Yes, yes, thank you. But don’t go yet! Give me your letter.” The monk
handed over the letter, which the Prior opened and glanced through.
“The Kurfürst of Saxony! Master Martin Luther, go if you wish to your
chamber. Rest till the evening, then we will go together to the assembly
at Chigi. There we shall meet elegant people like Cardinal John de
Medici, great men like Raphael, and the Archangel Michael himself. Do
you know Michael Angelo, who is building the new Church of St. Peter
and painting the Sistine Chapel? No! then you will learn to know him.
_Vale_, brother, and sleep well.”
Master Martin Luther went, sorely troubled, but resolved to see more of
the state of affairs before judging too hastily.
Cards were now brought out, and the Prior shuffled them.
“That is an unpleasant fellow, whom the Kurfürst had sent to us. A
hypocrite, who does not drink wine and crosses himself at the sight of a
pheasant!”
“There was an ill-omened look about the man.”
“He looked something like the Trojan horse, and Beelzebub only knows
what he has in his belly.”
* * * * *
When Luther came into his lonely cell, he wept with a young man’s
boundless grief when reality contradicts his expectations, and he finds
that all which he has learnt to prize is only contemptible and common.
He was not, however, allowed to be alone long, for there was a knock at
the door, and there entered a young Augustinian monk, who seemed, with a
confidential air, to invite his acquaintance.
“Brother Martin, you must not be solitary, but open your heart to
sympathetic friends.”
He took Martin’s hands. “Tell me,” he said, “what troubles you, and I
will answer you.”
Luther looked at the young monk, and saw that he was a swarthy Italian
with glowing eyes. But he had been so long alone that he felt the
necessity of speech.
“What do you think,” he said, “our Lord Christ would say if he now arose
and came into the Holy City?”
“He would rejoice that His churches, His three hundred and sixty-five
churches, are built on the foundations of the heathen temples. You know
that since Charles the Great dragged the great marble pillars to Aachen
in order to build his cathedral, our Popes have also gone to work, and
the heathen and their houses have been literally laid at the feet
of Christ. That is grand and something to rejoice at! _Ecclesia
Triumphans!_ Would not Christ rejoice at it? How well Innocent III has
expressed the ‘Idea’ of the conquering Church, as Plato would call
it. You know Plato--the Pope has just paid five thousand ducats for a
manuscript of the _Timoeus_. Pope Innocent says: ‘St Peter’s successors
have received from God the commission not only to rule the Church but
the whole world. As God has set two great lights in the sky, he has
also set up two great powers on earth, the Papacy, which is the higher
because the care of souls is committed to it, and the Royal power which
is the lower, and to which only the charge of the bodies of men is
committed.’ If you have any objection to make to that, brother, speak it
out.”
“No, not against that, but against everything which I have seen and
heard.”
“For example? Do you mean eating and drinking?”
“Yes, that also.”
“How petty-minded you are! I speak of the highest things, and you talk
about eating and drinking. Fie! Martin! you are a meat-rejector and
a wine-eschewing Turk! But I accept your challenge. Our Lord Christ
allowed His disciples to pluck ears of corn on the Sabbath; that was
against the law of Moses, and was disapproved of by the Pharisees....
You are a Pharisee. But now I will also remind you of what Paul writes
to the Romans--the Romans among whom we count ourselves; perhaps as a
German subject, you have not the right to do that. Well, Paul writes:
‘You look on the outside.’”
“Pardon me, that is the Epistle to the Corinthians.”
“Oh, you look on the outside too. But Paul says further, ‘All things are
lawful to me, but all things are not profitable. All that is sold in
the market-place, that eat and ask nothing for conscience’ sake; for the
earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof.’ Those are clear words,
and a Frenchman would call them liberal-minded. But you come here like
a Pharisee, and wish to rebuke your superiors for trifles; and the
ordinances of men are more to you than God’s command. Fie! Martin!
Remember your own words: ‘We should obey God rather than men!’ You
conceited slave of the letter, you should read Paul.”
Luther was not yet so familiar with the Holy Scriptures as he afterwards
became, for in the convent he had chiefly studied the Corpus Juris,
Aristotle, Virgil, and the comedies of Plautus, and was somewhat
depressed after his severe inward conflicts. Therefore he gave no
answer, but chafed internally.
“Have you any other question for me?” began the Augustinian again, with
an affected air of sympathy which irritated Luther still more. “I can
understand that our national customs have annoyed you as a--foreigner.
Every country has its own customs, and we keep our Roman Carnival by
making ridicule of the dead gods of the old heathen, if one can call
them gods! I believe you do the same in Germany, though in a coarser
way. You must put up with that. As regards the ‘Festival of the Ass,’
that had originally a beautiful significance, since the poor animal
was honoured with the task of carrying our Saviour and His mother into
Egypt. But, as you know, the common people drag everything that is great
and beautiful into the dust. Can we help it? Can I do you any service?
Do you want anything?”
“Nothing; but I thank you!” Luther was again alone, and the fiends of
doubt were again let loose upon him. The man was certainly right
from his own point of view, and he had strengthened his assertions
by arguments and by citations from Paul. But his point of view was
false;--that was the matter. How, then, was one to alter one’s point of
view? That was only the effect of faith through grace, and therefore not
the work of man.
Then his introspective mind, which had been trained in the Aristotelian
dialectic, began to examine his opponent’s point of view. A merciful
loving Heavenly Father might very well smile at the follies and
weaknesses of His human children; why, then, should we not be able to do
the same? Why should we be stricter than He? As long as we live in the
flesh, we must think according to the flesh, but that does not prevent
the spirit obtaining its due rights.
Did not Paul himself say, “So then we hold that man is justified by
faith without the deeds of the law”?
Yes, but were these drunken and licentious ecclesiastics really
believers? The Prior had blasphemed the Sacrament, and given the
prelate a dispensation from hearing confession and celebrating mass in
consideration of a fee. That was monstrous, heathenish, and a Satanic
abomination. Certainly, but faith itself was a gift bestowed by grace,
and if these men had not obtained grace they were guiltless. But they
were hardened sinners! Paul again gave the answer to this: “The Lord
receives whom He will, and whom He will He hardeneth.” If God had
hardened them, as He hardened Pharaoh’s heart, then they were guiltless;
and if so, why should we venture to judge and condemn them. A mill-wheel
seemed to go round in his head, and he blamed Aristotle the heathen, who
had seduced him in his youth, and taught him to split hairs about simple
matters. He felt also that Paul could not help him, since such was his
teaching. Feeling quite crushed, he knelt down again on his praying
stool, and implored God to take him out of this world of lying deceit
and uncertainty. In this world one was surrounded by darkness without
being able to kindle a light; in this life one was driven to battle
without having received weapons. So he prayed and struggled with himself
till the evening.
Then the Prior came and fetched him. “My son,” he said, “my dear
brother, you must not make a paramour of religion; you must not practise
it as a daily task or a bad habit. You must live your life and regard it
as a melody, while religion is a gentle accompaniment to it. Work is for
every day, rest and festival for Sundays. But if you keep your Sabbath
on the week-day you sin.... Come! now I will show you Rome!”
Martin followed him, but unwillingly. The streets were illuminated, and
the people were amusing themselves with dancing, music, and jugglers’
feats.
“You must know where we are going,” said the Prior. “This Agostino Chigi
is a banker, almost as rich as the House of Fugger in Augsburg, and he
looks after the Pope’s business affairs. Moreover, he is a Maecenas, who
patronises the fine arts. His especial protégé is Raphael, who has just
painted some beautiful large pictures in his villa, which we will now
see.”
They reached the Tiber, followed the right bank, went over a bridge, and
stood before a garden which was enclosed by marble pillars and a--gilded
iron fence. It was now dark, and the garden was illuminated by lanterns
which hung on the boughs of the orange-trees, and so lit up the ripe
fruits that they gleamed like gold. ‘White marble statues stood among
the dark-leaved trees; fountains sent up jets of perfumed spray; among
the shrubberies one saw ladies with their gallants; here a singer was
accompanying himself on the lute; there a poet was reading his verses.
In the midst of the park stood the villa which resembled that of
Maecenas in the Sabine Hills or Cicero’s Tusculum, and was adorned with
statues’ of heathen gods. The doors stood open, and there was a sound
of music within. “People are not introduced to the host here,” said the
Prior, “for he does not like ceremony; therefore I leave you alone
now, and you must find acquaintances for yourself; surprises are always
pleasant.”
Luther found himself alone, and turned irresolutely to the right, where
he saw a row of illuminated rooms. They were full of guests drinking and
chatting, but no one noticed the poor monk, who could listen undisturbed
to their conversation. In the first room a group had formed round a man
who was distributing specimens of a printed book, the leaves of which
people were eagerly turning.
“Hylacompus? is that a pseudonym?” asked one of them.
“He is a--printer called Waldseemüller in Saint-Dié.”
“_Cosmographies Introductio_--a description of the New World.”
“We shall at last get information about these fables of Columbus.”
“Columbus will not travel any more.”
“Columbus has travelled to--hell! Now it is Amerigo Vespucci’s turn.”
“He is a Florentine and a fellow-countrymen.”
“Well, Columbus was a Genoese.”
“Look you! Rome rules the world, the known and the unknown alike! _Urbs
est urbs!_ And nowadays you can meet all the nations of the world at
the house of the Roman Chigi. I have, as a matter of fact, seen Turks,
Mongols, Danes, and Russians here this evening.”
“I should like to see a Turk! I like the Turks especially, because they
have blown that rotten Byzantium to pieces--Byzantium which dared to
call itself the ‘Eastern Rome.’ Now there is only one Rome!”
“Do you know that our Holy Father is treating with Sultan Bajazet
regarding help against Venice.”